I nod, but there’s a gnawing sense of foreboding that tickles at the back of my mind. Abigail specifically said to use the Gilberts, and I’m defying that request.
God, I hope I’m making the right choice.
Chapter 22
Summoning the Forgotten
The resurrection chamber feels like an ominous place to go right now. Had I not known my dad had been dead for over a year, I would have been getting this space ready to bring him back. Or at the very least gearing up to try. Now, the best I can do is put his body to rest so his soul can be at peace.
But even if it were possible to bring him back, which I’m pretty damn certain it’s not, I’d be defying all of the rules of the Moirai anyway. Who knows what kind of hell I’d be bringing down on myself and anyone who might be unfortunate enough to help me.
It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.
“All right, I’m going in to consult the grimoire,” I say, handing Wade my phone. “This won’t take long.”
“Tell me again how this works,” he says, clutching my phone in his hand. His eyes are deep, dark pools of concern and I wish I could do something to quell his fears. But they’re the same ones I have.
“I’m going to astral-project—at least, I think that’s what it is. It’s faster than trying to physically maneuver the tunnels in the catacombs,” I say, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze.
I take in a slow, steady breath and sit down on the floor. I cross my legs, like I plan to do a meditation, and rest my back against the stone wall. The quasi-cool stones make me shiver, but I know what’s waiting on the other side brings a whole new level of chill.
“And you’re absolutely sure you can do this?” Wade asks, squatting beside me.
“I am,” I say, nodding. “I’ve done it before, remember? If Dominic arrives before I’m out, just wait for me. Don’t do anything until I’m back. Okay?”
Wade nods. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He bends in, placing his free hand along my jawline. Bending in, he brushes his lips against mine. Then, as he backs away, he winks at me. “Now, go do your thing, Dr. Strange.”
I smile, shaking my head at the reference. “Let’s hope there’s more chance for this working out, than there was for the Avengers. Here goes nothing,” I say, hoping I look more confident than I actually feel.
Closing my eyes, I settle into the energy around me. There’s an intense level of anxiety rolling through me and I have to actively push it aside so I can focus enough to reach the astral plane. I stretch my neck and place my hands on my knees.
After a few moments, the energy settles and my body feels as though it’s sinking into the dirt floor beneath me. Despite my eyes being closed, colors burst beneath my lids. Bright, energetic signatures that vibrate around the edges of each item in this space. Suddenly, I pull back from myself, able to see the room in a whole new way. I stand up, but this time, I can tell I must not be connected to my body anymore, yet I’m somehow still bound by the rules of gravity.
Unlike in the physical realm, where the stones are all still in place on the wall, the stones I removed last semester remain cast on the ground. It’s like they’re the ghostly remnants of a different time and place. I suppose technically, they are.
Taking a deep breath, which doesn’t even feel like it reaches my lungs, I bend down and walk through the hole. Somehow, the frigid cold from the catacombs rushes at me. Shivering into the darkness, I keep my eyes closed and my senses open.
It’s strange how I can interact in this space, almost as though I’m doing it in my physical body. But this time, I know I’m not.
I follow the distance of the tunnel, mesmerized by the vibrating colors. They’re even more prominent than before. I don’t know if it means something, or if I’m simply getting better at concentrating. I just hope it’s not an ominous sign.
When I reach the end of the tunnel and cross the threshold into the circular chamber, the ethereal torches along the walls ignite, lighting the space with an eerie glow behind my lids. I open my eyes, taking in the space. Each tunnel leading to various grave sites fades into the darkness beyond, but in the center of the room, the stone pedestal rises from the floor, revealing the grimoire. It’s like it was ready and waiting.
“Abigail?” I call out, hoping she’s nearby and can guide me to the spell we need. However, I also know she’s doing her best to restrain my father’s malevolent energy.
When she doesn’t answer, I walk up to the grimoire, confident that even without her, I can find the answers I need. She wouldn’t have told me where to look if I didn’t have the ability to do it on my own.
I run my fingertips along the edges of the ancient-looking tome, feeling the reverence and mystical energy vibrating beneath my touch. Even though this book exists in a different realm, it’s imbued with a magical essence and it demands respect. Straightening my shoulders, I slowly flip open the book. I turn the pages with utter care, knowing how ancient it must be. Even if the book’s pages themselves aren’t real, I refuse to be the one who damages them with assumptions.
The paper is thin under my touch, and each page is handcrafted, written in a delicate scrollwork that is made in ink—and something else. Gold? Blood? All of the above?
The first few pages are familiar, showing me aspects of things I already know—things I’ve either learned or searched in the grimoire before. But nothing that stands out in terms of a location spell for my dad’s remains.
I narrow my gaze.
“Where are you?” I whisper to myself as I turn the pages.
Then, I remember something from my dad’s journal. He mentioned the grimoire can show me things about our family history—if I ask it. Perhaps it works the same way with spells?
Gingerly, I turn to a set of blank pages. Placing my hands over the top of the splayed paper, I close my eyes and try to clear my mind of anything but what I need from it.
“All right, grimoire—I need a spell to help locate my dad’s….”—I swallow hard—“body. We need to stop his Lemure. Help me find a spell that will locate him.”
Keeping my eyes closed for a moment, I let the energy from my thoughts flow down through my arms and out my hands. In my mind’s eye, there are all sorts of colors, as my intentions slide through the energy centers of my body. In a strange way, it’s as if I’ve plugged my arms into some sort of an energetic outlet, only I’m the energy source and the book is what’s being charged.
When the information flow feels like it’s pulling itself back, my eyes flit open. I stare in awe as the pages beneath my hands begin to fill themselves in. Removing my hands from the paper, I can’t help but smile. There’s so much about this world of magic that never ceases to amaze me. The world of fiction isn’t all that far off.
Leaning in, I read the heading on the top of the first page. It’s written in bold calligraphy, with delicate embellishments of gold and red and reads:
Lemures.
Biting my lip, I begin to read.
Lemures, also known as Shades, are the restless spirits of the dead who were, for one reason or another, never afforded a proper burial by the living. They have not been interred into a tomb, grave, or other sacred location. Because of this, it has opened their spirit to the malevolent forces within the physical realm. Demons will seek their light out, seeking to destroy them. Should that happen, their soul becomes trapped on the earthly plane and slowly descends into a spiritual form of madness. As it tries to hold onto a sense of self, a Lemure might be able to last years before manifesting its own malevolent tendencies.
Lemures will often become attached to specific people, places, or things and will lash out at anyone who might wish to affect the items of their fixation. Their level of haunting may range on a spectrum from benign to indistinguishable from that of a poltergeist.
Should their remains not be properly buried, ultimately, their madness will even destroy those they are most attached to.
For those seeking to stop a Lemure, i
t’s important to know that very often their remains will be difficult to locate, particularly since it can be months, weeks, or even years before their madness catches up and their hauntings turn violent. By then, their body may be ravaged by time.
You can say that again. On both counts.
I shake my head, continuing on to the next section.
In order to fully vanquish a Lemure, it is imperative their hauntings are dealt with at the root. A simple seance or spell to cast out a spirit will only anger a Lemure. Instead, their remains must be located and burned in the Flames of Eternity.
I inhale sharply. Flames of Eternity.
There’s only one person I know with the power to summon flames—normal ones or otherwise.
I run my fingertips across my lips, suddenly able to see why Abigail wanted the Gilberts involved.
“Shit,” I mutter, reaching for my cell phone. But as my hand hits my pocket, I realize I can’t call her—I’m not even in the real world. Instead, I continue reading.
Without this elemental magic in play, the spark of their eternal essence—their soul—cannot be released and will not be reaped. Finally, their ashes must be properly interred and funeral rites be given.
The other page has another delicate heading that reads:
Summoning Spell for the Forgotten
The following location spell must be cast by a biomancer with the deep-rooted power to connect to earth energies. This allows them to bypass the spirit interference of the Lemure so they can connect with the earthly remains alone.
It’s important to note that no ordinary witch will have the power to summon the location for the remains of a Lemure. It is especially important that a psychic witch not perform this spell. Their spirit energy will be too strong and will actively block any attempts to locate their body. As such, a Lemure grows in power, lashing out and actively seeking to destroy anyone who might wish to get in its way.
I look up, shaking my head.
I’m completely wasting Dominic’s time. If he tries to do anything, he could be putting himself, and everyone else, in danger.
“Dammit,” I say, quickly studying the spell and committing it to memory.
The summoning spell requires something physical that’s directly tied to my dad. Like a picture, or some other likeness. The rest is all up to the biomancer’s intentions and summoning. Which, of course, would be Colton.
I should have listened to Abigail from the start.
Now I need to make it back to my body quickly so I can call it all off. As much as Wade and I wanted to avoid pulling the twins in, it looks like we’re going to need them both to make this happen. And if we’re going to make it work, we’re going to need to act fast.
“Thank you,” I whisper, sort of to the grimoire and sort of to the catacombs in general as I close the book.
As I step away from the pedestal, the flames begin to go out, one at a time. I walk to the tunnel entrance, which brings me back to the resurrection chamber, and close my eyes. Immediately, I sense the rest of the space go dark.
I wait a moment, allowing my extrasensory vision to catch up. When the bright colors spring to life, I don’t waste any time. I race forward, willing myself to get to the other end—and to my body faster.
Somehow, before I even reach the end of the tunnel, I’m thrust back into my body and I lurch forward with a jerk. I gasp for air, as if it’s the first time I’ve ever done so.
As I regain my awareness, though, the world is spinning in and out of view. Sand spirals around the resurrection chamber in a vortex and the entire space hums with an energy that makes my skin crawl and stomach lurch.
Oh god, I’m too late.
Chapter 23
Into the Vortex
At first, I can’t make anything out—it’s all a blur of sand as it cyclones around the room. The velocity of it makes it damn near impossible to get out, as the granules thrash across my arms and face. Any light from the torches on the walls has been extinguished and all that remains is the dying light from the window beyond the stairs.
“What in the hell?” I shriek, shielding my eyes.
Wade is suddenly at my side. “Thank god. We gotta find a way to get out of here.”
“What happened?” I say, trying to get to my feet.
Wade groans. “Dominic. What else? He wouldn’t listen to me. I told him you wanted us to wait to do anything until you were back to yourself. But of course, that guy thinks he always knows better than everyone else.”
“Great,” I mutter, looking around the space but unable to make anything out farther than a foot or so in front of me.
“Yeah, I don’t know what was going on in his head,” Wade says, shielding his eyes with his forearm as he peers into the vortex of sand and stone. “He tried to summon your dad’s location and it—I don’t even know what the hell happened, to be honest.”
“He gave my dad a power boost,” I say, running my hand along my forehead. “Is he still here? Dominic, I mean?”
Wade ducks a stone the size of his fist, pulling me down with him so we’re both in a crouch. It whizzes by, careening around with the rest of the cyclone. “I think so? When stuff started to rumble and the dirt started this whole thing, he took off for the stairs, though. Coward.”
“It was the right instinct,” I say, yanking the collar of my t-shirt up to cover my nose and mouth.
He does the same and shrugs. “I guess.”
“You should have done the same,” I say, biting my lip.
“Like hell. I’m not about to leave you here, unprotected,” Wade says, looking incensed.
My thoughts tumble around, spinning at the same speed as the cyclone of sand. I’m not sure how to make it out of here and if my dad’s taken control of the house, nowhere is going to be safe. Especially if he’s managed to trap Abigail again.
My heart thumps loudly in my chest as I realize just how dire this situation really is. Especially for Wade. He shouldn’t be here, and if his father realizes we’re still together…or worse, if he gets himself killed…
I cover my mouth in horror.
“Oh my god. Wade, we need to get you out of here,” I sputter.
Wade’s silver gaze widens as he makes a face. “We both need to get the hell outta here.”
“No, I mean, if you were to get hurt…” I say, reaching out for him. “Or worse…”
“Hey, hey, look at me,” Wade says, grabbing hold of my arms and making me turn to face him. “We are in all of this together. There’s absolutely no other place I’d rather be right now. I’m not gonna die—and neither are you. Do you hear me?”
I nod, unable to stop the sheer panic consuming every fiber of my being. If something happens to Wade, I would never be able to forgive myself.
“We’re gonna get out of this mess, I promise you,” he says, gazing round the room. “There’s nowhere that’s protected other than beneath the stairs, from what I can tell. But good luck getting up them right now.”
Suddenly, the room begins to rumble, as if the stones holding up the walls are getting ready to catapult themselves at us.
“Shit’s getting way worse. We need an exit strategy. How do we stop your dad?” Wade says, eyeing the walls. “What did the grimoire say?”
I shake my head. “For starters—not to mess with a location spell if you’re not a biomancer. Otherwise, this would happen,” I say, ducking a stone as it hits the wall behind me. Smaller chunks of sand and debris pepper the top of my head as it explodes on impact.
Wade’s silver eyes are wide as he brushes off my hair and says, “Figures. Dammit. I’m sorry, Dru. I tried to stop Dominic, but you know what a stubborn jackass he can be. He went into a tirade about how I should stay out of this.”
I cast him a knowing look. “He was probably right about that.”
“Don’t you start, too,” he says, casting me a warning look.
“It doesn’t matter now. We need to get the Gilberts here as fast as possible. Do you still have
my phone?” I say, holding out my hand.
“Well, yeah. But what do the twins have to do with this?” Wade asks, digging my phone out of his pocket and handing it to me.
“Colton’s a biomancer, remember?”
“Shit,” Wade says, rolling his eyes.
“But that’s not all. We need Cat, too. My dad’s remains need to be burned in something called the Fires of Eternity, or his soul can’t be released to…” my eyebrows tug inward and my shoulders drop, “your dad. Shit, Wade—you can’t be here. If he finds out…”
“Look, we’ll deal with that bridge when we cross it. Right now, the priority is getting out of here in one piece. Call the twins,” Wade says, shaking his head. “I’ll give you some cover.”
Again the room rumbles and I nod quickly, kneeling down. The faster I do this, the better. Wade kneels as well, taking off his coat and holding it around us like a cloak of protection.
Taking a deep breath, I punch Cat’s name and start silently praying she’ll answer the phone. It’s been so long since we last talked and with everything that happened last semester between Colton and the revenants—and her and her Fetch—I haven’t even known what to say.
The phone starts ringing and I hold my breath, waiting for her to pick up. After four rings, her voicemail picks up.
“Dammit,” I spit, hitting the redial.
“No answer?” Wade asks, being thrust forward as something hits him from behind.
I shake my head, clutching the phone to my ear. Again, it goes to voice mail. Immediately, I dial Colton instead. His phone also goes to voice mail.
I exhale in exasperation. “Neither of them are answering me.”
“Then we need to figure out how to get out of this mess on our own. I think if we can edge along the wall, we might be able to make it to the underside of the stairs,” Wade says, tipping his head toward the open slats letting in our only source of light.
Haunted Legacy: The Windhaven Witches Series Page 15
