Spirit Prophecy (The Gateway Trilogy Book 2) (22 page)

“But I want him here,” Hannah said quickly, sliding off the bed and moving toward Milo, who sunk down through the mantle to stand next to her. “Can’t he stay, please?”

“No! This is…I don’t even know how this is possible, unless…” Celeste’s voice trailed away as she looked back and forth between Hannah and Milo with dawning comprehension. She turned back over her shoulder. “Peyton, thank you for alerting me to your concerns, you may go now.”

“But what’s going on? Is there something wrong with the wards?” Peyton asked, clearly fishing for information.

“No, the wards are fine. I’ll handle things from here. Please return to your room. It is nearly curfew and you’ve had a big night tonight,”

Celeste said.

Peyton managed a shadow of a respectful smile and walked back down toward her room.

“Milo, Hannah, I need you to come with me to Finvarra’s chambers,”

Celeste said.

“What? Now?” Hannah asked in a panicky voice. “Why?”

“Because she will need to know about the fact that Milo can enter here. It may be a very significant fact, and I’m sure she will want to speak to you both about it,” Celeste said.

“Well, if they’re going, so am I!” I insisted.

Celeste seemed about to argue, but then changed her mind. She nodded solemnly. “Yes, I think you should, Jessica. This will affect you as well.”

“What will affect me?”

“Are we in some kind of trouble?” Milo asked.

“No,” Celeste assured us. “No, you aren’t in trouble.”

“So then why —”

“Finvarra will be able to answer your questions far better than I will. Please come with me.” And she started briskly down the hallway without another word of explanation.

Milo, Hannah and I looked warily at each other, and then followed her out in anxious silence. Whatever Celeste said to the contrary, it certainly felt like we were in trouble. I had a visceral flashback to St. Matt’s, when Professor Marshall had ordered me out of her classroom and straight to Dean Finndale’s office. I’d felt just the same way I felt now: nervous and completely wrong-footed. I glanced sideways at Hannah. Her face was utterly drained of color, and her fingers were searching the air next to her for the cold comfort of Milo’s. However much I couldn’t stand Milo, I was grateful for the calming effect he had on Hannah. They’d been through so much together, and I cringed at the thought of Hannah trying to cope at Fairhaven Hall without him.

We followed Celeste up the tightly winding staircase of the North Tower, the loaded silence broken only by our ragged breathing and echoing footsteps. Just as I thought I couldn’t trudge up another step, we reached a small circular landing facing an arched wooden door which was covered from top to bottom in beautifully carved and painted runes. I just had time to recognize the same eye symbol that adorned our door before Celeste grasped the brass knocker and sent three loud knocks resounding through the tower.

Before the echoes had even faded, the ghost of a man floated through the door and planted himself firmly before it. I knew at once he had been one of the Caomhnóir in life; he appeared in the same uniform as the sworn members, the dark coat and pointed leather boots obvious even in his transient state. He glared at Celeste, arms crossed, but his expression melted into one of surprise when his eyes fell on us.

“What can I do for you? Finvarra is occupied with correspondence,” he said.

“I’m sorry to disturb her, Carrick, but there is a situation here I think she needs to be made aware of,” Celeste said, gesturing to us. I tried to calm my panting as Carrick looked us over. I recognized him right away as the ghost that had been with Finvarra during her welcome speech on our very first night. He had been tall and imposing in life, with a prominent nose and long, dark hair tied back in a ponytail. He was staring at me with such intensity that I had to look away.

“These are the Ballard girls, aren’t they? What’s going on, then? What kind of situation?” Carrick’s voice, still professional in tone, betrayed a hint of something else; was it alarm? He shifted his weight slightly, blocking the door from our sight more completely.

“It is not so much a situation with the girls, as it is a situation between Hannah and this ghost. This is Milo, and he arrived with them a few days ago. It seems that Hannah and Milo might be…Bound,” Celeste said.

Carrick’s sternly crossed arms fell to his sides. “Oh, I see. Well, that’s…Celeste, come inside and explain to her. I think you’re right, I think she will want to see them to be sure.”

Celeste stepped forward, yanked forcefully on the heavy wooden door and disappeared behind it. We stood awkwardly in the hallway under Carrick’s piercing gaze as the seconds ticked by. I could just make out the cadences of conversation on the other side of the door.

“What are you…that is to say, how are you both?” Carrick asked. He looked uncomfortable, like most of the Caomhnóir when they spoke directly to one of us.

“Nervous,” I said, shifting from foot to foot. “I don’t suppose you can tell us what’s going on? Or at least if we’re about to get thrown out of here?”

“Why would you be thrown out?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Celeste won’t tell us anything.” I said, a bit louder than I’d intended.

“What did she mean, when she said Milo and I are bound?” Hannah asked, a plea in her voice.

Carrick fixed her with a look that I knew well. It was full of sadness and pity, a look that clearly said he knew all about Hannah’s history. “I am very sorry, but is not my place,” he said. “Finvarra will explain, if it really is true.”

My eyes darted anxiously around and fell on the door to the office again, where the same rune that adorned our door had been carved amidst an intricate design of other runes and symbols.

“Wait, she’s got that rune on her door, too!” I said, pointing. “

Finvarra’s office is protected by many runes. Which do you refer to?” Carrick asked, looking over his shoulder.

“The one that stands for the ward, that creepy one with the eye that’s supposed to keep ghosts out.”

Carrick nodded in acknowledgment. “Yes.”

“But you just came through that door,” I said.

Carrick nodded again.

“Well, it obviously doesn’t do what Celeste thinks it does, if Milo can get through our door and you can get through that one!” I said.

“It isn’t quite as simple as that,” Carrick said, and smiled at us. The expression looked strange on his face, as though his muscles didn’t quite know what to do. It was the first time I’d seen any of the Caomhnóir smile. “Just be patient. I’m sure they will be right with you, and then all will be made clear.”

We waited. Standing guard before the door, Carrick looked almost alive, but for an odd shimmer around his outline that I had come to recognize as one of the hallmarks of a ghost’s appearance. It was like looking at a photograph of something astonishing, only to realize that it had been photoshopped, that something about the light and the shadow didn’t quite match up, leaving it with a slightly surreal appearance.

“We were all…pleased to see your clan represented here again,” Carrick said. Something about his features was familiar; I thought it must be the way he kept his eyes trained away from us when he spoke, which seemed to be another Caomhnóir trademark. “You have a long and illustrious history at Fairhaven, as I’m sure you will learn.”

“Pleased is not the general vibe we’re getting, actually,” I said. “People around here seem much more interested in recent history than anything else.”

Carrick nodded grimly. “Yes, quite so. Still, I was glad to hear that everything was resolved. I’m sure it will get better.”

“Right. Thanks,” I said.

Carrick looked relieved, as though this awkward attempt at conversation with an unknown Durupinen had gone better than he’d expected, and lapsed into stodgy silence. Finally, after an agonizingly long few minutes, the door behind him shuddered and creaked open into a candlelit office.

Finvarra stood silhouetted in the moonlight streaming through her open window, her hair a silver cascade down her back. I was struck, as I had been the first time I’d seen her, with the power she seemed to exude, an undefinable aura that demanded respect, even awe. She gestured us in as we hesitated in the doorway.

“Please, come in,” she said.

Carrick stepped back to let us through. Still feeling like an unruly eight year old in the principal’s office, I shuffled in, Hannah and Milo just behind me. Hannah and I sat down in the chairs to which Finvarra was pointing, Milo hovering off of Hannah’s shoulder like a bizarre ghostly parrot.

“I’ve been meaning to talk with you both,” Finvarra said, her face still obscured in the long shadows the moon was throwing across her. “Hannah, we have spoken briefly, of course, regarding your gift. But everything has been so busy, preparing for the start of the fall term, that I was quite overwhelmed with other matters. I apologize we haven’t met sooner, Jessica.”

“That’s okay,” I said, when Hannah proved incapable of speaking. She was watching Finvarra as though the woman were pointing a weapon at her.

“First, I wanted to say that I am very sorry about the circumstances under which you discovered your legacy. You have both suffered needlessly, especially you, Hannah. I hope you will believe me when I tell you that we did everything in our power to find you both, and to rectify the situation,” Finvarra said. As she walked toward us, the shadows rose across her like long, caressing fingers.

I didn’t trust myself to say anything polite to her about our “situation”; I was still too angry about everything we’d been through. Luckily, she didn’t seem to require, or even expect, a response, and went on.

“I had to make many difficult decisions where the two of you were concerned, and I know that the consequences have been trying to deal with. But we knew that the most important thing was to find you both, and to restore the order to the Gateways and to the Durupinen at large. Only when you’ve been trained and educated can you learn to deal with the gifts you’ve inherited. I hope that you are settling in alright?”

An honest answer to that question would have taken too long and sounded much too disrespectful, so instead I trusted myself to reply with a stiff, “Yes, thank you.”

“It is a big adjustment, I know, but you will grow accustomed to our ways and to your new responsibilities. It simply takes time,” she said. She smiled for the first time, a subtle but pleasant expression. “We are here though, to discuss another matter, and that, as I’m sure you gathered, is Milo.”

Hannah squirmed in her chair. “What about him?”

“We need to talk about why he’s here, and why he can get through the wards into your room. He shouldn’t have been able to follow you here to begin with, not without great difficulty, and he most certainly should not be able to enter the warded areas of the castle,” Finvarra said.

“But there are lots of ghosts here. Hundreds of them — some of them have been here for centuries, and you’ve let them stay here. Please don’t make him leave,” Hannah said, her voice rising to a panicked squeak.

“I’m not leaving her, so if that’s what you want, you can just forget it,” Milo said, wrapping an arm around Hannah’s quivering shoulders. “Where she goes, I go. That’s just the way it is.”

“Exactly,” Finvarra said, still smiling. “Put yourselves at ease, both of you. We are not asking you to separate. In fact, it seems that that would be impossible at this point.”

“Damn straight,” Milo muttered.

Finvarra went on as though she hadn’t heard the profanity. “I’d like to discover the nature of the connection between you. You do agree, Hannah, that you feel more connected to Milo than you do to the other ghosts with whom you come into contact?”

Hannah seemed to relax for the first time since entering the room. “Yes. But it’s different. I didn’t just know him when he was a ghost. We were friends when he was alive, too.”

“Best friends,” Milo added.

“Yes, you certainly have more of an emotional connection, that’s natural,” Finvarra said. “But I want you to think for a moment about the way your connection
feels
. Try to separate, if you can, the history you and Milo had together in life, and concentrate instead on the physical and mental sensations of interacting with him now.”

Hannah’s brow furrowed. “I … oh. Yes, I think I understand what you mean.”

“What? What is it?” I asked.

“Well, with the other ghosts, I only feel their presence when they’re near me. I mean, physically near me. But with Milo —it’s like I can always feel him.” She looked up at Finvarra. “Is that what you’re talking about?”

“Precisely. And has it always been that way between the two of you, since Milo has taken this form?” Finvarra asked.

“Yes.”

“I see,” Finvarra said, a finger tracing her lips thoughtfully. “And you, Milo. This may seem intrusive, as what I am about to ask you is of a very personal nature. I apologize about prying into what may be quite painful living memories, but I must do so in order to illuminate this situation further.”

“That’s okay,” Milo said with a shrug.

“Would you please tell me the nature of your death? How it came about, and also any role that Hannah may have played in it?”