“He said ‘she’,” I said. “And—the fetch. Who is the fetch?”
“That should be, what is the fetch,” River said grimly. “And it’s bad news. According to faerie legend, the fetch is an omen of death… and they can only be heard by people whose own death is coming.”
“Nonsense,” said Lady Montgomery. “We deal in death here. Omens are meaningless to us.”
“Then what was he trying to steal?” I asked.
“Case files,” said Lady Montgomery. “From past clients.”
“People the guild has helped,” River explained. “People hire us to do all sorts of things. Which cases did he steal?”
“He was unsuccessful,” Lady Montgomery said. “I’ll deal with the rest myself. You can leave. Ilsa, you should find your brother.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t get the image of the faerie’s spirit being torn from his body out of my head. He’d been startled, but he truly didn’t fear death at all. He’d been prepared for it.
“Maybe ‘she’ is Holly,” I muttered to River as we left. “Using an intermediary, like those two other necromancers. I can’t believe he duped us like that.”
“Nor me.” His mouth tightened. “We’ve lost our lead.”
“What kind of case files might the thief have tried to steal?” I asked. “More to the point, why?”
“If I had to guess, it’s because the enemy wanted to know how a particular case was handled so they can replicate it,” said River. “Some of them involved dark magic. Others involved summonings, banishings, bindings… it might have been any of them.”
“Damn,” I said. “Are you worried about this… fetch? Seems a bad time to be ignoring faerie legends, especially ones involving omens of death.”
“There’s no guarantee he told the truth,” River said. “The fetch is a rarity, and besides, she’s right—we spend half our time in Death, technically speaking.” His hand briefly touched mine. “I’ll see you later, Ilsa.”
What a day. I hadn’t even got Morgan up to speed on current developments, but he’d tracked that ghost psychically without any training at all. His powers were off the charts, and he did have more experience than he’d let on. Heaven knew what else the rest of us had overlooked while we’d been living together.
One thing was certain—if the enemy found out what he’d done, he’d be a target, too. No disputing it this time.
The fetch signals your demise, and she’ll lay waste to this pathetic little organisation.
11
I walked down the corridor, doubled back, realised I was lost, and walked in circles for a while until I found myself beside the infirmary again. Lloyd and Jas sat in the waiting room, and the former waved at me.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” I said to Jas, walking into the room. Most of the other chairs were vacant.
“Yeah. I got lucky. I just have to wait for some test results to make sure what he stabbed me with wasn’t magical, and then I’m clear.” She didn’t sound thrilled at the idea. “He’s dead, right? I heard he killed himself in the interrogation.”
“Lady Montgomery killed him, but he was apparently prepared. He hopped through the gate before we could get him to tell us who he was working for. Where’s Morgan, anyway?”
“I thought you knew he left,” said Lloyd. “What do you mean, hopped through the gate? The faerie wanted to go to the afterlife?”
“Apparently. Morgan did what?”
“He got bored waiting for you to come out of interrogation and went home.”
“Oh, for god’s sake.” I sighed. “He’s going to get himself killed. You two—keep an eye out for trouble, okay? I’ll be back.”
I ran down the corridor, my head spinning. Why had Morgan taken off now? Maybe he’d thought the faerie was after him. Okay, so the attack had been unfortunate, but the iron in the building made it the safest place for him to be until we figured out our next move. Outside, he was entirely vulnerable.
I reached out with my spirit sight, catching sight of him two streets from the guild, and broke into a run. Necromancers stared as I bolted through the entrance hall, not slowing until I reached the street’s corner.
“Morgan!” I shouted. “Get back here.”
“Stop treating me like a kid.”
“Maybe try acting like a rational person rather than storming around like angry spirits aren’t looking to mount a psychic assault on you?”
He whirled around. “I suppose you know all about that, don’t you? You don’t tell me things and then get pissed off when I won’t play by your rules.”
“I said I was sorry I didn’t tell you I’m a necromancer. I literally joined the guild two days ago, and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t trust you. Was the testing really that bad, or are you leaving because of the faerie attack?”
“They said you killed them.”
“Yeah, I did. One of them. Why?”
He looked me over. “You’re still not telling me everything. The Ilsa I grew up with wouldn’t kill a fly, and sure as hell didn’t have necromantic magic. How do I know you’re not spinning a glamour?”
“Because only the real me could piss you off this much. If you want me to tell you things, you could try not stealing, begging for money off your little sister, and disappearing for over eight years and making Mum and Hazel cry.”
He blinked. “What—I made them cry?”
I shook my head. “Forget I said anything.”
His attention sharpened. “You’re serious. I didn’t think they’d care I was gone.”
“That’s the problem. You don’t think about the consequences of the stunts you pull. You’re getting on my last nerve, if it wasn’t obvious, and if you put your mind to it, you might actually be able to help the guild.”
“And what exactly would they do for me?”
“Keep you alive,” I said. “I wish I could do that, but I can’t see what’s following you and neither can you. But you said you couldn’t hear the voice anymore when you were inside the guild headquarters, right?”
He shook his head. “No. What were you thinking of doing? Like an exorcism?”
“Possibly,” I said. “I know literally nothing about psychic sensitives. I can’t track what I can’t see, unless you can give me a description of the person whose thoughts you can hear. You saw where that faerie was, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. You’re saying I was right?”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s what I’m getting at. The reason River and I caught the guy is because you tracked the trespasser before he killed anyone else. It’s a useful power. So can you do the same for the one who’s been giving you grief for the last few days?”
His mouth hung open a little. “Uh. Yeah. She’s standing right there.”
I hit him in the arm. “Seriously.”
“Okay, okay. Since I’m apparently useful.” He shook his head, and then stood and stared into space. “I think the guild might have scared it off.”
“I hope that’s true, but considering… I don’t know if going back to the house is a good idea. Won’t you consider letting the guild help you?”
“I didn’t get the impression they wanted me to stick around.”
“They just got attacked. People nearly died, and now they have a dead prisoner to handle. I think they’ve had quite enough—” I broke off as he fell to his knees. “Morgan—what is it?” I looked around, spirit sight on, but didn’t pick up on anyone aside from a few humans down the road. “Someone’s speaking to you, right? Where are they? Can you tell me?”
He hit out and overbalanced, falling painfully to the pavement. “Whoa!” I grabbed his shoulders, trying to avoid his flailing arms. “Morgan, we’re going back to the guild, okay?”
“You’re not going anywhere, Gatekeeper,” he hissed, in a voice that definitely wasn’t his own.
“Who the hell are you? Get out of my brother’s head.” My spirit sight remained switched on, but only Morgan’s spirit was present. He wasn’t possessed. Wh
at the hell was the intruder doing—using him as a mouthpiece?
I grabbed his arms to hold him down, but he kept flailing, horrible laughter gargling from his throat. “Get out!” I snapped, feeling the book stir in my pocket. Oh, now you want to get involved. “Too much of a coward to face me in person?”
My brother lunged at me, knocking me off my feet. I kicked out, gripping the book, and drew on its power instinctively. Cold energy rushed to my palms and sent him reeling backwards.
I got to my feet. “Sorry about that. I—”
“Gatekeeper,” he whispered, still in that creepy voice. “Thank you for your assistance.”
Two undead walked out in front of me, glowing with wraithlike power.
Shit. The book had broadcasted our location.
I positioned myself in front of Morgan, hoping he didn’t attack me from behind again, and drew on the book’s power. White light spun from my palms, slamming into the undead. They staggered, falling back, and I took the opportunity to throw salt down in front of us. The undead wouldn’t be able to cross it, and I’d take them down before they got within an inch of Morgan.
The forms of the two wraiths hovered, black as pitch against the fog of the spirit realm. If they were full-powered, we were in a public location, and the guild was still recovering from the last attack. I didn’t have time to call backup.
Better hope the book was on its best behaviour.
My hands glowed white, and I sent the charged burst of power at the wraiths. One of them was torn free of the undead body with a ripping noise, but the second vanished into the grey mist. Oh hell.
I spun around in time for it to grab Morgan from behind. He screamed as its cold hands latched onto his soul, and terror shone from his eyes. The bastard possessing him had withdrawn, leaving only Morgan behind.
“Let him go,” I warned, my own hands glowing with power. “Now.”
I detached from my body and slammed into the wraith. It let go of Morgan, hissing in surprise, and I gripped its shimmering hands in mine. The image of the gates came to mind—wide, uncontrollable—but my brother’s spirit was right there, and if I opened the gate, he might get sucked into it, too.
The wraith wrenched free from my grip and a cold blast of icy air hit me from the front. The first wraith advanced, back in the undead’s body. Cold clammy hands pawed at me over the salt boundary. I kicked the undead’s leg which gave way beneath it, and threw more salt, but the wraith continued, undeterred. The two of them had me caged in.
I gritted my teeth. Tapping into the spirit world again, I pushed at the wraiths with all the power I could conjure, binding words flowing from my tongue. They recoiled, but didn’t fade, or disappear beyond the gates. With no candles, the book would have to do. I took in a breath, and Morgan rose to his feet.
The wraith behind me fell back, a horrible keening noise tearing from its throat—if it had one. The second wraith stopped inches from hitting me, also screaming. What the hell?
I drew on the book’s power again, white light exploding from both palms. This time, the wraiths disappeared in a flash of light. Morgan yelled again, dropping to his knees, clutching his head.
“Morgan!” Whoa. Whatever had been influencing him couldn’t have attacked the wraiths. Somehow Morgan himself had. Could I get him to the guild from here? Unlikely. I grabbed my phone and dashed off a message to River, which I really should have done from the start, and crouched down beside Morgan. His gaze was unfocused, his hands hanging limply at his sides. “Morgan. Talk to me.”
“Gate—keeper.”
“Stop hurting him, you piece of shit.” I grabbed Morgan’s arms and tried to haul him to his feet, but he was surprisingly strong considering how scrawny he was. When he hit me in the face for the fourth time, I let go. Tapping into the spirit realm, I yelled at the glowing spot where my brother’s soul was attached to his body—“Let go of him, you dickhead.”
“How the hell are you talking to me like that?” he said.
“Wait, you know?” I squinted, and the greyness receded a little. Morgan stared at me—at my spirit, not my body below. And he wasn’t flailing and screaming like his living body. “Can’t you get back into your body and stop it doing that?”
“No. The noise won’t stop. How are you here?”
“Necromancer trick. Morgan, I need you to calm down while I get you to the guild. That means getting your body under control. What’s the spirit doing to you?”
“Screaming. All the time. I can even hear it here.”
“Where did you learn to disconnect from your body?” I asked. “You’re—you do realise only necromancers can do this, right?”
“I thought everyone could.” He looked around at the grey smoke. “It’s quiet here.”
“It won’t be where you’re going. Really sorry about this.” I grabbed his arms, and with the book’s power, pushed him into his body. He yelled aloud, and the sound reverberated off the streets. Once I was sure it’d worked, I flew down into my own body again. He stood awkwardly, hand on his forehead. “Ow. I don’t think I can shut it out for long.”
“Then we’d better run. Race you to the guild, okay?” I said, like we were kids again.
“You have a fucking weird life. And you’d better tell me the truth this time.”
“I will.” I started walking in the direction of the guild, checking he was right behind me. I’d need to ask someone to move the undead from the road, but not until Morgan was safe. Nobody attacks my family and gets away with it.
Around the corner from the guild, River approached us from the opposite direction. “Ilsa!” he called, moving swiftly towards us. “Are you both okay?”
“I think so, but we need to get into the guild, asap. Whatever’s haunting him really didn’t like that we stopped them.”
“Stopped who?” asked River.
“Wraiths,” I said. “Two of them attacked us. Morgan… he used some sort of psychic ability to paralyse them so I could banish them.”
He looked at Morgan. “Are you sure? How did you do it?”
Morgan shook his head, wincing. “I don’t know. I was trying to shut that thing out of my head, and I think I crashed into their minds, psychically, by accident.”
“They just stopped,” I said. “But it sounds like you used some sort of psychic attack on them.”
“And you banished them,” said Morgan. “You said you’d tell me the truth.”
I glanced at River. “When we’re alone, yes, but we need to get that spirit out of your head first. I’ve been told how to perform an exorcism…”
“Usually it only works if the person doing the possessing is right nearby,” River said. “This spirit might be miles away, and it’s not directly possessing him. We can’t extract and trap something that’s not present.”
“But it can’t get at him here,” I said. “It also knows what I am.”
River’s mouth tightened. “Are you certain?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I used the book, when it was attacking Morgan, and it picked up on our location that way. But it couldn’t attack me. I think it must be miles from here, using him as a proxy. I guess the defences on the guild must keep it out, whatever it is.”
River opened the oak doors to the guild ahead of us. Morgan staggered into the lobby and leaned on the wall, groaning. “Ow.”
“It’s not still in your head, is it?” I asked, closing the door firmly behind me.
“No, but it’s angry. What in hell is it?”
“I may have an idea,” River said. “I looked into the possibility of what the intruder said being true, and—apparently, the fetch isn’t only a death omen. They’re minor fae, and there’s evidence that some of them have latent psychic abilities.”
A death omen. “Are you sure?”
River reached into his pocket and handed me a small book. I flipped it open onto the bookmarked page, and the word fetch loomed out at me.
“An omen of death… and they can only be heard by people w
hose own death is coming,” I read. “Well, that’s not true, considering it sure wanted me to hear it as well… They will often encourage people to take their own lives to fulfil their own prophecies. Target those with spirit sensitivity. Rare creatures believed to originate in the faerie realms.” I looked up at him. “Shit. Guess the iron in this place keeps it out. But why target him?”
“What the hell is a fetch?” said Morgan.
“It appears when you’re going to die, apparently.” Chills raced up my arms. “Which apparently doesn’t mean much to necromancers.” I looked back at the page, but there was no other information.
“I can’t see it,” he said. “It can’t see me, either. You mean to say there’s no cure?”
“I have an idea,” said River. “You’re not allergic to iron, right?”
“Obviously not. I’m not a faerie.”
“Iron works as protection against faerie magic,” River said. “The fetch’s abilities fall into that category. So if you wear an iron charm, in theory, the voices should stop.”
“Oh,” I said. “I really should have thought of that.”
“Right.” River nodded. “We don’t have witch spells of that type here, but they should be relatively easy to get hold of. For now, hold onto anything made of iron…”
“Those weapons?” asked Morgan.
“No,” I said. “You’ll probably end up injuring yourself. Here.” I passed him my container of iron filings. “Keep hold of it. Is there anything else I need to do here?”
River shook his head. “The necromancers are running interrogations to see if anyone else was working with the intruder. The three of us are already cleared, don’t worry.”
“And—Morgan. Is it best if he stays here? We need to take that fetch out of the picture.”
Morgan folded his arms. “Yeah, might be a bit difficult when nobody can see the damn thing. Don’t I get a say in this?”
“You can come back to my house, but only if the iron is definitely working,” I said.
“I’ll speak to Lady Montgomery later,” River said. “She’s running the interrogations. Technically, I’m supposed to be helping her.”
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