The Gatekeeper's Curse- The Complete Trilogy

by Emma L. Adams

  My vision tunnelled, a sense of claustrophobia closing in as everyone in the room disappeared, leaving only a black-and-white image of the living room, the carpet now blood-free. I jumped when someone walked in front of me, a male stranger, blurred around the edges. He fell to the floor, mouth open in a scream, flailing madly in a way horrifyingly reminiscent of Morgan when the fetch had been attacking him. But the fetch didn’t appear. The stranger ran in circles, tripping over nothing, and I was glad I couldn’t hear him screaming.

  He ran from view and returned with a knife. His mouth moved, forming words. Clear words. It almost looked like he was saying… Gatekeeper.

  The knife plunged into his chest, and the real world crashed over the vision in full colour. I damn near joined Morgan in vomiting outside. Taking in several deep breaths, I braced my hands on my knees. A flash of light drew my attention to the corner, where River and Lady Montgomery had set up a summoning circle.

  “I summon you, Stuart Raymond,” River said. Must be the victim’s name.

  The air fogged within the circle. I used my spirit sight, rotated on the spot, but no ghosts appeared. Nothing.

  “He must be through the gates by now,” said River.

  Morgan ran back into the house. “I can’t hear anything,” he announced. “In case you were wondering.”

  “I expected not,” said Lady Montgomery. “The victim’s ghost is not within reach. What did you see in the tracking spell, Ilsa?”

  “He stabbed himself. Like you said. Nothing more.”

  Except that word. Gatekeeper. The murderer had wanted me to see it—expected me to. Which meant the killer was targeting psychics to guilt-trip both of us for not finishing the bastard off the first time around.

  “Did he know he was a psychic?” I asked her, pushing the guilt as far away as possible. Blaming myself for the actions of a monster would help nobody.

  “Yes, but like the first victim, he wasn’t an active practitioner. There isn’t really a place in the supernatural community for people with those gifts. Witch covens would be their natural fit, but they distrust anyone who can read minds with good reason.”

  “I’m not a witch,” said Morgan.

  “No, but you can also connect with the spirit realm, and project yourself in there,” Lady Montgomery said. “And both you and your sister have demonstrated you can track down any spirit. Did you hear this one?”

  I shook my head. “Guess I slept through it.” But I’d woken with the book switched off, changed. I couldn’t have done something to the book while I was asleep, could I? Or Morgan? No way. If nothing else, I’d have heard him. Right?

  “I can try tracking it,” Morgan said.

  “Not here,” I said. “At the guild. It’s playing a game. With me, or with us. Which means as soon as you remove the iron…”

  “Yeah, no thanks,” he said, his face pale. “But—do you know who it’ll target next? I might be able to track the other psychics, but I’d have to take this thing off. I can lure it into a trap.”

  Lady Montgomery looked from one of us to another. “It’s not a bad idea.”

  My heart sank. “I—don’t know about this. It seems too obvious a trap. The fetch must have figured we’d try luring it out again, like we did last time.”

  “That doesn’t mean it won’t work again,” Lady Montgomery said. “River, collect the candles. We’re going to the site of our summit.”

  The house was quite close to the site of the necromancers’ graveyard, but it struck me as a risky move. “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “I rather think I’m not the one at risk here,” said Lady Montgomery.

  The cemetery looked no less creepy during the day. I’d once found the presence of the dead relaxing, soothing even, but now every shadow carried a hint of menace that no light would erase. Even the necromancer candles which remained there from the summit, arranged in a perfect circle I could never hope to achieve. I looked around uneasily, while Morgan strode into the circle’s centre.

  “The candles will stabilise you if you enter the spirit realm,” Lady Morgan explained. “This is how normal necromancers disconnect from their bodies.”

  Huh. Maybe she did have a sense of humour after all. Graveyard humour. Too bad I really wasn’t in the mood, especially with Morgan dead set on risking his life again. I understood why—hell, in his place, I’d have made the same decision. Didn’t mean I had to like it.

  “Take it off.” He held out his wrist.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.

  He nodded, still looking pale. “Go on.”

  I pulled the iron band free. Morgan froze, in the circle’s centre. “Damn, that’s cold. Okay, you guys are there…”

  I took a step closer to River. “Cover for me,” I murmured, and plunged into Death.

  Grey smoke. White lights. Morgan was easy to spot, turning expertly on the spot with more grace than he displayed when he was sober, let alone now.

  Morgan turned on me, eyes wide in alarm. “It knows what you did. It tricked us—dammit, where’s that iron?”

  I swore. “What—is it here?”

  He stiffened, eyes blanking out, and gave a low chuckle that sounded nothing like him. “If you don’t want to be next, Gatekeeper, I suggest you listen to me.”

  Shit. That voice wasn’t the fetch’s. It was lower pitched, and if it came from a human, I’d guess the speaker was female.

  “Get out of my brother’s head.”

  He laughed again. “Feel free to take me out… you won’t win this in the end, Gatekeeper… we have everything we need already.”

  “No.”

  I pulled myself out of Death and back into my body, gripping the coldness of the iron band in my hand. I lunged and grabbed Morgan’s arm and shoved the band back onto it. He flailed and tripped over, knocking candles everywhere.

  Catching my balance against a headstone, I straightened upright. “Morgan, are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I think.” He shook his head, his face white as a sheet. “That wasn’t the fetch. I didn’t feel it in my head like last time.”

  “Someone was using you as a puppet,” I told him. “But who?”

  “Your voice was distinctly female,” River said. “And human. I think. Not fae.”

  “Shit.” I looked for Lady Montgomery and saw she was outside the gates, speaking on the phone. “What’s she doing?”

  “Another call came in,” said River. “I expect we’ll be called to report in a minute.”

  “Forget reporting,” I said. “The person possessing him knows who we are, and they said I already have everything I need. And—the book went blank this morning. I woke up and it was switched off.” I glanced at Lady Montgomery to make sure she wasn’t listening, but she was still on the phone.

  “Switched off?” echoed River, his brow furrowing in confusion.

  “Totally blank. Even the cover. I woke up and it was like this. And it happened at the same time as the murder, I think.”

  River’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. God knows why. I don’t know what can drain a talisman.”

  “Nothing can,” he said. “Unless you used up all its power yourself, but you’d still be able to sense it.”

  “It’s been on the verge of burnout since I opened the gate,” I said. “I have to ask someone who knows. Aside from Agnes, that’s just Grandma. Or—hell, Greaves will do. Someone must know why the bloody book switched off. Most people can’t touch it.”

  “Most people?” echoed Morgan. “Who can?”

  “River, Agnes… I’d count old Greaves, but he’s a ghost, he can’t technically touch anything. Possibly Everett, Agnes’s husband. That’s it, aside from our family.”

  “Where’s your sister?” asked River.

  Morgan and I looked at one another. “She went into town,” he said. “To find Agnes, I think. Why?”

  “Just a thought. Call her. We’re going to need help.”

  “Mind
cluing me in?” I pulled out my phone and found the battery dead. “I swear I plugged this in… Morgan, can I borrow your phone?”

  He dug his hand in his pocket. “Can’t. It’s gone.”

  I swore. “How?”

  “Dunno. I don’t remember a ton about last night…”

  “Like borrowing my book, for instance?”

  “No, of course not,” he said. “What do you take me for?”

  “Not the most reliable person when inebriated, for one thing,” I snapped, fear coursing through me. “I don’t have my old phone here… it’s at the house.”

  “Never mind the phone,” said Morgan. “What about the psychics? How’re we meant to know who’s gonna be next? Can Agnes help?”

  “I think Agnes implied that she can’t sense psychics like you can, because she’s not one. So she can’t track people, and she’s not a likely target.” But Hazel might be. “River, can I borrow your phone? Wish I knew her number…”

  “I do,” said Morgan, to my astonishment. “She never changed it. Always the same one, since we were kids. She said it was just in case I wanted to call.”

  I blinked. “Seriously?”

  I’d never asked. I’d wondered how they resolved their differences, and considering how they’d been bickering, I’d assumed they still hated one another. As much as you could hate family, anyway. Please let her be okay. If the enemy had targeted Hazel… but of the three of us, she had the most powerful magic.

  Morgan dialled Hazel’s number on River’s phone, and we waited in tense silence. “Not answering,” he muttered. “I’ll message her. Oi. Ilsa thinks you’re dead. Stop nattering with Agnes and answer the damn phone.”

  I put the book away. “Of the three of us, she’s the only one who’s not trained as a necromancer, but she can also turn anyone into a tree with minimal effort. I don’t see why anyone would pick her as a weak link.” But maybe that was why they’d chosen her, since all our attention was on making sure nobody possessed Morgan again.

  Lady Montgomery approached us, her expression grim.

  “Two of my people are dead,” she said. “We’re going back to the guild. All of you. That’s an order.”

  17

  Lady Montgomery didn’t stop when we reached the necromancers’ place. She marched through the doors, and River, Morgan and I followed close behind. The crowd parted around her, recognising the danger signs as surely as we did. The atmosphere was more subdued than I’d ever seen it.

  Morgan broke the silence by asking her, “Who died? How?”

  “They were ambushed in the spirit realm.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Oh shit. In here?”

  “Yes. Apparently a spirit was responsible.” Her tone was icy cold.

  “You’re not taking us to jail again?” said Morgan.

  “No,” she said. “I want the two of you to use your abilities to hunt the attackers down.”

  For the second time, my jaw dropped. “You really want us to help?”

  The book wasn’t working. Could I project as far without it? Morgan could, but he’d have to take off the iron—and the enemy had slipped through the guild’s defences once already.

  “Sure,” Morgan said. “Let me try.”

  “If we both have to do it at the same time, someone needs to have iron on standby,” I said. “I can’t put it back on him if this goes wrong while we’re both in Death.”

  “River, inform two senior necromancers that Ilsa and Morgan require supervision,” said Lady Montgomery. “I’m going to set up a spirit barrier around our headquarters, and once you’re done, all spiritual activity within this building will cease.”

  Whoa. An actual spirit barrier? I hadn’t seen one since Holly had used a barrier around her territory to keep the Winter Gatekeeper contained. In the end, it’d required so much power that she’d accidentally killed someone.

  “I’ll bring them.” River looked at me, worry clear in his gaze. He was probably thinking of the book and the Winter Gatekeeper, too. Like I needed more pressure.

  “Why’s she suddenly letting us use our powers now?” asked Morgan.

  “She always intended to,” River said. “Once she’s removed the possibility that the two of you were a threat.”

  “About bloody time,” said Morgan.

  The annoying part was the two necromancers I didn’t know, who followed us to the room, giving both of us suspicious looks. The room River picked out was twice the size of the others, containing several sets of candles arranged in circles of twelve.

  “You’ll have to go into separate circles,” said River to Morgan and me. “And the iron—one of the other necromancers will have to be prepared to put it on Morgan if he’s attacked again.”

  The two necromancers exchanged glances. Apparently they’d heard enough about our abilities to be wary of both of us. But River couldn’t touch the iron himself, so we’d have to put our trust in a stranger.

  Morgan shrugged and walked into a circle, holding his arm out for me to remove the iron. I did so, passing it to one of the necromancers, and got into the neighbouring circle myself.

  “If he starts screaming or anything, put that iron back on him immediately,” I told them.

  River gave me a nod of reassurance, and then the smoke of the circle moved in, greyness blanking out the world. Everything went fuzzy. No sign of anyone else.

  “Morgan,” I whispered. “You here?”

  “Yeah.” He came into focus, hovering in the air. He had more experience of this than I did, without a prop. Everything was too blurred for me to figure out where the guild’s limits were. “What’re we meant to be doing, interrogating every ghost that comes our way?”

  “I think the killer was probably half-faerie,” I said. “Like the spirit who attacked us.” Instinctively I called the last half-faerie attacker’s face to mind, reaching out, but my abilities felt muted. I focused harder. I should at least be able to sense Morgan, but I wouldn’t if he wasn’t standing right next to me.

  I shook my head. “It still isn’t working. I can’t project. I don’t think you should be exposed like this either.”

  “I can’t see the killer,” Morgan said. “Necromancers… plenty of those. They have people scouring the whole building. Why send us in, too?”

  “To search outside the building,” I said. “But I can’t. This is a waste of time. Wait, what about Hazel?” I should at least be able to find my sister. I closed my eyes, pushed outwards with my mind, and hit a barrier so solid, my head throbbed. “Ow. I hit something.”

  “Where?”

  I waved a hand around. “I don’t know. My focus is totally shot.”

  “Cause of the book?”

  “Maybe. I can’t focus like I used to. I’m not so sure I can fight, either. But I tried to find Hazel and something hit me.”

  “What—psychically?”

  “I don’t think so. But I’m not one.”

  “Lemme try.” He closed his eyes, his ghostly body flickering at the edges. Then he yelled and fell backwards, writhing on the spot.

  “Morgan!” I grabbed his arm, and my hand passed right through it. Focus… the book… My grip tightened. “Come on. Snap out of it.”

  He groaned. “I can’t. It’s coming—now.”

  I snapped into my body, shouting, “Iron—get the iron.”

  But the necromancers had gone, and the iron band lay discarded on the floor. Cursing, I dived out of the circle, but River got there first, picking the iron up in a gloved hand. He grimaced, threw it to me, and I grabbed Morgan’s arm. As I snapped the iron into place, his body jerked, then his eyes flew open.

  “Where in hell are those necromancers?” I gasped.

  “There was another attack,” River said, removing the glove. “I apologise—I should have been quicker with the iron.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I took in a steadying breath.

  “You’d better not have any psychic sensitives in here,” Morgan said. “Holy fuck. It’
s projecting at everyone nearby. I think it’s gonna kill someone.”

  My stomach turned over. “We have to stop it. Can you do what you did last time?”

  He shook his head. “It’s stronger—much stronger. It’d have killed me if I hadn’t been here.”

  I tasted bile in my throat. “Stronger. How can it be stronger? Are the deaths… is it feeding on them, somehow?” Some dark fae gained power from pain and death, and the fetch was definitely a Winter fae, even if it’d come from the Vale. All death faeries were. “Just how many psychic sensitives are there in the city?”

  “Not many,” River said. “Couldn’t you find anything specific?”

  “Hazel.” I swallowed. “I tried to find her, and that’s when we hit some kind of invisible barrier. I couldn’t reach her.”

  “She’s not a psychic sensitive,” Morgan said. “They shouldn’t have reason to go after her. It’s weird that she showed up here today in the first place.”

  “Not really,” I said. “She thought you were being attacked, remember?”

  “Not that. She let herself into the house. I kinda thought you let her in, though things were fuzzy…”

  But she doesn’t have a key.

  “She can’t be affected, right?” I asked River. “I mean, I know she’s a relation. She has necromancer ancestry, like us. You don’t think…” Morgan and I looked at one another.

  “The motherfucker,” Morgan said quietly. “It got her, and now it’s going after the other psychics.”

  “It can’t.” I shook my head. “There’s no way—Hazel is stronger than either of us.”

  “Not against the dead,” Morgan muttered. “She… I know she was acting weird, but I felt kind of out of it this morning, to be honest.”

  “Pretty sure that had nothing to do with Hazel.”

  “That’s just it. I… when I left the house, it stopped. I only had two drinks, I shouldn’t have been that hungover. It’s like the house… I dunno. Like I ran into a spell.”

  “Hazel seemed fine to me.” But why couldn’t I sense her? And what in hell had happened to the book?