I walked through the wall, out of shadows and fog, humming the Mission Impossible theme. As a ghost, no door could keep me out, not even the sealed and guarded headquarters of Edinburgh’s mage guild. ‘Invisible spy’ sounded more impressive than ‘fugitive’, so I’d take whatever entertainment I could get.
Okay, enough screwing around, Jas. You’re on a mission.
The grey filter of the spirit realm turned the darkened halls into spectral corridors filled with shadows, but it’d take more than a little darkness to spook a necromancer. I scowled at the gilt-framed portrait of the esteemed Lord Sutherland on my right-hand side. Glossy black hair. A pleasant smile. Smooth features that made him look thirty years younger than his true age. No signs that he was anything other than the mage guild’s respectable leader. He hid his crimes well.
I drifted out of the corridor and down the spiralling staircase into the lobby, spreading out my arms and pretending to glide along the banister. Really, we necromancers were wasting our talents getting poltergeists out of people’s basements when there was a world of possibilities out there. I glided to a halt and flipped over in mid-air, bowing to an imaginary audience. And you wonder why ghosts start to lose their minds after spending too long on the other side.
A shadow fell across the lobby floor, and the lamps on the walls came on. They looked like old-fashioned lanterns, and, like everything in here, were probably worth more than a week’s salary from my former job at the necromancer’s guild.
I held my breath out of habit as Lord Sutherland passed by, though breathing was as unnecessary as caution considering he had no way of knowing I was here. He wore a dark shirt and trousers tailored to fit his tall, strong frame. Though I couldn’t see the spells he wore on his wrists to hide his age, the faint tingle of witch magic stirred my senses even as a ghost.
Playing poltergeist had got old after my first few visits here, but I couldn’t resist making the chandelier rattle by blowing air at it from above his head. The Mage Lord glanced up, a frown wrinkling his brow. Then a second figure came into view, a thin blond woman with a Mage Lord’s knee-length coat. Lady Anders, another council member. The two were allies, so it made sense that he’d pick her as a confidant.
Go on. Spill all your secrets.
“Did you find them?” he asked her quietly.
“No,” she said. “They’re gone. Every last piece.”
“Colton,” said Lord Sutherland, spitting out the word like it was a curse. “I knew it.”
“He stated his intent,” said Lady Anders. “We have no need of the shifters now.”
“No, but I would have preferred to maintain access to the portal,” he said. “It somewhat complicates things that the Twelve were able to remove the mirror from our possession.”
Ha. Sounded like Vance and the rest of his council had succeeded in hiding all the pieces of Moonbeam—a stone that could control shifters against their will—so the mages couldn’t use them any longer. And to add insult to injury, they’d also swiped the mirror Lord Sutherland’s allies had been using to transport themselves into their secret bolt hole. I grinned, waggling my fingers behind Lord Sutherland’s head.
Lady Anders’s next words brought me to a halt. “Pity,” she said. “If he’d kept the pieces, they would have been an easy way to dispose of him.”
I wish I could dispose of you. It was no secret that the mages shamelessly murdered one another behind closed doors. They had it all—power, wealth, status—but the more they had, the more they craved. I might not have been in on the Council of Twelve’s plans anymore, but the fewer dangerous magical artefacts Lord Sutherland and his allies got hold of, the better.
“As for Lady Montgomery,” he said, “the guild should have sent me an answer by now. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s holding out on us.”
A pang hit me at the sound of my former boss’s name. I’d often wondered if she was the reason the mages had put their plans to force all supernaturals to add their names to a register on hold, but even Lady Montgomery didn’t dare withdraw her public support of Lord Sutherland or else she’d be the next person he tried to ‘dispose’ of. At least, I assumed her support was a public show and no more. Pity I couldn’t visit her and check, because the instant a necromancer spotted me, it was game over.
I missed the guild so much it was like a physical ache in my chest. I missed it all, even routine patrols, the smell of zombies, and the boring nights sitting in on three-hour-long summits in the freezing cold. I’d take a lifetime of archive duty if only I could turn back time and erase the chain of events which had led me here. But I knew better than to wish for what I couldn’t have. Some doors, once opened, could never be closed.
“Maybe she already chose a side,” Lady Anders said.
Shadows flickered on Lord Sutherland’s smooth features as he moved into the lamplight. “Who? Colton’s? He’s back home in England. Besides, he knows the resources we have at our disposal. His hands are tied, and he knows it. So does she, if she has any sense. She’ll come around.”
My non-existent skin prickled. What resources, exactly? I’d suspected the ruling mages had other allies with immensely powerful magic. Like rogue witches. But they didn’t bother me half as much as certain other foes.
Otherworldly ones.
Goose bumps ran up my arms, and magic shivered over my transparent skin.
“If you’re sure,” Lady Anders said. “If not, we’ll move to take back what they stole from us.”
“She has one chance,” said Lord Sutherland. “Otherwise, we will need to give her an incentive to listen to us in future. She has no use for the artefact herself, and it belongs to us by right.”
What are they talking about? The urge to warn Lady Montgomery swiftly rose, then sank just as fast. She and Lord Sutherland were equals, and if she was one of the smartest people I knew. She must suspect he planned to act against her. Showing my face would bring an end to more than my own life.
Didn’t mean I couldn’t discourage him a little, though.
I concentrated on my hands, which lit up with blue light. Taking careful aim, I threw a handful of kinetic energy at the chandelier above his head.
I’d envisioned a dramatic crash, but instead, the chandelier blew to the side as though caught in a faint breeze. The tinkling sound caused both mages to look up.
“Did someone leave a window open?” Lord Sutherland’s sharp gaze scanned the shadows around the staircase. He looked right through me, even when I gave him the finger. Up yours, you murdering cockwaffle.
Lady Anders stepped back into the shadows. “I will see you in the morning, Sir.”
Shame I didn’t have enough power to knock the chandelier on both their heads and make it look like an accident. After all, I wasn’t a real ghost, and with my body lying several hundred miles away, there was nothing I could do to bring justice down upon this man. He showed no indication that he realised he was being haunted, but if anyone deserved to be terrorised by the mad poltergeists of all the people he’d murdered, it was him.
Another female figure appeared, casting no reflection in the mirrors lining the stairs and preventing me from following him up into the darkness. Her eyes shone in the gloom, grey-blue, like mine. At a distance, one might think the two of us were closely related. We shared the same dark brown hair, though I’d dyed mine black, and the same pale skin, which appeared even paler in Death’s grey light. Behind each of us, however, lay something else. A shadow— or rather, a shade.
Evelyn Hemlock folded her arms and shouted, “Get out! Now!”
The manor’s lobby disappeared, turning into a deserted living room lit only by the faint glow of a lamp set on the oak wood table beside the fireplace. I sucked in a painful breath, my heart hammering against my ribcage. Rolling to the side, I winced as ice cracked on my hands and feet. Soft carpet cushioned my body, but every bone ached with cold. The fire in the grate in front of me had gone out.
“What’s the emergency?” Heart pounding, I scanned the living room, expecting to see the mages standing there waiting to pass judgement on me. But nobody else was here. Nobody living, that is.
Evelyn appeared floating in front of the empty grate, scowling at me. “The emergency is that if you starve to death, we’ll both die. Or did you forget?”
“I’m not starving to death.” I flicked more ice fragments off my chilled legs. “Maybe freezing, but I guess the fire went out while I was over in Death.”
She drew in a breath and said, “You were in the bloody spirit realm for sixteen hours. You’re lucky you haven’t caught hypothermia.”
My mouth fell open. “It was not sixteen hours. More like three.”
Evelyn pouted her lips in an expression I’d come to know too well over the last few weeks. “Look, I’m a ghost, not a necromancer, but you can lose track of time on the other side of the veil. It blurs together. I should know, I lost several years. But unlike you, I can lose several years without dying in the real world.”
Now she mentioned it, I was starving. Sixteen hours? How had that happened? In the spirit realm, I lost all physical sensation. It had its perks, but the downsides hit me all at once when I pushed to my feet and promptly fell over. Wincing, I managed to stand up by half-leaning on the sofa, found my stash of spells, and restarted the fire. Then I limped to the bathroom, gripping the wall to keep my balance.
The spirit realm had no clocks, no markers of the hours passing. After all, most people on the other side had no reason to keep track. I closed the bathroom door behind me, my gaze snagging on my reflection. I looked ghostlike, all the colour bleached out of my skin. Maybe Evelyn had a point. I’d seen necromancers who spent too long in the spirit realm fade out until one day they left their bodies behind and ended up joining the ghosts on the other side. Oh, come on, I’m not that bad. It wasn’t like I had any other entertainment up here in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t even have a phone signal most of the time.
By the time I’d emerged from the bathroom after a long, hot shower to banish the chill from my limbs, Evelyn was sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace, as though if she lingered close enough, some of the warmth would reach her.
“I hope it was worth it.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Well?”
“Well what?”
Evelyn flipped over in the air, floating expectantly in front of me. “What did you hear from the mages?”
“Not enough for an arrest.” I flopped onto the sofa again. “Good news, though—they won’t be able to pull the same trick on the shifters as before. Vance and the others disposed of the Moonbeam pieces. They swiped the mirror, too.”
“I’m glad the Mage Lord did something useful,” she said. “Is he going to come and rescue us from this dismal hole?”
“We’re practically living in luxury. Okay, ‘living’ is a bit of a stretch…” I broke off as she cast me an ugly look. Evelyn wasn’t fond of me reminding her of her incorporeal state. I often found her trying to pick things up, the same way I did when I was haunting Edinburgh through the spirit realm—except her ghostly form was permanent.
A chill swept through the room from a crack somewhere in the walls, a reminder that Lady Harper’s old house had been abandoned for at least a decade and if not for the wards on the outside, it would have fallen into disrepair years ago. Since the only source of warmth was the fireplace, I spent most of my time hanging out in the living room. Fine by me, since the other rooms were filled with too many ghosts, mostly of the metaphorical variety—Evelyn being the obvious exception. My former mentor had taken most of her secrets with her beyond the grave, and while I’d spent most of my limitless free time going through her old records, the pile of actual clues I’d accumulated was depressingly shallow.
One thing became abundantly clear with every passing day: I hadn’t known Lady Alice Harper at all.
I rolled off the sofa and went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. Evelyn watched me, tracking my movements with her eyes. We both knew she wanted a body of her own, and if no other were available, she’d take mine. Considering we were bound to one another for as long as I lived, it was unlikely she’d ever have another option—unfortunately for both of us.
I sipped my water, meeting her stare across the living room. “Going to tell me why she’s mad at me?”
“How would I know?” asked Evelyn. “Cordelia never tells me why she’s angry. She just stares.”
I drained the glass. “If anything, it should be you she’s mad at. You blew our cover and got us kicked out of the city.”
Her jaw locked. “The Hemlocks were sworn to secrecy in a world where the Mage Lords weren’t ruled by a despot who makes deals with ancient gods. Times have changed.”
“We still broke the law,” I said. “Besides, we don’t know how many Ancients he’s working with, or what they’re capable of. I wouldn’t stake my friends’ lives on it.”
Evelyn raised her eyes to the ceiling. “You still put faith in them after they abandoned you? Did you learn nothing from your mentor’s fate?”
“Lady Harper didn’t have friends,” I said. “And she was the most miserable person I knew. That’s why I spent most of the last seven years avoiding her. But I guess you were asleep for most of it.”
“Not sleeping,” she corrected. “I had moments of consciousness, throughout your life, and I know that if you don’t cut ties with your friends, they will perish in the war, Jas.”
“There doesn’t have to be a war.” My hands clenched, magic sparking to the surface. At the sight of her magic in my hands, Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. “If you hadn’t decided to expose us, I could have been back at the guild right now, hunting zombies with Lloyd.”
“That life was over for you the instant I awakened.” Evelyn’s eyes glowed blue-grey, a dark shadow appearing behind her.
“You don’t get to dictate my life any more than Cordelia does, Evelyn,” I said. “And if you even think of forcing me to abandon my friends, I’ll make the next binding spell a permanent one.”
Sparks leapt to her own hands, green light igniting. Tensing, I called on my own magic, which formed the shape of a glimmering semi-transparent whip covered in flickering runes.
Her eyes gleamed. “Try me.”
I lashed the whip at her. She caught the end in her palm, dragging me towards her. I pulled, and so did she, catching both of us in a tug-of-war.
“You dare to use my own power against me?” she hissed.
“You gave me this power by choice.” I yanked at the whip, which dissipated into nothingness, leaving Evelyn floating inches away from me. “You can’t take it back now.”
“It was hardly a choice,” she said. “You were a proxy, nothing more. I’m the one who should have survived.”
“But they killed you,” I said. “The Hemlocks dealt the killing blow, at your command. Who did it, anyway? Cordelia? No, she was still cursed back then.”
“They all were,” she spat. “It was Lady Harper who performed the ritual, of course. It was she who bound both of us with our deaths.”
Her words punched me in the chest. I staggered, my legs threatening to give out.
A nasty smile twisted her lips. “Are you really surprised?”
Well, no. Shocked, maybe, but not surprised.
I put the glass down and moved back to the sofa, my mind whirling. Lady Harper performed the ritual that bound us? Guess that explained why Evelyn had chosen to speak at Lady Harper’s funeral when the two had barely known each other when Evelyn was alive.
“She’s not a Hemlock witch.” I addressed the fireplace. “How can she have performed the ritual without our magic?”
“She didn’t need to,” said Evelyn. “My own magic was enough, and with her help, I used my last breath to bind us.”
The small hairs on my arms stood on end. Lady Harper had never talked about the invasion, only alluded to what she’d witnessed that night. Everyone knew she’d killed two Sidhe in person, and her entire family except for her granddaughter Wanda had died in the war. I owed her my life already, since she’d plucked me out of the witch orphanage and helped raise me, but I hadn’t known Evelyn owed her a greater debt.
The last tangible thing my mentor had left in this world was the bond between Evelyn and me. A bond that kept us alive, saved us—and doomed us.
