by Leslie Edens
I read aloud the first words of the chapter. “A powerful ring of mystical origin, this artifact is known as the Ring of Esperance. The artifacts of Esperance are associated with the spiritualist family Despair.”
I blinked as the letters in Despair again flickered and jumped around. I rubbed my eyes and read on.
The Ring of Esperance focuses the wearer’s paranormal powers. Its origin is said to be thus: long ago, in the ancient town of Esperance, twins were born, a brother and a sister. They both had beautiful golden eyes that seemed to see right through a person. As they grew, they developed strange abilities. They could talk to each other without speaking and move objects without touching them. They could foresee the future and receive visions about the past and things hidden. Soon, they discovered they had the ability to talk to the dead.
The dead came from far and wide, crowding the children’s minds with their messages, until it took all the children’s strength to avoid going insane. Their family feared the forces these children called forth and gave them up to a temple where a prophetess would care for them.
Afraid to be outcasts, the children called upon an ancient spirit for help. The spirit god Omni, known as the All, took pity on the children. He commanded that no spirits should speak through them until his return. Then he traveled to a faraway place, where he took a piece of the night sky and forged the Ring of Esperance. This he did for the girl, Aether.
The All then forged the Pen of Esperance from the light of the morning star. This he did for the boy, Aeriel.
The All gifted the Artifacts of Esperance to the children, with a warning to never part from them. For a time, all was well. The spirits worked in harmony with the children to deliver their messages. Aether and Aeriel, protected by their artifacts, grew into talented spiritualists.
Legend has it that Aether never put her ring away from her. However, Aeriel allowed his wife to use the Pen of Esperance. Deceived by the Bellum, Aeriel’s wife stole the pen and disappeared. She and the pen remain lost in the mists of time.
From that day forward, the All issued a command. Anyone who removed the Ring of Esperance from the finger of the heir would face immediate and terrible consequences.
I resurfaced from the depths of the story and turned to a page of illustrations. I traced my finger over them in awe. The children’s golden eyes—they looked just like mine.
If the story was true, the ring would protect me and make my spiritualist powers manageable. It might even keep me from going insane. I didn’t know if I believed that part about the All crafting it from the sky, but—
A muffled, underwater noise made me look up. Emmett was rapping on the surface of the painting from outside. He gritted his teeth and drew his finger across his throat. For a moment, I thought he was expressing his opinion about the artwork, but no. He wanted me to exit.
I was unsure how, but I gazed out of the painting. I could see myself standing there, as if stupefied. I gazed into my own vacant eyes. This created a great whirl and when I could see clearly, I was again outside the painting, holding my spinning head.
“All right, Aether?” asked Emmett. He beckoned to me.
I groaned and said, “My name’s Heather.”
“I see you found your ancestral portrait,” said Emmett. “Bronwyn Pearl Despair held the ring before you did.”
“I’ve never heard of her,” I said. “This had to be several generations ago. Why didn’t my father have the ring, to pass on to me?”
Emmett tutted and shook his head. “Oh, no, no,” he said. “Your father would look silly wearing this ring. The male heirs receive the Pen of Esperance, not the Ring of Esperance.”
“But in the story, it said the pen was missing,” I said.
“Therefore, they do not receive it,” said Emmett. “There has not been a female heir in quite some time. But here you are!” He waved the ring box before me again.
“So, I get the ring and Sam gets nothing?” I watched Emmett wave the box around.
“Indeed.” Emmett opened up the box. The ring flickered and flashed.
“Put that thing away.” I blocked it with my hand. “What about my father? He didn’t get any artifact? That isn’t fair.”
“I do wish it had been rectified. But we cannot find the pen, you see,” said Emmett.
“Oh, my All,” I said. “That’s your excuse? And my father is missing. And Sam is missing. Can’t the spirits find anything?”
“Missing?” Bubba drifted over. “You mean Sam Despair? Naw, he was just in here recently. He’s not missing. You just missed him. He’s around.”
“Where?!” I demanded. “The council believed he’d gone to the far dimensions!”
“He liked our music,” said Bubba, nonplussed. “He had an older guy with him, too. A real cool cat, in a long coat and boots.”
“Dad!” I said, jumping up and down. “Please, Bubba. Where did they go?”
Bubba scratched under his hat, on top of his invisible head. “Think they said they was going down to the mortal world for a while. Something ‘bout a house.”
“A house?” I scrunched up my nose at him. “What house?”
“Yeah, I remember,” said Bubba. “They was talkin’ on and on about a house that used to be theirs. The old guy wanted to get it back.”
Suddenly, it clicked. “The Vic! That was Dad’s house. Shirleen sold it ages ago. Dad must think it’s still ours.” I saddened, thinking of how much had changed since I’d last seen my father.
“The Hollow Hill Hold,” said Emmett. “That is your house.”
“No, it was sold,” I said. “I know the Coterie was meeting there, but I’m pretty sure it’s also full of squatters. I think the bank foreclosed on it after the last owners couldn’t keep it going as a hotel. Nobody owns it, really. It’s falling apart.”
“That is your house,” insisted Emmett. “It’s a spiritualist bequeathal. No one but the Despairs can own the Hollow Hill Hold.” He folded his arms and floated, a stubborn frown on his face.
“You’d better not argue,” whispered Bubba, making my ear tickle. “Spirits don’t view property the same way mortals do. If Emmett says it’s yours, it’s yours.”
“Okay.” I decided this was wise. “If that’s where they went, I want to join them.”
Immediately, Emmett took my arm. He drew me toward the door.
Bubba saluted. “Good luck, Heather Despair. Be careful out there.”
Billy and Mariana waved good-bye. Emmett and I approached the door, and Emmett almost walked through it. At the last second, he swerved and went through the wall. I groaned.
Outside, the gray sky overhead looked clear. Emmett held my hand and lifted up, floating me with him. At ten feet up, I could see over the castle wall, to the shining sea that surrounded Dead Town. Then I saw something else. A blackened cloud, moving toward us with screeches and cries.
“All’s crux!” Emmett dropped back down. “They see us!”
He whistled to the bat-Chi’s, who had cruised after us. Emmett tucked them one after the other inside his waistcoat, where they disappeared. He led me across the courtyard and through another door, this one dark and heavy, creaking with age. As the birds darkened the sky above, we slipped through the door and into a low-ceilinged hallway.
“Come on! This is one of my haunts!” said Emmett. At the end of the hallway, we entered a long, dark room that smelled strongly of coffee and baked goods. A coffee shop, smack dab in the middle of the castle. I leaned over a display case of cakes and cookies shaped like tombstones, coffins, and spiders.
“We can get out through my tower,” said Emmett. “Lie low for a short while here, Aether. Allow me to order some refreshment.” He held a chair for me and seated me at a table.
“This is terrible, how you’re plagued by these evil birds and dogs and Feeder things all the time,” I said. I was starting to worry that I’d never get back to the mortal world.
“Oh, it didn’t used to be this bad. But the Bellum’s tu
rned so much against,” said Emmett, sitting opposite me.
A waitress floated over two cups of black coffee and tombstone cookies that read “RIP” in black icing. I didn’t usually drink coffee, but this smelled spectacular, so I took a sip. It tasted rich and chocolaty, like nothing I’d tried in the mortal realm. I crunched down on several light-as-air cookies.
“This spirit food is amazing! It beats mortal food by far,” I said.
“Interesting,” said Emmett. “A lot of mortals gag on spirit food.” He twiddled his spoon in his coffee and cleared his throat, then smiled at me.
“Why do you think Dad and Sam went to the . . . the Hollow Hill Hold?” I asked.
“The Coterie has been busy there,” he said. “You summoned me from there. Don’t you know what they are doing?”
“They said they were making it ready,” I said. But ready for what?
“They imagine they can stop the Turned Against,” said Emmett. “I have my doubts.”
“I was attacked by those cloaked weirdos,” I said. “If we don’t stand up to them, me and my friends could end up like my dad and his friends. But I stopped them. I fought them off.”
Emmett’s eyebrows shot upward. “You fought them? That doesn’t sound safe.” He reached across the table and took my hand in his. His hand buzzed in and out. I opened my hand and let him hold it.
I smiled. “We never know if it’s safe. But it was right.”
“That’s what I said! You’re quoting me!” said Emmett. He smiled a beam of pure sunshine that filled my stomach with butterflies, or maybe they were Dead Town moths or bats.
I looked down at our clasped hands. Then up at Emmett’s face. His cheeks flushed pink when he met my eyes. I could feel the heat rising to my own face.
“I dearly wish you would not leave for the Coterie,” he said. “Not, at least, without your artifact. It worries me, I think. You, unprotected.”
He squeezed my hand a little tighter and I shivered at the tingle this produced.
“I can’t allow my friends and family to face danger without me,” I said. “When the Coterie takes a stand, I have to be there. The Turned Against can’t be allowed to run rampant, attacking spiritualists. They’re affecting the spirit world, too. You’re in hiding from them. Holed up in All’s Hold.”
His shoulders sagged. “It is true. They’ve taken over more and more.” He reached into his waistcoat with his free hand and dropped the ring box on the table.
“My wish is for you to become my protégée. But please, Aether. I will gladly release that wish. I give the ring freely, with no obligation. It is merely for your own protection. Aether, I . . . I do not wish you to come to harm.” He flickered, and his hand in mine felt like it was fluttering. I reached out and took his other hand in mine. I held both his hands, until he stopped flickering and raised his hopeful face to mine. “It really is all right if you don’t want to be my protégée. But if you insist on fighting, I want you to be safe.” He gazed intently into my eyes. His face held only sincerity. I believed him.
“You were right about me,” I whispered.
He nodded, holding tight to my hands. Never once breaking eye contact.
I slid into the blackness of his eyes, deeper and deeper, until he spoke.
“Your eyes,” he said. “Are so beautiful. Like kaleidoscopes of gold.”
I took a deep breath for both of us. I found my gaze drifting to his lips. I leaned a little closer. What would it feel like, to kiss a spirit?
“Emmett,” I said, very softly, “I have to return.”
He swallowed, his cheeks now flushed red. I let go of one of his hands and touched his cheek.
“You’re getting color,” I said.
He touched his own cheek, absently. Still gazing into my eyes, he said, “If you insist on fighting, I will accompany you. I could do more, if you were my protégée, to protect you. But I will do whatever I can.”
“Thank you,” I said. I held up my left hand. “Since you offer it freely, I will take the ring.”
“Yes?” He clasped my hand to his chest. “Oh, thank All!”
I felt the warm buzz of energy on his chest. For a second, he felt solid and almost alive. Then it faded. Emmett held up the ring and moved it toward the ring finger of my left hand.
“Wait,” I said.
He cocked his head in disappointment.
“No?” he said.
“Emmett, I do,” I said.
“I beg your pardon?” He froze, holding the ring up, looking from me to it in confusion.
“I do want to be your protégée,” I said at last. “Maybe it’s irrational, and maybe it’s not safe. But the Coterie will need all the help they can get. And I . . . I can tell it’s right.”
“Quoting me!” Emmett grinned wide, that infectious smile that made me smile as well. He fumbled for the ring. I trembled a little and he flickered. Together we slipped the Ring of Esperance on my finger.
Chapter Seventeen
Able’s Fate
I stood inside the enormous charcoal-colored turret of rough-hewn stones and gazed directly upward. Emmett’s tower. A circle of gray spirit world sky was visible dead above, where the roof wasn’t. Though the room around me was furnished with stuffy Victorian chaises and loveseats, I still got the eerie sense that I waited at the bottom of a well.
Above, Emmett’s black-and-white shape morphed, wisped, flitted here and there. I could hardly keep him in my sight. He cruised the inside wall of the tower, round and round. Every inch contained books, with shelves lining the inner walls. But most of them were over my head.
“What are you looking for?” I whispered.
“A moment longer. I’ll find it,” he called down. His voice echoed hollow off the books, as if they, too, were made of stone.
“Shh! Hurry,” I said. There was no telling how long we’d remain undiscovered by the birds. They could easily enter this tower through the open roof.
Along the floor drifted a little white shape, almost transparent. I jumped, then recognized the dog who had saved me before.
“Hey, it’s Specter,” I said. “Here, boy.” I whistled to call him to me.
Specter drifted closer. When he reached my feet, he lowered his head and dropped a bone at my feet. I picked it up, wiping away some ecto-slobber. The bone unraveled in my hand. It wasn’t a bone at all. It was a scroll.
Specter woofed once, then sank through the floor. His sad eyes were the last to go; they looked at me for some time before disappearing with the rest of him.
I unrolled the scroll and nearly dropped it. The blocky handwriting and the signature at the end! “It’s from Sam!” I said. I quickly read it aloud.
“Heather—I’m sorry I left you behind. Bruce gave me some trouble, and I had to escape through Valente’s portal. I wound up in the spirit world and couldn’t get back.
“The scroll is because I can’t mind message. Too dangerous. Turned Against roaming everywhere.
“I found Dad! He insisted on going back to the mortal world because of a problem with our house. I told him it’s not our house anymore. He says that’s the problem. The Vic was never supposed to be sold to non-spiritualist mortals. He says we have to take it back.
“We heard you and Emmett teamed up. Dad said congratulations. Emmett’s a highly respected spirit. He said if you’re with Emmett, you’re safe.
“So, congratulations, I guess. As soon as I can, I’ll find you. —Sam”
“Ah, good. Specter had it,” said Emmett, now floating over my shoulder. “That’s what I was looking for.”
“You had a message from my brother this whole time?” I fumed. “I thought you were finding a book for me.”
Emmett frowned. “This is my personal library. I don’t give these out to just anyone.” He squinted at me as though I might steal them.
“But the message!” I hissed. “Why didn’t you give it to me earlier?”
Emmett held out his hands to calm me. They brushed mine, and
in my anger, spectricity sparked and jumped to him. He gritted his teeth as the outline of his manifestation blurred and fizzled. He faded, then reappeared dimmer, like a failing light bulb.
“I’m sorry!” I said to his haggard face.
“Use the ring.” His voice came out thin and hoarse.
I held the ring out before me, concentrating to pull the spectricity back. Immediately, it zipped into my hand. Not a crackle remained.
“Wow!” I said, staring at my hand.
Emmett flickered, then he shook. His manifestation brightened. “Much better. You’re improving—my little protégée.”
I turned so he wouldn’t notice me blushing at the nickname.
Pop! He was before me, grinning into my hot face. “That message just arrived. Specter brought it in. We often receive messages here, in my tower. Books, deadzines, missives. It’s the best place to look for communication that flies under the telepathic radar.”
“Oh. That’s why the dog had it,” I said. I tried to frown, but his grin coaxed me into a weird half-smile.
“Indeed. Burying his bones. So many things wind up here because of Specter,” said Emmett. “He’s worse than a shade.”
“What is a shade?” I asked.
Emmett hung his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all. A useless bit of a legion spirit that floats around, disturbing things. More often than not, collecting things, too.”
“Oh.” He looked so embarrassed. And I’d seen him collecting things. Could it be? “Is that what you are?” I asked. “Are you a shade?”
“What an impertinent question!” He turned his back on me. “Just what are you implying?”
“Hmm,” I said. “You didn’t deny it.”
“I shouldn’t have to,” he said, sniffing. “Am I a shade, indeed!”
It didn’t seem so far-fetched, to me. He did go around collecting things. He did float and sometimes, disturb things. And as for useless . . . he hadn’t exactly proven to be a man of action. He was great at talking my ear off. I wondered if shades did that.
I did my best to rouse him to action. “Please, I need to return to the mortal world right away!”
