by Leslie Edens
“Nowhere. It’s infinite,” said Emmett.
“But if it’s infinite, it must manage to make it to somewhere,” I said.
“It doesn’t get anywhere in the end—because it doesn’t end. So, it doesn’t lead anywhere,” he countered.
“But we are going somewhere?” I said.
“Yes. We’re in a hurry, too. I think we’re late,” he said.
“Late to find my father and brother,” I said.
Emmett tapped his forehead as he continued downward, misting through the steps in a lazy way, not bothering to walk. Meanwhile, my feet ached on the hard steps, for I wore only socks.
“What were their names? I don’t remember them,” he said.
“Samhain Despair—he goes by Sam—and Able Despair,” I said.
“Aha! I remember Able. He recently returned from the far dimensions. You could try to contact them from here, but don’t be surprised if it doesn’t go through. This infinite stairwell of the void does not get good telepathic reception,” said Emmett.
“Great. That just figures.” And he was right—I couldn’t sense anything from Sam or Dad at all. Of course, the messages, when I sent them, fell flat. “Take me back up! I want to try to reach them,” I said.
“No, I think someone of your caliber must certainly see the council before any other visitations,” said Emmett. He kept spinning lazily downward. I couldn’t see his face or gauge his mood.
“My caliber? You mean my—talents? Why would they need to see me about that?” I asked.
“Oh, they see anyone who might be promising. You qualify, believe me. You’ve given me quite a shock, and I don’t mean literally—well, perhaps that, too.” He flashed his sunny grin back at me. He certainly found bad jokes and puns amusing. It was dorky, but a little endearing. To be honest, I also liked word jokes.
“The Dead Town council should have nosed you out years ago. I’ve no idea why you remained hidden from us for so long. Normally, we intervene at the first sign of power even remotely as strong as yours. I suspect concealment—possibly as protection from others.” He said the word in such a dark and ominous voice. I didn’t like the sound of it.
“What others?” I said.
“Spirits or mortals who seek to destroy you. The Turned Against,” he said.
I recalled the cloaked couple who had chased me, back in Portales Espirituales.
“Oh. Those others,” I said. “What do they want?”
“You. Either they fear your power, or they find your existence incompatible with their beliefs. Kind of boils down to the same thing.” Emmett yawned, stretching his arms way up. “I’m sorry. Evil power-mongering is such a tiresome subject. I’ll try to focus. You’re possessed of some power and could be under threat.”
“Those others—they said they wanted to teach me,” I told him.
Emmett puffed up at that. “I will teach you,” he said in a pompous voice. He stuck out his chest and drifted downwards. “Come on.”
My head ached with dizziness from traveling around the spiral staircase so many times, and yet Emmett continued passing through the stairs at a leisurely pace. The flying Chihuahuas echoed somewhere to the side, squee-yipping in the enormous space surrounding us. Probably navigating via echolocation. They were half-bat, after all. I stopped walking and plopped down on a stair. “I need to rest. Can’t I take a moment to look around?”
“If you must. But I did tell the council you’d meet them at one hundred and nine minutes past sixty-seven on last Thursday, so I believe we are late,” said Emmett.
“I’m not claiming I understand ecto-time,” I said.
“Neither am I,” Emmett muttered.
“But if you said you’d be there last Thursday, I’m pretty sure that yes, you’re very late, so couldn’t we rest a moment and stop to smell a few of these dead things you have that pass for flowers?” I said.
“All right. I’m not entirely sure it isn’t last Thursday now. But go ahead. We aren’t getting any older, so I suppose it won’t matter.” Emmett sat, hovering above the steps, and took a scroll out of his waistcoat. Actually, he took it out of his chest, but I didn’t want to beleaguer details like that, since it might not be polite. He sat reading, unrolling the scroll, while I caressed a black rose that garlanded the central post of the stairway. The rose’s head promptly fell off. I peered into the heights and could see little except darkness. What I could see seemed to stretch up forever. I looked down and had the same problem.
I picked up the dead rose head and put it in my pocket. On my right, I could make out the stones of the castle wall, plus the creepy tatters of a hanging tapestry. A few bats flitted by, reminding me of the Chihuahuas. “I wonder what’s happened to our little bat-Chi’s?” I said.
“What a fabulous name for them,” said Emmett, not looking up. “I imagine they’re still whizzing around above, where there’s deadlight. They’ll be fine. The infinite stairwell of the void is a great place for them to play.” He went back to reading his scroll. I scooted next to him.
“What are you reading?” I tried to peer over his shoulder. I missed my journal, and I kind of wished for a scroll to write in.
“It’s news. The Nonbook tells me what’s been going on. Or what’s about to happen. Sometimes it doesn’t distinguish,” he said.
“Let me see. Is it like an app? Why can’t you tell whether things have happened or not?” I asked, reaching for the scroll. My hand sank through it, leaving a film of cold ectoplasm clinging to my fingertips.
“I’m sorry. I’ve got it locked for my use.” Emmett sniffed. “However, if you like, I can provide you with one after we reach our destination.”
I peeked over his shoulder anyway. The spidery handwriting, stilted and crawling, the ink a dark wine color. Spectral script!
“So, Emmett,” I said, making my voice casual, “Tell me really why you’ve been writing to me in my notebook.”
“I might as well ask why you’ve been writing to me in my Nonbook,” he said, holding out the scroll for me to see. When the script resolved to English, I recognized my own handwriting on the parchment. “What kind of mortal could do that? Between this and the extra spectricity emanating from the junkyard, I had to find out who you were.”
“So you told me where Sam is?” I asked.
“Indeed.” He frowned at me. “I seem to recall we had an agreement.” He held out the parchment. I saw my neat cursive handwriting.
Yes. If there’s anything I can do in return, I will do it.
“Oh. I, uh, might have written something like that.” I blushed.
Emmett smiled, rather wickedly, his eyes black as thunderclouds. “Do you always promise strange spirits that you’ll do whatever they desire?”
My face grew even hotter, my ears burning. “Of course not. That was my first séance, and I got carried away. I’m new at this.”
Emmett’s smile turned wolfish. “There might be some little thing you can do for me.”
“What’s that?” I asked in a tiny voice.
He laughed, then brushed my cheek with his wafting hand. “Your face is pink!” he said. “Delightful! Don’t tell a strange spirit you’ll do anything they ask. Especially in a séance. It binds you to obey their every desire. You have to grant me a wish.”
“A wish?” Was he serious? I stared at him.
“You are lucky it was me, Aether. My wish will not be burdensome,” he said. He patted me on the shoulder, his hand passing through.
“You’re really going to ask me for a wish.” I could not take this in. “What am I, your personal genie?”
“Something like that.” He nodded and grinned. “I know just what I’ll ask for.”
“What?” I waited.
“Tell you when we get there. I have to check with the spirit council first,” he said.
I pondered this, shivering with worry about what he might ask me to do. The crackles of spectricity responded, flickering through my hands.
“Will you answ
er something for me?” I said, staring at my lit-up hands.
“Of course.” He put his scroll back into his side. “I will pay for my wish by teaching you, Aether.”
I had no idea what he meant by that. I asked, “Why do I have this spectricity?”
“Your family history would explain that better than I could,” said Emmett. “You’re manipulating spectral energy. Spirits, you see, are mostly ectoplasm enlivened by spectricity. If a mortal can manipulate spectricity—”
“I can control the spirits,” I said.
“No,” said Emmett. His face wore a pained expression. “Not control. Connect. Build a bridge. Don’t think of it like control.”
“Is what I’m doing like what a spiritualist does? Like my father?” I asked.
“Like Able Despair? Oh, you’ve loads more ability than Able.” Emmett flashed his brightest smile. “You’re meant for so much more than hanging around a medium room, telling fortunes.”
“But Dad always seemed to think Sam would be the talented, powerful one,” I said. I thought of Sam that last night, so certain Dad’s beliefs were the truth. My brother was supposed to carry on the Despair spiritualist legacy, not me. “Growing up, I never heard the end of it: The Great Samhain Despair, heir to the family legacy.”
“Yes,” said Emmett. He had dislodged his scroll again and was reading along the parchment. “Samhain Despair. He’s known to us. An extremely accurate and powerful seer—it’s likely he’s completely accurate. Wow! Very few infallible seers are known to exist. Only seventeen years old. This guy is your brother?” Emmett goggled at the scroll, then at me. “What a pair!”
“Sam’s always complained of visions—and hearing voices. But he never sees ghosts, like I do,” I said.
“Some mortals are spirit blind. But a visit to the spirit realm fixes that. And infallible seer—may I just say again, that is incredible power.” Emmett nodded his respect. Then he craned his head around, assessing our position. “We’d better get moving. We have a long time to go.”
“Oh no, really? I was hoping we wouldn’t have to go down many more of these stairs,” I said.
“Actually, this is where we start going up,” said Emmett. He turned around and wafted upward, back the way we had come.
After a long climb—I could swear several more hours had passed and my aching calf muscles agreed, but Emmett claimed only minutes had passed in dead time—he finally stopped and held up one hand. “This is it. I’m sure.”
“You’re sure?” I sat down, rubbing my legs and panting. “You’re surely sure?”
“Be ready,” said Emmett, but his wide eyes and stiff face told me nothing about what to be ready for. He took my hand to float me across the abyss between the spiral staircase and the castle wall. There we lighted on a landing, and Emmett drew a circle with his finger on the stones of the wall. The circle lingered, flickering bright. Emmett knocked three times in its center. I braced myself.
The wall swung inward to admit us into the next passage, revealing a cavernous room full of thrones. Each throne contained a personage, of sorts, and each throne floated a good foot or two above the ground.
Chapter Fifteen
The Protégée
Emmett and I approached the thrones. I stood, one foot behind the other, as the enthroned personages moved in closer, surrounding us, encircling us. Many of them spun around and around—very unsettling. Emmett floated up to their level and gave a deep bow.
“So, this is the one you’ve brought among us.” The lordly man with sharp features rubbed his long, thin beard, pointed like an icicle, hanging almost to his waist.
“Esoterica.” Emmett nodded to the man.
A stately woman with a high brow, clothed in a toga, swooped in close. She glowered at me from beneath lowered eyebrows, and I disliked her immediately.
“Hello, Columbia,” said Emmett, drifting between us. “How’ve you been?”
Columbia gave him a squinty glare.
Emmett’s voice boomed upward, echoing through the cavern, as he addressed the council. “Esoterica, Columbia, everyone else—this is Heather Desperate Despair.”
At least he remembered my name! Although, I don’t think I ever told him the whole thing. The enthroned spirits spun around me, faster now, staring and murmuring to one another.
“And can she really—” began a small, chubby spirit on a tiny throne.
“Quiet, Pan,” said Esoterica. He lifted his hands to call order. “This mortal girl of the family ‘Despair’ has been identified as having significant spiritualist abilities. She is brought here before us by Emmett for evaluation. This case is somewhat unusual because she has reached the age of fifteen years without detection.”
From the spirits higher up, I heard whispering, and one called down, “Is this the same Despair family as that last one? The boy?”
“I don’t know. Emmett?” said Esoterica.
“What boy?” My voice came out dry, a croak. “You mean Sam? What have you done with him?”
They all ignored me. Emmett said to Esoterica, “The boy’s mentioned as Samhain Despair in my Nonbook. He’s her older brother, and Able Despair is the father.” Emmett grinned and winked at me. “That’s right, isn’t it?”
I nodded, backing away from the circle of spirits. I hated to be the center of attention—my stomach had filled with butterflies and sweat dripped down my back. Did they all have to stare at me? This was worse than giving an oral report at school.
“Please. Did you see my brother?” I begged them. They just went on talking like I wasn’t there.
“Quite astonishing! The Despairs, unearthed! We thought they’d all died out. Twice!” said Esoterica.
“Some of the most powerful spiritualists ever known came from the Despair family,” said Columbia. “Of course, they had help.”
Esoterica frowned and folded his arms across his chest. “The Despair artifacts again? Columbia, I had hoped you’d put this tiresome obsession behind you,” he said.
Columbia ignored him. She drifted closer to me, staring in this brazen, unblinking way that made my face heat up and my knees shake. I inched back.
“Humph. Not much to her, is there? What is to be done? Will we test the girl here?” she asked. She extended one finger a hair’s breadth from my forehead. I held my breath. But she hesitated, then whirled and flew back to her place in the circle without touching me.
Emmett spun two feet higher into the circle and announced, “I’ve already done it!”
Gasps echoed around the spiral of spirits. Columbia said, “Tested her? So soon? But couldn’t that be dangerous?”
“What could be dangerous?” I asked.
“No, I don’t agree. Unexpected, yes. Uncanny, perhaps. But not dangerous. I think she’s perfect,” said Emmett. He gazed down at me, adoration shining from his black eyes. I flushed.
“Perfect for the task?” asked Esoterica, rearranging the long robes that wreathed around him.
“Perfect for the task . . . and for me,” said Emmett. The lightest tinge of pink on his face, like before, in the chamber. Then gone. “I wish to take this mortal as my protégée, if it please the spirit council.”
Columbia’s face wore a bitter scowl, but Esoterica ran his hand over and over his beard, thinking. Pan made a whistling sound, whizzing around and around.
“Emmett,” said Columbia, “We spoke about this. Might I remind you once again that you must retain no sense of attachment? Remember the last time.” The look she directed at Emmett fairly creaked with ice. I shivered.
“Yes, yes, of course. I only meant I could work with her perfectly. She’s very powerful—and talented,” said Emmett. He nodded at me with a sly smile, then bowed to Columbia, all respect.
“I’m sure he meant nothing by it, Columbia,” said Esoterica, taking out a small pair of scissors and paring his fingernails.
“I think he did!” said Pan, but no one listened to Pan.
Esoterica raised his white, shaggy eyebrows a
nd peered down at me. “What abilities have you ascertained in your testing?” he asked. His beady stare made me feel like a bug under a magnifying glass. I tried to scoot back again and bumped into the wall. I felt Emmett’s arm around my shoulders, cool but reassuring. He’d materialized next to me.
“Don’t worry. We’ll soon be done,” he whispered. I rubbed my ear. His whisper tickled.
“But what will we be done with? What do you mean, your protégée?” I asked. He only gave me a bright smile and turned back to the council. His arm on my shoulders made my neck tingle—probably from the spectricity.
“She’s powerful, but undisciplined, in spectricity manipulation. She has undeveloped abilities in telekinesis, telepathy, and as you can see by the eyes, healing. She’s also summoning and communing with spirits in the mortal realm—full manifestations,” said Emmett.
The council, including Esoterica, went silent. Their stares all centered on me. I wanted to shrink and crawl into a crack in the wall. Into this silence snarled Columbia’s haughty voice. “That’s all you know? We need more thorough testing. The boy had seer abilities! She may also.”
“Tell me what you know about my brother! I’m here to find him. I’m not your lab rat!” I shouted. I glared up at them, saving a special glare for Columbia.
“No. You’re not,” said Emmett. He joined me in glaring up at them. “Esoterica, please illuminate Miss Despair about the fate of her brother.”
Esoterica shook his gray head until his beard swayed back and forth. “We examined him, as we examine you now. We ascertained he was an exceptional seer. But he grew angry at the delay in seeking Able Despair, his father. He set off for the far dimensions, and we were unable to detain him.”
The spirits all held their heads, moaning. “Such pain!” said a creaky spirit near the top.
“The far dimensions? Where’s that?” I demanded.
“It is very far,” said Emmett. “And Columbia, as to more testing, you see where it got the council with Samhain Despair. Please desist, before we lose another great spiritualist. Ecto-time will tell what Miss Despair is capable of achieving. I have requested her as my protégée, and that will be quite enough. Remember, we need the assistance of mortal spiritualists. Our duty is to build connections with the mortal world—not to study the mortals! We are all stronger together.”