Hungry Graves: A Rue Hallow Mystery

by Amanda A. Allen

  “Someone called for a necromancer who isn’t a fool,” Monica stated. She swung her hair over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at us. Oh…I was going to hex her so hard.

  “Head’s up,” I called dryly as the ghost sent a stanchion at Finn and Monica. They dove in opposite directions. The gold stanchion flew through the glass near the front doors leaving behind a spray of shattered glass.

  I might have snorted. Chrysie definitely did. Jessie was probably too nice, and the poor guy with us was still blabbering prayers.

  “Did you try the cage of night?” Finn called to me. Was he kidding me right now? He was quizzing what I had done? How about he try focusing on his job and harassing me afterward?

  “Yes,” I lied, following up with the truth. “I haven’t been able to access the ether for a while.”

  “You have to meditate,” he snarled, throwing up both his hand and power to block a rain of pens. Those drove themselves right into the floor. I hadn’t been aware that a ghost could do quite so much damage. This was yet another reason not to be a keeper.

  “Kay,” I agreed. “Meditate. Maybe you could take care of this one, Captain Finny.”

  He was rolling across the red carpet to avoid another shower of sharp things. “Don’t call me that,” he growled and then shouted to Monica, “Now!”

  She threw something out, and I could sense the other kind of power forming. It was the ether, and it ruffled against my mind calling to me. But it called to me like a dark lover. The type of guy who was appealing and utterly bad for you. I closed my mind to the power and watched as the crack appeared in the universe, and the ghost was shoved, wailing and shrieking through it.

  I felt sad for the ghost. It had wanted to stay here and enjoy what was left of it in the land of the living. But it had been warped and changed and driven mad because someone felt like it was acceptable to take the spirit of the dead and turn them into a battery for spells. The anger that came with that knowledge was the type of thing that drove a person to join Finn’s team of necromancers, and that was not what I wanted.

  The guy whose name I didn’t know stumbled out of the pentacle and barfed into the corner. I rose, stretched, and turned to face a furious Finn and a snarky Monica. Hecate’s eyes, why was he so pretty?

  “What in all the ever-living hells, Rue!”

  Never mind. He wasn’t pretty at all.

  “Hmmmm?” I asked innocently and batted my lashes at him. He growled. He actually growled at me. “Excuse me,” I said softly, but the warning was clear in my tone.

  Finn cleared his throat and stepped far too close to me, “This isn’t the weak little ghost on the Devil’s Ridge I sent you after. What are you doing? What is happening that you think you can hunt up ghosts on your own?”

  He was yelling at me. I didn't get yelled at by anyone other than Branka. And I had punched Branka in the stomach more than once for daring to treat me like Finn was right now.

  “You aren’t my keeper, Finn.” I might have used that term on purpose to make his face twitch. I was successful. Did that mean there was another ghost on Devil's Ridge? If so...which had driven Jen to her death? Were the two ghosts connected?

  The guy started barfing again as Finn stepped even closer. Our breaths were mingling he was so close.

  “Do you want to die?” He hissed right into my face. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek, and I breathed in his air. That was not ok. He didn’t get lover close with the intent of dominating me.

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and shoved him off with my hands and a slight push of magic. It was not my fault he tripped. He was up a second later, but my magic shields were up, keeping him from edging too close.

  “No,” I said. I looked down at him where he landed. “You are not my keeper.”

  Each word was precise and cutting.

  “Until there is a keeper,” he began, but I cut him off.

  “Even then, you won’t be my keeper. You aren’t responsible for me. You don’t owe me anything. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t have the Talisman. I have said it time and again. And there isn’t any other reason for you to bother yourself with me.”

  “What about your life,” he demanded as he shoved himself to his feet. “Don’t you care about that?”

  “You aren’t my knight in shining armor. I am not your damsel in distress. If I die for doing something stupid, it’s not your fault.” The last words were softer, almost kind. “We called you because I wasn’t going to call Dr. Hallow and I honestly don’t know any other necromancers. But we also called you because you want to do this. Next time, I won’t make the same mistake.”

  But he ruined it when he said, “Your mother threw you here defenseless, and you prance around this campus as if you aren’t. And now you won’t even call me if you need help?”

  It was as if the filter on my vision changed, and I reached out with power and threw him at the ceiling. “I am not defenseless.”

  “Yet you called for help.” He didn’t react at all to being pressed against the ancient moldings with my magic. He could have been debating with me in an auditorium.

  “I called for help for him,” I said, pointing at the guy puking in the corner. “And for the people who go to church here. And the idiots who attend the comedy club. I would have been fine.”

  Finn took a deep breath and I could see he was going to argue. I didn’t need to hear it. The ghost who had driven Jen to her death had been sent through the thinning. I was done. Right? I was free now.

  I let go of my shields that kept him away and let him stumble. I wasn’t surprised that he saved himself. But I can admit to being disappointed that he didn’t crash onto the carpet again.

  CHAPTER 9

  I walked out, brushing past Monica and her snarky comments.

  I stepped into the sunshine, closed my eyes, and let my eyelids blaze with red from the sun. There was the sound of footsteps behind me and I turned, expecting Chrysie. Maybe Jessie. But I found the guy in the purple shirt that now had a little vomit on it.

  “Hey,” he said. His hands were shaking, his skin was pale, eyes glassy. "That was a ghost."

  “Hey,” I said, stepping back when he got a little too close.

  “I…” He had watched me step away from him. “Thank you.”

  “Finn and Monica got rid of the ghost,” I told him. I didn’t want his gratitude.

  The guy didn’t argue. He reached out, squeezed my shoulder, and said again, “Thank you.”

  I nodded, hoping he’d let go of me. And he did.

  “I think I’m going to go to Europe.”

  “Ok,” I replied.

  “And transfer to another school.”

  “Ok,” I said, wanting him to go away.

  “Thank you.”

  I nodded. Maybe if I didn’t reply at all.

  He nodded and grinned at me before running away. Literally. He ran away from me as if I were the ghost. But then, when I was starting to think I should be offended even though I wanted him to leave, he turned around and waved.

  I waved back because he was too far away to talk and then went and bought a coffee. I couldn’t afford the good stuff, but I bought it anyway. I had the barista add chocolate and toffee and all the whip and the sugar sprinkles too. I sat outside on the bench, closed my eyes, and wondered how long it would take.

  I lost the bet with myself. I figured it would take Chrysie and Jessie at least 10 minutes to track me down. They were there before I'd taken my second sip.

  “How did you know she was the keeper?”

  I looked over at Chrysie and Jessie and didn’t answer the question. I had wondered for longer than I should have. The first time the idea had occurred to me, I knew it was true. But I told myself it couldn't be. I didn't want it to be. If it were true, it would seem as if I had been hiding the truth. Which wasn't the truth. But people had to know my mother to know that she'd have done that to me.

  I hadn't admitted it to myself until I rea
lized that I had to have help and I didn't know who else to call.

  “You heard her. She didn't admit to anything," I said. And knew I was being as cagey as my mother. But these were my friends. So I followed up with the truth. "Not that that means anything. She's the keeper. I didn't want it to be true. It took me a while to accept it."

  "Why don't you want your mom to be keeper," Jessie asked. I thought at first she was playing games with me, but her voice was gentle.

  "If she's keeper, she let me come here, knowing exactly what kind of thing she'd done and what I would face. She pushed me to try to go to Grace College without ever once telling me why. She..." I sighed and looked away and then took a sip of my now flavorless drink before I said the rest. "It's like she set me up."

  "It's dangerous for you to be you without any necromancer training. Given your abilities." Jessie was still being gentle, and I realized that I didn't disagree with her. I felt like my mother had trained me for witch gladiator fights. But she'd given me all the wrong weapons.

  I didn't sigh this time. That would have been too telling. I snapped my jaw shut and tried not to grit my teeth before I finally admitted the truth with one single, stark word. "Yeah."

  My phone buzzed, and I glanced at it out of self-defense. I wanted to be distracted. And I was. By the picture of my sister's hand reaching into our mother's potion cabinet. I grinned, knowing Mother would flip. And knowing that Bran was distracting Mother on purpose. How did Bran always know?

  “So…yeah," I said. And then because it was easy, I laid my head on Chrysie's shoulder and tried not to feel sorry for myself. I didn't mope very often, but I did feel like my mother had stabbed me in the back. When you mother is Autumn Jones, it shouldn't be surprising. But it hurt all the same.

  "Maybe she's letting you and fate correct her mistake. She'd have been young when this happened." Jessie was the one who spoke. Chrysie wrapped her arm around me and drank the drink I couldn't afford.

  "But older than me now."

  "You handled yourself well," Jessie said. "Your instincts gave us the time to get in the pentacle. Your magic kept us safe while you got help. You broke the spell on the ghost, and Finn and Monica sent him through the thinning. You did good work today."

  I mean...Jessie was throwing me a bone. I got that. But I guess you couldn't pat someone on the head and remove a lifetime of your mother never being who or what you needed and wanted. I loved her. But I wanted to throat punch her hard.

  Another text came in, and I looked down to see two words from my sister. "Girl up."

  She wasn't wrong. I stood and said, "Probably we should tell someone."

  Jessie and Chrysie looked at each other and then back at me. Jessie was the one who said, "It's not our secret to tell."

  "Seems that a council of necromancers and a town full of scholars should have figured it out by now. It isn't your problem if they haven't."

  I grinned--unexpected and delighted. And then I left them to consider what I needed to do and what I wanted to do.

  Was it melodramatic to walk off into the distance alone and think? Maybe. But it was what I chose to do. I made my way through the campus, past the lake, and the oaks, and down a lane of ancient cypress trees to a graveyard that was layered in spells that kept the headstones readable and the grass trim and weed free. I found my favorite one with the angel holding her hands out, and I lay down under the statue.

  Had the Hallow parents who buried their little girl believed in heaven knowing about the thinning? Was that why they had chosen an angel?

  I sent my mother a picture of my feet next to Constance Hallow’s headstone. Mother would know where I was and that I was safe. And she’d know why I was here. I was here to let my family know they weren’t alone. That I lived because of them, and I had not forgotten them.

  There were lots of Hallows at St. Angelus College. But my sister Branka and I were the last of the main line. And the main line was who had been buried here. Generations of kin had come down to such unacceptable progeny.

  “I don’t want to be keeper,” I told them.

  They didn’t answer. Maybe they had gone. Maybe they were sleeping. Maybe they were disappointed.

  “I want to brew potions and maybe learn to fly, but I want to study, and sleuth spells not criminals. Not hunt ghosts and shady necromancers.”

  I pressed my head into Constance’s grave and let the peacefulness of the dead overwhelm me.

  My phone buzzed, but my witch senses were kind enough to tell me it was Finn and I didn’t want to be yelled at some more. I stayed until my alarm rang and I rose and made my way back to campus where the Potions Club met.

  CHAPTER 10

  I walked in alone, but when I got there, all heads turned to me. I wondered who knew about Jen. Only dead a day. Her ghost killer hadn’t been that hard to find--we had to look where she spent her time. That ghost was gone. Her ghost would, I hope, find peace and step through the thinning willingly.

  “I tried your dare potion,” Annika, the president of the club, said to me. Her square glasses sat low on her nose like a 22-year-old librarian.

  “Oh,” I said. It was not a question or a statement but a mix of the both. I left it up to her to continue.

  “I didn’t think you could have made it.”

  I blinked and took a deep breath. A throat cleared and I found Dr. Cyprus Feldy. There wasn’t a separate potions department, but if there had been, this man would have been its head.

  “I bought some of everything from Felix," Annika said as if she weren't outing me in front of one of the teachers.

  I didn’t say anything. What was this interrogate Rue Hallow Day?

  “Why are you making yourself into some sort of potion goddess? You’re a freshman. I don’t care if you are a Hallow. You aren’t as good at potions as you are pretending.” Again, Annika didn't seem to care that Dr. Feldy was right there in the room.

  I took a deep breath and looked at Dr. Feldy. He stared back at me and then said, “I went to school with your mother.”

  Gods and monsters, give me a break today. Please. Give me a break.

  “She was very good at potions even then. Many of the Hallow are.”

  Hecate, he said, “the Hallow” like it was a state of being like being French. So, he didn't seem surprised by the fact that Annika was--all of the sudden--being a super jerk. And also, entirely undisturbed by Annika's outing the potions I was certainly not supposed to be selling. I must have made some sort of acknowledging face because he went on, “What phase of the moon is best for brewing potions with lavender, white peony, and the bark of the cypress?”

  I pressed my hands into my face and rubbed my eyes. What did I want here?

  “She can’t tell you that,” Annika scoffed.

  “Do you know,” I asked her softly.

  “That isn’t the question is it?” Annika’s face was a snarl.

  “Why are you doing this,” I demanded. “What is so wrong with me?”

  “You’re a Hallow.”

  “Yes,” I said clearly. “My name is Veruca Hallow-Jones. I own Hallow House and I brew potions.”

  I turned to Dr. Feldy who idly watched without interfering. Was it because I was an adult and he thought I should be able to stand up for myself? Or was he enjoying this. I answered regardless.

  “It depends if you’re using cypress as your base or white peony. If you’re using white peony, I would go with the waning gibbous phase of the moon. If you’re using cypress, then I assume you're brewing something that is going to be involved in a healing potion. It would depend then on its end use and other ingredients, but most likely, you’d be brewing over the course of several months with additions to the potion happening at different phases of the moon, the movements of the stars, and of course—the time of day.”

  “Of course,” he said. His face was so very expressionless. HIs eyes were dark but clear and bright and they bore into me.

  “What is the intended use of bella donna?”r />
  “Other than murder?” I sighed and then answered, “There are many different uses for it. Eye dilation? Sleeping help? A nasty little love potion. It goes in a particularly obnoxious truth potion. And is often used in the vampire potion. It isn’t something used for removing warts that’s for sure.”

  Dr. Feldy nodded and then asked, “What kind of vessel is best for energy potions?”

  “I prefer to use a chemistry lab setup but a good old-fashioned cauldron can be used for nearly all potions. And some are distinctly more successful in a well-magicked cauldron.”

  He raised his brows at that and then asked, “What potions use rattlesnake's venom and bone powder.”

  I knew what that question was—and I wasn’t going to pretend I didn’t. “Given the nature of the ingredients, I’d go with necromancer potions, but I’m not familiar with those.”

  “Shocking,” Annika said sourly. I saw her glance at the other members of the club and realized that they were all against me. Or at least with her. I wanted to cry. I did. I wanted to cry and curl up in my bed—at home. Not at Martha, but on the island. I wanted to curl into my comforter that was laced with runes and potions in the lining. But this was my dream. Going to college. Witch College. This potions group right here. These were the other potions fanatics. They liked what I liked. Why couldn’t we be friends?

  Was I too into it? Too excited? What was wrong with me? Was I going to mope like this? Or was I going to girl up?

  I didn’t shoot Annika the look she deserved. The truth was—she didn’t like me since I was a Hallow. And she’d thought she was setting me up. But, I really was this good and her making me look like an idiot was failing.

  “Have you brewed the vampire potion?”

  Now that I didn’t answer. The answer was yes. And I’d brewed the potion that kept shifters from changing during the full moon. I knew exactly what those potions were—they were the pinnacle. They required a level of precision, talent, and know-how that few brewers achieved.