Tess let out a shrill battle cry and tried to attack it from the side. Lee reached out a desperate arm to try to pull her back, though it wouldn’t have done anything, given that she wasn’t in his mystic stream. The specter slapped Tess hard across the face, knocking her onto her butt. It pulled back its leg, readying a kick, and then stopped.
“Theresa?” said the specter. “Theresa Holloway, is that you?”
Tess’s mouth fell open in surprise and horror.
“Robert?”
The specter laughed, and it was a cruel, biting noise. Lee forced his body to move despite its objections and tried to hurl himself onto the entity for the killing strike. The ghost blurred again, hitting Lee with punches from both arms that left most of his abdomen useless and seemingly frozen.
“If you want to die that badly, so be it!” snapped the specter as it moved to stand over Lee.
It was a real threat, a dangerous one. Lee couldn’t remember the last time he’d encountered a specter that had managed to get the better of him. He tried to lift his kris dagger for a defensive strike, but even that small movement seemed impossibly difficult.
A muffled bang sounded on the air behind him, followed by two more. The specter flinched from each one, clutching its hands over its chest as, unbelievably, ethereal blood began to spill from intangible bullet wounds. It collapsed to the ground next to Lee, blinking in confusion.
Lee reached his hand over to banish the entity through absorption, not wanting to take any chances. Tess grabbed his wrist before he could.
“Don’t!” she pleaded. “Please… just let him dissipate. Please?”
It was only then that Lee noticed the tears in her eyes and the desperation in her voice. He nodded slowly, though he wanted nothing so much as to finish the specter off, especially after seeing the pain it had triggered in Tess.
Lee watched as the entity began to lose its overall form, fading into the wind like a smoke ring in the breeze. After a couple of seconds, the specter ceased to be.
He lifted his head in the direction the gunshots had come from and saw Keitaro Fujino walking slowly toward him and holstering a pistol.
CHAPTER 11
Lee could kind of see where Toma was coming from about his brother. Kei looked almost annoyingly cool, with his polished belt buckle, rolled-up sleeves, accidentally undone top shirt buttons, and leather pistol holster. Kei reached a hand down to help Lee to his feet, which he appreciated, and then pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
He offered him one, which Lee refused. With a small shrug, Kei lit his own cigarette off a Marilyn Monroe stylized zippo, which Lee already knew he didn’t need to light it, and took a long drag. He exhaled slowly, folding one arm underneath his elbow and staring at where the specter had been. He didn’t say anything at first, but even that felt weighty and purposeful.
“Shinigami,” said Kei, after what felt like an eternity.
“What?” asked Lee.
“You. I did not expect to find a shinigami here, of all places. Very fortunate.”
Lee quirked an eyebrow and shot a glance at Tess, who shrugged.
“You have a partner, too?” asked Kei. “You are powerful indeed, then. Right here, no?”
He pointed a finger at Tess, who seemed to tense at the small amount of attention. Lee chewed his lower lip for a moment before nodding slowly. Lying to Kei seemed pointless and a little rude after how he’d just had his life saved.
“Yeah, she’s right there,” said Lee. “I don’t understand, though. Are you a mystic, too? Is that how you shot the specter? Silver bullets, I take it?”
Kei didn’t answer him immediately. Instead, he leaned forward, offering Tess a low, respectful bow. She blinked a couple of times and then burst into embarrassed giggles.
“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, honorable kami-san,” said Kei.
“Alright, you’re going to have to do some explaining,” said Lee. “Who are you, other than Toma’s brother?”
Kei took another drag off his cigarette. “You are right to ask, and at least partially right in your suspicions. I am much like you. I am a demon hunter, one raised in Shinto tradition. I can sense kami, ghosts, as you call them, but not see them in detail as a shinigami does.”
“You didn’t come to Primhaven by chance, did you?”
“This is true,” said Kei. “I came here to serve as your instructor, yes, but only because it put me in closer proximity to the lich Yylex. I have been hunting Yylex for over a year now, but he is an elusive abomination. If you would be so willing, Mr. Amaranth, I would welcome your assistance.”
Kei dipped his head slightly as he waited for Lee’s answer, and the posture telegraphed a surprising amount of respect. It was refreshing to have an instructor who seemed to treat him as a proper equal after spending so much time dealing with Harper and Mattis.
“I’ll do what I can, but it might not be as much as you’re hoping for,” he said. “I’m a student here. I have a midterm coming up. I know how trivial that must sound, but if I don’t pass…”
He trailed off, feeling hesitant to even say it out loud.
“The Cropping,” said Kei. “I have heard of this. It would be most unfortunate for one of your power and ability to be forced into such a barbaric ritual.”
“Exactly.”
“Whatever help you can provide would still be most appreciated,” said Kei. “The entity we faced tonight was one of Yylex’s minions. He has many more, a small army, not just kami, but kyonshi, the living dead, as well.”
Lee nodded, feeling a certain amount of professional responsibility, if nothing else. He looked over at Tess. She was frowning, and her arms were hugging the sides of her shoulders.
“I’ll do what I can.”
***
Lee and Tess were silent as they made their way back to his dorm. Toma and Jenna were absent, which felt like winning a modest-sized lottery jackpot after experiencing their friction earlier in the day.
Lee pulled Tess into his mystic stream and put an arm around her as they sat down on his bed. He waited, not wanting to push her into opening up about what the specter had said, but desperately wanting more context.
“Do you want to talk about anything?” he asked.
“No,” whispered Tess. “Yes. It’s… hard for me.”
“Take your time,” said Lee. “If it’s related to your past or something that happened before we met, trust me, Tess, I’m not going to judge you for it.”
She nodded and said nothing. As much as Lee felt like he understood her, he knew that he didn’t, that he literally couldn’t. Tess had lived and died before he’d even been born. Whatever struggles she’d been through, trauma she’d endured, secrets she’d carried, it was all part of a world that he had nothing to do with.
“It’s only coming back to me in flashes,” said Tess. “I’ve been a ghost for a while, Lee. Most of my memories, especially those related to my death, are all fuzzy and weird. But seeing Robert brought back, well, at least a few of them.”
“Was he someone, er, special to you?”
“He was a gigantic asshole,” said Tess. “Look, it’s not something I’m going to be able to talk about. But if you really wanted… I could show you what I’ve remembered so far.”
“Show me?”
“The same way you can see memories from the ghosts you absorb,” said Tess. “I could show you some of my memories from the time when I was at Primhaven. Since we’ve made a pact, you don’t have to absorb me to see them.”
“If you’re comfortable with it, sure. I want to understand you better, Tess. I care about you.”
He took her hands into his and looked into her eyes. Tess blushed as he met her gaze, and a shy smile crept onto her face.
“What I’ve remembered so far isn’t dramatic, just so you know,” she whispered. “Maybe it can help with the hunt for this lich, but it might also be totally unrelated.”
She leaned in closer to Lee. He cupped her cheek and
kissed her softly, feeling a surge of emotion in his throat and chest. He felt the sudden urge to wrap his arms around her and shield her from anything and everything that might make her cry.
“Ready?” she whispered.
“I’m ready.”
Tess leaned her forehead against his. Lee released his mystic stream, feeling a tickling chill run through him at the contact he was making with her ethereal body. Tess brought her hand up to the side of Lee’s head, then gently thrust her fingers inside.
CHAPTER 12
Theresa kept her eyes on the floor as she hurried down the Seruna Center’s hallway. It was lunchtime, and most students were eating in the dining hall. She’d already dropped by to pick up her food early and was now headed to her usual table.
Food was forbidden in the library, but the soft-spoken librarian, Mrs. Cromwell, had taken pity on her and made an exception after the third or fourth time she’d sneaked a meal by the checkout desk. Mrs. Cromwell wasn’t in the library on this particular day. Tess hurried to the backmost corner of the chamber, setting her tray down on a small desk that was hidden mostly from view by a bookshelf that ran alongside it.
She exhaled, letting out a breath that she felt like she’d been holding in all day. The library was safe. The library was quiet. The library didn’t force her to undergo the walk of shame, moving from table to table with the knowledge that nobody would invite her to sit down. Even the smell of old, dusty books had grown on her over the weeks.
Tess pulled her grilled cheese sandwich apart and took a small bite. She’d brought a book with her to read, and she relaxed as she opened it. With her class already out of the way for the morning, she could hide out in the library, reading and studying, until it was late enough for her to make it back to her dorm and head straight to sleep.
A few minutes went by in comfortable, almost-sacred silence, before the library door opened and several people entered who clearly lacked an understanding of the chamber’s purpose. Tess tried to ignore their laughter and loud talking, even as it made its way through the aisles, drawing closer and closer to her cozy, private corner.
She turned a page in her book, trying to lose herself back in its spell. The new arrivals went quiet, and for a few grateful seconds, Tess let herself hope that they’d settled in or moved on.
One of the heavy reference tomes on the shelf behind her suddenly tipped loose from its perch, falling forward onto the desk and everything it contained. Tomato soup splattered everywhere, staining both the pages of her book and the lap of her blue cotton dress.
Laughter erupted from the aisle behind Tess. She tried her best at damage control, holding the bowl to the side of the table and attempting to sweep the dripping soup back into it. Her face burned with shame, which quickly edged toward anger as she heard the footsteps of her tormenters circle around into her private space.
“Oh heavens, Theresa!” said one of the girls. “What an unfortunate mess you’ve made! You should really be more careful.”
Tess wanted to shout at them. She wanted to fling the bowl into their faces. She wanted to at least say something, but she didn’t trust her voice not to crack and waver.
“She really is Tasty Theresa now,” said Robert. “Maybe James and his friends fancy another few goes at her?”
Lies. She’d almost been normal, before the lies had begun, that one in particular. James had been her crush, one of the few popular, handsome American boys that seemed to have maintained a measure of empathy into his teenage years. She’d written him a note, invited him to meet her in the orchard. It had just been a note. How had everything gone so wrong?
“Nobody has had a go at me,” managed Tess. “Why can’t you people just—”
“Just what?” asked Jane. “We thought you liked this sort of thing. Didn’t one of the boys eat a fruit slice off your, ahem, unmentionables?”
The group of them laughed. Tess bowed her head, feeling worse than she had in a very long time.
“What’s going on here?”
The curt, no-nonsense voice of one of Primhaven’s instructors cut into the scene like a skate across fresh ice. Tess’s tormenters all turned their attention toward the various bookshelves as though they’d just happened to take up studying the same topic at the same time. Instructor Lewis strode forward, frowning as he took in the scene.
William Lewis had never been her favorite teacher. In many ways, he just seemed like an older version of James and the kind of boys that Tess had learned to be wary of. He was young for an Instructor, just over 30. He was scholarly in appearance, but he had the broad shoulders, strong arms, and messy hair of someone who didn’t seem suited for that trait.
“Hello, Instructor,” said Jane. “We’d just come looking for a quiet place to study when we found Theresa here making a mess of herself. I don’t believe food is normally allowed in the library. Clearly, this is why.”
Instructor Lewis let his gaze trace from Jane, to Robert, to the out-of-place book and spilled bowl, like a detective mentally time-stamping a crime scene. Tess took a small amount of joy in seeing her tormentors sweat. Not enough to make her forget the stain on her dress, but it was something.
“Head back to the dining hall, or wherever else you’re intending to be,” said Instructor Lewis, in a stern voice.
Robert and the girls left. Instructor Lewis muttered a few words that Tess couldn’t make out under his breath and shook his head. His expression turned pensive as he let his attention settle back on her and the soup-soiled desk.
“Theresa,” he said, gently. “I hope you’re aware that you can reach out to the faculty here if you need help. I know the rumors about you are just that: rumors. You’re a proper young lady. It’s not as though you’re required to suffer.”
Wasn’t she, though? Tattling on Robert and the others might earn them a temporary punishment, but that would only ensure that her harassment was that much more focused when it finally started back up again. Instructor Lewis seemed to read something from her silence, and the side of his mouth turned up into a crafty smile.
“Jane is correct about one thing,” he said. “Food is not allowed in the library. As punishment, I’d like for you to report to my office at lunch time for the rest of the week. You’ll be eating with me. So I can keep an eye on you.”
“With... you?”
“Here.” Lewis had a small paper bag with him and he reached into it, pulling out half of a sandwich. “For today. It’s corned beef on rye bread.”
***
Tess felt nervous as she knocked on Instructor Lewis’s closed office door. As the school’s conjuration teacher, his lessons had always been comprehensive; he was fair but rather demanding when it came to academic standards. She was good at conjuration and had maintained a decent grade, but it was hard to not expect his high expectations to bleed over into interactions outside of class.
“Come in,” called Lewis.
She’d never been inside his office before and was taken aback at what lay on the other side of the door. Painted tribal masks with intricate manes made of dried straw and coconut husks hung from the walls. A rusted spear with a single strand of gold wound around its haft was leaned against the coat rack in the corner. A sweet-smelling smoke wafted on the air, almost like burning sugar, but with a fruity undertone.
“Theresa,” said Lewis. “Please, come in. Have a seat. You don’t mind the incense, do you? I brought a few pounds of it back with me after spending time with the Kerengi people in Africa, along the Gold Coast.”
“It’s fine.” Tess shifted nervously. She’d brought her food tray with her and felt awkward just standing there holding it.
“Have a seat,” said Lewis. “Relax. I hope you didn’t take my punishment the wrong way. I know what it’s like, Tess. Do you mind if I call you Tess?”
She smiled and shook her head, taking the seat next to him.
“I had my own struggles during my school years, trust me on that,” said Lewis. “I don’t understand why some p
eople are so cruel.”
It felt strange, just listening to him talk, but Theresa felt suddenly shy in the presence of her kind, worldly teacher. She let her gaze meander around the room as she started eating, eventually settling on a strange piece of art. A scene drawn in red-and-black paint portrayed a man lying underneath a flayed, bleeding body, his eyes blazing bright as the life fluid of the dying man dripped onto his naked flesh.
“Grisly scene, to be sure,” said Lewis, noticing the object of her attention. “That one is from an ancient Moche excavation site in Eastern Peru. My former master, Richard Hornbell, made the study of them his life’s work. Their culture was heavily intertwined with shamanic sorcery, dark rituals, human sacrifice, that sort of thing.”
“Like necromancy?” whispered Tess.
Lewis chuckled and gave a wry shrug. “Yes, like necromancy. Not the best topic of conversation for lunch, I’m sure.”
“I don’t mind.”
Instructor Lewis hesitated in a manner that made it seem as though he’d been waiting a very long time to have someone willing to listen to what he had to say on the topic.
“The Order of Chaldea forbids research into necromancy,” said Lewis. “They have their reasons, some of them justified. My master had to toe a very careful line in how he applied for research funding and resources. He wasn’t a bad man. He did great work with the remaining tribes in Peru, the last few descendants of the Moche, helping them build their communities and live better lives.”
“What happened to him?” asked Tess.
Lewis shrugged. “To this day, nobody knows. That painting was one of the few items of his I managed to recover. There was also a book that he began, a record of some of the oral traditions of the Moche, but… well, I’ll let you see for yourself.”
Lewis was grinning as he made his way over to a small bookshelf and pulled out a dusty volume with yellow, wrinkled pages. Tess couldn’t help but smile, too. He set the book down in front of her and gestured for her to open it, which she did.
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