Spirit Prophecy (The Gateway Trilogy Book 2) (34 page)

“What the hell is that?” I asked.

“It’s the space between worlds. We don’t know what lies beyond the Gateway, what the final destination is, but we know there’s an in-between space where a spirit can become lost. That space is called the Aether, and if Marion and the others aren’t extremely careful, the energy they’re sapping could cause a spirit to become disorientated and weak. That spirit could become trapped between worlds, unsure of who he was or where he is meant to be. He may never reach his final destination.”

We sat in silence as the weight of this settled on us.

“That’s horrible. How could they risk that?”

“They placate their worries by telling themselves how unlikely it is. They convince themselves that they’re careful and controlled, and therefore that the risk to the spirits is minimal—an acceptable margin of error.”

“That’s disgusting,” Hannah said with a shudder.

“That’s Leeches, mate. That’s why they’ve got the name, and why the rest of us feel so strongly against what they do.”

“Well, that and the fact that we’re probably jealous as hell of how they look,” I said with a smirk. Mackie grinned. “Yeah, that’s most likely part of it, too.”

“How can Marion rake our family over the coals for breaking one rule when she and her friends are so obviously abusing another one? Isn’t she supposed to be all hardcore about Durupinen law?”

“Only when it’s convenient for her,” Mackie snorted. “Don’t forget, her family only came to its position because your family fell into disgrace. Of course she’s going to blow your issues out of proportion, look where it’s gotten her. But like all power-hungry fundamentalists, she’s a hypocrite at heart. They shout the loudest at other people’s transgressions so that no one will call attention to their own.”

I swallowed back the urge to punch something. “You know, Mack, I was really trying to give these people the benefit of the doubt. I told myself that I would try to understand where they were coming from with all this hostility. But now, between our date with the Elemental and this whole leech thing, I’m thinking I’m just going to screw that plan. Thoughts on that?”

Mackie chucked her apple core over her shoulder. “Brilliant! Come on, let’s head in. That took longer than I thought, it’s nearly curfew.”

We trudged back to the castle and started up the stairs. I felt fatigued, like I’d run full speed through all those lifetimes, and my legs ached in protest as we climbed flight after flight.

“I wonder why that last ghost didn’t cross,” Hannah said.

“What last ghost?”

“Didn’t you sense him? He was sort of off to the side, like he wasn’t sure yet if he wanted to go.”

“That’s not so surprising. It’s a big decision to make. Some of those ghosts felt hundreds of years old,” I said.

“I couldn’t get a really clear sense of him. I just kept hearing drumming.”

“Drumming? Like, music?”

“No, more of a steady repeated banging or knocking sound.”

I shrugged. “Well, he knows where to find us, whoever he is. Maybe he’ll cross next time. I’m sure he’ll let us know if he needs something.”

“I guess so. Anyway, that was much easier than last time, wasn’t it?”

I nodded. “Yup. Much less of a traffic jam. I’m just glad the feelings pass with them. Some of those were really intense.”

“Yes,” she said. “Mackie, is it more intense for you, being an Empath?”

Mackie shrugged. “I’ve never done it any other way, so I don’t know. But I think it must be. Brenna has felt fine within a few minutes both times we’ve performed a Crossing, but it takes a few hours for the effects to wear off for me. It’s almost like residual mood swings. If you hear someone sobbing in the bathroom later tonight, don’t worry about it. It’s just me, bawling my eyes out about someone else’s break-up or tragic end.”

She laughed it off, but as we parted for the night, I thought her usually buoyant stride was sagging a bit. Being an Empath, I thought, was probably a lot harder than she let on.

§

It was hard to believe that a practice like leeching could actually be going on, but as the day of Initiation crept closer, the evidence mounted. The signs were subtle at first; if Mackie hadn’t pointed them out, it would have taken a long time for me to pick up on it. Peyton, Olivia, and several of the other girls merely seemed to have a healthy glow, as though they had gotten a really good night’s sleep or spent some time in the fresh air. Then it became more pronounced; their skin seemed smoother and more even, lit from within, and their hair seemed thicker and shinier. And now that I knew why Marion and the others looked the way they did, I couldn’t stop staring at them when they were around.

Peyton was persistent in her attempts to befriend Hannah, and though Hannah continued to refuse, she did so more and more reluctantly. When the morning of the Initiation finally arrived, I came down to breakfast late, having slept in after another restless night of dreams starring the Silent Child. I stopped short in the doorway to find Hannah sitting with Peyton, Olivia, Róisín, and Riley. They were all chatting animatedly.

Olivia looked up and saw me standing there, and quickly rose. “We should get going. I’ve got to finish my paper before the Initiation tonight.”

The others took her lead, said goodbye to Hannah, and flounced past me out the door.

Hannah could barely meet my eye as I slid into the chair Peyton had just vacated.

“What’s going on, Hannah?” I asked.

She shrugged guiltily. “Nothing. They asked if I wanted to sit with them, and you weren’t here.”

“Are you all going to wear pink on Wednesdays?” I asked.

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” I said. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, Hannah. Don’t forget what those girls did to us just a couple of weeks ago.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Hannah said. “But they all apologized. Everyone makes mistakes. And you know, it might not be so bad, making friends with them.”

“Yeah, if you want to fraternize with the enemy and get tips in morally repugnant anti-aging regimens.”

“I just mean that it might make life easier around here, if we can all just get along.”

I looked at Hannah carefully. Her voice was casual, but she couldn’t disguise the hint of longing in it. For the first time in her life, the popular girls wanted to hang out with her, and that was no small thing after a lifetime of rejection and marginalization.

I tried to phrase my reply carefully. “I think we just need to be careful around them. That’s all I’m saying. We shouldn’t take it for granted that their intentions are good.”

“You didn’t like Lucida either, but she’s turned out to be a great mentor.”

I didn’t answer. Hannah came back from her mentoring sessions with Lucida every week, raving about how nice and helpful and encouraging she was. I was glad Hannah was happy, but I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop —in Lucida’s case, the other designer stiletto. I didn’t trust that woman as far as I could throw her, no matter what Hannah said. And the same was true of Peyton.

“It’s just that it would be nice to have friends.”

Ugh. Dagger right to the heart, with a nice little twist to make sure it went in nice and deep. “You’ve got Milo. And you’ve got me.”

“Milo’s a ghost. We can’t be friends the same way living people can.”

I snorted. “Don’t tell him that, he’ll kick your ass.”

Hannah smiled. “And you don’t count either.”

“Excuse me?” I crossed my arms, affronted.

“You’re my sister, you have to like me.”

“That is not true! I do not have to like you! Genetics is no guarantee of friendship. Look at Savannah and Phoebe! They’re first cousins and Savannah would cheerfully throttle Phoebe if she could get away with it. But I do like you, and I want to be your friend, sister or not.”

Hannah’s smile broadened into a grin. “I like you, too.”

§

Karen took the red eye and arrived bleary-eyed but smiling a couple of hours before lunch. Despite her exhaustion she went right into lawyer overdrive and interrogated us mercilessly about how the other Apprentices had been treating us since the Elemental slumber party. She took my attitude when she heard they were trying to get into our good books.

“If that Peyton is anything like her mother, you should watch her like a hawk,” she advised. “And from what I’ve seen so far the rotten apple didn’t fall far from the tree. When I alerted the Council to what those girls did to you, do you know what Marion said? ‘Girls will be girls’.” Karen said, in an excellent imitation of Marion’s condescending tone. “She didn’t even sound surprised, which just confirms the fact she probably suggested the whole thing.”

There wasn’t a lot of time to discuss it. Karen went off to meet with our mentors, sort of like the Durupinen version of parent-teacher conferences, and Hannah and I went to get ready for the Initiation, which consisted of changing into our ceremonial whites and our clan garb.

Milo was doing his own paranormal version of pacing, which involved popping into existence in a bunch of different locations in rapid succession.

“Stop doing that!” I cried at last, after he materialized directly behind me in the mirror, making me jump. “You’re freaking me out. I never know where you are.”

“What are you so nervous about, anyway?” Hannah asked. “Carrick talked to you about being a spirit guide. It doesn’t sound like anything too difficult.”

“I know that,” Milo said, wringing his hands. “I just don’t like going up in front of all of those people.”

“Since when have you been shy?” I asked. “I always thought you considered a moment out of the spotlight a moment wasted.”

“Maybe with you ladies, but with the Caomhnóir? They’re so… ”

I didn’t even need to hear the word that was eluding him. “Yeah, they are. And I can’t believe we’re going to have to spend the rest of our lives with one.”

“He’s really not that bad, you know. And he is really good at his job,” Hannah said.

“I know, I know,” I said. “I’m not saying he’s not a good Caomhnóir. I just hate the way he talks to me—like he’s being forced to do something painful or unpleasant.”

“I don’t blame the guy. I feel that way every time I talk to you,” Milo said.

“The feeling is mutual,” I said to him.

Hannah paused in braiding her hair and put her hands on her hips. Her expression was unusually fierce. “Are you two even going to try to get along? We are less than an hour away from the ceremony that is going to bind you together for life!”

Milo caught my eye, and his face reflected my own sheepishness. “Sorry, sweetness,” he said to Hannah. “I’m just messing around, honest. Jess knows I’m kidding, don’t you, Jess?”

I nodded. “We’re fine. We just don’t know how to interact without teasing each other.”

Hannah continued to scowl at us, but went back to braiding. “Don’t think I’m going to spend all my time breaking up your arguments.”

“Yes, Mom,” Milo and I said at the same time, then looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Hannah tried and failed not to smile. “That’s better.”

The Initiation ceremony was taking place in the Grand Council Room which, according to Mackie, was like the great hall or the throne room in other old castles. It was by far the most opulent room in that castle, with intricately carved Gothic arches, massive candle-filled chandeliers, and two-story tall stained glass windows depicting historic High Priestesses, including, I noticed after a few minutes of gawking around, our own ancestor, Agnes Isherwood, whose tapestry Mackie had pointed out to me on the first day. For some reason, the sight of her serene face, lit from the dying sun, calmed me.

The Fairhaven bells rang the eight o’clock hour, and right on cue, the Caomhnóir marched in, followed by the Novitiates in two straight lines. Each Novitiate was wearing a black silk sash over a white button down shirt and tan trousers tucked into tall brown leather boots.

“Mixing brown and black? Tragic,” Milo whispered to us. We both attempted unsuccessfully to stifle our sniggers and earned a dirty look from Siobhán, who was standing nearby.

The adult Caomhnóir were each wearing a sash that corresponded with one of the clans. I looked carefully at each and realized that our clan color was not represented.

“Karen, why doesn’t our family have a Caomhnóir? Is the one who was assigned to you not here?”

Karen’s expression was grim. “No, he’s not. His name was Liam. He died in a car accident about a year after your mom ran off.”

“He died?” Hannah asked in surprise.

“Yes,” Karen said. “It was really tragic. Lizzy and I never got along with him very well —you’ve seen how the Caomhnóir are trained to treat us —but obviously, I was very upset when that happened. It was the same car crash that killed Finvarra’s Caomhnóir, Carrick.”

“That’s awful,” I said. I looked over to where Finvarra sat in her throne-like chair and gazed at Carrick, who was, as usual, at attention by her side. “What happened?”

“Carrick was Liam’s mentor. When your mother first vanished, Carrick offered to help Liam look for her. It was just an accident —a slippery road at night. I’m told Finvarra took it very badly.”