by Lee French
“I guess I want to find whatever’s at the other end of this?”
“That’s a fine goal to focus on.”
Claire covered the locket in her chest, even though it wasn’t really her chest. Or her hand, come to think of it. Everything about her only existed because she thought it should. Everything in the demesne existed because she thought it should. The thought crossed her mind to experiment more with that concept. But she didn’t know how time passed here compared to Earth. That mattered. She had no explanation why beyond some half-formed ideas about Justin and Drew needing her, but it mattered.
“Find the other magnet,” she muttered, using words to help direct her mind. Despite the knowledge the locket didn’t exist, she imagined a thread tied to it. In her mind, a bright line of light coalesced in a field of darkness. She pictured it wide enough to be a walkway and climbed onto it. The walkway flickered while she walked down it, solidifying into concrete as she became more certain.
Urgency from that unknown impetus to reach Drew and Justin sped her steps until she sprinted down the path. Dark fingers rippled upward on both sides, forming walls of brick and support beams. Over her head, both sides folded over and snapped closed to create a squared tunnel. Dust collected on the floor. Support beams crossed overhead. Irregular patches of cracked plaster concealed packed earth and aged bricks.
She recognized the Shanghai Tunnels. Under downtown Portland, these tunnels had allegedly once been used to abduct people and carry them to the docks to press them into service on boats. These tunnels also housed a major node of magic. More important to Claire, her greatest shame had happened here. Refusing to let this place affect her, she ran as fast as she could.
Ahead in the tunnel, she saw sparks flickering and fading. They danced on the air like short-lived fireflies. Golden light pulsed over the walls in time with her heartbeat. As she neared the sparks, the raging fire of the node flared into life, blocking her path. More sparks belched from the node.
Nothing here mattered. This place wanted to stop her by scaring her, but she knew better. Claire dashed through the sparks. Where they hit, they hissed and sizzled, burning her flesh and clothes. Sharp pain stabbed through her. Shock stopped her. This stuff hurt. The sparks and the node were real.
Backing out of the range of the sparks, she lifted her arms to check the burns. Sooty smudges decorated her clothes and skin. They registered as pain, though that word failed to adequately explain what she felt. Instead of what she remembered as the sensation of burned skin, she thought her bones had been stuck with superheated needles.
“I’m burning my soul? How do I get through something that burns my soul? That’s… all I am.” She covered her face. “I’m dead. I died. It happened because…” The last few minutes of her life danced in her head. Her duel with Caius gave Justin the chance to destroy the cancerous rot the ancient spirit had inflicted on the Spirit Knights. Maybe Caius had done it on purpose, or maybe by accident. Either way, he’d been the problem and she’d paved the way for Justin to solve it.
“Because someone had to sacrifice herself, and I was the only one who could. Damn, I hope he didn’t waste it.” Thinking about this did nothing to help her deal with her current problem, especially since she had no way to know how the battle with Caius had turned out. For all she knew, it might still be raging. In that case, she needed to hurry so she could help.
The node and its sparks remained in place and offered no suggestions for defeating or bypassing them. If the sparks hurt this much, the node would kill her. With a weapon, she could try smashing or cutting through the wall. Without one, she had no hope of breaking it.
“Rondy! What do I do?”
He neither appeared nor spoke. In this metaphysical place, she was on her own.
The node blocked her path, but there had to be a way around it. She could not and would not accept that her path had no way through. The thread brought her here. It hadn’t done that for no reason. Something on the other side belonged to her, and she’d find a way to reach it.
“You’re not going to win,” she grumbled at it. “I’ve beaten bigger, smarter things than you.” She punched the wall in frustration. “Come out here and fight me!”
Nothing happened to the wall, but the node flared. A gray, misty form drifted out of the light, prompting a less-than-pleasant memory. The ghost of an Asian woman in a low-cut dress reminiscent of Wild West movies floated toward her. Claire remembered this thing. It had refused to be killed by her dagger and sent her fleeing in a panic.
The ghost swiped its long, clawlike fingernails at Claire. As it moved, its shadow swept over Claire, draping a chill across her. She shivered and ducked. By instinct, she swung at the ghost’s side. Her fist connected with the solid shape. Pain exploded across her fingers and knuckles. The ghost staggered into the wall.
Claire recoiled and cradled her hand. She shook it out and checked it to find smoking, blackened flesh. The ghost seemed in worse shape, though. Staggering like a drunk, it held its side and seemed incapable of attacking further.
Gritting her teeth, Claire threw another punch at the ghost’s back. Her fist slammed into its shoulder, driving it to the ground. She grunted with the fresh pain and drove her knee into the ghost’s face. The ghost exploded into sparks. Tiny dots of agony sizzled into Claire’s flesh again.
She retreated a few steps and watched the node. The light seemed dimmer than before. Maybe, like the walkway itself, the node and sparks were just her translation of the underlying idea. Her mind created images to fit the idea, and the barrier used them against her.
Another figure floated out to meet her.
“I hate this crap,” Claire grumbled. She rushed in to punch her father’s Phasm in the face before he could do anything to her.
He blocked her with his arm, burning her hand, and shoved her aside. “Claire, this is so unnecessary.”
“No, no, and no. Not doing this.” Claire wanted to remember him as he’d been in life, but she only saw his Phasm. This stupid ghost had supplanted every memory she had of her father. “That lady was fake, and so are you.” She plowed into him with her shoulder, knocking him into the wall.
Tears streaming down her face from the agony searing her skin, she punched him as hard as she could. He reeled with the blows. Like the previous ghost, he exploded in a shower of bone-drilling sparks under her assault.
This time, Claire saw the node’s glow dim. The light faded enough to reveal a shimmering barrier on the other side. Sparks still leaped out, and the light still glowed, but it had diminished at least halfway.
“I can make that. No more of this messing with my mind stuff. I can do this.” Shaking her hands out, she bounced on her toes. Movement jarred every square inch of smoking flesh. She ignored it and took a deep breath through gritted teeth. Even though she didn’t need to breathe. Never mind.
She set her feet and sprinted through the node. Fire hotter than the sun scorched her skin. Her eyes boiled. Every strand of hair on her head burned. Screaming with crackling lungs, she leaped at the wall and punched through it. Everything flashed white.
Despite leaping forward, Claire landed on her back. The other two threads in her chest roared into life, demanding her attention. The first thread, the one she’d followed here, blazed with proximity. She blinked and took a few long moments to orient herself, though that didn’t help much. With effort, she pushed the threads into the background so she could think, only to feel blazing pain across her half-dissolved body.
Holding up her arms, she noticed she had flowing, unclear edges instead of a sharp boundary of damaged flesh. The missing pieces slowly filled in, healing from her chest to her fingertips, like a printer churning out ink on a page. In life, Enion had caused her to heal from the inside to the outside. This way made her uncomfortable to watch. She ignored her hands in favor of her surroundings.
A single, glowing crystal hung from a string hooked to the ceiling, casting harsh yellow light over the small room. From t
he corrugation of the metal walls and its rectangular shape, Claire guessed she must be inside a shipping container or semi trailer. She lay on a wooden table at one end. The room also held a twin bed, another wooden table, a couch, a coffee table, and a cooler, all in poor condition. Despite their scarring and stains, nothing had dirt, grime, or even a speck of dust.
Claire’s dragon tooth dagger lay on the coffee table, which confused her. She sat up to go check it out and noticed she had two sets of legs. Rather, her legs moved and another pair of bare legs she recognized as her own remained still. Hopping off the table, she couldn’t decide what to feel about seeing her own dead, barely-clothed body. Her body’s skin had turned a purplish shade of gray-blue. The ragged gash through its shoulder and chest made her rub her own shoulder in sympathy.
Remembering the feel of Caius’s blade tearing through her body made her want to turn away, but she had to see. The locket remained embedded in the flesh, its tarnished gold glowing gently in the light. Claire reached out to touch her body only to stop short. This had never been mentioned in Sunday school as a possibility for what came after death.
“I’m a Phasm,” she whispered, afraid of the word. Rondy had told her this already, but she didn’t believe him. Phasms that lingered became corrupted and wanted to destroy things. If she ran across Justin, would she seek to taint his mind and force him to do horrible things? That had happened to him before, with another Phasm.
Muffled, scraping metal tore her attention away from her body. Claire turned and watched while the other end of the room opened, letting in gloomy, gray light. A hooded figure slipped inside and hauled the doors closed again, barring them shut with a long piece of wood.
“This wretched place,” the new woman grumbled. “Why does anyone live here? The weather is awful.” Her light accent marked her as foreign in a way Claire considered elegant and refined. She knew that voice.
“Iulia? What are you doing here? And why do you have my body?”
Iulia pushed the hood of her long coat down, letting her dark hair loose, and Claire looked into another copy of her own face. They shared the same olive skin, dark eyes, cheekbones, jawline, nose, ears, everything. Iulia had even cut her hair short like Claire’s.
Ignoring Claire, Iulia shivered and waved her hand. Nothing happened that Claire could see, but Iulia sighed and unzipped her coat.
“Are you going to answer me?” Claire demanded.
Iulia hung her coat on a hook, revealing clothes remarkably similar to Claire’s usual tastes. Aside from the small, silver dragon draped around her neck, she wore a green long-sleeved shirt, a black and yellow plaid miniskirt, and green leggings with black leather boots. All the clothes appeared worn and faded, like she’d had them for a long time.
Either Claire had been dead for a while or Iulia shopped at thrift stores. Given Iulia’s probable lack of modern currency, Claire guessed the latter.
She also guessed Iulia could neither hear nor see her.
“Leeloo likes here,” the dragon said, her tiny, chirpy voice cute and childlike. “Lots of mud!”
Iulia snorted. “I take it you’ve forgotten Antium.”
“Long time ago. Happy now!”
Pulling the dragon off her neck, Iulia rolled her eyes. She set Leeloo on the coffee table, next to Claire’s dagger. “Leeloo, you’d be happy in a desert so long as you had something to eat.”
“Lunch! Yay!” Leeloo danced in a circle, then devolved into chasing her tail.
“Soon. I need to—” Iulia sniffed the air.
Leeloo stopped and rose on her hind legs. “What? What? What?”
“Hush. Do you sense anything odd?” Iulia peered at the space where Claire hovered.
Claire froze. Knowing Iulia hadn’t noticed her yet gave her options. If she stayed, Iulia would eventually discover her. The witch had enough power that Claire had no doubt she’d be found. If she left, Iulia wouldn’t know Claire had been here.
Leeloo swayed from side to side, sniffing. “Claire?”
“Claire is a Phasm. She can’t come to this realm.” Iulia crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “Unless…”
Considering Iulia had her body, and with what little Claire understood of Iulia and her plans, Claire suspected Iulia might turn her power to trapping Claire’s ghost and trying to use her. That chilling thought made Claire shrink away. She needed help to deal with Iulia. Enion’s help would be a good start.
With the thought, one of the two remaining threads flared, unwilling to be ignored any longer. Claire gave it the tiniest whisper of consent and watched the world spin while the thread yanked on her midriff. She moved so fast her hands and feet stretched and frayed at the ends. The scenery blurred into smeared green, gray, and brown streaks.
Chapter 3
Drew
No matter how long Drew stared at the wall, nothing changed. The smooth surface, only fuzzy because his glasses lay on the bedside table, stayed beige. His body stayed limp. Claire stayed dead. Yesterday, he buried her in the backyard. Joining her sounded good. After everything they’d each been through, separately and together, he wanted to give up.
Someone knocked softly on his bedroom door. He ignored it. They’d go away. Grandma Tammy had a soft spot for letting him sleep as much as he wanted on weekends. Tomorrow, he’d have to get up and go to school after the worst Thanksgiving break imaginable. He’d been possessed by a ghost and lost his best friend. Now he had an annoying, whiny voice in his head and mist-based superpowers. And no Claire.
The door opened. “Drew?” He recognized Justin’s voice, even though the man spoke in a low, near-whisper. When Drew didn’t respond, he heard Justin shut the door and cross the room, his work boots thumping on the rug. The man sat on the edge of his bed and sighed. For a long few moments that felt oppressive and tense, he said nothing.
Finally, Justin cleared his throat. “You said you’d come with me to check the city today.”
“Go away.” Drew’s voice, unused since he shuffled past Grandma Tammy to go to bed last night, cracked and scratched. Having to interact with another person made his eyes burn. Because it wasn’t Claire.
Justin shifted, but didn’t get up. “I know things are rough right now, but getting outside and doing something worthwhile might help.”
“He’s right,” Kay said inside his head. “This moping stuff is extremely boring. You’re just lying here, staring at a wall. At least when you read, I get to learn something.”
“Shut up.” Drew wanted to snap at both of them, but it took too much energy.
“I need your help, Drew,” Justin said. “I don’t have the tools to do my job anymore.”
“Then don’t do it.”
“Someone has to, and I at least know it needs to be done. Claire would want you to pick up the slack for her.”
“She would,” Kay agreed.
Drew narrowed his eyes. Tears leaked out. “Don’t talk about what she would or wouldn’t want. She’s gone because of you.”
“I’m as much to blame for her death as you are for the giant hole in the roof of my house.” Justin stood. “I’m not losing two teenagers I care about in one weekend. Get up or I’m getting you up. I’ll throw you over Tariel’s back if I have to.”
“Don’t touch me.”
“Then get up. Eat something. Let’s go.”
“I could go through the motions for you,” Kay said. His voice turned soothing and pleasant. “Make him think you’re cooperating while you mourn in the corner. You wouldn’t have to do anything. I mean, we’re a team, right?”
Thinking about Kay’s offer cost Drew too much. “Okay.” He willingly retreated to a dark corner of himself, out of the way.
“I’m getting up,” Kay growled through Drew’s mouth. He rolled over and set his feet on the floor.
Justin nodded his satisfaction and returned to the door. “If you’re not in the kitchen in fifteen minutes, I’m coming back in. And Jack and Tammy still don’t know about Claire. Let’s keep
it that way for another day or two. I’ve got to figure out how to manage this.”
Kay waved him off with an annoyed flick of his wrist.
Justin left and shut the door.
“How am I doing so far?”
Drew ignored him. He remembered waking up next to Claire yesterday morning in her bedroom. For that first flicker of the day, when he hadn’t yet remembered anything about the day before or their plans for that day, it had been one of the best mornings of his life.
He’d opened his eyes to her dark hair and with his arm draped over her waist from behind. The bunched fabric of her nightshirt had left imprints on the bare skin inside his elbow. The scent of her shampoo, faded from a day of running around in the rain, mingled with her curious and unique perfume. For some reason, she always reminded him of the smell of a new book.
“Okay, so you’re just going to sulk and reminisce. Fine.” Kay picked up Drew’s glasses and settled them on his face. He changed his socks and tossed on a clean sweatshirt. Too much blood stained the one lying on the floor. Kay kicked it under the bed to keep Grandma Tammy from noticing it.
Kay stalked to the bathroom, where he checked his reflection in the mirror. “You look like crap,” he muttered. Instead of dealing with his unruly red curls or matching puffy eyes, Kay pulled up the sweatshirt’s hood to hide it all. When he finally reached the kitchen, he kept his head down and shoveled a bowl of cereal left out for him.
Grandma Tammy patted his shoulder. “Are you feeling okay today?”
“Didn’t sleep well,” Kay mumbled.
“You’re not the only one.” She squeezed his shoulder. The tiny gesture touched Drew enough to bring tears to his eyes again. But he didn’t have eyes right now. Wanting to cry and not being able to felt like being wrapped in plastic.
In the other room, he heard Justin telling his young daughters to be good for Grandpa Jack. Kay crunched through O’s as fast as he could. Drew knew his stomach would churn and didn’t care.
