My So-Called Phantom Love Life

by Tamsyn Murray

  Which left only Celestine to comment. I held my breath.

  ‘I suppose it’s an improvement on kissing ghosts,’ she said in a grudging tone and the breath whooshed out of me in a rush. ‘Just be careful. He broke your heart before and he can do it again.’

  I nodded. ‘I will be.’

  My phone vibrated in my pocket, making me jump. I tugged it out and opened the waiting text message. ‘It’s from Nico,’ I said, swallowing. ‘He says to come to the old keeper’s cottage in Highgate Woods at midnight.’

  Jeremy frowned. ‘I don’t remember seeing an old keeper’s cottage in the woods. I thought they were all in use.’

  My aunt looked thoughtful. ‘There’s a derelict house on the north side, I guess he means that. Does he say anything else?’

  I glanced at the message again. ‘No.’

  ‘Then we have no idea how many will be there.’ She threw me a rueful look. ‘I suppose there’s no point in trying to persuade you to stay here?’

  ‘Absolutely none.’

  Celestine nodded at Jeremy and Mary. ‘Then it’ll be five of us versus however many they bring. I don’t think we can rely on Nico, it might be too hard for him to help.’ Her face tense, she got to her feet. ‘I’ll raid the kitchen cupboards and contact Gregor. Then I suggest we get some rest. It’s going to be a long night.’

  Chapter 18

  If you’re the kind of person who believes in signs and portents, you’d probably have thought the weather was against us as we left at eleven-thirty to meet Gregor at the woods. The rain had started around ten o’clock and hadn’t stopped since. To make matters worse, a fierce wind had sprung up which buffeted Jeremy’s little Micra as we headed north to Muswell Hill Road and drove the rain into our faces once we’d arrived. I found it hard to breathe and it wasn’t only the weather to blame. My anxiety for Nico and Owen was reaching new heights. Could we really save Owen with the meagre weapon we had, and what would it cost Nico if we did?

  Gregor was waiting at Lodge Gate, dressed from head to toe in black. He nodded at each of us, including Mary. ‘The gate is locked. We will need to find a place to cross the fence if we are to proceed.’

  Jeremy looked up and down the road, squinting in the rain. ‘We should split up. I’ll stick with Skye if you go with Gregor, Celestine?’

  My aunt nodded her agreement. ‘Try to find somewhere away from the road. We don’t want to get caught before we begin.’

  Mary slipped through the iron gates and faced us from the inside. ‘Mayhap the villains hath left a sentry. I will scent him out if so and meet thee here anon.’

  She turned and melted into the woods, her faint glow soon eaten up by the darkness. Jeremy flashed his torch at me briefly. ‘Ready?’

  ‘As I’ll ever be.’

  Celestine patted my arm. ‘Be careful. Text if you find anything.’

  It took us less than five minutes to find a likely looking spot, next to a sign bearing the name of the road. While I texted Celestine, Jeremy spread the tartan blanket he’d produced from the boot of his car across the fierce-looking spikes and reached into his pocket.

  ‘Flip you for it,’ he said, flashing a silver coin at me. ‘Heads or tails?’

  I shook my bedraggled hair out of my eyes and peered at the fence apprehensively; it was all right for him, he wasn’t vertically challenged. ‘Maybe we should wait for the others,’ I said, chewing my lip. ‘Celestine knows first aid.’

  Jeremy smiled wryly. ‘I know. She saved my life, remember?’

  It was how they’d met; Jeremy had been stabbed and Celestine had found him. But my faith in my aunt’s medical skills wasn’t enough to inspire me to scale a two metre spiked fence. ‘Or I could find another way in.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Come on, Skye, this isn’t like you. Where’s that ballsy attitude I’ve seen so often?’

  I gazed at the fence; had it grown in the last minute? Then I thought of Nico and Owen, and what would happen to both of them if we didn’t reach the cottage in time. Clenching my teeth, I planted a soggy trainer on the sign and pulled myself up. With difficulty, I hoisted one leg over the blanket and teetered. ‘Now what?’

  Clasping his hands together, he hooked them under my foot on his side of the fence. ‘Swing your other leg over. I’ll take your weight.’

  With a confidence I didn’t feel, I did as I was told. For one second, I hung in the air, suspended by Jeremy’s fingers around my foot. Then a sudden gust of wind hit me and with all the elegance of a pregnant hippo, I toppled sideways. Jeremy clambered hurriedly over as I got to my feet, brushing dirt and leaves off my clothes and hair. Unfortunately he didn’t stick the landing either.

  ‘Ow!’ he howled from the undergrowth. ‘Bloody stinging nettles.’

  I stuck out a hand to help him. ‘Are you OK?’

  Smoothing his hair, he nodded. ‘Let’s pretend that didn’t happen.’

  ‘Glad to see you two negotiated the fence safely,’ my aunt called, peering through the iron poles. She clambered gracefully over, making me feel even more hippo-esque. Once Gregor was inside, we cut through the trees in watchful silence and headed towards the cottage, branches and leaves rustling overhead as the wind whipped through them.

  Mary materialised on the path, looming in front of us like a banshee tracker scout. ‘It is as thy lover said. They weave their dark arts in the keeper’s house over yonder.’

  Up until then, I’d subconsciously been hoping Owen had got cold feet and backed out. Mary’s comment told me he hadn’t. Gregor looked at Celestine. ‘You have the tools for the job?’

  She patted her pocket. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then there is no time to lose. If we succeed, the Solomonarii will be angry. We should be ready to flee at haste.’

  I shivered and tried not to think about what would happen if Nico’s father suspected his son of tipping us off. He’d beaten him for snooping in his study – what punishment would he dish out for an outright betrayal? We’d just have to hope he never found out the truth.

  Once the cottage loomed into sight, my stomach began to gurgle with tension. It was hard to see in the darkness but it looked like the windows were missing and half the roof had fallen in. Faint lights flickered through the gaps in the walls; torches, I guessed, or maybe candles. I had no idea what we’d find inside but my brain seemed to be re-running every horror film I’d ever subjected it to. Ivan Albescu was a cross between Dracula and Dr Frankenstein and Owen had turned into one of the creatures from Zombieland. I shook the images away and huddled inside my coat, trying to ignore the biting wind.

  ‘At least the rain is stopping,’ Jeremy whispered as we approached the cottage.

  I lifted my chin, then held out a hand; he was right, the needle-sharp sting of the rain had stopped. ‘There’s no wind, either.’

  Gregor lowered his hood. ‘They have the power to control the weather,’ he reminded us. ‘Wind and rain do not make it easy to keep a lighted flame.’

  I glanced at my watch; it was ten to midnight. ‘What if they’ve started already?’

  Gregor shook his head. ‘They will not begin until the witching hour. It strengthens the ritual.’

  I was still clinging to the idea that we could stop the spell before they began. ‘What are we waiting for? Let’s go!’

  Reaching into her pockets, Celestine pulled out cling-film twists and handed them to each of us, except for Mary. ‘Salt and black pepper, just in case one of us misses.’

  As much as I trusted Gregor’s advice, I still couldn’t imagine how seasoning could be so powerful. But it wasn’t the time to raise it; I had to hope he really did know what he was doing.

  ‘They are but three, in the foremost room,’ Mary said, pointing towards the dim glow I’d noticed. ‘I dared not go nearer for fear they sensed my presence and two spirits became Eaten this night.’

  I fired a sharp look her way. ‘No spirits are getting Eaten tonight, OK?’

  She returned my glare but said nothing.
Celestine looked between the two of us. ‘Stop it, you two. We’ve got enough enemies here without squabbling amongst ourselves.’

  She was right, of course. ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled and Mary did the same.

  ‘The ritual will be stronger if the power of three is called upon. We will enter through the back of the house.’ Gregor checked the time and signalled us to move forward. ‘Stay low and follow me. Jeremy, you bring up the rear. If we get separated, meet at the Lodge Gate.’

  And then we were creeping forwards in the eerie stillness, edging nearer to the house. Mary hung back, her face a mirror of the anxiety I felt. As we got closer, I could hear a low chanting but couldn’t make out any words.

  ‘Romanian, an old cleansing spell,’ Gregor whispered. ‘And so it begins.’

  Fear mingled with adrenaline spiked its way through my veins. My fingers gripped the small twist of salt as though my life depended on it. I forced them to relax; if I wasn’t careful I’d tear the delicate plastic and the only thing I’d be covering would be my pocket.

  ‘You OK, Skye?’ Jeremy said, his voice barely carrying through the night air.

  I nodded at the same moment as we reached the back of the cottage. Gregor turned and placed a finger to his lips. Holding up a hand, he pointed to Jeremy and me and indicated we should head towards the window. Then he touched Celestine and himself and pointed inside. My aunt reached out to grasp my hand hard. I returned the squeeze. Then she was gone. I drew in a shallow breath and followed Jeremy to the glassless window.

  For a full minute, neither of us dared to poke our heads over the windowsill. Crouched low underneath the rotting, ivy-covered ledge, we listened to the rise and fall of the chant. Then Jeremy waved his thumb at me. I tipped my head in agreement and we peered into the room.

  I spotted Nico first. He was standing furthest away from me, in a corner of the small room. Lanterns hung here and there from the wooden ceiling beams, casting strange shadows against the crumbling walls. Even in the half-light, his bruises stood out. His expression was pinched and anxious and I decided he looked pretty much like I felt. Every now and then, he glanced uneasily around and I guessed he must be wondering if I was coming.

  Owen was in the middle of the room, inside a circle of what appeared to be black rope. Any last hope I’d been nurturing about somehow preventing the ritual from even starting evaporated. Gregor had been crystal clear: to interfere with the spell at the wrong time would be catastrophic. It looked like Owen’s salvation really did lie with simple seasoning.

  He was the complete opposite of Nico, a look of relaxed anticipation written across his features and I remembered how he enjoyed risky situations. As Gregor had predicted, there was a chalk pentagram inside the rope and Owen stood at the very centre. A tall black candle burned at each of the five points of the symbol. The flames hardly flickered and once again I marvelled at the difference in the weather here and how it had been two hundred metres away, where the wind would have extinguished the candles in an instant. Was Nico holding the rain at bay or was it his father? Either way, it was an impressive feat.

  On the outside of the circle, with their backs to the internal doorway, were two men. One was tall and dark; I recognised him as Nico’s dad. The other was shorter and muscular, with glistening, slicked-back hair and a raven-black beard; I’d never seen him before. He held a square stone, which I assumed was one of the talismans Gregor had told us about. Ivan was reading from it. Beside them was a low table, with a dark chalice on it and a flaming blood-red candle.

  Ducking down again, I tugged back the sleeve of my coat; eleven fifty-eight. In two more minutes, the ritual would begin. I rubbed a finger over the salt packet and hoped I’d know when to use it if I had to. Gregor had said we’d know when to throw it – what if we didn’t and missed the crucial point?

  Not for the first time, I wished Celestine was next to me. I suspected Gregor had sent me around the outside so that I could run more easily if I needed to, but I wanted the reassurance of my aunt and, as lovely as he could be, Jeremy wasn’t quite the same.

  The chanting stopped. The air hung in expectant silence. I raised my head slowly and peered into the room.

  Ivan was standing opposite Owen, his feet a short distance from the dirt circle. ‘It is time,’ Ivan said, his unaccented voice carrying across the unnatural quiet. ‘Are you ready?’

  Owen smiled and I saw his mouth twist in a way that was familiar and strange to me at the same time. When this was over we had a lot of talking to do. ‘Of course,’ he said, with a confidence I wasn’t sure he really felt. ‘Bring it on.’

  Ivan nodded. ‘Nico, seal the room so that no one can disturb our work.’

  Nico went to the corner of the room and lifted a black bag. Carefully, he tilted it and a thin stream of dark powder flowed onto the ground. Leaving a continuous line of the substance behind him, he edged around the outside of the room. When he reached the gap in the wall where the front door once was, he paused and looked out. Anxiously, I craned my head around but all I saw was trees. What would Nico do if he spotted Mary hovering on the tree-line? I hadn’t told him I was bringing a ghost of my own. Would he realise Mary was there to help? But I needn’t have worried – she must have moved out of sight. Nico tilted the bag once more and continued with his task.

  Jeremy and I flattened ourselves against the cold ground as he approached the window and I resisted the temptation to let Nico know we were there; I didn’t know how he’d react and wanted to avoid making his father suspicious. Leaves tickled my face and the smell of damp earth filled my nostrils. Heart galloping, I tried not to think about how many creepy crawlies I was getting up close and personal with; now was not the time to break out in arachnophobia.

  When Nico neared the door at the back of the room, the breath froze in my lungs. Gregor and Celestine must be well inside the house by now. If Nico saw them, I hoped he’d know they were on his side. He paused in the doorway and stared into the blackness beyond. Seconds stretched. Then Nico lowered the bag of powder and began to pour again. I allowed myself a silent sigh of relief when he bowed to his father. ‘Done.’

  As Nico crossed the room and took up his position at the foot of the pentagram, I saw his gaze flicker towards the window. I wished there was some way to reassure him that he wasn’t alone, but it was impossible without giving everything away to his father and the other man. I wasn’t sure I wanted Owen to know we were there, either. Somehow, I doubted he’d appreciate my interference.

  Ivan gestured to the bearded man, who took the red candle from the table and carried it to the edge of the room. He touched it to the powder and a brilliant blue flash seared into my retinas as the flame chased around the room. It burned for a few seconds and then went out. The smell of putrid eggs filled the air and I tried not to gag as I twisted away from the window to gulp in mouthfuls of fresh air. Blinking furiously to clear the after-image, I tried to remember where I’d smelled such a stench before.

  ‘Sulphur,’ Jeremy breathed. ‘But what does it do?’

  I didn’t have the faintest idea but I guessed it must have magical properties. All I knew was that the smell made me feel sick to my stomach.

  ‘We should begin,’ the man said, dragging my attention back to the cottage. I was surprised to hear a thick Scottish accent colouring his words. Glaswegian, I thought. ‘The seal will only last an hour.’

  Ivan nodded. The other man handed him the talisman and reached towards the table to collect the chalice. Making his way around the edge of the circle, he handed the candle to Nico, who took it without speaking. Once past him, the man stopped, facing the window directly opposite us. On instinct, I ducked, wincing at the shooting pains the movement sent through my groaning thigh muscles. It was a few seconds before I realised that the foliage climbing up the walls hid us from sight and I dared to straighten up and look into the room again.

  Ivan held up the talisman and began to speak once more. The words meant nothing to me and I guessed he must be
speaking Romanian again. Then he switched into English.

  ‘Dust of the grave, we invoke thee,’ he called, and cast a handful of black grit across the pentagram. Owen flinched as the particles passed through him. Stomach churning with tension, I studied him. So far he looked exactly the same as always and I wondered at what point in the ritual we’d see the first signs of change.

  The shorter man reached into his jacket and withdrew a steel knife. Lifting the goblet, he dipped the shining blade into it and flicked it into the circle. ‘Water of the dead, we implore thee.’

  Several seconds ticked by and I saw Nico’s gaze slide hesitantly towards the door to the back room. Then he cleared his throat and said in a faltering tone, ‘Candle of the eternal night, we command thee.’

  I craned sideways to see if I could catch a glimpse of Gregor or Celestine but the doorway was dark. Jeremy nudged me; the candles inside the pentagram were starting to flicker. A puzzled frown creased my forehead; there was no breeze that I could feel but Nico had said that controlling the weather took concentration. Maybe the ritual was making it hard to keep the wind and rain at bay?

  Owen was still looking calm and relaxed in the centre of the pentagram. Ivan reached down to the table and lifted a length of black cloth. Slowly, he peeled back the material. The candlelight flashed as it caught a slender copper blade as long as my forearm. Slowly, Ivan raised it up until it was head height. He smiled and all three of the Solomonarii opened their mouths to speak in unison.

  ‘Tempest of the damned, we summon thee.’

  A sudden howling sprang up and the flames of the candles flattened for a moment before righting themselves. Air whirled around my face but the rest of my body felt nothing, as though the wind was only blowing inside the cottage. I held out a hand in the night air to confirm my suspicions: there was no wind outside. Jeremy looked at me, his expression equally confused.

  Inside, Ivan was chanting again but it was harder to hear him over the roaring of the wind. I caught snatches of words but couldn’t make out any meaning. Then he tilted the knife towards Owen’s forehead. It hovered there for a nanosecond, then descended and made contact. My breath caught in my throat. Behind Owen’s head, where he couldn’t possibly see it, a yawning black chasm had opened. Ivan spoke again and the blade travelled down to touch Owen’s chest. The void increased. Here and there, I caught a faint flicker of red, like a scarlet tongue licking at the darkness. Owen was blissfully unaware of what was happening behind him. My teeth gnawed at my lip; every nerve in my body wanted to scream that something was wrong. But Owen simply smiled.