Spirit Prophecy (The Gateway Trilogy Book 2) (31 page)

“Right. Well, call me if there are any other incidents. I mean it, Jess, I want to know about it.”

“I know you do,” I said. “That’s why I called. I’ll talk to you soon.”

I hung up, grabbed my bag and a handful of tissues, and headed down to the courtyard. It was completely deserted except —

Finn Carey was sitting in our circle, face buried in his usual journal, scribbling away. I stopped abruptly at the sight of him, and was just about to turn and flee when he looked up and saw me. I cursed inwardly, knowing it would be rude to leave now that he’d seen me, and started for the circle. He stared at me all the way across the courtyard, like some bizarre apparition was approaching him instead of just me, clutching my ball of wadded-up tissues.

“Hey,” I said as I sat down.

“Hey, yourself,” he replied, finally taking his eyes off me and returning to his book.

“You’re early,” I said.

“So are you,” he said. He crossed out a word vehemently and kept writing.

“Yeah. I didn’t think anyone else would be here.”

“Me too,” he said, in a tone that implied he wished he’d been right.

I decided to stop talking and leave him to his…whatever he was doing. I thought about pulling out my sketchpad, but I didn’t like the idea of him seeing my work —it felt too personal. So I just sat, letting my mind wander over the gardens, sniffling occasionally. But then I glanced in his direction and noticed that he was staring at me again.

“What?” I snapped, a little too harshly.

He looked startled that I’d caught him. “I, uh…I was just going to ask how you are —you know, after last night.”

“Oh,” I said. “I’m fine. I mean, we both caught this nasty cold, but otherwise we’re okay.”

He looked surprised. “Oh, I see. You’re sick.”

“Yes, of course I’m sick,” I said, holding up the tissues. “What did you think I…” And then I broke off, as I realized what I must look like: red, runny nose, puffy eyes, expression of general misery. “Did you…did you think I’d been crying?”

Finn shrugged, his eyes back on his book.

“I heard that you told Peyton that Hannah was the one who got you both out of there,” he said, picking at a patch of grass that had sprung stubbornly up from between the cobblestones.

“What? Oh, yeah, we did,” I said, frowning.

“What did you do that for?”

“Are you offended?” I asked.

“Why would I be offended?”

“Well, you were the one that got us out of there. Will it boost your Caomhnóir street cred if everyone knows about it?”

“Will it boost my what?” Finn asked, scowling.

I shook my head, laughing. “Nothing. It was just a joke.”

“Oh,” he said, not even cracking a smile, and I thought how odd it would look if he actually had. “It doesn’t matter to me if you tell them I was involved or not. Come to think of it, it might make things easier for me if Peyton and Olivia don’t know that I helped you. I just wondered why you lied about it.”

“We thought it might help keep them off our backs, if they thought Hannah was powerful enough to get us out of there herself.”

Finn nodded. “Yeah, I expect that will work for a while.”

We sat in silence for a minute or so. Then he spoke again, so abruptly that it startled me and I dropped my tissues, which started tumbling across the ground in the breeze.

“So is she?”

“Is who what?” I asked, snatching at a passing tissue. Finn reached a hand out automatically for it. “Don’t touch that!” I shouted at him. “I already…that’s not clean. Please, just…I’ll get it.”

My face was scarlet with mortification; the idea that this guy was actually going to rescue my used tissue from its blustery fate was almost more embarrassment than I could handle.

“What did you ask me?” I asked, when all of the tissues were clutched safely back in my fist.

“I wanted to know if your sister —”

“Hannah.”

“I know,” he said brusquely. “I wanted to know if Hannah really is powerful enough to do that.”

The question surprised me, and I was torn about how to answer it. But I decided that Finn would shortly see far too much of our spirit interactions to keep any sort of lid on Hannah’s abilities, and, as much as I hated to admit it, it actually was his business.

“She couldn’t get out of that circle or break other people’s castings, or anything like that, but when it comes to Calling, she’s really powerful. The spirits can’t seem to resist her when she Calls them.”

“What does that mean for you?” he asked.

That pulled me up short. “I don’t really know,” I said. “I guess I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Finn nodded, and then returned to his book. I hadn’t really thought about it, but I was sure as hell thinking about it now. What would it mean for me that Hannah was a human ghost magnet? Would our lives be a constant stream of unwanted visitors and emergency Crossings? Since I’d first started seeing spirits, I’d had days that I’d felt haunted and days that I could pretend I was normal, not a ghost in sight. But for Hannah, who’d never known life any other way, normal was a life among the dead. Was my sister’s constant communion with the dead about to be my new normal? I pressed the palms of my hands against my eyes and sighed. I was too sick and too exhausted for pondering big life questions today.

I heard Finn’s tentative voice. “Are you —”

“Still not crying,” I muttered.

“Right.”

The rest of the class trickled in until the courtyard was full again. Hannah plopped down beside me looking half-dead.

“How is it only two o’clock?” she whimpered. “I don’t know, but I’m going to be adhering to the senior citizen schedule tonight,” I said, handing her one of my clean tissues as she sneezed loudly. “Early bird special for dinner and asleep by seven.”

“I’ll be joining you,” Hannah said, wiping her nose. “Hi, Finn.”

Finn didn’t even look up. He raised a hand in acknowledgment and continued with his scribbling.

“What do you think he’s doing with that book?” Hannah leaned in and whispered to me.

“Penning his memoir? 1001 Awkward Social Interactions with Finn Carey?” I suggested. Hannah burst out in a giggle that quickly disintegrated into a hacking cough. I patted her arm in sympathy.

“Settle down, settle down, everyone, please,” Keira said, and the class came to order. “Today we will be starting our foray into actual spirit communication. As you know, our grounds play host to an impressive number of spirits. This is particularly useful for an activity such as this, which depends upon the proximity of spirits to be successful.”

“Unless, of course, you’re a Caller and can just pluck one out of thin air from a hundred miles away,” I whispered to Hannah.

“I can’t do it from a hundred miles away,” she said dismissively.

“Yet,” I said.

“Our relaxation and concentration exercises thus far have built the foundational skills needed to establish clear and detailed communication. It is now time to put them into effect and see how well you can commune with the dead. These books which I am now going to hand out to you are spirit journals. You are to document, in as much detail as you can, your conversations with and observations about the spirits you encounter. The quality of your interactions will improve with concentration and practice.”

Keira handed me a book with a plain blue fabric cover. I flipped through the blank white pages, marveling that I was about to start filling it with encounters of ghosts I’d communicated with on purpose. Seriously, what was my life becoming?

“Caomhnóir, your task during these sessions will be to practice your mood reading,” Keira went on. “A big part of your ability to protect your Gateway is being able to sense danger before it happens. A spirit’s energy, when correctly read and interpreted, can be an important clue to the nature of an interaction before it even occurs.”

Finn had finally tucked away his book and pen. He was listening intently to Keira’s instructions.

“Novitiates will allow spirits to approach and enter the circle, please. Only when you sense hostility should you expel. Apprentices, it is important that you work together with your Caomhnóir. Talk to each other. Listen to each other. Only when we are clear and honest can we work together successfully.”

Finn caught my eye. He wore the stoic but determined look of someone about to face an oncoming enemy horde. Irrational resentment flooded through me. Of course I didn’t want to work with him either, couldn’t care less what he thought, but…did he need to look quite that miserable?

“Excellent,” Keira said, handing out the last of the books and clapping her hands together. “Apprentices, you will need to work one at a time in your circles. Two Durupinen presences within the circle may muddle the strength of your connection or confuse approaching spirits. Decide who will go first in each pair, and let’s begin. Casting instructions are on page 394 of your textbooks.”

Hannah and I looked at each other. “You can go first,” I told her.

“Okay,” she shrugged, and I scooted out of the circle to give her space. I followed along in the textbook as she worked through the steps of the casting, which was one of the more complicated ones we had attempted so far. She carefully drew six different runes around the perimeter of our circle; each sent a queer shiver of energy through the space as it was completed. Then she took three round agate stones from the pouch and spoke slowly and carefully through six lines of ancient Gaelic as she placed them in a neat row in front of her. Keira hovered nearby, listening and nodding her head.

“Very nice pronunciation, Hannah,” she said with an approving smile.

Hannah smiled, turning pink. Then she closed her book and turned to Finn.

“I’m ready to start, Finn. Are you all set?”

Finn grunted his readiness. Hannah closed her eyes. Within seconds she was murmuring to someone and Finn was shaking his head.

“She’s quick, I’ll give her that,” he muttered.

I looked around the courtyard. A few people were still completing their castings, and though many eyes were closed and concentrating, Hannah was the only one to have made contact already. Other Apprentices waiting their turns were staring aimlessly around or else flipping through their books. One by one, the Apprentices in the circles began murmuring to companions unseen. Here and there, a figure shimmered into view or materialized into a fully visible apparition, but for the most part they remained invisible, choosing to reveal themselves only to the object of their communication. An energy, hard to define, built in the courtyard, a sort of mental vibration, a humming beyond the range of actual hearing.

After about thirty minutes or so, Keira called out softly, “Time to switch places. Please end your communication, and Novitiates, prepare for expulsion by mutual consent.”

Hannah’s spirit said something that made her laugh softly, and then I heard her murmur, “Beannacht leat go bhfeicfidh mé aris thú,” and she opened her eyes. She collected her three agate stones, dropped them back in her pouch, and grinned at me.

“Tag, you’re it!” she told me, and tried to stand up. “Ouch, my foot’s asleep!”

I helped to pull her out of the circle, and she sat on the grass, trying to massage some feeling back into her numb foot while I took her place. The runes were already drawn, so I flipped my book open to the casting and looked for the next step.

I read the instructions carefully, then fished around in my own pouch for my agate stones. They were smooth and polished, layered in brown and gold stripes that reminded me of the rock formations from our roadtrips through the southwest when I was small. I laid the stones in a straight line on the edge of the nearest rune, which I knew from homework was called ‘ansuz,’ and facilitated communication, revelation, and knowledge. It looked a bit like a letter “F” that had been bent at strange angles. Then I stumbled through the words that opened the casting, which consisted mostly of Old English. I knew I was butchering it, but my brain and mouth were refusing to cooperate.

I looked up and saw Hannah’s mouth twitching as she wrote in her journal.

“You better be laughing at something in that book,” I said, and she smiled more broadly, still not looking at me.

I turned away from her to see Finn staring at me as well.

“Can I help you?” I snapped.

“I can’t start my casting until you’ve finished yours,” he said. “Are you finished?”

It took two more cracks at the Old English before I pronounced it correctly enough to open the circle properly. I felt the moment it buzzed to life, as did Finn, who immediately began his own work. Finally, we were ready to start. I closed my eyes and cleared my mind, reaching into the mental space around me, searching for a spirit who might be attempting to connect.

I searched. I searched some more. Nothing.

Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I opened my eyes and looked around the courtyard. Everyone was deep in communication now; everyone, that was, except for me. It was like being the last one picked in gym class, a social stigma I had quite a bit of experience with, since I was always the new kid. I closed my eyes again, pushed aside my middle school emotional trauma, and reached outward. The minutes ticked by. Nothing.