by Holly Rivers
‘All right, Carlotta, I think we can begin,’ said Grandma Maeve. ‘Are you ready?’
The trapeze artist nodded furiously. ‘Oh yes! More than ready!’
‘In which case, Demelza, will you start to recite the incantation in chapter ten of the Grimoire of the Dead? Make sure you’re nice and clear, OK?’
Demelza flicked to the right page and took a deep breath. She concentrated as hard as she could on the words in front of her, focusing on every sentence, every syllable. She’d always hated public speaking in school, the way that everyone’s eyes bore into you, urging you to stumble and stutter. But just then, as if a forgotten part of her brain had suddenly been switched on, Demelza opened her mouth and the incantation began to flow confidently from her lips, like the words of a familiar poem:
‘Spectre, spectre, hear my cry!
I summon you from the other side.
We all live and we all die,
Come forth across the great divide . . .’
Her words echoed around the room like the notes of a singing bowl, and astonished at the confident sounds she was making, Demelza began to say them louder and more stridently.
‘That’s it, Demelza!’ encouraged Grandma Maeve. ‘You’re doin’ it! I knew you could! Now just keep on focusin’!’
Demelza’s pulse quickened. As she continued to chant she could feel her fingers getting warmer, tingling as if a flame were dancing on the tip of each one. The heat crept over the back of her hands and up her arms, and soon her whole body felt as if it was being powered by volts of electricity. She felt as if she could do a trillion somersaults followed by a trillion more!
‘Spectre, spectre, hear my cry!
I summon you from the other side.
We all live and we all die,
Come forth across the great divide . . .’
She glanced at Grandma Maeve, who indicated for her to raise her arms through the air. Demelza did so, and with her fingers reaching out above her, Demelza watched in wonder as a turquoise vapour began to rise up from the crucible, just like it had for Grandma Maeve the previous night! It followed the path of her fingers as if she were a magician, its colour slowly turning ochre, then ruby, then white. The summoning was happening, it was actually happening!
‘That’s it, Demelza! You’re nearly there!’ said Grandma Maeve, her voice vibrant as she spurred her granddaughter on. Up in the rafters the vapour was swirling and twirling, showering the chamber with luminescent sparks. ‘Don’t stop saying them words. Don’t let your focus drop!’
But Demelza was starting to feel tired.
Her limbs were aching and her throat was dry from all of the chanting. It was as if the summoning was draining her body of its energy. She felt her arms beginning to fall, her voice fading with every passing second.
‘You can do it!’ yelped Grandma Maeve. ‘Don’t let your mind get the better of you. You have the strength, I know you do!’
Demelza felt her grandmother’s supportive hand land on her shoulder and she took a deep breath. She pictured Carlotta’s face, and how happy it would make her to see her brother. She pictured her parents and how proud they would be if they could see her now.
She had to carry on!
Screwing up every last ounce of energy, Demelza began to chant again. She battled through the ache pulling at her muscles and the wrench on her vocal chords, and to her astonishment, before long she felt the first strands of spec-toplasm beginning to twist up her throat and through her nostrils.
Grandma Maeve whooped with joy and clapped her hands. ‘You’ve done it, Demelza! You’ve done it, my darlin’ girl!’
Demelza tried to keep calm, watching as the strands of spectoplasm looped and twisted towards the vapour cloud before her very eyes. She’d thought the process would be uncomfortable, as if she were choking or gasping for breath, but it wasn’t. She felt contented, in control.
And then it happened.
BOOOOM!
A burst of shocking white light illuminated the summoning chamber.
Demelza stumbled back, exhausted, panting as if she’d just completed a cross-country race. But soon enough her nose started to twitch, as all at once the scent of buttery popcorn, the tang of elephant dung and the cloying sweetness of candyfloss wafted through the air – the smells of the circus!
‘Giacomo!’ gasped Carlotta, her hand shooting to her lips as she leapt from her seat. ‘Oh, my dear Giacomo! You’re here!’
Demelza looked up and, like a vision from a dream, the spectre of a muscly-armed trapeze artist had appeared before her, floating just above the crucible. Not quite solid, but not opaque either, he looked like a figure in an old photograph which had desaturated over time. Grandma Maeve had already cloaked him in a long gown and Demelza stared at him as if hypnotized, unable to take her eyes away.
‘Carlotta? Is-is that really you?’ he stuttered. For a moment he seemed lost, confused, but as his eyes focused on his sister, he gasped. ‘No! It can’t be!’
‘Yes, it’s me, Giacomo! It’s really me!’ Carlotta ran forward, her eyes sparkling, her face aglow. She stood face to face with the spectre of her deceased brother. ‘Oh, Giacomo, I’ve missed you so much.’
As the siblings began to talk, Grandma Maeve grabbed Demelza’s hand and squeezed it tight. Demelza wasn’t sure if it was her own heartbeat or her grandmother’s that she could feel pulsing through her fingers, but it was so strong it felt like a drumroll. She’d done it! She’d summoned a spectre!
‘I’m so sorry for not believing you, Grandma,’ she whispered. ‘Really I am.’
‘That’s all right, my darlin’,’ replied Grandma Maeve with a wink. ‘You wouldn’t be you if you hadn’t demanded scientific evidence! I hope that this is proof enough?’
Demelza nodded. It was more than enough!
‘But Carlotta, how am I here?’ asked Giacomo, floating out into the room. He looked down at his pale white hands, then over to Demelza and Grandma Maeve. ‘And who are these people? I fell from my trapeze . . . I died . . . I was staying somewhere . . .’
‘I’ll explain everything later,’ replied Carlotta gently. ‘But it’s all down to this wonderful girl.’ She turned to Demelza, beaming. ‘She brought you back! She’s a Spectre Detector!’ Carlotta went to stroke her brother’s face, but as soon as her hand made contact with his cheek it disappeared right through it. It was as if her brother was made from smoke. ‘I . . . I can’t touch him?’ she asked, turning to Grandma Maeve.
‘Unfortunately not,’ she replied with a frown. ‘Even though spectres look solid enough, human flesh can’t connect with spectoplasm. Spectres can touch inanimate objects, though – pick things up, wear clothes, relax in an armchair – in fact, why don’t you both make yourselves comfy?’
The siblings sat down in front of the fire and, as Demelza watched them bask in each other’s company, a comforting warmth spread through her body – as if she’d just drunk a mug of the most delicious hot chocolate. It was like the cosy feeling she got when giving a Christmas present, or the joy of testing out a new invention for the first time.
‘Let’s give them some space, shall we?’ whispered Grandma Maeve, tugging at Demelza’s shirt. She turned to the Tombolini siblings, who were chatting away as if they’d never been separated. ‘We’re going to leave you both now. You have three hours together and after that Demelza will return to reverse the summoning, OK?’
‘Thank you! Thank you!’ spluttered Giacomo. ‘I don’t know how I can ever repay you both. I never got to say goodbye to my Carlotta and now . . .’ He looked to his sister and beamed. ‘Now we can take a final bow, together.’
CHAPTER 12
Grandma Maeve’s Warning
Demelza and Grandma Maeve sat eating breakfast at the old oak table as the sun rose. Shiver was curled up by the stove, his nose twitching as the pair tucked into plates of crispy bacon, mushrooms and fried tomatoes. As a special treat, Grandma had even made a batch of crumpets, which were piled up high and oo
zing with butter and honey.
‘So did you enjoy your first summonin’, my darlin’?’ asked Grandma Maeve.
‘Grandma, it was amazing!’ replied Demelza, reaching for the pepper pot and shaking it liberally over her food. ‘Astonishing! Astounding! No scientist has ever been able to conclusively prove that there can be life after death before! This is a revolutionary breakthrough!’ Her knee began to jerk up and down as visions of winning a Nobel Prize for Physics zoomed through her mind. She pushed back her chair and reached for the pen and paper on the dresser. ‘In fact, as soon as I’ve finished eating I want to start studying the summoning process. It needs to be monitored, researched, verified. When people learn about this I’m going to be the most famous scientist in the—’
‘NO!’ Grandma Maeve slammed her teacup on to the table, making Demelza jump. Her brow was as dark as a thundercloud and her body was shaking. ‘No! You can’t tell anybody about this, Demelza. I thought I’d made that very clear. No one can know about what we do, you hear me? We ain’t lab rats to be poked and prodded. Everything we do must be kept under lock and key.’
‘But, Grandma, I—’
‘BUT NOTHING, DEMELZA!’ Grandma Maeve shot to her feet, and Shiver let out a frightened yelp. ‘NOTHING! YOU HEAR ME?’
The pen Demelza was holding fell from her grasp. She’d never seen Grandma Maeve so angry before, so serious. In the blink of an eye the atmosphere in the room had changed completely, and there followed a thick and uncomfortable silence. The ticking of the kitchen clock suddenly sounded louder than it ever had before. Demelza didn’t know what to say.
‘Look,’ said Grandma Maeve after a while, holding out a hand. ‘I didn’t mean to shout at you, my darlin’. It’s just –’ she looked to the floor – ‘well, it pains me to say it, Demelza, but I fear I must. I didn’t want to worry you without no need, but I think you need to understand exactly just how dangerous bein’ a Spectre Detector can be.’
Her normally rosy cheeks had paled, her small hands trembled. ‘You see, Demelza, there are people out there who want to exploit our powers for evil rather than good. Bad people, dangerous people.’
A lurch of apprehension rose in Demelza’s tummy and she quickly swallowed down a mouthful of mushroom. ‘What do you mean, Grandma? What dangerous people?’
Shiver stirred and Grandma Maeve scooped him up, caressing his long, velvety ears. ‘Well, there is a way for us Spectre Detectors to bring someone back from the dead completely. A forbidden step which turns a spectre into a living, breathing human being again. We call it the Conjuring of Resurrection.’
Demelza paused, trying to figure out exactly what her grandma was implying. ‘You mean, a spectre can be brought back into the living world as a real person . . . ?’
‘Can, but mustn’t,’ said Grandma sternly. ‘The Conjuring of Resurrection is completely forbidden by the Quietus. You wouldn’t want to attempt it anyway. You see, Demelza, if a Spectre Detector gives a spectre another chance at human life, their own life is forfeited in the process.’
Demelza bit her lip. ‘So . . . if I performed the Conjuring of Resurrection, then I’d die?’
Grandma Maeve nodded. ‘Yes. A life is traded for a life.’
Demelza pulled at a strand of her hair. She was only getting used to the idea of spectres, and now Grandma was saying it was possible to completely resurrect the dead? To give someone a second chance at being alive?
‘But how do you do the Conjuring, Grandma?’ she asked. ‘Is it very different to a normal summoning?’
Grandma Maeve put down her crumpet and sat back in her chair. ‘There are a few differences. The Conjuring of Resurrection can only be performed at midnight on Halloween – that’s when the veil between worlds is at its thinnest. You also need a fourth Ingredient of Awakening – a fragment of bone from the body of the deceased. And because a Spectre Detector’s powers get weaker with age, the Conjuring is best performed by a detector in the prime of youth.’
Demelza felt worry rising in her voice. ‘But . . . but . . . what’s the Conjuring of Resurrection got to do with those evil people you were talking about before? The ones who want to exploit what we do?’
Grandma Maeve edged forward in her seat. ‘Well, it all started about five years ago. One day, just before Halloween, an apprentice Spectre Detector named Willy Priddle went missin’ from the village of Skippingworth. He wasn’t much older than you, actually. One minute he was on his way back from school, and the next he’d vanished. Never seen again.’
Demelza reached for her mug and grasped the handle tightly. ‘Wh-what had happened to him?’
‘We don’t know exactly, but over the years other apprentices went missing too. About one a year, in fact, and always around Halloween.’ Grandma Maeve cleared her throat. ‘They was never found, but because they was all young Spectre Detectors, and because of the time of year, the Quietus figured it was someone wanting them to perform the Conjuring. Someone they call the Snatcher.’
Demelza’s mouth went dry. ‘So you think the children must have done as the Snatcher asked? They performed the Conjurings, and by doing it they died?’
‘Either that,’ said Grandma Maeve, ‘or they refused, and were murdered by the Snatcher to stop them divulging his or her plans.’
On hearing the word murder, Demelza felt her mouth open into a gigantic ‘O’ of horror. ‘Grandma, this is awful! Why did the Snatcher want them to perform the Conjuring of Resurrection? Who did they want to bring back to life?’
Grandma Maeve shrugged. ‘No one knows.’
Demelza felt her heartbeat treble in speed as her mind began to swirl with horrible, nightmarish thoughts. ‘But what if the Snatcher is still at large? What if they’re still on the lookout for young Spectre Detectors? It’s nearly Halloween! They could come for me!’
Grandma Maeve leant forward and stroked her granddaughter’s head. ‘Shhh, my darlin’, I didn’t mean to scare you. But that’s why it’s so important that we keep our identities hidden. As long as you keep all that we do to yourself, everything will be absolutely fine, I promise. And besides, I ain’t the only Spectre Detector round here. There’s others lookin’ out for you.’
Demelza’s brow furrowed. ‘Really? Who, Grandma?’
‘That I can’t say. I don’t want to go puttin’ no one else in danger.’ She poured some more tea from the pot. ‘Now, finish your brekkie, then we’ll both go get forty winks. I don’t know about you, but I’m absolutely cream-crackered!’
‘OK,’ said Demelza. But as she speared the last of her bacon on to her fork, her heart was heavy with worry.
CHAPTER 13
The Notebook
That week, Demelza stayed home from school to continue with her apprentice training. Daytimes were dedicated to theoretical areas of study – collecting Ingredients of Awakening, incantation elocution, and the very important process of scrubbing your crucible to avoid cross-contamination. (‘A clean crucible equals a clean mind,’ Grandma Maeve had stressed. ‘It’s very difficult to concentrate if your crucible is still tainted with dog food from the time you tried to commune with someone’s pet chihuahua.’)
Demelza enjoyed the studies, but it was the night-time summonings that she looked forward to most. Grandma Maeve said the best way for her to gain confidence in her powers was to practise, and as such had filled every slot in their appointment book with mourners. Night after night new spectres would appear from the crucible, the sight of their pearly white forms leaving both their loved ones and Demelza lost for words. This time last week, the most impressive thing she’d seen was the collection of antique safety goggles displayed at the Museum of Scientific Apparatus in London, but this now paled in comparison to the otherworldly wonders she was witnessing. Even though thoughts of the Snatcher were niggling at the back of her mind, Demelza looked forward to reaching her one hundredth summoning, when she’d be able to apply to become a member of the Quietus and receive her new Mask of Facelessness fashioned from copper.
But by the following Monday, and much to Demelza’s discontent, Grandma Maeve had declared that it was time for her to return to school.
‘Now, remember, not a word to anyone about what we’ve been doin’,’ she said, as Demelza reluctantly packed up her satchel on the kitchen table. ‘Just say that—’
‘—that I’ve been very ill with an incredibly contagious bout of Monkey Pox,’ interrupted Demelza. ‘I know, Grandma. We’ve been through this a squillion times.’ She rolled her eyes as she put her lunchbox into her bag. ‘I still don’t understand why I have to go back to school anyway. I’ve learnt more from you this week than I ever learnt from Ms Cardinal.’
‘Because I don’t want none of them busybody school inspectors knockin’ on my door!’ she replied, escorting Demelza to the front door.
‘But I haven’t done any inventing all week!’ protested Demelza. ‘I wanted to spend today testing out my robotic hand. It would be ever so useful for picking out Ingredients of Awakening . . .’
‘Ha! You ain’t bringin’ any of your dubious contraptions near our summoning chamber, young lady,’ replied Grandma Maeve, adjusting Demelza’s school tie. ‘Federica ain’t laid anythin’ since you used her coop as an electrical conductor for that thingamajig you made last month.’
Demelza giggled as she thought back to her failed Heated House for Happy Hens. It had brought a whole new meaning to fried eggs!
‘Now, off you go,’ said Grandma Maeve. ‘And remember, no talkin’ to strangers. Cycle straight to school and straight back. There’ll be toad in the hole with pumpkin mash waitin’ for you when you get home. Got enough gourds to last me until Christmas.’
She opened the front door and the wind brought in a gust of richly coloured autumn leaves. ‘Oh! Hang on a minute. Be a poppet and put these in the postbox for me, will you?’ Grandma Maeve turned to the sideboard and picked up a bundle of letters tied with twine. ‘Important they get sent today.’