by E. E. Holmes
“Really, Marion?” I asked, hoping my voice sounded more confident than I felt. “You believe her capable of unleashing the spirit hordes to destroy us all, as told in the prophecy, but you don’t think she can do this?”
Marion shifted her weight, the smug expression on her face faltering. “What she can do now and what she may grow to do are two very different things.”
“Yes, they are,” I said. “You cannot condemn us for something we may or may not eventually have the power to do. Finvarra understands that. I’m sure others in this room understand that, too, even if they are too scared to speak up for us.”
Marion looked around at her fellow Council members. Many were staring at us in unmitigated terror. Others looked unsure what to believe. Their doubt only served to stiffen Marion’s resolve. She squared her shoulders and fixed us once more with her imperious gaze.
“I will do my duty to the Durupinen and the future of our order. I will not allow you to bring about our destruction. Caomhnóir, do your duty to protect us all. Seize them.”
“So be it,” Hannah whispered, so quietly that only I could hear her. I glanced at her face; it was alight with a power and ferocity so strange that, though I knew my sister stood beside, I did not know who she was.
She flung her arms wide and threw back her head. Like a tidal wave of the dead, the spirits flooded through the walls and ceiling, cresting in a great arc before descending on the screaming crowd. Windows smashed, the multi-colored glass showering down on us like jewels. Finn threw himself on top of me, shielding me from the blast.
The cold sucked the air from our lungs and pierced our skin. The ghost army flew at the scattering, panicking crowd, and one by one they collapsed, writhing and screaming as the ghosts attacked them. Benches and chairs and tables exploded into the air. The great golden candelabras crashed to the ground, and within moments, the heavy purple hangings that draped around the Council benches were aflame.
Finn tugged me to my feet, where I swayed dangerously. “We need to go. Now!” he cried. “You’ve got to try to run, Jess.” I turned to Hannah. She was transported in her power, eyes shining.
“Hannah! Hannah, can you hear me? We have to run! We have to go!” I grabbed her arm and swung her around to face me. “Hannah! Hannah, look at me! Stop! You have to stop!”
She stared at me a moment without seeing me, and then something behind her eyes, a manic sort of glow, was extinguished. Her face fell into lines of terror. She looked around the room as though seeing it for the first time.
“What did I do?”
“You saved us, but it’s all going to be for nothing if we don’t run! Let’s go!”
We tore from the room, dodging the flying papers and furniture, ducking the choking clouds of smoke. As we approached the massive closed doors, I saw Mackie flailing and shrieking on the floor, the ghost of a woman tearing at her.
“Expel it, Finn!” I cried.
He muttered his casting and thrust his hands at the ghost, which detached at once and vanished. He lifted Mackie to her feet.
“Are you okay?” he asked, shaking her shoulders.
Mackie, still sobbing, nodded weakly.
“Where’s Savvy?” I asked her.
“I d-don’t know! Lucida snuck in about ten minutes ago and they left together. Jess, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, we tried to get Hannah out, but—”
Her apology was lost in a scream as the massive doors before us burst open in a blast of frigid air. We sprinted through them, Finn practically dragging me as I fought to stay on my feet, and burst into the entrance hall. He released Mackie’s arm.
“Find Brenna and get out of here! That fire is spreading,” he ordered. Mackie stumbled away.
The room was full of the other Apprentices, clad in their pajamas and bathrobes, clearly waiting to see the outcome of the Council meeting. Their faces all turned in shock upon us.
“There’s a fire in the Grand Council Room!” Finn shouted. “Everyone find the other half of your Gateway and get outside, now, by order of the High Priestess!”
They scattered to obey him, screaming and calling for their sisters and cousins as we ran across the room and out into the night.
“We’ll have to try to get one of the cars,” Finn panted as we skirted the wall of the castle, making for the garages. “It’s the only chance we’ll have of getting out of here without being caught.”
“Wait!” Hannah cried, stopping abruptly. “I have to call them off!”
“What do you —”
“The ghosts! I have to release them!” Hannah said, and closed her eyes.
It probably took no more than five seconds, but to us it seemed an eternity. Finally she opened her eyes and nodded, and we took off again across the grass. As the garage loomed up in front of us, we heard the screeching of tires. A black SUV, high beams flaring, whipped around the corner and pulled up beside us. Finn pulled at us to cut back across the lawn, but a familiar voice called out, “Oi! Get in the damn car!”
Savannah was waving frantically from the back seat, which she had flung wide open. We ran for the car and Hannah jumped in, but I skidded to a halt, my bandaged hand on the door handle.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
Lucida grinned at me from behind the wheel. “I’m saving your asses, if I’m not very much mistaken.”
“Jess, what are you waiting for?” Hannah gasped. “Get in!”
Still I did not move. “Why should we trust you? You’re one of them!”
“I trust her!” Hannah said. “She’s my mentor!”
“We were supposed to be able to trust everyone in that room!” I cried, pointing back to Fairhaven, now engulfed in billowing black smoke. “And most of them voted to have us imprisoned and maybe even killed!”
“You’ve got two options,” Lucida said impatiently. “Either get in this car and take your chances with me, or stay here and take your chances with them.”
I followed her gaze over my shoulder. At least twenty Caomhnóir were sprinting toward us from the castle doors, shouting for us to stop.
We had no choice. I jumped into the car, Finn right behind me, and we slammed the door shut as Lucida hit the gas and sped off along the winding drive.
I turned to Savannah. “What are you doing here?”
“Lucida took me out of that meeting. She said that you were in danger—well, I’d already figured that much out for myself —and that she needed my help getting a car for you to escape in. I’ve…uh…assisted Lucida in the past.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your mate there is the fastest hot-wirer this side of the pond,” Lucida said. “I overheard her talking about it to her cousin, and I’ve engaged her services a few times when I needed access to some wheels. The Caomhnóir are so over-protective of their vehicles. Speaking of which, none of them will be able to follow us. We disabled all the rest of the cars in the garage.”
“I still don’t understand why you’re helping us,” I said, glaring at Lucida’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “Don’t you care about the prophecy and how Hannah and I are going to destroy us all?”
“I think prophecies only come true if you choose to fulfill them,” Lucida said. “I faced a lot of suspicion and ridicule when they first discovered I was a Caller. They put me under house arrest in my room at Fairhaven for weeks before they were able to determine that I wasn’t a threat. Wasn’t about to let that happen to my girl,” she said with a grin at Hannah, who smiled back.
I opened my mouth to say, perhaps childishly, that Hannah was not her girl, when Milo popped into existence between us. He looked shaken.
“I can’t believe we got out of that!” he said and, seeing the flames through the car window, turned to Hannah. “Are you a pyro now? What is going on with the fire?”
“It was an accident,” Hannah said, dropping her face into her hands. “I didn’t mean for there to be a fire, but some of the ghosts knocked over the candle holders and—”
“Don’t you apologize for using your powers to save your own life!” Lucida said. “They forced you to drastic measures, love. It’s their own damn fault.”
“Do you think everyone is okay?” Hannah asked, her voice a muffled squeak from between her fingers.
“Yes,” I lied. “We told them all to get out. I’m sure they listened.”
“We can’t wait around to find out, anyhow,” Lucida said.
As the adrenaline of the escape wore off, all of the fatigue and pain from my earlier ordeal came creeping back into my body. My vision clouded and I found it difficult to keep my eyes open.
“You should try to rest,” Finn said, his voice much gentler than I’d ever heard it.
“Where are we going to go?” I asked. “What the hell are we going to do now?”
“I don’t know.”
“And the Necromancers. Neil. How are we going to … oh my God, I haven’t even told you about —”
“You can tell me later. It will be okay.”
“How?”
He couldn’t answer that. No one could. So he just said again, “You should try to rest.”
I wanted to protest, but I’d lost the will to do it. I turned my head on the headrest, and Fairhaven swept into view as we peeled onto the main road. And just before I drifted away I saw it at last — the vision that the Silent Child had been trying to show me for months, come to life: Mary’s tiny, lonely figure silhouetted in the flickering orange light as Fairhaven Hall burned behind her, flames dancing and leaping high into the star-strewn darkness.
Acknowledgments
Here’s the bit where I do a completely inadequate job of thanking all of the many people who have helped bring this book to life. But here I go, nonetheless.
Most of my thanks must go to my husband, Joseph Holmes, who not only designed the interior of this book, but has become my one-man marketing team. It is entirely thanks to him that anyone anywhere, apart from my family and friends, has picked up this series, and I will never be able to thank him enough for his unwavering support and unflagging enthusiasm for this story and all of its occupants.
Many thanks to James Egan at Bookfly Design LLC for his beautiful and thoughtful cover design. Much gratitude must also go to Norm Gautreau and Susan Reynolds, our friends, mentors, and supporters on this exciting journey. Thanks for your advice and for the many delightful hours we shared talking about writing, publishing, editing, and everything else under the sun. Looking forward to raising a glass (and maybe a Pimm’s and soda) to celebrate.
To my dear friends who are always supportive and eager to hear the next chapter of the story: thank you for picking up on all of my tiny references and for harassing me to finish the next book already. I’m so lucky to have you all in my corner.
To my daughter Lily, thank you for all of the many tantrums you threw while mommy was trying to work on her manuscript. You are such a helpful little bugger, and also the light of my life. I’m enjoying my time with you, repeatedly reading One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish, and looking forward to the many other books we will share together.
Finally, to my readers, I honestly cannot thank you enough for taking a chance on this series, and for your enthusiastic and overwhelming response. I am humbled every single day to interact with you, and I hope that reading this second installment in The Gateway Trilogy gives you as much enjoyment as writing it has given to me.
About the Author
E.E. Holmes is a writer, teacher, and actor living near Boston, MA with her husband, daughter, and a small, but surprisingly loud dog. When not writing, she enjoys performing, analyzing Shakespeare, watching unhealthy amounts of British television, and reading with her daughter. She has written several one-act plays, including one that premiered at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in 2010. Her first novel in this series, Spirit Legacy, was named a first place category winner in both the Paranormal Awards and the Dante Rossetti Awards for YA Fiction by Chanticleer Book Reviews and Media in 2013.
For more information about The Gateway Trilogy, please visit eeholmes.com.
