Spirit Prophecy

by E. E. Holmes

  “You mean, he has no choice?” Hannah asked, horrified.

  “No, Hannah. He did have a choice. He has already made it,” Finvarra said.

  “But that’s not fair,” I said. “He didn’t know what was happening!”

  “He’s standing right here!” Milo said, throwing up his hands. “He might be dead, but that doesn’t mean we talk about him like he isn’t here!”

  We all fell silent, even Finvarra.

  “I knew what I was doing,” Milo insisted. “I could tell when it was happening that it was … a big deal not to go. I could feel it. I stayed anyway. End of story.”

  Hannah just kept staring at him, looking close to tears. Carrick, on the other hand, was looking at Milo with something akin to respect blossoming in his expression.

  “The circumstances are, forgive me, irrelevant at this point,” Finvarra said. She must have realized she sounded insensitive, because she continued in a softer tone. “What has been done cannot be undone, and so you must all learn to make the best of it, including Jessica.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “Because Milo is Bound to your Gateway. You will share, at least in part, in the connection he shares with your sister.”

  “What?” Milo and I shouted together.

  “You mean she’ll be able to order me around, like I’m some kind of servant?” Milo yelled.

  “Hey, I don’t order you around like a servant!” Hannah said.

  “I don’t mean you!” Milo told her.

  “I know, but —”

  “Are you telling me I’m stuck with him for the rest of my life?” I asked, jumping up out of my seat.

  “It is unclear how exactly this connection will manifest itself. My sister and Carrick, for instance, do not need to stay in close proximity to each other, but can communicate over great distances. It may take some time for the nature of your specific connection to become obvious,” Finvarra said. “But to answer your question, Jessica, no, you are not stuck with him for the rest of your life, necessarily. You are stuck with him for the rest of Hannah’s.”

  Milo and I stared daggers at each other. We both knew that amounted to the same thing.

  “Now,” Finvarra said, walking back around her desk, seating herself at it, and taking up a pen, “Milo, you will need to become a formal part of next month’s Initiation ceremony. It is customary, in the rare occasion that an Apprentice is Bound, for the ghost to be Initiated as well. You will take on the official role of spirit guide to the clan.”

  “And what does a spirit guide have to do?” Milo asked.

  “It is merely a formal title for the connection you already have. You will take a vow, just as Finn and the other Novitiates will do, to protect the Gateway, and to serve as a companion and protector to the girls,” Finvarra said.

  Milo swallowed hard and raked a hand through his hair. “Protector? Jesus, pressure much?”

  Finvarra smiled at him. “It requires no special skill on your part, nor anything beyond what you would surely do as a friend and someone who cares about them. If they were ever in any kind of danger, wouldn’t you do what you could to help them, even if you hadn’t taken an oath?”

  Milo shrugged. “Sure, I mean…if you put it that way. Right. Yeah, okay, I guess I can do that.”

  “Carrick can talk you through the ceremony and make sure that you are ready to participate. He can answer any further questions you have.”

  “It is a great honor, to be a spirit guide,” Carrick told him. “In time, I think you will come to see it this way. Just remember the reasons you chose to stay behind; you wanted to protect your friend, to make sure she wasn’t alone. And that is what you shall continue to do.”

  Milo glanced at Hannah. They smiled at each other as their eyes met. “Yeah. I would have done it anyway,” he said. “Now it’s just official.”

  “Yeah, official and permanent,” I mumbled. “Great.”

  9

  THE SILENT CHILD

  IT TOOK NEARLY TWO WEEKS UNTIL I GOT ANOTHER UPDATE FROM TIA, who was buried in work with the midterm exams for her summer session. I was so swamped myself that the days flew, punctuated with a guilty stab every now and then that another day had gone by and I still didn’t know where Pierce really was. When we finally Skyped again, the guilty stabs turned to a twisted, agonizing knot of worry.

  “There’s no way to contact anyone at the Deer Creek Inn. Their website says that they are closed for renovations. We called the contact number, but they’ve set up a recording saying the same thing, and to keep checking the website for details about when they will be reopening. They even have an auto-response set up for their contact email.”

  “And no one from St. Matt’s has tried to get in touch with Pierce? Don’t any of them see how sketchy this all is?”

  “I can’t imagine anyone has had to get in touch with him yet. He’s only been gone a few weeks,” Tia pointed out. “A lot of them are still on break, and haven’t even been back to campus yet. I bet most of his colleagues don’t even know he’s gone yet.”

  “I guess that’s true. We wouldn’t even know about any of this if you weren’t such an overachiever,” I said.

  Tia stuck her tongue out at me, but resumed a sober expression almost at once. “There’s more, Jess. I found Annabelle’s shop. Or rather, I should say, I found what used to be Annabelle’s shop.”

  “What do you mean, used to be?”

  “It took a while with no name, but eventually I found it online. It’s called ‘The Gypsy Tearoom.’ I went to the address, but it’s…well it’s there, but…something happened to it,” she said, with all the appearance of withholding the unpleasant details.

  “Out with it, Tia! Just tell me!”

  “There was a fire. The place is all boarded up, the windows are smashed, and the whole façade is charred. It’s been cordoned off and condemned.”

  “Shit,” was all I could manage. My head, suddenly heavy and swimming, fell into my hands. I tried to take a deep breath, but my lungs clamped down, refusing point-blank to expand.

  “I asked some of the other shop owners. The guy who owns the bookshop next door says that the police suspect arson, and they’ve been interviewing people to try to find witnesses. He said it happened in the middle of the night, and that no one has seen Annabelle since the day before the fire.”

  “When did it happen?” I asked, without looking up.

  “Three weeks ago,” Tia said.

  I laced my fingers into my hair. “Oh, Tia, this is bad. This is really, really bad.”

  “I know. That’s what I thought, too.”

  “Any luck tracking any of the others down?” I asked.

  “No. I’m sorry, but I just don’t have that much to go on,” Tia said. She sounded tearful. I looked up in time to see her brushing the moisture off her cheeks.

  “Don’t, Tia. Don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m just so worried,” I said. “It isn’t your fault. You’ve got almost nothing to go on. Thank you so much for helping me.”

  “I wish I had better news for you,” she said, eyes downcast. “I’m getting nervous though, Jess. Something really weird is definitely going on. It might even be dangerous.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “Back off of it, for now. I’m going to try to track down Neil, if I can, since he’s the only other one we have a last name for. I’ll let you know what I find. In the meantime, tell Sam thanks for me. You guys are the best.” I glanced down at the clock and leapt up. “I’ve got to run, Ti, I’m going to be late for class.”

  Tia and I said goodbye, and I was left with an ever deepening pit in my stomach, and a whirling in my brain that took up much more of my attention than Siobhán’s lecture about the origins of the Book of Téigh Anonn. It was one thing for Pierce to go missing, but Annabelle too? Who could possibly be responsible for something like this, and was there any way that it could be linked to me? It seemed a strange coincidence that they should both go missing within weeks of finding out wh
at I was. No. No, it wasn’t possible. Karen promised me that the destruction of Pierce’s evidence was more than sufficient to cover my tracks, and Pierce had promised me not to go asking any more questions. No, there must be something else going on, something I didn’t know about. But Pierce was still important to me, and so I wouldn’t stop digging, not yet. And Annabelle: well, we weren’t exactly the best of friends, but if it hadn’t been for her, I might never have found out about the Durupinen at all.

  “Jessica?”

  I snapped back into the present, where my pen was hovering over my completely blank notebook. “Hmm?”

  “Are you with us? Siobhán said severely.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said. I’m a little distracted this morning,” I said, heat creeping traitorously up my neck and reddening my face.

  “Yes, I can see that. I asked if you could please tell me the three categories of spirit experience.”

  I shook my head a little to clear it. Thank goodness I wasn’t too distracted to recall the previous night’s reading. “Yes, I can. The three categories of spirit experience are sensory, extrasensory, and emotional.”

  Siobhán nodded, but I knew I wasn’t redeemed yet. “And can you explain them?”

  “Yes,” I said again. I laid down my pen, acutely aware of all of the eyes on me. “Sensory experience is interaction with a spirit as perceived with the five senses and is by far the most common form. Extrasensory experience is information picked up through intuition or a form of non-sensory communication, such as psychic drawing or telepathy. Emotional experience is the least common, and occurs when the spirit’s emotions are transferred and felt by the person as if those feelings were their own. The Empath is the most obvious example of this.”

  Siobhán smiled at me, my distraction forgiven, and everyone turned back to her now that the potential show of humiliation over.

  “None of you will find yourselves limited to one of these forms of communication. It is most likely that you will experience all three at one time or another in your lives. Spirits, like people, have different personalities and abilities, and therefore they channel their energy in different ways; some will be hesitant, even timid in their attempts to communicate with you. Others, with more forceful presences, will find more powerful ways to get their point across. We may find ourselves, at times, deeply affected by spirit communication, but remind yourselves that these experiences are the only chance a spirit has to find the help he needs.”

  Olivia raised her hand. “Is there any way for us to block spirit communication, if it gets too intense?”

  Before she answered, Siobhán’s eyes flicked briefly toward our table. “Yes. It is possible, temporarily and in extreme circumstances, to block spirit communication. It is rare, though, for such a circumstance to arise.”

  “But they do happen sometimes?” Olivia asked.

  “Yes, on occasion,” Siobhán said.

  “So then, what can be done, in those rare circumstances?”

  Siobhán glanced at us again, and suddenly I knew what she was going to say before she said it. “There is a ceremony called a Binding, which will temporarily block all spirit communication from a Gateway, and which we will cover more extensively in a later class.”

  I looked at Hannah, whose expression had become frozen and impassive. She was staring at a spot somewhere in the heart of the fire, with every indication of a person who was not paying attention, but a tiny muscle, jumping in her jaw, gave her away.

  “But surely,” Peyton began in scandalized tones, “that can’t be allowed. Isn’t the whole point of our existence to be accessible to the ghosts that need our help?”

  Siobhán seemed to realize she was walking into a trap, but ignoring the question would only have made it more obvious. “A Binding is certainly allowed as a last resort, when all other means to help the spirit in question have been exhausted, and even then, only for a very short period of time. There are several types of Bindings and many different situations in which using one would be entirely appropriate, as long as it is removed promptly.”

  “What happens if someone performs a Binding and just leaves it in place?” Peyton asked, her voice dripping with avid curiosity I knew she did not feel. She knew the answer to this question. Everyone in the room knew the answer to this question, with perhaps the exception of Savannah and Phoebe, who didn’t yet know the full story of our family’s fall from grace.

  Siobhán sighed but answered. “A prolonged Binding can result in great turmoil for the spirits that are being denied access to the Gateway. They build up, like a traffic jam, with nowhere to go. It can cause a ripple effect through the Gateway system and create great unrest and instability.”

  “Wow,” Peyton sighed and turned to Olivia. “I can’t believe anyone could ever do such a thing, can you?

  “I can’t imagine,” Olivia said, nodding gravely but with malicious light in her dark eyes, “that any one of us could be so selfish, to jeopardize the entire system like that.”

  “I agree, but,” Peyton’s eyes lit up as though she had only just remembered something, “isn’t that exactly what Jess and Hannah’s mother did?”

  “That’s quite enough, ladies. I will tolerate no harassment in this class. You are passing judgment on a matter about which you understand little, and you are getting us off topic,” Siobhán said, and continued on with her lecture. She was saying something about Empaths, but all I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears. Olivia and Peyton were smiling now, looking around at their surrounding entourage of smirking and giggling lemmings. If my face had been pink before, it was flaming scarlet now. I could have flung my notebook straight at their faces. As if they could know, as if any of them could even begin to comprehend, the terrible pain and impossible decision my mother had made in her futile efforts to protect us.

  I was still seething when the bells sounded. I threw my stuff into my bag and stood up. Hannah hadn’t moved.

  “I have to book it if I’m going to be on time for Fiona,” I said to her. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yes,” she said tonelessly.

  I didn’t believe her, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I turned to shuffle up the aisle and almost walked into Finn.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, in a tone that actually said, “Get the hell away from me and mind your own damn business.”

  “No,” he said. “I just wanted to know if you…” he looked at my face and seemed to lose his nerve, “if she was alright.” He jutted his square chin in Hannah’s direction.

  “She’s fine,” I said. “She’s tougher than she looks.”

  “Good,” he said. “You should probably get used to it. They’re not going to let up.”

  “Very encouraging, thanks,” I said.

  He stalked away without another word. I watched his retreating back, feeling even angrier. Finn’s social skills were so abysmal, I couldn’t even tell whether he’d been trying to show concern or add insult to injury.

  I turned to look at Hannah again and saw, with surprise, that Siobhán was packing up her things as though to leave the classroom.

  “Aren’t you having your mentor meeting now?” I asked.

  “I’m not going to be Hannah’s mentor anymore,” Siobhán said.

  “What? Why not?” I asked.

  “As I was just telling her, Finvarra was able to secure her a new mentor, now that her gift as a Caller has been discovered. She needs to be with someone who can help her to explore those abilities.”

  “But she said that there have only been three other Callers in the last hundred years,” I said, eyebrows raised. “Who is her new mentor?”

  “Call the devil, and the devil shall appear,” said a silky voice from the doorway. I turned to see Lucida, lounging languidly against the door frame.

  “You?” I cried, undisguised animosity in my voice. “No! Why does it have to be you?”

  “Now, now, Jess, calm down,” Lucida said, an amused smi
le toying with the corners of her full lips. “I might start to think you aren’t that fond of me.”

  “You know perfectly well I’m not that fond of you,” I shot back.

  “Jessica,” Siobhán said sharply. “That is no way to talk to your elders.”

  “This elder,” I said, turning to Siobhán in outrage, “Broke into my house in the middle of the night and turned my life upside down.”

  “The window was open, dear, it was as good as an invitation,” Lucida said. “And it wasn’t me who turned your life upside down. Your life already was upside down. I just alerted you to the situation.”

  I turned away from her and addressed Siobhán. “Why does she have to be Hannah’s mentor? Why can’t they get someone else?”

  “As I’ve just explained to you,” Siobhán said curtly, “Hannah needs someone who can help her with her gift, and Lucida is the only person who can do that. She is the only other known Caller alive today.”

  My mouth dropped open in shock. Hannah, who had been silent through the entire exchange, spoke for the first time.

  “You’re a Caller? Like me?” she asked, wonder in her voice.

  “That’s right, love,” Lucida said, smiling at her. “Two of a kind, we are. You could have knocked me flat with a feather when Finvarra told me.”

  I just looked back and forth between the two of them, shaking my head.

  “Finvarra has asked Lucida to step away from her other duties for the Durupinen and consent to take on the role of Hannah’s mentor, and she has most kindly agreed to do so,” Siobhán went on. “I’m sure that she and Hannah will get along just fine and that Hannah will benefit greatly from Lucida’s guidance.”

  Lucida gave Siobhán an elaborate bow of sorts. “Cheers for that vote of confidence, Siobhán,” she said. “I think we’ll be great chums, Hannah and me. Lots to talk about, eh?”