Chapter 9
Just as I was about to doze off, though, I again caught a glimpse of light. This time, I shot upright at the first sign of it. Isabella was standing in the doorway, already turning away. I could see the outline of her beautiful face glowing in the dark. Quickly this time, I slipped from my bed and into my slippers, clutching my robe tight around me and trailing after her without a care in the world, giving no consideration to Mr. Geo’s advice about the perils of following ghosts. “Isabella!” I hollered, trying to slow her down.
“Come, Zoey. I have something else to show you.”
This time, instead of up, we went down. At first glance, everything seemed the same, but as we made our way through the halls of the castle and descended to the basement, I felt an eerie ache of intuition. “Is something the matter?” I asked her.
She spared me half a glance out of the corner of her eye. I thought it was almost disdainful, but that didn’t seem like her, so I dismissed it as part of my hypersensitive imagination. I only hoped it wasn’t something more macabre.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Come on, Zoey. We must hurry.”
“I want to get Hunter.”
“There is no time.”
“Why didn’t you bring William with you?”
“You won’t believe what I’m about to show you.”
Curiosity got the best of me, and as we rushed through what had once been a dungeon and was now a music room, a cafeteria, and offices, that feeling of sickness intensified. I felt as if I were walking into black smog, and it brought back unpleasant memories of that smoke that had swirled around King Geoffrey. The only light was from coming Isabella, and in the stony dark of the basement it was impossible to discern whether or not my feeling was correct. In my heart, though, I could feel poison creeping into me, and I paused and let out a gasp. “Where are you taking me?”
Isabella turned toward me again, and I was certain her gaze was scornful this time. On the other hand, I was far less certain that I was actually following the Isabella I knew and loved. That stinging truth was confirmed when her flesh began to rot and slid right off her face. Her cheeks and nose caved in and blackened. Her teeth began to fall out, and her eyes rolled up into her head. The grotesque scene was so gory and monstrous that my stomach dropped to my feet, and I immediately turned to run.
When I ran, the light behind me faded, and the grating sound of piling stones filled my ears. Crying out, I dashed back toward the stairs—or at least where the stairs once were—only to find a brick wall. I beat against its cold surface with my fists, but my scream just echoed and bounced back upon me, joining the terrible, groaning scream of the spirit behind me. With my heart pounding in my ears, silencing every coherent thought, I barely remembered my necklace. When I did finally realize I still had it, it offered me first light, then power.
Just as I felt slimy black fingers caress the nape of my neck, the light of the necklace burst from my breast like a nuclear bomb. I heard ringing in my ears, and during that ringing, the wall became translucent, the illusions of night faded by the blue glow. As King Geoffrey uttered a terrible, ear-shattering wail, I dashed through his construction, vaulted up the stairs two at a time, then propelled around the landing while keeping a tight grip on the railing. My heart was beating so fast it ached in my chest, but I had no time for a heart attack, nor any time to even think about it. I stopped to take a breath, refusing to give in to the pain. Then, suddenly, in a bright flash, I found myself back in the dorm room, where I slid upon the floor and burst into silent tears.
I ran out my door and over to Pam’s room and knocked. Too terrified for manners, I threw the door open wide when she didn’t answer right away.
She stirred, turned over, and sleepily blinked awake, then whispered my name.
I glanced up at her, wiping the backs of my hands across my tear-stained cheeks.
“What the heck, Zoey? What’s going on?” she asked, hustling out of bed.
Trembling, I babbled to her about the fake princess, vile King Geoffrey, and my experiences in the basement.
Pam took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder, as if expecting an army of angry phantasms to be standing there. “This is getting serious, Zoey,” she said.
“That’s not news to me,” I said in a whimper.
“You shouldn’t be walking around this castle alone, especially following spirits in the dark.”
Again, I found myself torn between the living and the dead. Part of me wanted to agree with her, because it would have been of great comfort to always have at least one living friend around. The other part was terrified at the very idea of exposing my friends to the kind of danger I seemed to attract like a magnet. I dumbly shook my head and mumbled, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Well, none of us want you to get hurt. I certainly know Hunter doesn’t.”
With a shuddering gasp, I leaned my head against the back of the couch. “I just wanna go home. This is all too much. I’d give anything to start my senior year over in a normal school, one full of normal people. Even snobby cheerleaders are easier to put up with than medieval ghosts.”
“I must say that I most definitely resent that,” a voice echoed from somewhere above me.
I opened my eyes and focused my blurry vision on the ceiling to sigh, “Hi, William.”
Pam glanced up and waved.
William wafted down and alit on the coffee table he had previously condemned for its lackluster style. “As much as I hate to interrupt a crying woman, I must tell you that things would be the same, no matter where you go. Some fates simply cannot be escaped.”
“What do you mean?”
“Surely you don’t think only those within the castle know the power of your family’s blood.” He strolled casually from the coffee table to the floor, then traced around the couch where I sat with my friend. “I have little doubt that legends about your family have spread entirely across Europe,” he said with a wave of his hand, “if not the entire globe.”
“It’s called going viral,” Pam said.
“Viral indeed,” William said, “and those computators of yours have not helped the situation.”
“Computators?” Pam asked, rolling her eyes at him.
“Whatever you call them, they have only been a detriment.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I said, “but I’m only at risk of being sacrificed in a ritual here.”
“Not necessarily,” he argued. “If all that is required is your blood, my dear, then the setting makes little difference. The full moon shines on all the Earth, albeit on varying schedules. Why must you be killed here if all the unscrupulous party requires is your blood? You are not safe on any soil. Your blood is the key, and you take that with you wherever you go, even if you flee to your America.”
“You’re not helping me,” I said. “You’re freaking me out.”
“I am only being honest with you, luv. It may actually be better to be here,” he suggested.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Pam chimed in. “That’s like saying the best place to avoid a snakebite is in a snake’s nest.”
William shook his ghostly head. “Here, you may be able to do something about it, do something to stop it. You could not do that from overseas.”
“How am I supposed to stop it?” I asked as Pam comforted me, glaring at my invisible conversational partner. Clearly, her gifts were kicking in, and I was glad she could see him so she didn’t think I was crazy.
“Are you saying people will always be after me?”
“I’m afraid so. It is not as if your blood will become less magical because you are traveling,” he answered.”
“There’s gotta be some sort of loophole,” Pam said. “There’s always, always a loophole.”
William stopped pacing and thought for a moment. “Hmm. Perhaps…”
“Spit it out, Casper,” Pam said. “You come in here with all this doom and gloom, scaring Zoey to death, and then you keep all these sec
rets to yourself...”
“Actually,” he said, “the power of your blood is tied primarily to Isabella, and the power of this particular place is equally tied to her and her many courtiers. The buildup of all these ghosts, centuries of them, makes the castle very…magically sensitive. It is why this is really the ideal site for the ritual you so fear. When the ghosts are gone, there will be nothing specifically unique about this place anymore. The magic will dissipate.”
“So if we free the spirits, that will also help me? It will stop them from being able to do the ritual? Render my blood powerless?”
“Yes. You will kill two birds with one pebble, my dear, if you set the spirits free.”
“I like it,” Pam said, nodding excitedly. “We free the spirits, like we were trying to do anyway. They get to float to Heaven, and you’ll be safe.”
Part of me felt as if William was just trying to keep me on track, focused on the task of freeing him and all the rest of the ghosts from their postmortem prison, but at the same time, it did give me some hope, some small degree of peace of mind to think that maybe, just maybe, I could bring it all to an end, without losing my life in the process.
Pam peered at William suspiciously; she obviously had the same doubts I was harboring, but as was usually the case, she was brave enough to say what she was thinking. “Do you really think it’ll fix all this? Freeing you?”
“I believe it will. When we are all free, the magic will leave, and no ceremony will give the lunatic the immortality and youth he seeks.” With a dismissive shrug, William paused, and then, as if he spontaneously recalled something, he swatted me across my nose so quickly that I forgot he was incorporeal. “I thought you knew better than to follow an entity into that basement, particularly at this time of night! What were you thinking? Do you not have moving pictures, horror films to teach you important safety lessons like that?”
Frowning, I rubbed my nose reflexively, even though I’d not felt the swat. “I thought it was Isabella. She didn’t exactly look like Jason Voorhees.”
“Jason who?”
“From that old movie, Friday the 13th? Never mind,” I said, laughing.
“Well, regardless, you shouldn’t have followed her the first time either. I would think that pretty little head of yours would house a brighter mind.”
“I really thought it was her. Even a genius psychic could be fooled by King Geoffrey’s disguise. Besides, you’re one to talk. You fell for Miss Shila’s bullcrap.”
“Yes, you have a point,” William conceded.
“Can he assume anyone’s shape?” Pam asked.
“Yes. You must be careful at all times.”
Exhaling, I leaned back against Pam, wishing the sofa would suck me into its depths and keep me hidden there for all time. “I feel like the walls are closing in.”
William sighed. “If we look at the calendar, you could say they rather are. I do not mean to rush or worry you, Zoey, darling, but you really must hurry for your own sake, as well as for the sakes of others. It is probable that you are the only hope we have, and many are depending on you, including me.”
“Wow. No pressure or anything,” I said dryly, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Thanks, William. I appreciate your support.”
“I only want to see my friend smile now and then,” he said. Then, after a quick wave goodbye, he vanished through the wall.
I wrinkled my nose after him and glanced back at Pam.
“He’s quite the cheerleader himself, huh?” Pam said sarcastically.
“You mean him telling me I’m gonna die if I don’t hurry and figure this out,” I asked, standing.
She chuckled. “Yeah, that.”
“C’mon. I’d like to see if I can actually get some sleep now.”
“Okay, but no more wandering off, all right, Zoey?”
“No promises, but I’ll try,” I said grimly as I rested my hand on the teardrop pendant.
Chapter 10
It began with a few sentences nestled into the morning announcements, hidden between the birthdays and pep rally announcement: “Principal Rowens requests that all students and faculty be on the lookout for a red antique book. It is very valuable and important to this estate, and he believes it may have been misplaced somewhere on the grounds. Any help in finding this sentimental artifact would be greatly appreciated.”
As soon as I heard it, I sank an inch into my seat, all the surer that the principal was the one behind it all. I was quite anxious, too, because at least five living people knew I had it. I trusted my friends, but I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure about Mr. Geo, and I certainly didn’t trust the principal himself. From his seat on the other side of class, Hunter cast me a concerned glance, but I refused to meet it; I was too paranoid that someone might divine the book’s location from that look alone.
Mr. Geo greeted me on the first day of our independent study with a petulant little cough.
“What’s wrong?” I said.
“I thought you said you were going to put that book back.”
“I know,” I said, frowning, avoiding his gaze in favor of the impassive, nonjudgmental titles of the books on his shelves. “I just couldn’t help it. It seemed so important. Besides, maybe he can’t do anything without the book. If I put it back, he would have gotten his hands on it again.”
“These books have a way of getting back to their owners. You never know what a magical artifact is capable of.”
I nodded, speechless for a moment, then glanced up at him very suddenly, his words triggering a memory. My hand flew up to the pendant, and I gasped. “Speaking of that, it seems I’ve learned how to, uh…read minds.”
With an expression on his face that existed somewhere between surprised, skeptical, and fascinated, my teacher arched a brow and leaned forward. “You don’t say.”
“I was meditating on the nature of the necklace when I thought I heard Hunter talking to me, but I looked over at him, and his lips weren’t moving. He was just thinking. I’ve tried it a few times now. When I asked him what he was talking about, he acted like I was crazy.”
With a scrutinizing, deeply interested glance, Mr. Geo bobbed back in his seat and requested, “Show me. What am I thinking right now?”
My hand tightened around the gem, and I cleared my mind and closed my eyes. I allowed one, two, and three deep breaths to clear my lungs, and the stress emptied from my body. I let the power of the pendant sink into my mind, and very soon, as if I were tuning in on a radio station, I heard Mr. Geo’s voiced thoughts, as clear as if he was speaking directly to me: Of course I wouldn’t be surprised if she could. It’s a powerful treasure, that necklace—from a powerful family. I can tell just by sitting across from her that some great energy resides inside her.
Smiling, I glanced up at him and repeated his words, watching the color drain from his face, watching him slowly lean forward, watching his mouth open just slightly in awe. My smile widened to a grin, and I felt bashful at his shock, glancing down at my lap. “It’s really just the necklace. I have nothing to do with it.”
“But that’s incredible! What an amazing tool. Do you even know what you can do with this?”
“Well, I can confirm some things, but ESP doesn’t do me much good. Any evidence it might provide is intangible and wouldn’t be taken seriously by anybody but us, I’m sure. If I go to the police with the thoughts I hear, I’ll be the one in a straightjacket, probably diagnosed a schizophrenic.”
“Maybe, but do not so easily dismiss this power. Knowing something before a person has a chance to say it is a great way to knock someone off their guard or skillfully win an argument. If nothing else, it will benefit you in gathering information. You only need to find a tangible way to corroborate any thoughts you overhear. Not only that, but in times of peril and urgency, you will always have a direct line for help.”
“You think it goes two ways?”
“I’m sure it does. Whether for humans or for spirits, I have no doubt that the necklac
e works as a transmitter as well as a receiver. As they say, practice makes perfect.”
I reluctantly nodded, knowing he was right.
The day’s language lesson then began. He explained that the language had no name, and its origins were as murky as the nature of the people who used it. Some linguists found that it possessed a certain similarity to the grammatical structure of a few different African languages. Others noted that its word structure and pronunciations were closer to Latin. The text itself was strange. It did not consist of an alphabet of distinct characters; rather, it was comprised of a vast array of ideograms, similar to traditional Chinese or Japanese. My head swam as he passed me a list of the known ones, what amounted to a booklet, for studying. As with any language, certain characters seemed to bear some resemblance to the concepts they represented, while others were so abstract, far removed, and disturbing that it was impossible to see how or why the language had emerged in the first place. As Mr. Geo taught me how to pronounce the words, I swiftly realized why it was a language allegedly spoken in Hell: Every sound was violent and guttural, almost like choking, made with more lips and throat than tongue. It was spoken largely from the chest, sounding at times like a cat’s purr or a bear’s snarl. It actually ached when I tried to speak it. By the end of our first session, my lungs burned as if I’d been hacking my way through a cold. I was not even sure how much I’d learned, if anything valuable at all, but I resolved to study, assuring myself that it would take time and trying to forget that time was the one resource I barely had any of.
To make matters worse, on my way to my next class, I heard the sound of my name being called over the loudspeaker. I paused and listened to the gruff voice requesting my presence in the principal’s office. Suddenly, I was overcome with the urge to run—to run until I was entirely off the school grounds, until I had to swim the English Channel, all the way across to France. Nevertheless, as if possessed by dread or self-destruction, I turned around and began the slow trek back to the office. As I turned the corner, I almost slammed right into Hunter, who assessed my face with a wild look.
Ablaze - Book 4 Page 6
