Haunted

by Kelley Armstrong

  It took a few minutes, but I was finally able to excuse myself from the group. Upstairs, I made a beeline for the balcony. I'd been outside only a few moments when Ross joined me.

  I should have known he'd still be in Alaska--he'd have let us send him to Siberia if it meant he'd be safe from the Nix. The old saw about being "a lover, not a fighter" fit Ross to a tee. There was probably a good dose of "yellow-bellied coward" behind that, but I'm sure he would have preferred the first cliche.

  I blamed the poor choice of safe house on a transportation-code mix-up, and promised to find him something more suitable...as soon as he answered a few questions. He agreed, and Kristof joined us.

  Ross said he'd never asked the Nix anything about herself, including why she'd shown up at his door. There's a Luther Ross in every bar every night of the week--guys who are willing to sit across from a pretty girl for hours, look deep into her eyes, and entreat her, with near-perfect sincerity, to tell him everything about herself, her thoughts, her fears, her hopes and dreams. But, hey, if you'd rather just hop straight into bed, then your private life is your own, sugar.

  So I focused on what she'd asked him. And that answer did surprise me. The Nix had asked Ross absolutely nothing that didn't relate to telekinesis and poltergeists. During lessons, she was a little keener, always volunteering to try a new technique, always persevering in the face of failure. Though she hadn't succeeded in actually moving anything telekinetically, Ross was certain that, had she stuck with the lessons, she would have become one of his success stories.

  When teaching sessions ended, the Nix would always withdraw from the group, find a quiet corner to practice in, and keep working. Yes, she had shared Ross's bed on her last night there, but the postcoital chitchat had been purely business, and she'd apparently used the sex only to get some one-on-one training time.

  "Speaking of one-on-one training," Ross said as we finished. "Send me someplace decent this time, preferably warm, preferably female-friendly, and definitely safe, and you can forget about owing me for those poltergeist lessons."

  "Er, right." I resisted the urge to sneak a look Kristof's way, but I could feel his gaze boring into me. "So how about we send you--"

  "What I don't get, though," Ross cut in, "is why someone like you even wants poltergeist lessons. Not that I'm complaining." A quick grin. "But, let's face it, you're powerful enough to get whatever you want without resorting to parlor tricks."

  "Being able to manipulate objects in the living world would help me solve a problem."

  His brow crinkled. "With the Nix?"

  "No," Kris murmured. "It has nothing to do with the Nix...or anything in this life."

  "It's to help my"--I glanced at Kris--"our daughter."

  "Ah," Ross said. "Well, now, that I can see. But I'm not sure how much good poltergeisting would be. What you really need is that demon amulet."

  "Demon--"

  Kristof cut in. "It's a legend. A myth."

  I glanced at him. "You've heard of it? What does--?"

  "There is no amulet, Eve."

  We exchanged glares. Then his gaze softened, and his eyes begged me to let it go.

  I tore my gaze away and looked at Ross. "This amulet--"

  Kristof strode out. I murmured an apology to Ross, and a promise to return, then hurried after Kristof.

  I found Kris on the front lawn, standing behind a tree, face lifted to the sky. He couldn't have missed the sound of my shoes in the snow, but he didn't call to me, didn't even look at me when I found him.

  "Kris?"

  "Do you think you're the only parent who worries about her children?" he asked quietly.

  "No, of course not--"

  "Do you think you're the only one who made mistakes? Who isn't haunted by those mistakes? Who wouldn't do anything to turn back time or reach into the living world and set them right?"

  I stepped toward him, hand going to touch his arm, but he moved away.

  His gaze swung down to meet mine. "My younger son is poised to ruin his life following a path he hates, because he thinks it's what I would have wanted, and my eldest is trapped between betraying himself and alienating the only family he has left."

  "So you know--"

  "That Sean's gay? I'm his father, Eve. I probably knew it before he did. I saw him struggling, trying to find his way, and I decided I had to let him find it himself. When he figured it out, I'd be there for him. Only I wasn't, was I? Now he's left wondering how I would have reacted, and I can't help him, can't support him. Just like I can't tell Bryce that I never wanted him to follow in my footsteps. That life made me miserable, cost me the only woman I loved, and I thanked God every day that Bryce had the guts I didn't have."

  I tried to say something, but my voice dried up in my throat.

  He continued, "Even with Savannah, I made mistakes. I was so afraid of facing her, of seeing you in her, so afraid that she'd hate me, that I let Gabriel Sandford go to Boston in my place. His mistakes were my mistakes, and all the hell Savannah suffered because of him is my fault."

  "It wasn't--"

  "Do you know what I don't regret, though? Going into that basement after her. Even if I couldn't protect her, even if she accidentally killed me, I have not one regret about that. Do you know why? Because it brought me here. To you."

  "Kris--"

  "So maybe I screwed up in my life. Maybe I can't undo any of that. But coming here gave me the chance to fix the biggest mistake I ever made: letting go of you."

  I opened my mouth but, again, nothing came out.

  "This is our chance to start over, Eve. Yours and mine. Forget everything we did before and start over. Not just with each other--that's only part of it. Maybe you didn't need a new life the way I did, but you got one, and there's no going back now, no matter how hard you try."

  "You want me to choose," I whispered. "You or Savannah."

  He turned so fast he startled me. "Goddamn it, are you even listening? I'm not saying forget Savannah, and I'm not saying start up again with me. I'm saying start living a life. Any life. I thought--" He swallowed. "I thought with this Nix thing, maybe you were finally moving on, finding a place for yourself here, but then I see you in there, talking about Savannah and poltergeist lessons and that amulet, and I can see in your face that you haven't moved on at all. When you're done, you'll go right back to where you were, living in your own limbo, no better than one of those damned earth-spooks." He paused, voice lowering. "And I'm not sure how much longer I can stand to watch you do it."

  His eyes met mine. For a minute, we just looked at each other. Then his lips moved in a few silent words, and he disappeared.

  I stood there, feet rooted to the ground, my brain whirring, refusing to think, afraid that if I started thinking about it, I wouldn't be able to stop. Was I really losing him? My gut went cold at the thought. I'd fix this. I would...soon.

  For now, I headed back inside to ask Ross about the amulet.

  It was only when I returned to Ross, and saw his smug smile of triumph, that I realized my mistake. I know; it should have been obvious to me long before that. One second I'm worrying about losing Kristof's friendship, the next I'm plowing forward with the very action that brought things to a head in the first place. Typical--barreling toward my own destruction even as the warning signs flew up around me.

  As long as I was there, though, it wouldn't hurt to know about the amulet. If Kristof was right, and it was only a myth, then it didn't matter. I knew his objection was not to me hearing about the amulet, but to the relentless obsession it symbolized. But...well, I could think about that later.

  I told myself I'd only stay long enough to hear what this amulet did, but as soon as I heard that, I needed to know everything Ross could tell me about it. This amulet, if it existed, could solve my quest to help Savannah...with none of those pesky angelic responsibilities. According to Ross, the necklace, known as Dantalian's Amulet, together with the incantation inscribed on it, would grant the wearer the ability to
possess a living person. The only catch? The wearer had to have demon blood. It was almost too good to be true.

  Problem was, the amulet's function was all Ross knew. He didn't even realize "Dantalian" was the name of a demon. I didn't enlighten him now--as a half-demon, he'd be able to use such an amulet just as easily as I would, so I wasn't giving him any help finding it. Not that I thought it could be found, but...Well, it bore thought, and maybe a little investigation, when I was done with this Nix quest.

  When I was almost done picking Ross's brain, I heard a noise in the hall, the creak of a floorboard. I slipped out, but no one was there. If it had been Kristof, he'd probably heard all he needed to hear. That thought spurred me to bring my talk with Ross to a quick conclusion. I gave him a transportation code more to his liking, then was saying good-bye when I heard the floorboards creak again. This time, I cast a blur spell and rushed out, hoping to catch Kris eavesdropping. Instead, I ran smack into Trsiel.

  "Er, hello," I said. "Fancy meeting you here."

  He glowered at me. "A long way from Massachusetts, isn't it, Eve?"

  Before I could answer, he took my arm and teleported us out.

  30

  I'D HOPED TRSIEL'S ARRIVAL MEANT HE HAD A NEW LEAD for us to follow, but he was only checking up on me. After escorting me back to the Borden residence, he returned to Amanda Sullivan's cell. I spent the next ten hours at the Bordens', rehashing what I knew and trying to find a fresh direction. I kept hoping Kristof would pop by, but he didn't.

  In the eleventh hour, an angel appeared.

  It was just Trsiel, but by that point, it seemed like divine intervention nonetheless. A sparkling conversationalist Lizzie Borden was not.

  "Got a lead," he said.

  "Oh, thank God," I said, leaping to my feet. "When can we go? Now? Please?"

  He laughed, took hold of my hand, and teleported me away.

  Seems Sullivan finally had a vision of the Nix. She was still in spirit form, but on the move. Through Sullivan's dreams, Trsiel had pinpointed her last stopover: here. Wherever "here" was.

  We were tramping across a dark meadow. A wispy fog had settled, a wet lace that smelled of heather and something not nearly so pleasant.

  I wrinkled my nose. "Wet dog?"

  As I said the words, a hairy red-brown lump appeared in my path. I stumbled back with an oath. The lump turned and fixed me with big bovine eyes. Then it shook its head, long curved horns flashing.

  "What the hell is that?" I said. "A yak?"

  "Highland cattle, I believe."

  "Highland...We're in Scotland?"

  "Near Dundee."

  "And the Nix was here? Doing what? Cattle-herding?"

  "No, visiting that."

  He pointed to a forest. Seemed a strange place to visit, but before I made a fool of myself by asking, I narrowed my eyes and concentrated on sharpening my night vision. After a moment, I could see a building soaring above the treetops. Spires ringed the huge, flat roof.

  "Looks like a castle," I said.

  "Glamis Castle."

  "Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promised. Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness."

  One of the cows mooed appreciatively. Trsiel arched his brows.

  "What?" I said. "You recognize Bogart and Bacall but not the Immortal Bard?"

  A shrug and a half-smile. "I've always been more of a cinematic angel. Shakespeare told some great stories, but I could never get past the boys in drag playing Juliet. As for the quote, judging by the locale, I'm guessing Macbeth."

  "Bingo. My one and only high school drama starring role: Lady Macbeth. I was a natural."

  Trsiel started to laugh.

  I turned on him, finger raised. "Don't say it."

  Trsiel grinned. "I don't need to."

  I started forward again, still staring at those majestic spires, black against the blue-gray night. "So this is that Glamis?"

  "This is the Glamis Castle that Shakespeare wrote about, though it had nothing to do with the historical Macbeth."

  We walked through a barbed-wire fence and onto a path.

  "What's the Nix doing here?"

  "I'm not sure," Trsiel said. "I saw the images through Amanda Sullivan, and I recognized the castle, but the only connection I can make is that it's reputed to be the most haunted in Scotland."

  "Oooh, a haunted castle. I've always wanted to visit one of those. What's the story?"

  He smiled. "Which one?"

  "The best one. The bone-chillingest one."

  "Well, the best one, I'm afraid, doesn't involve a ghost at all, but a living, breathing monster. As for ghosts--"

  "No, tell me the monster one."

  He glanced over his shoulder at me.

  "Oh, come on," I said. "Unless you can teleport us over to the castle, we have another mile to walk. I've spent ten hours sitting with Lizzie Borden. Entertain me. Please."

  He smiled. "All right, then. But I warn you, storytelling is definitely not an area of angel expertise. So, how to start...hmmm."

  "Once upon a time?"

  He shot me a look. "Even I can do better than that. Let's see..." He cleared his throat. "No castle would be a proper castle without a secret room or two. Glamis being a castle among castles, has three. There's the one where Earl Beardie spends eternity playing cards with the Devil. And there's the one where a Lord Glamis walled up a band of Ogilvies. But the best, and most...bone-chilling-est, is the one that contains the cursed Glamis monster."

  "Oooh, I love a good curse."

  "You want to tell the story?"

  I grinned. "Sorry. Please continue."

  "Well, legend has it that the Glamis family is cursed, as all the best families are. That curse was born, quite literally, in the form of a child. The first son born to the eleventh earl, a child so deformed, so hideous that every wet nurse brought to his crib took one look and the milk dried up in her breast."

  "Really?"

  "No, but the story's a bit short, and we still have a half-mile to go. I'm livening it up. Now shush."

  "Sorry."

  "The worst of it, though, was that the family was doomed to care for this child, not only through his lifetime, but for eternity because he was immortal. So they locked him up in a secret room, and it became the duty of each succeeding generation to care for him, and to keep him a secret from all, even those they loved. However, the bonds of matrimony permit no room for secrets, and one enterprising young Lady Glamis grew weary of hearing these rumors and not knowing the truth behind them. One night, while her husband was away, she held a dinner party, and conveyed an ingenious plan to her guests. They would take towels and hang them from each window of the castle. They did. Then they went outside and circled the castle, looking for the window with no towel, for this would be the secret room. And there it was, high up on the third floor. A tiny window...with no towel. So Lady Glamis rushed into the castle, up the stairs, down the hall, and threw open the door of the room nearest the secret one. Then she knocked along the wall, listening for the hollow spot where a hidden door might be. She knocked once, took a step, knocked again, took a step, knocked a third time...and something within knocked back."

  Trsiel stepped onto the winding drive, and kept walking.

  "Then what?" I said finally.

  "Well, that's it. According to legend, before she could investigate further, her husband came home, found out what she'd done, and gave her hell. Soon after that, she left him."

  "I don't blame her. But it's still a lousy ending."

  "You want me to do better?"

  "Please."

  He gave a deep sigh. "The things I'm asked to do on this mission. Okay, better ending coming up. So...something within knocked back. Then, at a noise behind her, Lady Glamis turned to see her husband there. In his hand was a rusted metal key. He grabbed her, but before she could cry out for help, the secret door sprang open. A horrible moan came from within. Lady Glamis screamed then, screamed a
s loud as she could, but Lord Glamis shoved her through the door, slammed it shut, and locked her inside--locked forever with the monster, there to serve him for all eternity."

  I lifted a brow. "Serve him how?"

  He looked at me, then sputtered a laugh. "Not like that! This is a G-rated ghost story, woman. Don't be messing with it."

  "A G-rated story? About taking some deformed baby and locking him up? And if it was true, and this poor guy had been locked up in there for decades, and someone threw in a perfectly good woman, what the hell do you think he'd do with her? Play Parcheesi?"

  "You've corrupted my story."

  "Believe me, it was corrupted long before I got hold of it."

  As we rounded the corner, I looked up and stopped. Looming above us, embraced by threads of fog, was Glamis Castle.

  "Holy shit," I whispered. "You know, when I hear stories like that, about hidden rooms, I always think they're obviously bullshit. How can you have a room and not know about it? But with a place like this...? I bet you could have a dozen of them." I looked the castle over again. "It's supposed to be haunted? Doesn't surprise me. Hell, I wouldn't mind hanging out here for a while. Is there a dungeon?"

  "No, just a crypt."

  "That'll do. But I don't see the Nix as the sightseeing type. She's after something here, but there's a hell of a lot of here to search. Did Sullivan's vision give you any clues?"

  "Just random snippets of various castle rooms."

  "Like she was looking for something."

  He nodded. "And I suspect she's come and gone."

  "Meaning we're probably looking, not for the Nix, but for what drew her here. Could be a wild-goose chase. But if the castle's haunted, then it's likely related to--"

  "Well, that's the thing. It isn't haunted."

  "Huh?"

  "One hundred percent spook-free."

  I frowned. "Places this old are always haunted. Maybe not 'moaning specters and clanging chains' haunted, but with real ghosts. The ones caught between dimensions and the ones who just like to soak up a little spooky atmosphere."

  "Normally that's true. But not here."

  "Why not?"

  Trsiel shook his head. "I have no idea. One of the ascendeds was assigned to investigate it last century, but then something more important came up, and he was never sent back. Nothing bad ever happens here. No unexplained murders. No demonic activity. No real reason to investigate further. If haunters don't want to set up shop here, well, that's not a bad thing. We have enough trouble with them as it is."