Chapter 19
Ghost Hotline
Dodger
For a newbie witch and necromancer, my little altar isn’t that bad. Okay, I’m using the coffee table in the cabin and there isn’t much to the sad display on the table, but I’m trying to stay positive here.
We have everything we need, plus a bit extra.
A black candle. Flowers gathered from the forest as an offering.
The newspaper pages that Rowan hand delivered.
Along with some other things in the cabin that may or may not have mystical properties since I’m following along with something I found in a book.
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter.
I light the candle and try to focus as the wick sizzles to life. I try not to watch Harper. I think I want answers for him more than myself, though it would sure be nice to look him in the eye and know my brother didn’t cause the death of people he loved.
The old newspaper clipping burns easily when exposed to the candle flame, steadily turning the yellowed page to ash.
“Whoever can hear this,” I say, watching the paper curl and blacken at the edges, “we’re looking for the information not covered in this article. We want to know the truth. Come forth. Tell us what really happened five years ago.”
We aren’t reaching out to any spirit in particular, though there are a few that we’re hoping will hear this call in particular.
I think of them each, James, Elaine… and Jonathan.
Since we don’t know how much any one of them knows, or what I might end up seeing, we’re letting them decide whether to answer and which one wants to speak.
Still, I wonder about Jonathan in particular. Will he pick up the spirit phone? Will I recognize him if he does?
Harper hands me a bell, and I swallow hard as I grasp the handle.
Marlow says the bell guides the spirits to me, along with this little ritual, so I don’t need to open up a passageway and go searching for them.
I have no idea if he really knows this or just read it in some kind of Necromancy for Dummies book but he’s our “expert,” so I go along.
Harper stands over me, watching it all silently.
How can he stay so calm? Is it just an act?
No, I don’t think so. He was understandably pissed for a minute there before we put together this little ritual, pissed when he learned how I found out who his brother was, even if he understood how I couldn’t mention Rowan’s visit without mentioning the devastating news he revealed.
But now he’s just… patient and steady.
“Concentrate,” he instructs softly when he sees me wavering. I’m not used to having backup. And I’m definitely not used to having someone I can’t stand to think about losing. That part’s new.
I swallow hard and try to take his advice. Concentrate. My hand shakes a little. The bell rattles as I grip it tighter, but I don’t let go. I ring the bell once. The sound pierces the room, sharp and loud.
My eyes are closed as I grip onto the bell, desperately hoping someone will answer. I ring it again. And again. Five times, one for each year since it happened.
I don’t know how long it takes spirits to cross over to us. I don’t know whether they’ve been listening or they even want to talk to us. I don’t know what I’ll say to them if they do. Hi, James. Hi, Elaine. Is my brother with you? Do you know if he killed you?
Oh god. Should I have prepared something to say? Something better than, Hey, heard you’re dead. How’s that working out for you? You got any good ghost stories?
Then again, there’s no point preparing if I have nobody to talk to. Did it even work? No idea.
My eyes are still closed when I speak to update the man next to me. “I think I’m doing it right. Granted I have absolutely zero experience with reaching out to the spirit world like this and trying to have a little chat, but it feels like I’m doing it right.”
“Then you are,” he says.
“If I were doing it right, this would be working.”
“Maybe you need to take a breath and wait,” he suggests.
“What do you know about communicating with the dead?”
“I know you look tense.”
I ignore that. “This has to work.”
“And it will, just relax.”
“I’m perfectly relaxed,” I insist.
“Really? You’re concentrating so hard that your nose is bleeding and you haven’t even noticed. Doesn’t sound relaxed to me.”
Oh no. My eyes fly open and I raise my hand to wipe my nose—hey, there’s no blood.
I turn my head and glare at the detective. “You lied to me.”
“And I proved that you’re concentrating so hard you think it’s possible your nose started bleeding.”
A sigh escapes my lips. “This really needs to work.”
I’ve basically been on my own since these gifts of mine started up. I know my brother would have been there for me if he wasn’t chased away by our aunt. But it didn’t work out that way.
The only person I had was myself. I’m not used to having someone I can completely depend on, someone always in my corner.
But when I told Harper who my brother was, he didn’t miss a beat.
He just believed in me, believed in my brother, someone he’s never met and heard terrible things about, just because he trusts me.
And I really need that trust to be rewarded. I need to be right about this. We have to find out the truth.
Harper places his hand over mine. “It will work.”
When the room grows colder and Melody yips, Harper’s still touching me.
Before I can say anything, the darkness swallows me whole. The cabin disappears, the room falls away, colors blur, and I feel Harper’s grip tighten on mine as we’re both pulled into—something else.
I can’t see, can’t feel anything but his grip, can’t hear—until I can.
“You have no idea what you’re playing with!”
The voice slices through the void and suddenly we’re standing in an office I don’t recognize.
A man with my eyes and my chin—Jonathan, that’s my brother!
—is leaning over an expensive looking desk, his face twisted with fury.
Across from him, Rowan Asher sits calmly in a leather chair, fingers steepled.
He looks about the same, though I’d recognize him even if he didn’t, that smug expression is unmistakable.
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Rowan says, his voice smooth as silk. “All my time these days is spent studying. I’ve acquired the tools, studied the books—”
“It takes more than just buying necromancer tools to wield their power!” Jonathan slams his hand on the desk, and I feel a strange tingle of pride. “This isn’t like learning a card trick, Rowan. You’re messing with forces you don’t understand.”
Rowan’s face contorts. “Don’t lecture me. This is the power I’ve been waiting for all my life.”
“This isn’t a craft you can choose. It chooses you.”
I feel Harper tense beside me, his fingers digging into mine. I squeeze his hand gratefully. I’ve been afraid to get my hopes up, but this is a good sign. Jonathan doesn’t seem like a power-hungry necromancer. He’s concerned about something Rowan is doing.
The scene shifts abruptly, like someone changed the channel.
Rowan stands in the center of a crudely drawn circle, symbols I don’t recognize etched into the dirt around him. His hands are raised as he conjures a weak passage of light purple, nothing like the ones I make. Sweat pours down his face as he struggles.
A man bursts through the trees. Harper makes a choked sound beside me, and I know from his reaction and the resemblance that this is his brother.
James is smaller than Harper, with the same golden eyes.
James tackles Rowan just as the portal begins to widen, and the light sputters out as they hit the ground.
“You’re wrong about me!” Rowan screams, as he struggles to shove James off him. “I’ve already succeeded. I’ve already found a partner.”
When he snaps his fingers, a chill runs down my spine as something massive emerges from the darkness—a dragon.
Not like the cute cartoon ones from movies, but a massive, scaled monstrosity with eyes like burning coals and teeth longer than my forearm.
Its eyes glow with an unnatural purple fire, and its wingspan casts the entire clearing into shadow.
“Attack them!” Rowan commands. “Show them what real power looks like!”
The dragon tilts its massive head, regarding Rowan with something that looks disturbingly like contempt. It doesn’t move to obey.
“I said attack!” Rowan shrieks, his composure cracking. “I summoned you! You obey me!”
The dragon turns its massive head, regarding Rowan with those eerie purple eyes. It doesn’t move to attack. Instead, it lowers its head until it’s eye-level with Rowan, nostrils flaring.
“Rowan, get back. You can’t control it,” Jonathan says though I can’t see him.
The older man doesn’t listen. He should have. The dragon lunges forward, its claw raking across Rowan’s side. His expensive shirt tears like tissue paper, and blood pours from the wound as he stumbles backward, screaming in pain.
The image shifts again and the last thing I see are three urgent figures, my brother, James, and a woman that must be Elaine.
I’m terrified even though the dragon can’t touch me, but they aren’t running in fear.
They move together, circling the dragon.
My brother is shouting something, hands glowing with a power I recognize because it runs through my own veins.
James shifts partially, claws and fangs elongating as he dodges a swipe from the dragon’s tail.
They’re working together. Fighting together. Trying to subdue the monster that Rowan brought to the city.
The vision starts to fade around the edges and then it’s gone. I’m back in the living room.
“Did you—?” I start.
“I saw it,” Harper confirms, his voice rough. “I saw all of it.”
“They were working together. Your brother and mine. They were trying to stop Rowan.”