The Iron Bells

by Jeanette Battista

Chapter Eighteen

  After I leave Ryland’s office, I make my way to Trick’s cell. I might as well try and make some headway on the binding spell while I have the time. I have the bad feeling that free time is going to be in very short supply very soon. I know I might be endangering the mission’s success if I do manage to reverse the binding spell and figure out a way to release Trick, but I am not going to think about it right now. I would have to get lucky in so many ways that to contemplate is ridiculous.

  "Back again so soon?" Trick's voice is less mocking, or maybe that's just my imagination.

  I slump down the wall just inside the door so that no one will see me if they look in the window. "It's the only quiet place I've got." I'm tired. I don't feel up to another lesson from Trick, but I've got no choice. I feel like I'm being hounded by things I can't see. At least here I can hide for a little while.

  Trick surveys me with disbelieving eyes. "Well that's possibly the saddest thing I've ever heard." He looks around the room. "Although I suppose I must admit it is quiet in here. And I was beginning to think you might have taken a liking to me or something silly like that."

  I snort. "Hardly."

  He sits back. "Excellent. What kind of a world would it be if spirits and humans actually got along?"

  I rest my head against the wall, closing my eyes briefly. I want to fall asleep. The Inquisition have been out in force the past few days and nights and it's getting harder to walk around undisturbed. I've seen Raulston on three separate runs and every time, I feel like he's watching me long after I've passed by him. It's unnerving. I find him more odious than I find demons in general. I'm wondering if it's because he's human—or at least has the semblance of one, even though there's nothing even remotely human inside him anymore. How he can order the tortures done to innocents and retain any hope of humanity is lost on me.

  Trick's sarcasm is not lost on me either. Nor is his reference. "You keep using the word spirits to refer to yourself and your kind. Why?"

  "Because that's what we are." He sounds like his talking to a particularly dim child and I give him the stink eye. "Perhaps if I say it enough, the fact will sink into your incredibly thick skull."

  I make a rude hand gesture. "Oh yes, that's endearing you to me." I reopen my eyes to skewer him with a glare. "So then tell me, since I am apparently so hopelessly dim, what's the difference?" I've been going through the Key of Solomon slowly and have any number of questions for him, but I don't want him to know I have the book. If he brings up the subject though, my questions can pass for a natural curiosity.

  "The difference, dear limited human, is semantics. There is nothing remotely demonic about my nature, nothing infernal. I simply am, as I have always been. There is nothing particularly good or particularly evil about us; it is the use to which humans put us that makes us so."

  I sit up, wide awake now. I need to understand what he's saying if I hope to unravel the secrets of the book. If I ever hope to free Patrick. "What, you just hung around amongst the clouds or wherever, contemplating the great meaning of it all until humans came along and ruined it?" I don't try to keep the incredulity from my voice.

  "That is a bit simplistic." He smiles benignly at me, a complete innocent. Which is also a complete sham. "But yes."

  "I don't buy it."

  "You don't have to. That doesn't keep it from being the truth." His smile is positively beatific.

  I sigh. "Okay, let's say for a moment that I believe you. You are a spirit." I try not sneer, and am actually somewhat successful. "Why does exorcism work on you if you aren't demonic in origin?"

  Trick raises an eyebrow. "Oh, exorcisms are successful, are they? You've seen one work?"

  I've only seen one exorcism, at least a partial one. It was not successful. "Not personally, no," I answer, keeping my voice level. I do my best to keep my expression neutral and calm, even if I don't feel that way inside. "But there have been instances." I cock my head as I think of something. "And if they didn't work, why would you lot burn all copies of the ritual or lock it up where no one can get to it?" I lean back, satisfied with my argument.

  Trick sits in his chair, completely still. It almost looks like he's having some kind of debate with himself. I wait him out, watching the subtle shifts of emotion on his face. It's kind of fascinating to observe someone you know so well have entirely different expressions of mood.

  When he finally does speak, he sounds resigned. "I'm on the horns of a dilemma here."

  "Do tell."

  He looks me in the eye, Patrick's familiar brown meeting with my muddy blue. "If I stand a chance of getting out of this muddle, I have to tell you something we spirits would much rather you humans NOT know. But if I do tell you, you will no doubt use it against me." He sighs dramatically. "Which is the correct path I wonder?"

  I resist the powerful urge to roll my eyes. "You could just stay bound here forever." I smile sweetly.

  Trick sniffs disdainfully. "You needn't be so blunt. I'm coming to it." He adjusts his position by a minute degree and begins. "It's not the words that drive the spell. It's the force of will behind it."

  "I don't understand."

  "Of course you don't." He shakes his head. "Let me finish. Let's take an exorcism, for example. The words give the priest something to focus on, a way to enforce his powerful will that is bound to his faith. Because he believes in his God, he is capable of a great many things. The force of will behind those words is what really causes a spirit to leave a body. We're compelled to do so by the driving will the priest possesses."

  I think on what he said. "So the same would hold true for a holy person of a different faith, right?"

  "Exactly. And that's why the spirits removed those safeguards from this plane of existence. Religion is only one of many ways that people can use to focus their strength, but it is one of the most effective."

  "But willpower isn't only possessed by religious leaders." I watch his face to gauge his reaction. "So, if what you are saying is true, then anyone would be able to work an exorcism."

  Trick grimaces, as if this entire conversation causes him pain. "Yes and no." He raises a finger as he lectures me. "One has to be very clear and focused in spell casting. Most people have too much noise going on in their heads to accomplish very much, let alone force a spirit like me out of someone if I don't want to go. Most of the time, the attempt will fail because they are unable to tune out all of the distractions and only think about the outcome that they want."

  "So you spirits don't want anyone to know this because then anyone could resist you." My words start slow, but pick up speed as my brain begins to see the possibilities. "And that's why they've destroyed or hidden anything that might be used as a kind of reference."

  "I think they went a bit overzealous if you ask me, but basically, yes." He shrugs. "It was to throw you all off the scent in a way."

  I chew my lip, thinking of something else. Something that Cat said when we were at St. Pauls. "What about bells?"

  He jerks just the tiniest bit. "What about them?" He sounds nonchalant, but I don't believe him.

  Now I'm in the position of revealing something that I would rather keep hidden. But this information might be able to help Dham somehow. "Bell ringers, does it work the same for them?"

  Trick's eyes narrow. "I take it this is not some kind of hypothetical question." He pauses a moment, as if weighing his options. "It does work in much the same way, yes. Force of will plays a great part in how the bell is rung."

  I sit back again, thinking about what he just said. Dham was able to ring just fine when he first got here, but the next time we were in the tunnels, the bells didn't work. I wonder what was going on with Dham that made him lose focus. He’d had an argument with Peter right before we headed into the tunnels. Could that have anything to do with it? I wonder if I should tell him about what Trick said or if I should wait until I understand it better myself.

  Trick's voice interrupts my reverie. "So now what?"


  I meet his eyes. "Now it looks like I've got to find a ritual to focus my will."