by E. E. Holmes
THE WORLD OF THE GATEWAY
The Gateway Trilogy (Series 1)
Spirit Legacy: Book 1 of The Gateway Trilogy
Spirit Prophecy: Book 2 of The Gateway Trilogy
Spirit Ascendancy: Book 3 of The Gateway Trilogy
The Gateway Trackers (Series 2)
Whispers of the Walker: The Gateway Trackers Book 1
Plague of the Shattered: The Gateway Trackers Book 2
Awakening of the Seer: The Gateway Trackers Book 3
Portraits of the Forsaken: The Gateway Trackers Book 4
Heart of the Rebellion: The Gateway Trackers Book 5
Soul of the Sentinel: The Gateway Trackers Book 6
Awakening of the Seer
The Gateway Trackers Book 3
E.E. Holmes
Lily Faire Publishing
Lily Faire Publishing
Townsend, MA
Copyright © 2017 by E.E. Holmes
All rights reserved
www.lilyfairepublishing.com
ISBN 978-0-9984762-3-0 (Print edition)
ISBN 978-0-9984762-4-7 (Digital edition)
Publisher’s note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover design by James T. Egan of Bookfly Design LLC
Author photography by Cydney Scott Photography
For Mary Carey, who loved a good book more than anyone.
Epigraph
The future: time’s excuse
to frighten us; too vast
a project, too large a morsel
for the heart’s mouth.
Future, who won’t wait for you?
Everyone is going there.
It suffices you to deepen
the absence that we are.
-Rainer Maria Rilke
Contents
Also by E.E. Holmes
Dedication
Epigraph
1. Stolen Holiday
2. Wounds and Scars
3. Milo’s Closet
4. Guidance
5. Bombshell
6. Desperate Measures
7. Baggage
8. Pledges
9. Facing Down Demons
10. Scouting
11. The Caller Speaks
12. Worth a Thousand Words
13. The Seer
14. Duty Calls
15. The Rise and the Fall
16. Into the Woods
17. Siren Song
18. What’s in a Name
19. Rifting
20. Broken Things
21. Unwelcome Visitor
22. Before the Council
23. Devil in the Details
24. The Dormant
Epilogue
About the Author
1
Stolen Holiday
“STOP! STOP! I changed my mind! This is a terrible idea!” Hannah shouted.
“Don’t be ridiculous. This idea is brilliant, just like all of my ideas,” I shouted back.
“What if it falls? What if it gets stuck? We are going to get in so much trouble!” Hannah cried.
I leaned my whole torso out the window and glared down at her. “It’s too late now! Just finish tying it already!”
Still muttering a stream of quiet objections, Hannah tied the rope to the base of the pine tree. I watched with a satisfied smile on my face as she gave me the thumbs up that she had finished.
“Okay, now back up in case we drop it!” I called, then turned to Savannah Todd, who stood beside me at the open window, sleeves pulled up and mischievous grin in place. “Ready, Sav?”
“Ain’t I always?” she replied.
We both grabbed onto the rope and began to pull.
I wasn’t generally the type of person who pulled Christmas trees in through castle windows in the dead of night, but desperate times called for desperate measures. There were three things in life I treated as matters of the utmost importance: snark, coffee, and Christmas trees. Usually, I could just go to a Christmas tree farm or a tree lot like a normal person and put a tree up in my living room. But this year, I would unexpectedly be spending my Christmas at Fairhaven Hall, and so adjustments had to be made.
Hannah and I had arrived at Fairhaven just shy of two weeks ago to represent our clan at the Airechtas, a very important meeting of the Durupinen that convened once every five years. Traditionally, the Northern Clans would gather for a week and vote on important issues and policies that affected our abilities to carry out our calling—to guard the Gateways that separate the worlds of the living and the dead. If all had gone according to plan, Hannah and I would have been back home in the States, decorating a tree in our apartment. Instead, the proceedings had been upended by the arrival of a Shattered spirit, which spread through the castle, possessing unwitting Durupinen and effectively halting the Airechtas until all the Shards of the spirit could be caught and joined to each other again.
So now, the meeting we’d come so reluctantly to attend hadn’t even really started yet, and wouldn’t reconvene until two days after Christmas. This was a big problem, because I had a long list of traditions that I indulged in every year without fail. During my whirlwind, nomadic childhood with my mother, Christmas was one of the only constants. No matter what crappy apartment we were living in, or how bad her drinking was, I could always count on the same familiar songs, the cookies baked from the same recipes, and, most memorably of all, falling asleep every night in the soft glow of the colored lights on our Christmas tree. There were many sacrifices I was willing to make for my role as a Durupinen, but celebrating Christmas wasn’t one of them.
Hannah, whose own fractured childhood had been shored up with none of these traditions, was participating in this latest Christmas shenanigan only reluctantly. She’d have been much happier to leave the tree—and all chance of getting into trouble—back in the woods where we’d found it.
The tree seemed to want the same thing.
“It’s snagging on something down there,” said Savvy through gritted teeth. “Can you see what it’s caught on?”
“I can’t see anything, Sav, it’s pitch black!” I panted.
At that moment, we both turned at the creaking sound of the bedroom door. I expected to see Hannah, and instead the friendly face of Mackenzie Miller peeked around my door.
“Knock, knock,” she said. “Anyone home?”
“Hey, Mackie,” I grunted, adjusting my grip on the rope and trying to tug at a different angle. “Come on in, but shut the door behind you.”
Mackie eased the door closed, and then stepped around the bed so that she could see us properly. She narrowed her eyes at me. “What are you up to, then?”
I shrugged casually. “Who, me? I don’t know. Definitely not hauling a nine-foot-tall Christmas tree through a third-story castle window with a rope of dubious quality. That would be completely irresponsible.”
“Oh blimey, Celeste will have your head!” Mackie said, rolling her eyes.
“Not if you get your arse over here and help us pull it in before we get caught,” Savvy grunted. “Come on, then, be a chum.”
Mackie sighed, but jogged over to give us a hand. Together, the three of us managed to squeeze the monstrous tree through the window and prop it up in the corner.
I ran back to the window and gave Hannah a thumbs-up. “Success! Come on back up so we can decorate it!”
I couldn’t hear her reply, but there was definitely head-shaking and cursing involved. “Someone’s going to end up on the naughty list!” I shouted down at her before pulling the window shut. A gusty swirl of snow floated in, making me shiver.
“It’s . . . kind of monstrous, isn’t it?”
Mackie was asking as she looked the tree up and down. It could barely stand straight up in the makeshift stand we had jerry-rigged out of a giant old urn. “Where did you get it?”
“Didn’t you hear us call timber over in the grove?” Savvy asked, looking disappointed.
“You chopped it down on the grounds?” Mackie asked incredulously, and then put up a hand. “You know what, no. Don’t answer that. I’d rather not know.”
“Ignorance is bliss, mate,” Savvy agreed, slapping her jovially on the back. “You’re not Head Girl anymore, so sod the rules and help us decorate this beauty!”
“Have you got decorations?” Mackie asked.
“Have we got decorations?” I snorted, and held up two enormous brown paper shopping bags, crammed with the gaudiest, most glittering Christmas décor we could find. “London has no Christmas left. We bought it all.”
“What’s in that bag, elf costumes? A Father Christmas suit?” Mackie asked, pointing to a third bag on my bed.
“Nah. That’s some clothes from me mum,” Savvy said. “She’s a seamstress, so when I see something I like in a magazine, I send her the picture and she just knocks something up for me. She made this blouse.” And she gave a twirl, showing it off.
“Nice,” Mackie said, looking impressed. “Well, all right then. I helped you get it through the window, so I guess I’m an accomplice in this nonsense now. Hand me the tinsel.”
We’d just managed to get the lights onto the tree when Hannah came through the door, panting. “Believe it or not I don’t think anyone noticed that whole debacle.”
“It’s a Christmas miracle!” I cried, plugging in the final strand of lights. Savvy played along by making sound effects of angel voices.
Hannah rolled her eyes but laughed as well. She pulled off her hat and scarf, and started digging through the nearest bag for some ornaments.
“So, what’s on the schedule for this Christmas party, then?” Mackie asked. “I’m almost afraid to ask, now that I’ve seen the tree. You haven’t got an actual sleigh on the roof of the castle, have you?”
“No, no. Don’t worry, it gets tamer from here,” I said. “We persuaded one of the cooks to make a batch of all my favorite cookies.” I pointed to the table by the fireplace, where a platter was heaped with gingerbread men and sugar cookies. “We are going to decorate them while watching bootlegged copies of It’s a Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street on my laptop. I also got us all stockings.”
“To hang by the chimney with care?” Mackie laughed.
“Obviously,” I said. “And now, mood music!” I cued up my playlist on my phone, and the sultry tones of Bing Crosby filled the room.
“Where’ve you been all afternoon, Mack?” Savvy asked. “We tried to find you to come shopping with us. Celeste got you working yourself to the bone again?”
Mackie sighed. “Yeah. It’s been a real nightmare, keeping track of who’s coming and who’s going now that the Airechtas is happening after the holidays. We’re trying to make sure we’ve got rooms for everyone, and that the kitchens are stocked for the right numbers of people. Seamus is having a devil of a time making sure that he’s got enough Caomhnóir to handle security. And of course . . . well, everyone’s worried about Finvarra.”
We all looked at each other but didn’t say anything. Finvarra, High Priestess of the Northern Clans, was very ill—so ill, in fact, that many worried she would not last through the entirety of the Airechtas. She had maintained her health for years through Leeching energy from spirits as they Crossed, but her health had been steadily declining since the practice had been banned more than three years ago. No one had seen her out of her tower since the first day of the Airechtas, but the updates that trickled down through the ranks were troubling. As much as we didn’t want to admit it, there was a very good chance that we would need to elect a new High Priestess before this Airechtas was over.
And I doubted anyone was as reluctant to admit this fact as Hannah and I were. The death of Finvarra meant the Crossing of her Spirit Guide and Caomhnóir Carrick, who just happened to be our estranged father. I knew I had to make some attempt at dealing with this fact, but my heart and brain had joined forces in refusing to let me. I made the next move in the epic chess game that was avoiding my own feelings by changing the subject before anyone could vocalize any of these things.
“Any idea if Lucida is still in the hospital wing?” I asked.
Check and mate. Take that, feelings.
Although I had directed the question at Mackie, it was Savvy who answered. “I had to go down there this morning for a follow-up with Mrs. Mistlemoore. Lucida is still there, and still unconscious from what I can tell.”
“Celeste says the Shattering was a traumatic event, for the spirit and for Lucida. It’s no wonder Lucida’s still laid out,” Mackie said.
“Eleanora,” I blurted out.
“What’s that?” Mackie asked.
“The spirit,” I clarified. “Her name was Eleanora.”
Mackie’s cheeks colored, and she nodded solemnly. “That’s right. Sorry, mate.”
“No, don’t apologize,” I said quickly. “I . . . I guess I’m weirdly sensitive about it. Sorry, knee-jerk reaction.”
“You don’t need to explain weird sensitivities to me,” Mackie said with a wink. “Empath, remember? I’m one big walking sensitivity.”
I laughed. “Fair enough. So, no one’s heard any word on when Lucida might be moved?”
“Nah. They can’t move her until they can assess the damage, and they can’t do that until she wakes up. If she wakes up,” Savvy said and she shrugged, as though she could care less whether Lucida ever regained consciousness again—a sentiment I could heartily appreciate.
I heard a small, sniffling noise and looked over at Hannah. She was trying to open a package of ornaments but her hands were now shaking. Immediately I wanted to kick myself.
“Ah, shit, Hannah, I’m sorry,” I said. I hopped down off the chair I was standing on and dropped to the floor beside her, throwing my arm around her shoulders. “That was a crappy topic to bring up. And here I am, talking about sensitivities like an idiot.”
Hannah shook her head and rubbed ferociously at her eyes. “No, Jess, it’s fine. I hate that she gets to me like this. I just need to get over it.”
I opened my mouth to object, but Savvy beat me to it. “Oy!” she cried, making us all jump. “Not a single bloody word out of you about getting over things! That devious old blighter screwed up your life good and proper. You are allowed to feel however the hell you want for however the hell long you want, and don’t you dare apologize for it, yeah?”
A smile crept over Hannah’s initially shocked expression. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, giving Savvy a military salute.
“That’s right. But call me ma’am again and I will club you over the head with this angel,” Savvy warned, swinging the angel around menacingly.
“In the true spirit of Christmas,” Mackie said, and we all laughed.
I was very impressed with our collective holiday decorating skills. Within an hour, not only had we filled every inch of that enormous tree with glittering décor, but we had hung tinsel garlands all around the room, strung extra Christmas lights around the doors and window frames, and hung the stockings from the fireplace. We’d just put the finishing touches on a wreath on the inside of the door when Milo stuck his head through it. I yelped and dropped the ribbon I was holding.
“You will be visited by three ghosts, clink-clink!” he moaned in a spooky voice.
“Clink-clink?” I asked. “What the hell is ‘clink-clink’ supposed to mean?”
“You know, chains? Jacob Marley? ‘I forged these chains in life?’ Read a book much?” Milo teased, sailing the rest of the way into the room and circling it once, taking in all our hard work. “Ugh, it looks like the dollar store threw up in here. Mine eyes cannot take all this glitter.”
“Really? Isn’t glitter the official currency of your people?”
I teased.
Milo spun and narrowed his eyes at me. “Yes, and you are spending it all wrong. Now watch that sass or I will revoke your allowance.”
I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay!”
“So, are you done? Is it present time?” Milo asked, clapping his hands gleefully.
“No presents until tomorrow morning!” I said sharply.
Milo pouted. “Oh, come on! Aren’t you at least going to give me a hint?”
“You were totally that kid who searched your house from attic to basement until you found all your Christmas gifts, weren’t you?” I asked him.
“No need, my mother kept them all in the back of her closet every year,” Milo said. “And besides, I never got what I asked for anyway, so what was the point?” He mimed ripping open a present and then gasping in surprise. “Oh, look! More sports ball accoutrements I don’t know how to use for teams I don’t want to join! Thanks, Mom and Dad!”
“Well, you are just going to have to wait until tomorrow. I am not spoiling this surprise, it’s too good.”
Milo gasped. “You can’t just say stuff like that and then not tell me what the surprise is!”
I grinned an evil grin. “Of course, I can. Torturing you is part of my holiday fun.”
Milo turned to Hannah, but she shook her head firmly before he could even open his mouth. “Don’t even try it. I am not spoiling your Christmas present, either.”
“Ugh, you are the meanest moms ever!” Milo grumbled, floating down to rest on Hannah’s bed like a grumpy feather.
“Did you find Karen?” Hannah asked him.
