The Gatekeeper's Curse- The Complete Trilogy

by Emma L. Adams

  Silvery light skimmed over my palm, and the zombie’s hands withdrew into the earth as though burned. I held my breath, but the magic continued to flow over my fingertips, glowing bright as a star. Then, greyness overlaid my vision. I’d tapped into the spirit sight. The real world was muted in shadows as the grey filter descended, but my hands glowed faintly. If I was able to see my reflection, I’d be a glowing ball of light like the others had been when I’d spoken to the ghost of old Mr Greaves.

  As though prompted by my thoughts, the image of his floating face came to mind, and I sensed his glowing spirit in the graveyard across the road. I blinked, the greyness fading. Heart racing, I opened the book—but its pages remained as blank as ever.

  “Come on,” I hissed, but no response came. At the very least, I hadn’t sensed any more zombies—but since when could I sense people? The spirit sight usually took years to effectively train, and most necromancers couldn’t do much more than see ghosts. I’d been able to see spirits before the book had landed in my hands, but not tap into the spirit realm itself. Light skimmed over the book, tingling at my fingertips. Necromantic energy… the power to banish spirits beyond the gates of Death. Even faerie ones.

  I closed my eyes, trying to grasp that sensation again when I’d picked up on the presence of the necromancer’s ghost nearby. When I opened my eyes again, the world was grey, hazed over. My hands glowed. And so did the person standing nearby… no, walking towards me. I slipped the book into my pocket, blinking the greyness away.

  “What are you doing in there?”

  Of all the people to discover me standing in an open grave, River would normally be bottom of the list. But I’d sensed him, through some other awareness than sight, before I actually saw him. I’d known it was him without even seeing his face.

  “Reflecting on life,” I said, hoping he hadn’t seen the glowing light. “I’m stuck. Mind giving me a hand?”

  He lithely jumped over the fence and looked down at me. “How did you climb in there? I can’t say I’ve met many people for whom standing in graves is a desired pastime.”

  “Aside from the dead.”

  “Most of them don’t do much standing.”

  “I meant undead. Pedant.” But I took the hand he offered me, letting him pull me halfway out. He deliberately pulled too hard on my hand, forcing me to stumble against him or else trip over the edge again.

  “Careful now,” he said, his lips inches from my ear.

  My feet wobbled, but I held onto my dignity. “Jesus, what do you do, bench-press coffins?”

  “Deadlifting.”

  I groaned. “You were saving that one, weren’t you? You even scared the undead away.”

  “I have to confess, I mistook you for a reanimate for a second there.”

  I stepped away from the grave. “How flattering. Did you know your people were the ones who threw me in there?”

  That shut him up. “What?”

  “What I said. The two henchmen dudes.”

  River’s brows rose. “Henchmen?”

  “Big guy with the mullet, smaller guy with the scar on his face. I caught them hanging about here talking to my distant cousin. I was waiting for them to leave when they jumped me out of nowhere, saying there was a grave with my name on it. Evidently.” I gestured to the grave, which thankfully, did not have my name on it. Or Hazel’s. “You know them?”

  River’s mouth flattened with sudden anger. “No, I certainly don’t know them.” And he marched in the direction of the necromancers’ place.

  “Hey—wait!” I hurried after him. “Do you really think they’ll have stuck around? That place is locked up. Where in hell is Hazel, anyway?”

  “Waiting for you in the rain. Go and join her. I’ll deal with this.”

  “Er, no. They tried to bury me alive.”

  “Precisely.” He marched up to the necromancers’ doors and knocked, loudly, several times. Nobody answered.

  “Can’t you sense if people are inside? Isn’t that how your gift works?”

  He took a step back from the door. “Yes. There’s nobody inside.” He spun to face me, anger saturating his expression. He actually looked pretty frightening, with green faerie magic flaring from the blade in his hands—whoa, he’d drawn that thing fast. “How did you know that?”

  “I worked it out.” I also knew that with my spirit sight on, I had the ability to sense people in the same way. And I hadn’t sensed Grandma at all. “C’mon. I’m soaked and freezing, and Hazel hates standing outside in the rain. Let’s head back.”

  He lingered a moment, casting a furious look in the direction of the guild, then turned away. Hazel waited in the shadow of a tree, eyes widening when she spotted me.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Two necromancers threw me in an open grave. They were talking to Holly, outside the graveyard, and they saw through my shadow spell.”

  “Holly? Are you okay?”

  “Just a little bruised.” Not to mention pissed off.

  “We should leave,” River insisted. “Talk on the way back.”

  Hazel didn’t argue. She moved closer to me as we walked uphill. “Maybe Holly’s involved after all.”

  “She didn’t see me,” I said. “The necromancers attacked me after she left. But she sure looks guilty. I’ll corner her at the ball.”

  “If our bodyguard lets us go after today.”

  “Why did he drag you after me?” I asked in an undertone. “Doesn’t exactly fit with his promise not to let you get attacked again.”

  “You wouldn’t believe how much iron he made me put on. I feel like a Christmas tree. He was really worried you’d been attacked. And he was right.”

  “What?” I frowned. “Surely he guessed I’d go off alone. One of us has to look for answers. Besides, falling into a grave is far from the worst thing that’s happened today alone.”

  “Well, I suppose you two ended up cuddling there in the cemetery. I saw.”

  “We weren’t cuddling.”

  She grinned. “Sure. He’s concerned about you. It’s kind of cute.”

  “There’s nothing cute about being buried alive.” I dug my hands in my pockets. “He also said I looked like a zombie.”

  “You’re deflecting. That means you like him.”

  “That’s not deflecting, it’s fact. Also, I don’t like faeries, especially Court ones. Our ancestors would turn over in their graves.”

  “Is that what Grandma did?”

  “She didn’t show up this time,” I said. “Instead, two necromancers tried to kill me. And I’m going to call them and give old Graves a piece of my mind as soon as I get back.”

  “There’s no need,” said River. “I’ll call them myself.”

  Damn. Had he heard? Maybe it was for the best that he didn’t get any ideas, but by now I was far past the point of comparing him to the Sidhe. They’d have probably filled the grave in if they’d found me buried alive with zombies. Nice job there, Ilsa.

  River pulled out his phone before we reached the house, and by the time Hazel had unlocked the door, I wondered how I’d ever thought he’d been raised in Faerie. The curses he levelled at the necromancers on the other end of the line would have put a troll to shame.

  I figured I’d get him alone to apologise properly once he’d hung up the phone, but I’d forgotten how bloody difficult it was to get hold of a half-faerie who clearly had no intention of being cornered. Every time I saw him in a room, he’d disappeared by the time I caught up. I glimpsed him through the window, but nothing more than the earthy traces of magic remained when I got outside. And he still hadn’t returned my paperback. Figuring I could corner him on the porch while he was on overnight bodyguard duty, I gave into exhaustion and headed to my room for an early night.

  Maybe it was the glowing book on my bedside table, casting silvery shadows everywhere, and perhaps it was the wraith’s lingering presence, but I woke in the early hours as widely awake as though the house’s magic had dum
ped a bucket of ice water on my head. I grabbed the book, running my fingertips over the surface. If I could tap into the spirit sight there in the cemetery, there was no reason I couldn’t do it here.

  Grey light filtered across my room, spreading throughout the house, and two pulsing silver lights within showed me Hazel, sound asleep, and River… floating above the ground. Whoa. I let go, my heart lurching. Had he seen me? More to the point, he’d looked like an actual ghost. A necromancer power, maybe?

  Curiosity got the better of me. I shoved on my hoody with the book deep in the pocket, and headed downstairs. Halfway down, I tapped on the spirit sight again. Maybe soon it’d be as easy for me as it was for River. Hazel was still asleep. River… wait a moment.

  I half-ran into the living room, peering out the window. River sat on the porch, leaning against the wall, eyes closed. I frowned, tapped on the spirit sight again, then swiftly turned it off. I’d forgotten his necromantic powers extended to being able to sense whoever was in the vicinity at any given time. So that’s how it works. He was conscious in the spirit realm while being in a dead sleep in the waking world. That was one seriously useful power. Too bad I’d probably blown all chances of him giving me pointers, even without taking the book’s reluctance to show itself into consideration.

  Arden fluttered down to land on the arm of the sofa. “You’re alive,” he remarked.

  I stepped out of view of the window. “No thanks to you. Where have you been for the last day?”

  “Me? I was making sure nobody took advantage of your absence when you decided to go gallivanting off to the village.” The raven fluffed his feathers.

  “You mean, nearly dying. Several times.” Annoyance flared. “Did you know about all this when you dragged me here? You said this was about finding the heir to Summer, but that’s not true, is it? There’s no reason for necromancers to be involved in the Seelie Court’s business.”

  “Times change in the Courts and outside them.”

  “Tell me the truth,” I snapped. “You were swooping around the village yesterday while we were being attacked.”

  “Caw.” He flapped his wings, and I lunged at him. The raven disappeared in a flurry of feathers, causing me to overbalance, and fall into… River.

  “Ah—shit. Sorry.” I let go of him, heat rising to my neck. Pity this newfound magic hadn’t given me the grace and elegance of a faerie. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “That’s because you’re standing in the dark. Are you still planning to attend this event tonight?”

  I took a step backwards. “Yes, I am. Best case scenario is we get answers, then everyone leaves us alone.”

  “Including me.” His tone was neutral, not hostile, but he clearly expected a response.

  “Not that I don’t appreciate the effort you’re putting in, but I prefer it when people aren’t trying to kill my sister and me.”

  “Understandable.” He paused. “I don’t want to alarm you, but I found out why the necromancers disappeared yesterday. One of them was murdered.”

  I stared at him. “What? Seriously?”

  “I’m still getting the details. I thought you should know it’s not a good idea to bother them today. I’m waiting for an update.”

  His phone buzzed and he tapped the screen, swearing under his breath. “The same mark we found on the old necromancer’s grave yesterday was spray-painted at the murder site.”

  It took every ounce of willpower not to raise a hand to touch the mark hidden on my forehead. Cold horror flooded my body. Someone’s framing me. And I couldn’t tell him. The words were there, on my tongue, but they wouldn’t come out.

  “For fuck’s sake,” I said instead, half at the book, half at Grandma’s non-existent ghost.

  “What’s going on?” Hazel called from upstairs.

  “We’re in the shit,” I shouted back. “Now someone’s murdered one of the necromancers and stuck a mark that looks like ours on the murder site.”

  Hazel swore at full-volume and ran downstairs. “Those bastards. Please at least tell me the person who died was one of the pricks who threw you into a grave.”

  “Unfortunately not,” River said. “But I can’t get through to Mr Graves—I mean, Greaves—as he’s otherwise occupied.”

  Hazel and I looked at one another. “They need to know you were attacked,” Hazel said, running a hand through her dishevelled hair.

  “Not if we get arrested.”

  “We have an alibi,” she said. “When did it happen?”

  “While we were in the village,” River said. “No, we don’t have an alibi. And the fact that Ilsa sneaked out immediately afterwards doesn’t help at all.”

  “You can’t blame me for that,” I said, forgetting all about apologies. “They can’t seriously think one of us murdered someone.”

  “It looks like an undead committed the murder, but apparently they sensed the presence of a rogue necromancer. Someone operating on the Ley Line.”

  “But we’re not—” I broke off, dread crawling up my throat.

  “Exactly,” he said. “I’m an outsider in their eyes, and I fall under suspicion due to my connection with you. Add in the mark that looks like your family’s, and it doesn’t look good for you.”

  “Holly and those other necromancers did it,” I said, my hands curling into fists. “We should have chased down the necromancers and reported them.”

  River slid the phone into his pocket. “The murder took place on the other side of town.”

  “But—” Dammit. “If it was someone on the Ley Line, Holly’s family are the only other people in this area. And the mark isn’t ours.”

  Not our family’s, anyway. But maybe it was. Whoever was faking the mark knew about my magic—and Holly definitely hadn’t seen me use it. Maybe she’d found out about it in some other way, but it begged the question of why she’d want to bring us down. The Courts needed the Gatekeepers to survive. And I’d done nothing at all to provoke anyone before I’d been dragged back to the Lynn house.

  “No,” said Hazel, shaking her head. “Holly and I are on the same power level, and I wouldn’t know how to fake a magic signature. I can paint a mark or a glamour or even a witch-style illusion, but I can’t make it come to life like that. It looked like… I don’t know. The only other similar kind of magic is witch magic, and Agnes and Everett have a monopoly on all spells of that type.”

  Unsurprisingly, River’s attention sharpened. “I told you asking for their help was a bad idea.”

  “They didn’t do it,” I said. “Why would someone with more power than anyone else in the village decide to piss off their allies? For that matter, why bother framing us at all if it’s the same people sending faerie assassins after us? If we’re dead, it doesn’t matter if it looks like we murdered anyone or not.”

  “Good point,” said Hazel. “Whoever’s doing this seems determined to discredit us in every way possible. Do they want us dead, in jail, or—what?”

  The doorbell rang, loud and clear, reverberating through the house.

  River approached the door. I was behind him in an instant. “Don’t you dare let them in.”

  “I’m going to look at who it is.” He stopped as Hazel elbowed past him to peek through the spy hole.

  Hazel whirled around. “It’s Holly.”

  “Holly?” Oh no. I hadn’t reckoned on her coming here in person, but of course—she had free run of the territory. The truce forbade any of us from harming one another, but if she’d brought undead or another wraith with her—

  The door flew open, and I prepared to stand my ground. Holly crouched on the doorstep, hands shielding her head, while Arden flew at her in a blur of feathers.

  “Call him off!” she yelled, as the raven pecked at her with more viciousness than I’d ever seen him show towards another person. She appeared to be alone. No undead. No necromancers, wraiths, or fae assassins. Even her magic was turned off, and she screamed when Arden’s beak tore open the skin of her hand. “Sto
p it!”

  Arden gave her one last peck and flew to land on Hazel’s shoulder. From her expression, the action was as bewildering to her as it was to me.

  “What the hell is your bird’s problem?” Holly asked, wiping her bloody hand on the leg of her jeans.

  “We’ve had a lot of trespassers lately,” I said. “As you should know, since I saw you at the mausoleum yesterday right before those two necromancers tried to murder me.”

  “What are you talking about?” she said.

  “What my sister said,” Hazel cut in. “You’re the one summoning undead as well as trying to kill us, right? If you have a problem with me, say it to my face, but do not involve my family.”

  Whoa. I gaped at her, momentarily speechless.

  Holly ran a hand over the scratch marks Arden had left on her cheek. “I’m not working against you. We’re both Gatekeepers. Why would I do that?”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “You can cut the bullshit and tell us the truth. It’ll make things easier for all of us.”

  “Seriously,” said Hazel. “The murder accusation was overkill. And death stealers? Really?”

  “I just came to remind you of the solstice ball this evening.” She stepped backwards, wiping more blood from her face. Her hands were bleeding, too, and a thin sheen of sweat stood out on her forehead. She was the picture of innocent confusion, but I wouldn’t be fooled, not after I’d seen her with those necromancers. “You can’t accuse me of absurd nonsense. We have a truce.”

  “You blew that truce out of the window when you set undead on us,” I said.

  “I think you’ll find you’re the ones being accused of raising the dead down in the village. You have a necromancer living with you.” She eyed River behind us. I didn’t turn around to see his expression.

  “We’ve been attacked multiple times by the dead in the last week,” Hazel told her. “River’s here to help us defend ourselves.”

  “As if you need help,” Holly said to Hazel. “If you make trouble at the ball, my mother will turn you into redcap bait. The whole town’s saying you’re summoning the dead, and killed a necromancer, and the necromancers’ reports back it up.”