by E. E. Holmes
“That wasn’t my idea,” I said indignantly. “They can blame you and Eleanora for that. I’d better warn Hannah that Braxton’s coming for her, though.”
I sailed through the connection easily probably because Hannah and Milo had the mental door wide open, desperate for news. “Hannah? Milo?”
Their words tumbled over each other in a cacophonous jumble, so that I winced with the force of it.
“Jess!”
“What happened?”
“What is it?”
“Did they read the diary? What did they say?”
“Braxton is on his way up to get you. The Council wants us both here for when they start communicating with Eleanora.”
“Did… did they say why they wanted me there?” Hannah asked, her fear thrumming through the connection like an electric current.
“For the same reason they’ve got you trapped in our room; they want to make sure you aren’t the Caller Eleanora was referring to,” I told her, trying to combat her fear with calm, soothing energy. “They are just being thorough. I’m glad they want us there; it will be even more satisfying to witness their realization that they were wrong in person. Bring some popcorn.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” Hannah scoffed, utterly unimpressed with my attempt at humor, although Milo gave an appreciative chuckle. “We’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Finn, Fiona and I waited in tense silence for Hannah, Braxton, and Milo to appear. From inside the hospital ward, a series of moans and screams signaled that the Hosts were being disturbed in some way—perhaps from being herded into the Circle in preparation for the Casting. The sound made my skin crawl. How horrific for this spirit to find herself back in the same castle where she was so demonized and vilified, all for a gift she had no control over. I half wanted to charge into the hospital ward, throw open the window and set all the Hosts free, just so Eleanora wouldn’t have to spend another minute here. But of course, I knew that wouldn’t actually solve anything.
Hannah, Milo, and Braxton appeared. Braxton at least had the good sense not to use his authority to intimidate Hannah physically; he walked alongside her rather than escorting her, and kept a respectful distance. Hannah, though obviously nervous, at least had her head held high as she reached us.
“Ready?” I asked her, holding out a hand.
“Ready,” she said, and took it.
The hosts were all sitting in the center of the Circle, back to back in a tight little knot. They seemed to find some comfort in the physical proximity of their fellows; the moaning and shrieking had dulled into a soft sort of collective whimper. The Council stood around the perimeter of the circle, tense with anticipation. Off in the corner, Mrs. Mistlemoore stood tensely next to a desk, where two Scribes had piled all of the Fairhaven resources on Shatterings.
“Jessica. Hannah,” Keira called, motioning us forward. “We would like you on hand for this Casting. It is possible the spirit will want to communicate with one or both of you.” Her tone was friendly enough, but I still felt Hannah tense beside me at the sound of her own name.
Neither Hannah nor I answered, but stepped forward, still clasping hands. I squeezed Hannah’s fingers and caught her eye, winking at her. She gave a tiny smile in reply. Through our connection, Milo’s support broke over us like a warm, loving tide.
Keira began the words of the Casting, reading them from a book so ancient that she handled the crumbling pages with a pair of gloves on. The moment she began, all of the Hosts went suddenly rigid.
“We Summon thee, Shattered one, to the Circle hence. We gather your Shards together to resume your true form. We name thee, Eleanora Larkin, and with the speaking of your name, our Summons cannot be resisted.”
For a long, loaded moment, absolutely nothing happened. The very air in the room seemed to have frozen, each molecule suspended in place.
Hannah’s hand tightened in mine. “Something’s wrong,” she whispered.
“What?”
“The energy. Something’s not right,” Hannah hissed.
As though to confirm her feeling, the Hosts all opened their mouths at the same time and unleashed piercing screams. A phantom wind, borne of their collective energy, swept through the room, ripping the sheets from the beds and the curtains from the windows, and extinguishing every candle. Then the Hosts’ heads drooped onto their chests and their screams faded and died.
Keira dropped the page of the book and stepped back from it in alarm. “What was that about?” she asked the room at large.
Blank stares met her question. Mrs. Mistlemoore shook her head, her mouth hanging open. The Scribes were feverishly flipping through their books, clearly at a loss. But after a moment, it was Hannah who answered.
“They’re not all here,” Hannah said. “The Shards. There’s still at least one missing.”
Keira frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. The Naming is meant to draw all of the Shards back together. Any others left in the castle should have been drawn here at once.”
Hannah shrugged defensively. “I don’t know why it isn’t working,” she said. “I’m just telling you what I sense. I don’t sense a complete spirit here. The pieces don’t make a whole.”
“Well then, we must have the wrong spirit,” Isla said throwing a hostile look at me. “If the Naming has not worked, then we must not have the right name.”
“You’ve got the right name,” I snapped at her. “That’s Eleanora Larkin in there, I’m sure of it.”
“You must be wrong,” Isla said with a dismissive shrug. “You’ve simply misinterpreted your drawings, and led us on a wild goose chase.”
“She hasn’t mistaken shite,” Fiona shouted. “You might be a Council member, Isla, but when it comes to the gifts of a Muse, you don’t know your arse from your elbow.”
“That’s quite enough of that, thank you,” Keira said sharply before turning back to Hannah. “So, what does this mean, then?” she asked in a muffled voice. “Where is the missing Shard?”
Hannah gripped my hand for support. “I don’t know.”
“That Casting should have gathered them,” Mrs. Mistlemoore said. “Once the naming has been performed, the Shards can be pieced back together and then expelled. That’s how it’s meant to work.”
Keira looked frantically from Hannah to Mrs. Mistlemoore, and then around at the circle of waiting Council members. “What should we do? Should we try again?”
They all looked around at each other, at a loss for what to do. But something else had caught my eye. Over the window behind Keira, the curtain hung off to one side, its tassel swinging back and forth, back and forth, like a pendulum.
Like a giant, ancient pendulum. I gasped.
Frantically, I clawed at my own jacket until I found the folded piece of parchment that Moira had given me and tore it open. I scanned it and then let out a sharp bark of excited laughter.
“It’s Lucida!” I cried.
Every face in the room turned to stare at me, startled, including Hannah’s.
“What about Lucida?” she asked, eyes wide.
“It’s Lucida! That’s how all of this started! She’s the Caller Eleanora was talking about, and she’s the reason we can’t piece Eleanora’s spirit back together!”
Keira narrowed her eyes at me. “I don’t follow. How can Lucida have anything to do with this?”
“Okay,” I said, beginning to pace as I talked through all the dots, connecting them as much for myself as for everyone else because though the light bulb had gone on, the details were still dim. “None of us could understand why or how Catriona could have brought a hostile spirit into the castle. We couldn’t understand how it Habitated in her without her noticing, or how it did so in a Warded room. But it didn’t, don’t you see? It wasn’t Catriona at all! It was Lucida!”
They did not see. Everyone was just staring blankly at me.
I went on, “You all read the diary. Eleanora was a Caller. She was targeted by the Durupinen leadership because they feared that sh
e might be the Caller of the Prophecy. She was arrested and locked away in a príosún. Does anyone remember where that príosún was?”
I looked around expectantly, but everyone was still just goggling at me like I had sprouted an extra head that was now expounding on all of this.
“It was on the Isle of Skye! It was one of the last things she mentioned—how terrified she was of being sent away to the Isle of Skye. And it wouldn’t be a great leap to guess that she died there as well, since Callers were so feared. Well, just a few hours ago, Moira, the keeper of the Léarscáil, came to the hospital ward to find Celeste. She wanted to inform her of a strange pattern of spirit energy linking Fairhaven to the Isle of Skye. Look. Look at it!”
I shook the paper in Fiona’s direction and she took it from me, still looking somewhat frightened of my outburst. But I couldn’t calm myself. With every word I spoke, every thought I articulated, I grew more and more convinced that I was absolutely right.
“Hannah and I saw it! Mackie took us to see the Léarscáil for the first time a couple of days ago, and Moira was already recording some sort of spiritual disturbance connecting Fairhaven to Skye. We actually watched the pendulum link the locations together in a weird little loop, remember?” I turned eagerly to Hannah, who was nodding in confirmation, though she still looked confused. I went on, “So, Eleanora lived out her sentence in Skye and her spirit lingered there, for over 150 years until, at last, she encountered another Caller. Are you following me yet?”
Fiona gasped as the realization finally hit her. “Lucida is serving her sentence at Skye!”
I pointed to her like a mad professor proving a hypothesis. “Yes! I’m willing to bet she may be the first Caller ever to set foot there since Eleanora was alive. Maybe they talked to each other. Maybe they formed some kind of bond through their mutual suffering at the hands of this Council. But whatever happened, Eleanora tried to force her way through Lucida’s sealed Gateway.”
Hannah clapped her hand over her mouth. Several of the Council members gasped.
“Catriona wasn’t the source of the Shattering,” I said. “The Shattering didn’t even happen here. It happened hundreds of miles away in Skye. But somehow, when Eleanora Shattered, she Shattered right through Lucida’s and Catriona’s connection and the Shards wound up here! It’s the only explanation that makes sense!”
Keira rounded on Mrs. Mistlemoore, her expression incredulous. “Can that happen?”
Mrs. Mistlemoore shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I don’t know. It… certainly seems to fit the evidence.”
Keira turned to one of the Scribes. “Is this possible?” she demanded.
The Scribe, a shrunken old woman, nodded slowly, looking very thoughtful. “I don’t know if it has happened before,” she said. “But it is possible, I believe, due to the nature of the connection between Passage and Key.”
“Just think about it!” I cried eagerly. “We can’t put Eleanora back together again because we don’t have the source of the Shattering here! The original Host isn’t in this room; she’s sitting locked up in a cell hundreds of miles from here. That’s why the Léarscáil is connecting Fairhaven and Skye together!”
“So, then what did Eleanora mean when she said, ‘The Caller betrayed me?’” Hannah asked. “Betrayed her how?”
“No idea,” I said, shrugging. “But at least now we know how to find out!”
The Council members began conferring and muttering to each other. Mrs. Mistlemoore had hurried over to the corner where the Scribes had set up a small desk and was whispering excitedly with them.
The other Scribe, a mousy young woman with horn-rimmed glasses, raised her hand tentatively, as though she were in class.
“Um, I have made a fairly intensive study of our príosún system,” she said in a squeak of a voice that matched her appearance. “The príosún at Skye was struck by lightning in 1907 and burned to the ground. It was rebuilt and reopened in 1910. Dozens of prisoners were among those killed in the blaze.”
I turned to the Hosts, who all still sat as though sleeping with their chins on their chests. “My God,” I whispered. “She must have burned alive in that place. That’s why the Shards fear fire so much.”
Keira spun around and gestured to Braxton, who stood sentinel at the door. “Call over to the head of Caomhnóir security at the Skye Príosún. Explain the situation and tell them to examine Lucida and report back immediately. If what Jessica says is true, we will have to transport Lucida here in order to reverse this Shattering.”
Braxton nodded briskly and marched from the room. Keira turned back to Mrs. Mistlemoore. “Let’s settle the Hosts back down to rest. If we do indeed have to wait for Lucida to be transported from Skye, it will be many hours before this Casting can be performed.”
“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Mistlemoore said, and immediately hurried toward the Circle to begin the process. Several other Council members hastened to assist her.
Keira skirted the Circle and approached Hannah and me. I felt Hannah pulling back on my hand, like she was fighting the urge to retreat, but Keira smiled at us.
“Thank you both. You may return to your room, for now. We will keep you informed of what we discover.”
§
“You may return to your room,” Milo said, imitating Keira’s lofty voice and proper English accent. “Like you were a pair of brats being excused from the dinner table. I could have bitch-slapped her.”
“Bitch-slapping requires physical form, Milo,” I said. “But we appreciate the sentiment.”
“I don’t think she was trying to be rude,” Hannah said, her voice a bit slurred. She’d been nodding off in her chair, barely able to hold her eyes open.
“Being rude doesn’t require effort, especially when it comes to the Council,” Milo retorted.
More than six hours had passed since the failed attempt at reassembling Eleanora’s Shattered spirit, and still no word had reached us. Milo had even taken to popping out of the room and haunting the corridor outside the Council office, but since he couldn’t get in due to the Wards, he was reduced to listening at the door like a thief. A rosy glow had begun to illuminate the tops of the trees outside our window. I was mind-numbingly tired, but I couldn’t sleep. A tiny part of me was still feeling anxious and jumpy, and that part seemed to shake me mentally any time I drifted too near the beginnings of sleep.
“I just wish I knew what they were doing,” I yawned. “The longer we’re stuck here, the wilder my theories get. At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if they were holding a full criminal trial without us.”
Hannah sat up in her chair looking alarmed.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” I said quickly.
“I am too tired and tense for kidding, Jess!” she admonished.
“I know. I’ll shut up now.”
I slid out of my chair and walked over to the window, watching the bright pink on the horizon bleeding up into the gradually lightening sky. What I really wanted was to talk to Finn, but yet again, societal Durupinen norms kept us separated. I knew he stood only feet away in the corridor, guarding the door to my room, and yet it was impossible for me to just open said door and confide in him. I was afraid. I was frustrated. I was torn about what the future could or should hold for us. The longer those feelings were bottled up, the less sure I was that I could even articulate them clearly.
Ugh, this was why I should just withdraw from romantic life and fulfill my inevitable destiny as a haunted old cat lady. I was clearly too emotionally stunted to handle anything else. Maybe Hannah and I could find a creepy house somewhere and become the second coming of the Lafayette twins, frightening the neighbors with our reclusive, Grey Gardens-esque antics.
As I pondered the possible benefits of spinsterhood, a vehicle appeared at the far end of the Fairhaven entrance road. As it zoomed closer, I determined that it was a black SUV, identical to those driven by the resident Caomhnóir staff.
“There’s a car approaching the castle,
” I said over my shoulder.
Hannah sprang from her chair like a startled cat and ran to my side to stare down at the road below. Milo blinked into form on my other side. His eyes, following the vehicle, were already narrowed in suspicion, as though he had a bad feeling about whatever or whoever might be in it.
The great wrought iron gates swung open to admit the SUV, which did not slow as it whipped through them, but zoomed around the circular drive before skidding to an abrupt halt right in front of the main doors, spewing gravel everywhere.
Although we couldn’t see the front doors from our window, we knew they were thrown open at once by the flood of golden light that spilled out across the drive, illuminating the car and the stoic, black-suited men now jumping out of it.
“Caomhnóir?” Hannah asked.
“Yeah, but I don’t recognize them. You?” I asked.
Hannah shook her head.
The Caomhnóir who had exited from the driver’s seat now threw open the back door. Both men leaned into the back seat, seeming to struggle with something, and then they stepped away from the car, now carrying a flailing figure between them. I did not need Milo’s gasp, nor Hannah’s soft cry of horror to help me recognize who it was.
Lucida had returned to Fairhaven Hall.
45
Eleanora Rising
SOMEONE HAMMERED ON THE BEDROOM DOOR, making all three of us yelp. Before I could gather myself to cross the room and open it, the door flew open and Finn’s face appeared around it, his jaw set with anxiety.
“Seamus is here. The Council wants you both back in the hospital ward. They want to warn you that—”
“Lucida’s here,” I said. “We know. We just watched her pull up.”
One of the muscles near Finn’s temple was twitching. “You don’t need to do this.”
I frowned. “Don’t need to do what?”
He stepped fully into the room. “You don’t need to go down there. You can refuse. You are under no obligation to subject yourself to that woman again. The Council has no right to ask it of you, and not one among them would have the nerve to require it.”
