Secrets of the Dead

by Becca Vincenza

  “Oh no, Brutus. You back off right now. I will swear until Bam forces you to kick me out. Let me out of this booth.”

  “Ro,” Indigo said.

  Rowan turned her anger back to Indigo, and I tried to refocus my attention. The stranger who was watching us before had disappeared, but my instincts said he hadn’t gone far. The harder I tried to remember any distinctive features, the faster the image I had of him faded.

  “What did I say?”

  “Ro, you’re hotheaded. Just let me explain.”

  They continued to bicker, and I ignored the conversation as I searched for any other oddities in the diner. Nothing else popped out to me aside from the stranger.

  Bam watched our table closely, but that didn’t surprise me. Rowan had been making a scene in hopes Bam would demand we leave. I think she allowed us to keep her here for a little longer as entertainment for the other townspeople.

  “Ah, no. You had five years while you were away at college to explain. I really can’t deal with you today.” Rowan turned her attention back to me, and I could see the dark circles under her eyes. I hadn’t realized how much the ghost had been affecting her.

  I glanced over at Indigo, who looked slightly defeated before the look disappeared. He nodded, and I moved out of the booth. Luckily, he remembered when enough was enough for my twin. She left without a second glance back.

  “So that went well.” Indigo leaned back in the booth with a smile twitching at his lips though the disappointed slope of his shoulders and the reddening of his ears said otherwise.

  “Maybe next time we don’t ambush her,” I reasoned.

  “I needed to see her,” Indigo said, watching her through the window. She looked like she was having a heated argument with, well, a ghost. I could see him, but everyone else in the bar would think she was talking to herself.

  “You might need to give her some space. Let us figure out the situation with the ghost then come talk to her.”

  Indigo nodded, but I didn’t think he heard my warning.

  Maybe my sister will listen to me.

  Chapter 4

  Indigo and I stayed and ate, but my attention was on the stranger in the diner. Where had he gone?

  Indigo had a meeting with his father, so we parted ways, and I went in search of my twin. Following her magic hadn’t been hard as I’d been doing it for years. If she forgot her phone, which was often, I would only need to follow the connection between our powers. It took an extra effort to do it this time, but once I had a general feel for where she was, I broke the connection.

  Rowan had never been able to master that. On the one hand, it was nice to know she couldn’t find me whenever the whim hit her. But I found it to be very handy on my end as I never had to worry about losing her.

  The sun dropped behind the horizon, the temperature along with it. I turned on my flashlight to make it through the maze of the woods in the dark.

  She sat at the edge of the lake where I had stood with Indigo just hours beforehand. My sister might play it off like she was angry, but I knew she’d been devastated. Ambushing her at the diner was wrong on my part, but I still thought about those days when he was around. He’d made her happy.

  Rowan glared out at the lake as the ghost told her about his first time having sex. Rolling my eyes, I stepped into the clearing just as Ro brought her arm back and threw a rock. It landed in the water with a hard splat. She hadn’t mastered skipping rocks either.

  I purposefully stepped on a branch so Rowan knew I was headed in her direction. As my flashlight beam passed over Rowan, her eyelids dropped heavily before she curled even farther over. Exhaustion wore on her, obvious by her lackluster response to me arriving.

  Once she blinked away some of her fatigue, she tried to give me her best glare.

  “Stop glaring at me like that,” I said.

  “Like what? Like you knew exactly what went down between us, and you still ambushed me?”

  I tried not to think back to that conversation when Rowan cried into my shoulder. Ro never cried, not like that, and wouldn’t allow anyone in her room if she knew she was going to. That had been about half a year after Indigo left when he hadn’t returned her calls, emails, or the reanimated pigeon she convinced me to send his direction.

  “Things aren’t always what they seem, Rowan,” I offered as both a reminder to her about Indigo and a warning about her ghost. He’d looked over at the stranger in the diner; I was certain of it. This ghost was more than just a random lost spirit. The moment in the diner had solidified my suspicions.

  “You’re deciding to quote the rules right now?” Rowan spat, clearly pissed off.

  My sister wasn’t listening to what I was trying to say. Taking a breath, I tried to remember that my twin had been thrown off guard and rattled. I worried that if we ended up needing Indigo’s help, she would reject him. She had to know when to let something go.

  “I’m telling you how it is because you’re too stubborn for your own good.”

  “The weres accepted you so easily. You didn’t have to deal with the stigma that came with being a necro because you had the pack as friends. Indigo started as my friend, you know?” she said, voice breaking. It was a rare form for Rowan, but when she hurt, she hurt deeply.

  My sister was as blind as a bat sometimes.

  “He—you don’t know, do you?” I turned to gauge her reaction. Her brows bunched together, and she chewed her bottom lip. No, she had no idea. “Just don’t judge him too harshly. He deserves another chance.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re just growing soft in your old age.”

  “Dude, I’m one minute older.”

  “And you will always be older.”

  “Come on. We gotta get back to Wilson’s. Did you call Mom and tell her you’ve been working doubles at the bar?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Wait, she didn’t tell you?”

  Right, my sister didn’t know I’d been sneaking into Wilson’s place super late after studying at Sherman’s all day. After I got Ro back to Wilson’s, I would head back to Sherman’s to pull out our ancestor’s Tome about the vampires. The vague warning from the ancestor, along with the stranger, plus V’s warning? There had to be more to it.

  “No, she doesn’t always tell me everything,” I dodged.

  Rowan shook her head, and I knew what she was thinking. Eloise Hayes knew everything, and she never kept secrets from her family. Sherman had only told Wilson that he and Caroline were expecting, but a day later, all of us knew.

  “Our birthday is in a couple of days,” Ro said.

  “Mom has the ritual planned for us.” I worried we wouldn’t get rid of the ghost by then. And the sudden appearances of a vampire? What was happening in our small, sleepy town?

  Rowan and I stayed at the lakeside for a while longer, both lost in our thoughts. I had to find answers. Rowan’s reminder had me worried. My instincts told me the appearance of the vampire had to do with our birthday, but how?

  I took Rowan back to Wilson’s house and drove back to Sherman’s. Grabbing the spare key from its hiding place, I entered and crept down the hallway to the library, trying to be as quiet as possible.

  The room was degrees colder than the rest of the house. Frowning, I flexed my powers, my senses expanding.

  “I know you’re here. Show yourself.”

  Whoever had decided to follow me didn’t appear, though whether they were too weak or my powers were, I didn’t know. Sherman had his house well warded against ghosts because he didn’t want his son, if he turned out to be a necromancer, to have a ghost appear to him at night. That’s how most of my brothers got their powers, a gruesome ghost coming into their bedrooms at night. My parents had been able to afford more powerful warding materials with us younger kids, thankfully.

  The ghost remained quiet. I would try to contact him again when I left Sherman’s house.

  I pulled down the Tome I’d disregarded before. The ancestor had been one of my father’s brothers. Ther
e wasn’t much information about the brother, and I wouldn’t have known if it wasn’t for the family tree at the beginning, though even that didn’t tell me much about my deceased uncle. I couldn’t recall my father speaking of him either.

  As I read more of his Tome, I realized he’d put in a lot of research to the recent relations between vampires and necromancers. The more I read, the more I learned. My parents had kept us in the dark about a lot of things outside our little town. Maybe this hadn’t even been news for other necromancers, but the information my uncle uncovered was unnerving.

  There was a large underground market for necromancers who were sold to vampires. The research stated the vampires would use threats to force the necromancers into the blood magic ritual.

  The longer I read, the more paranoid I became about the rumors of the vampires. I grabbed my phone from my pocket. It had very limited battery left, and it was late, but I needed to make a phone call.

  “Indigo here.”

  “I need you to promise me something.”

  “Don’t like your tone, Abel.”

  “Protect Ro. Her first. Always.” Rowan had to be protected, especially if everything went sideways.

  “Always, my brother. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Indigo asked, his voice dropping to a deep growl.

  “No, not yet. Not until I know myself.”

  “Stay safe.”

  I hung up without replying, my gut stirring with unease. The muscles in my shoulders tensed, and a cold blast went up my spine.

  “Got the hint,” I told my ghost.

  I grabbed the Tome and left the house, replacing the key and heading toward my truck. The ghost wanted to talk, but I wouldn’t be able to do it here, not with all the wards. I would need some mallow, an herb that could help attract spirits. And I’d go to the nearest cemetery.

  My ancestor kept close, his presence there but just barely. As if reminding me, or perhaps encouraging me, a chill filled the cab of my truck as I climbed in, setting the Tome next to me.

  Mallow was usually easy enough to find, and I drove to the spot where it grew regularly. Picking pieces of the plant, I threw it on top of the Tome and continued. My next stop would be the graveyard.

  The ghost next to me flickered a little, and I flexed my powers, but something blocked the ghost from fully appearing. My brows pinched together as I tried to think of different reasons for the block. If the ghost was truly an ancestor, it shouldn’t be so difficult for him to contact the family. Unless another necromancer bound the ghost to him and demanded the ghost to stay away from certain people. But why me? My entire life had been here. No one would specifically tell a ghost to stay away from me.

  Maybe he had been told to stay away from the family.

  The drive didn’t take long. As soon as I pulled into the graveyard, the ghost came more in focus. I parked the truck and glanced over as he filled in.

  He seemed familiar, from his build to his presence. The man who turned to me was missing half his face. For most people or younger necromancers, the gore of shredded skin, gnarly and torn, would terrify them. I barely noticed.

  “Abel.” His mouth was fully intact, but his voice was hoarse.

  “You’ve wanted to talk. Who are you?” I demanded.

  “No. Can’t.” The words came out like a broken connection. The ghost stopped speaking and looked frustrated.

  I climbed out of the truck with the Tome and mallow in my hands, laying out the mallow on the hood. Reaching back in, I grabbed a washable marker and drew runes I’d been studying my entire life on the hood of the truck, speaking the words in Latin and letting my magic rise inside of me. Sweat beaded down my back. Breathing heavily, I continued the chant until the ritual was completed.

  “Abel.”

  I stopped the chanting and stared at the fully formed ghost. He still didn’t have half his face, probably how he’d been killed.

  “Who are you?”

  “I have a warning. To you and your sister. Your parents have been keeping a secret. You need to—” The ghost stopped, looking lost and confused.

  I waited for him to get his thoughts in order. For some ghosts, it was harder to remember what they were saying or even who they were.

  “You need to… contract.”

  “What contract?”

  “Find it.” The ghost started to pace and looked agitated. He gripped the full side of his head and tried to tug at the strands that had no substance. “No, no, no. Need to think. Need to know. Need to warn.”

  Cold bursts surrounded the ghost, and the wind picked up. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge.

  “You need to calm down,” I stated.

  “No, must save. Contract. No. Yes. Who are you?” The ghost stopped his pacing and stared at me.

  “Abel. You’ve said my name a couple of times.” Patience was key when dealing with a confused ghost. They needed the stability and calmness.

  “Abel. Abel. He is my… you need to find the contract. The contract!” The ghost seemed agitated and rushed like he had little time to get the information to me.

  “What contract?”

  “It will change the course of your lives.”

  “Whose lives?” I asked, knowing the answer already. It twisted my gut.

  “Yours and Rowan’s.”

  Chapter 5

  The ghost started to flicker out. Frustrated with the vague warning and too little information, I began to chant once more, restarting the ritual. Even with the runes and my spells, he kept losing control.

  I could use blood magic. It would strengthen my connection with him.

  He flickered out once more before returning with a final warning.

  “The contract,” he called out, and then he was gone.

  He’d said the contract would affect the course of our lives. It would make sense that the only people who could’ve affected us would be our parents. But what contract would they have that would change our lives? I needed more answers.

  Grabbing the Tome, I climbed back into my truck and drove back to my house. I checked the clock on my dashboard as I pulled into the driveway, noting it was well after midnight. Both my parents would be asleep, but during the drive over, I couldn’t stop going over the information. What’s in that contract? Does it have to do with the vampires?

  Anger simmered in my blood, but I had to tamp it down until I had more information. If the ghost was wrong or confused, which often happened with trauma ghosts, I didn’t need to overreact for no reason.

  Taking a steady breath, I walked down the hallway to my father’s office. Waiting until the morning seemed pointless; I wouldn’t sleep until I had answers. Everything had to be connected. There were no such things as coincidences.

  My father’s office had been off-limits to us as kids, though the older we got, the laxer my father became. Standing in front of the door, I felt like a child about to do some stupid stunt Rowan convinced me to do with her. She’d always been the adventure seeker. I followed the rules because she didn’t.

  I rubbed the ring encircling my thumb, my grandfather’s words coming back to me. Rowan had her own way of thinking, not that it was wrong, just different. Maybe it was time I took a page from her book.

  Gripping the cold doorknob, I twisted it and stepped inside. The air was chilled, and something didn’t feel quite right. I expanded my senses, but there were no ghosts lingering that I could see.

  His desk sat in the middle of the room facing the doorway. Behind it were two large windows where moonlight spilled through. The west wall was covered in books, and the east had a couch against it and held decorative art. The hardwood floors creaked under my weight, and I paused. No other sounds came from the house. Forging ahead, I went to my father’s desk where he kept his fireproof box. He’d told us where he kept it in case of an emergency. I doubted I would find the contract there—it would be far too convenient—but I needed to be thorough.

  Stepping around my father’s massive desk
, I crouched behind it to open the bottom drawer. The keycode pad on top of the box stared back at me. Typing in the code my father used for almost everything, I waited for the light to turn green. Once it did, I opened the box.

  Inside was cash and my parents’ passports—the human kind since Mystics didn’t require that sort of documentation. Our human birth certificates were also inside, along with my brothers’. Different important documents filled the box, but nothing resembling a contract. It’d been a long shot, but I had to check.

  The safe hadn’t been public knowledge in our family. The only reason I knew it existed was because of a brief conversation I overheard between Sherman and my father. I’d never given it much thought until tonight though it would make sense to hide a contract that wasn’t supposed to exist in a safe that we didn’t know about either.

  Shutting the firebox, I pushed the drawer closed and straightened, glancing around the office. My father was a solid man, believed in being up front but never vicious. He wasn’t as harsh as his exterior made him seem, but he was a clever man who had always been at least five steps ahead of Rowan and me.

  As I scanned the office, trying to figure out where he would keep the safe, my mind worked on the puzzle of the ghost. Who was he? Why was he so concerned about trying to help us?

  Those answers weren’t obvious.

  None of this was.

  But one thing I did know was how my father thought. After all, he’d been the one to teach me. He would never hide a safe so close to his firebox with sensitive information, nor would he leave it where one of his kids would accidentally stumble upon it. Wilson and I were tech experts. Simon would try to pry it open for fun—probably Ever too—and Rowan was a tornado of mischief all on her own. The only two who wouldn’t touch it would be Sherman and Kent. No, my father would keep it hidden far from his kids’ prying eyes.

  The only other place we were never allowed inside besides his office was my parents’ bedroom, which I wouldn’t be able to search until they were out and away from it. For now, I would search more in the Tome that I had stolen from Sherman’s house.