Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“You don’t see him?” Roz asked, waving to the transparent town founder standing just behind her. Sadie Graves screwed up her face, her nose crinkling as she stared at the space next to Roz.
“No?” her mother asked, then pressed the back of her hand against Roz’s forehead. Roz swatted her hand away. “I’m not sick.”
“Just checking, it is flu season,” her mother reminded her. “Anyway, who is it that I’m supposed to be seeing?”
“A spirit! A ghost!” Roz exclaimed.
“Perhaps she can hear me. Hello, Mrs. Graves? It is I, Alaric Blackwood, beloved founder,” Alaric said. Roz rolled her eyes.
“Are you sure?” Sadie asked carefully. “What does he look like?”
“He’s…transparent. At first, it was just his voice, then…” She trailed off.
“Then?” Sadie pressed.
“Then he was fully visible, well—except for being transparent. The farther he gets from me, the less visible he is. He said I…tethered him,” Roz said. She knew what tethered meant, just not in a magical sense. She’d never heard such a phrase before.
“He did?” Sadie asked, her eyebrows raising. “Interesting.”
“You don’t believe me.” Roz deflated.
“Oh, no, I do. Absolutely. I just…” Sadie trailed off, her gaze darting to the empty spaces around Roz.
“It’s fine,” Roz sighed. “Maybe I am sick. Maybe when I fell, I hit my head on the statue and this is a hallucination. Maybe I’m in a really long, very realistic dream? That makes way more sense than—” She stopped abruptly.
“Than what?” Sadie asked.
“Nothing,” Roz muttered. Sadie frowned and placed a tentative hand on Roz’s shoulder. It was stiff, a quick pat, like she was petting Albie and not comforting her daughter.
“One day your gifts will come out, you’re just a late bloomer,” Sadie reassured, misunderstanding Roz’s hesitation.
Of course she didn’t understand. Sadie had never understood Roz or Delia.
They were daughters of a long line of necromancers, which apparently ended with them.
At least Delia could do something cool, like rot stuff. Roz couldn’t do anything.
Somehow, it hurt worse knowing her mother didn’t believe she was capable of whatever magic Alaric thought she performed.
“It’s fine. Thanks for talking to me, Mom,” Roz said, turning to leave her mother’s home. Sadie didn’t try to stop her as the door banged shut behind her. She took several deep breaths on the porch before continuing down the street, back to the cemetery.
“Why did you not tell your mother of the blood?” Alaric asked, keeping easy pace next to her. Ghosts didn’t have lungs, so she doubted floating around town was particularly exhausting.
“I don’t know, didn’t seem important,” Roz said evasively.
“You’ve no skill for lying,” Alaric commented.
“I know,” Roz said, but still didn’t answer him. He was quiet until they turned onto Main Street.
“I can consult my books,” Alaric offered.
“Sure, let me break them out of the museum,” Roz said quietly, her lips barely moving.
“I cannot hear you when you talk like that,” he commented.
“Yes, well, I don’t want the town seeing me talking to thin air. If my mother couldn’t see you, no one can,” she said in the same clipped way.
“Well, does your family have books on necromancy?”
“My family is the book,” Roz said.
“Your aunts would not be keen on you asking them,” Alaric said, though it was not a question.
“How would you know that?”
“You’ve told me of them once or twice,” Alaric said, his turn to be evasive. Roz rubbed her forehead and grimaced.
“You’ve really listened to ten years of me blabbering?” Roz asked.
“Well, I’m not always there. But, yes, I find your presence comforting. I tried to stay near my statue whenever you were most likely to be there.” He said it so matter-of-fact, as though it wasn’t weird that his ghostly form engaged in a one-sided conversation with her for ten years.
Roz didn’t trust herself to speak, so she didn’t.
“Does this bother you? I can step back to wherever I was, if you’d like,” he said.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Roz said with a sigh. She’d forgotten she was speaking to thin air until one of the citizens of the town stared at her with an inquisitive look on his face.
Today was not looking good for the public perception of her sanity.
“Ah, yes. I shall remain quiet until we are back in the cemetery,” he whispered. She had to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling.
Albie greeted them just beyond the gates, stretching in his slow manner before falling into step with her. “I still have a ton of stuff to do,” she said.
“And I have all the time in the world,” Alaric replied.
He kept her company while she cleaned up the rest of the cemetery. “So, what’s your plan for me freeing you?” Roz asked as she raked more leaves. It was much harder with her scabbed palms, but she didn’t complain.
“I was hoping your family would know something,” Alaric admitted.
“Me too,” Roz said.
“Perhaps if you told them about the blood…”
“I can’t. It’s…well, blood isn’t really a thing for necromancers. It’s actually kinda forbidden. Necromancy deals with the dead, blood is of the living. They shouldn’t mix,” Roz said.
“And yet,” Alaric replied, “here we are.”
Yes, here we are.
“What kind of witch were you?” Roz asked suddenly.
“I’m not a witch,” Alaric said.
“You’re not? Why not?” Roz asked.
Alaric shrugged. “I was not born one. I was accepted into the coven because I was handy, and to be honest, I was courting one of the members.”
“You had a girlfriend?” Roz asked. “That’s not written anywhere.”
“She died,” he said.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Roz replied.
“It’s been a long time. We were young, she was sick, and…well. I stayed with the coven, and then the inquisition came and I took up the mantle of a preacher. I have no magic in my blood, so if any of their tests proved accurate, I’d evade detection.”
“And yet you were willing to die for them,” Roz said quietly.
“I’m sure they were very surprised,” Alaric said, turning to stare over the expanse of the cemetery.
“With what is written about you…” She trailed off.
“You are absolved of all sins when you die, it seems. I’ve visited the museum, read my epitaph, seen countless reenactments of my alleged end. It doesn’t matter now, I am not that man anymore.”
“For better or for worse?” Roz asked.
Alaric considered her question for a long moment, his gaze still trained over the cemetery.
Not a witch. Just a man who fell in love with a witch and became tangled in their world.
When he spoke again, it was quiet, thoughtful.
“With three hundred years of hindsight, I hope at least a little for the better.”
Roz finished the last of her chores just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Alaric never strayed far, always visible at the corner of her eye. She gathered the gardening tools, trying to stack them all in her arms to avoid multiple trips.
“Allow me,” Alaric said, reaching for one of the buckets. His hands slid right through them. “Ah—yes. A day of being able to speak with you has me forgetting my condition.”
Roz’s heart ached for him. “Well, just this morning you were invisible and I couldn’t hear you. Now we’re chatting. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”
Alaric gave her a halfhearted smile. “You are always so optimistic. It is one of the many things I like about you.”
Roz turned to head toward the gardening shed before he could see the red that bloomed across her cheeks. He meant platonically, like a ghost companion, she chided herself. Not at all like the movie with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze.
She considered taking up pottery to test the theory.
NO. No. This was the town founder, who wanted his soul to pass on to the afterlife. He was being kind; he was probably awfully lonely. She shouldn’t take any of this personally, no matter how attractive he was.
She glanced at him, the heat rising to her cheeks once more. Even in his tattered, bloodied robe, he was a grade-A hottie. Strong jaw, stubble, piercing green eyes. If he was the town handyman, she bet there was a nice body under that robe…
Stop fantasizing about the ghost founder that somehow only you can see.
She shoved the items into the shed and turned toward her home. Alaric paused at her door, clasping his hands behind his back.
“Well, I suppose this is where we part,” he said.
“Did you want to…come in?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t want to intrude…”
“You can watch me eat a microwave meal and then…maybe a movie?”
Alaric paused, and Roz tried not to let it get to her. Of course he didn’t want to go inside and watch a damn movie. He wanted her to figure out his curse, maybe how to break it, how to untether them. He wanted freedom, and she was lollygagging around, inviting him into her house for a movie.
“Without a chaperone?” he said at last.
Roz couldn’t contain her laughter. “You don’t need to worry about my virtue, my dating prospects have long since dried up. Besides, you can’t even touch me.”
She didn’t know why she said it. Her jaw snapped shut.
Alaric sighed, his hand trailing the air by her ear. She could have sworn she felt him then, a heat against her skin. But he was a ghost, so that was impossible. He dropped his hand to his side, then nodded.
“If you are sure,” he said.
“I’m sure. Company would be nice.” She opened the door wider to let him in. He hesitated a moment more before nodding, his gaze suddenly intense on her.
“Alright. I find I am reluctant to leave your side.” Then he stepped over the threshold.