15
“Oh, my little Theo is growing up!” Emily Dickinson gushed over me. The poet’s transparent eyes flickered in the evening sunset.
“I’m twenty-six,” I reminded her. “And I dated Sly for five years, remember? This isn’t the first time I’ve gone on a date. It’s just … I’m kinda nervous about it, I guess. I really like him and don’t want to mess this up.”
“Theo, dear, I doubt you’ll have to think about that at all.
” Lizzie Borden brushed out some invisible wrinkles in her ruffled gown.
“He sounds like the type of guy who’d be happy just spending time with you, no matter what you do.
But …” She swiped her hand through the air in a sharp chopping motion.
“If he dares hurt you, I will do whatever I can in my power to chop his little demon head off.”
“Please don’t do that.” I dragged a hand down my frozen face and blew out a breath of white haze. It wasn’t my usual Saturday morning chat with this odd bunch, but after Ren left, I needed to get out of the house and talk to someone. These ghostly weirdos were the first who had come to mind.
“So …” Sam Adams fixed the powder wig on his head as he sat down on top of a gravestone. “What’s the plan? Come on, tell us. This is the most excitement I’ve had since Lizzie Borden discovered axe throwing had become a new fad.”
“Well, I don’t have a lot of money.” I scratched my head under my beanie. “So a fancy steakhouse is out of the question. I was thinking something casual. There’s this really cool pizzeria in the center of town that has good food and beer.”
“Pizza?” Sam Bellamy spat. The pirate adjusted his long, red, tattered coat as he continued. “All you ever talk about is that damn cheese-coated bread. You’re no longer employed at Carson’s Pizza. Branch out and try something else.”
“Oh!” Sam Adams jumped to his feet, snapping his fingers. “I overheard someone the other day talking about beer and burgers. Why not a nice hamburger? Perhaps accompanied by a bottle of Sam Adams lager?”
“I … guess burgers would be nice. I don’t know what he even likes, to be honest.” I rubbed my hands together, my gloves doing little to keep my fingers from going numb, and with the sun setting over the bay, it was becoming colder by the minute.
Emily Dickinson dramatically threw up her hands. “Okay, enough torture for Theo today. We have more important business to discuss. Theo, what’s going on with all these phantoms roaming around and why do I have the feeling this has something to do with you?”
“Heh …” The red tinting my cheeks wasn’t just from the bitter wind.
I averted my gaze, looking out over the cemetery and worrying about the wandering ghosts.
Phantoms were half alive and half dead. Depending on what magical power they inherited when they passed through the veil, they were a threat to both ghosts and living beings.
But Lukas … Lukas wasn’t like that. Lukas was a gentle phantom, and I was sure there were others like him out there.
To the public, they might have appeared as monsters, but deranged or not, there were still beings who felt pain.
They didn’t deserve to be treated the way they were.
They needed help, and I felt like I was the only one capable of offering it.
I sighed, my shoulders slumping. This was the first time I had seen the group since I’d found Ren in the underworld and come back.
I recounted the story, telling them everything about the Syndicate and Alex, and, of course, how this whole situation was my fault for weakening the veil between the two realms so I could return home.
“Theo!” Emily snapped. “You need to fix this right now, young man! Do you fully comprehend the extent of the damage you’ve done?”
“I know, I know! We’re working on a plan to repair it. I … I can do it with the help of Alex and his magic. I just need time. This whole sentient magic thing is kinda new to me. And it’s not like I’m an expert at repairing barriers.”
Lizzie Borden huffed. “No, apparently just breaking them down.”
“Theo, time is not something you have. The longer those phantoms roam Salem, the more corrupt they’ll become.
If the Syndicate is truly after their magic, they’ll never return to the underworld.
They’ll be destroyed before that’s even possible.
You need to fix this before it’s too late for them to return. This is serious—”
The sudden wail of car alarms interrupted Emily's argument. At least a dozen vehicles in the nearby lot lit up at once, their headlights strobing across the pavement as their horns screamed into the night. The five of us whipped our heads around toward the street.
“It’s coming from the direction of the Old Salem Jail. Should we—”
I was already bounding off across the cemetery before Sam Bellamy could finish his statement.
Like the assisted living facility, I felt that ominous feeling before I saw its cause.
The courtyard entrance was steeped in something heavy, the air pressing in around me until a chill crept down my spine.
My magic hummed low in my chest, pulling tight and uneasy as it responded to the phantoms inside.
The Old Salem Jail sat beside the cemetery and carried centuries of memory in its bones. Although the historic brick building had been renovated into apartments, its haunted past still lingered beneath the stone and iron frame.
There was an unconscious body sprawled out by the entrance near the steps.
I removed my gloves, checking for a pulse.
“I think she just fainted. I’m going in.
” I turned around to face the gang. “You four stay out here. You can’t help me anyway.
Stay on guard and surround the building.
Let me know if more phantoms arrive or if any rift wardens show up. ”
We dispersed, and I dragged the woman inside so at least she wouldn’t freeze to death before she woke up, although the inside wasn’t much warmer.
As soon as I entered the lobby, the temperature plummeted as it sank into my chest like ice.
What waited for me on the other side wasn’t a horde of phantoms wreaking havoc, but eerie calmness.
Someone had already taken care of these intruders.
Bodies, both human and phantom, were sprawled everywhere.
The lobby was deceptively quiet. Modern pendant lights hung from the high ceiling, casting warm pools of light over polished concrete floors.
Iron doors and the original exposed brick walls gave the illusion of preserved history, making the jail look more like the modern apartment complex it had become.
Another body was lying beside the mailroom, a pile of letters scattered beside her. This one was a phantom, and while no silver chains seemed to bind her, she had somehow been subdued, knocked unconscious. I didn’t dare wake any of them.
My magic stirred low, tight and restless, tugging at the edges of my senses, warning me that something was wrong while instinctively bringing me toward the danger that awaited me. I removed my heavy winter coat and left the two women behind, creeping down the hallway until I reached the stairs.
By the base of the main staircase, a woman crouched on the floor, hands pressed to her temples, rocking slightly beside a bag of groceries that had spilled at her feet.
Her eyes darted around wildly, pupils dilated, lips moving in frantic, broken murmurs.
My stomach twisted. The threads of her fear, and something darker, were reaching out, brushing against mine.
My magic hummed louder now, coiling like a spring, begging me to intervene before it tightened around her completely.
“Are you okay?” I knelt down beside her, tenderly touching her shoulder.
She looked up at me with a maniacal smile, her hands cupping my face as she said, “I knew you’d come.”
The woman was clearly confused, maybe stuck in a trance, because I was sure we had never met before. Regardless, I wasn’t going to let her continue suffering.
But with my next step forward, I halted.
Descending the stairs, a scraggly man wearing a pair of simple slacks and a button-down emerged from the shadows.
His thin, wax-like face flickered subtly with a ghostly aura.
He didn’t speak and didn’t need to. The tension in the air was enough to make his presence feel wrong.
I pressed myself into the narrow space between the stairs and the wall, hiding behind a potted plant and praying the angle would conceal me from the man gliding down. He crouched beside the young female. His voice was soft, almost soothing, but every word pressed into the woman’s mind like ice.
“Hello, there. I’m Albert. I work here in maintenance. There have been reports of flickering lights in many of the apartments. Won’t you let me into yours so I can fix them?” He gently ran his fingers down her cheek, lingering his touch on her delicate neck.
My brain went into overdrive, scouring the knowledge I’d kept stored of Salem’s history.
Since I often came across ghosts from the past, I’d read almost every book and watched countless documentaries about notable figures in the area.
He could have been a random person, but the immense magical power radiating from him told me otherwise.
And as he wrapped his slender fingers around the young woman’s neck, realization snapped into place. The location … the name … his unassuming presence that was anything but …
“The Boston Strangler,” I whispered out loud, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. I realized my mistake too late as Albert whipped around, facing me with predatory eyes.
Like Orren, silver runes flashed across his arms.