Tamsyn Murray-My So-Called Haunting (16 page)

Something skittered past in the tangle of green on the edge of my vision. I turned my head sharply but there was nothing there. ‘Let’s just say that some ghosts don’t like the
living.’

His teeth flashed in the fading daylight. ‘They’re the most interesting ones.’

We arrived at a fork in the path. I glanced down one of the paths. It was brightly lit, but even so I wasn’t especially keen on going down it. The other one was dim and shadowy and looked
about as uninviting as it was possible to look. A damp, rotting scent filled the air, the smell of decaying vegetation and musty earth. Nico threw me a sideways glance and grabbed my hand.
‘Ready to be spooked?’

Before I could answer, he broke into a run, dragging me behind him down the left-hand fork.

‘No, Nico!’ I tried to pull my hand from his, but he tightened his grip.

‘Where’s your spirit of adventure, Skye?’ he called over his shoulder, flashing me a wicked grin as he twisted down another fork. ‘Ha ha – spirit. Get
it?’

Oh great, now he was doing stand-up. I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. In fact, the way I felt at the moment, as soon as he stopped hauling me along he was going to be getting an almighty
thump. ‘Stop,’ I begged, twisting my fingers desperately.

I don’t know whether he heard the panic in my voice, but he slowed down. ‘You’re right,’ he said, his voice bouncing off the jagged and worn headstones lining the path.
‘This place is seriously creepy. Have you seen any ghosts yet?’

My breath misted in the chilly air as I caught my breath. Willing my pounding heart to slow, I took refuge behind sarcasm. ‘Oh yeah, that’s Jim Morrison over there, having a smoke
with Kurt Cobain.’

Nico grinned. ‘Kurt Cobain was cremated and Jim Morrison is buried in Paris. What would they be doing here?’

A sound in the shadow-filled undergrowth behind us made me jump. ‘Trying to find their way out, if they had any sense.’ I turned pleading eyes on him. ‘Please can we go
now?’

He stared down at me, his eyes unreadable in the gloom. ‘We ’re not leaving until we’ve found a ghost.’

‘You’re joking.’ Even as I said it, I knew he wasn’t. There was something about his expression that told me he’d planned this all along. With a chilled wrench of my
stomach, I realised he’d never had any intention of going back to the gates before closing time. Whatever had happened in Romania had changed him.

He shook his head solemnly. ‘No, Skye, I’m not joking.’ He reached out to tuck a tendril of hair behind my ear. ‘You’re the most fascinating girl I’ve ever
met. My dad’s been teaching me about the paranormal for as long as I can remember, but it all comes so easily to you. You’re a natural.’

‘What do you mean, a natural?’ I asked, even though I knew what he meant. Peering down at my watch, I struggled to make out the position of the hands.

‘Naturally psychic,’ he said. ‘You don’t need rituals like we do to speak to spirits.’

Who did he mean by we? ‘Rituals?’ I asked.

He nodded. ‘Ancient binding spells to summon the dead. He wants to meet you, by the way,’ Nico went on. ‘But I’m not sharing you with anyone. Not yet.’

A shiver of uneasiness crawled over me. ‘Take me home, Nico. I’ll show you a ghost, if that’s what you want.’

He threw me a disbelieving look. ‘Whatever.’

‘I mean it; my aunt’s house is haunted. We don’t have to hang out here.’ I shivered fearfully and glanced around, searching for signs of movement among the tangle of ivy
and marble. There had to be ghosts here; it was only a matter of time before one found us.

‘But not the kind I’m looking for.’ His voice was harsh in the falling darkness. ‘I want exactly the sort of ghost a good psychic like you tries to avoid.’

I shook my head. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn’t a horror film you can switch off. The dead can be dangerous.’

‘Not to me.’ He smiled and I became even more certain that he’d changed during his trip away. The boy staring down at me now with eyes as cold as the blackest frozen lake was a
different person to the one I’d fallen in love with. Dontay had been right; there was something very wrong. ‘I haven’t told you the best bit about my trip yet.’

I watched his breath cloud between us, the iciness in my bones deeper than the falling temperature merited. ‘Oh?’

He looked up at the sky thoughtfully. ‘The family friends I mentioned back in Romania? They’re not exactly what you’d call friends.’

That must have been what he’d meant earlier, when he’d called them his clan, I decided. Dontay had been right about that, too. I didn’t care any more what Nico wanted to tell
me – I was frightened and wanted to go home. If I could distract him, I could make a run for it. ‘Go on.’

‘Ever heard of Dracula?’

In spite of my terrified state, I rolled my eyes. ‘Oh, please. You don’t seriously expect me to believe you’re a vampire?’

His mouth curved into a smile. I resisted the temptation to check for suddenly pointy teeth. ‘There’s no such thing. But the legend of Vlad Dracul came out of the Carpathian
Mountains. All sorts of stories come out of there, and not all of them are fairy tales.’

I hugged myself, rubbing my arms briskly as my gaze darted sideways into the shadows. ‘Spare me the dramatic build-up and get to the point, Nico.’

He shrugged easily. ‘Romanian legend tells of an ancient order called the Solomonarii, who used magic to do great good. The oldest tales say that Dracula himself was a member.’

I went still. ‘Dracula’s not exactly famous for his social work, is he?’ I clamped my teeth together to stop my teeth from chattering. As if I wasn’t cold enough,
tendrils of fog were creeping towards us – just what I needed.

‘There were nine members originally and they studied for years to master the skills to do their work. Skills like being able to control the weather, for example.’ He glanced around
contemplatively at the blanket of white mist snaking around our feet. ‘Or the ability to talk to the dead and bend the spirit world to their will.’

I’d like to see anyone try to bend Mary Drover to do their bidding. She’d bamboozle them with babble. I stared at Nico, trying to shake off the horrible feeling that he really had
joined a gang, and not just any gang either – the kind that made the London Fields Posse look like a bunch of playschool kids. ‘Why are you telling me this now?’

His black eyes sought mine. ‘Come on, Skye, why do you think I’m telling you? What if I told you the stories aren’t all make-believe? That the Solomonarii really
exist?’

Trying to ignore the dense fog, I summoned up a disdainful look. ‘So what if they do? What has that got to do with me?’

He grinned, but there was no trace of humour in it. ‘Quite a lot, actually.’ He took a step closer and I cowered at the undisguised menace in his tone. ‘Because last week I
finally became one of them. And you have something I need.’

It was a joke; it had to be.

I backed away from him. ‘That’s not funny, Nico.’

‘It’s not meant to be. It is true, though.’ He waved a hand at the whiteness surrounding us. It was waist high. ‘I decided on fog, for added atmosphere, but I could
produce a few lightning bolts if it’ll help.’

‘Stop it.’

He raised an eyebrow and a fork of brilliant white light split the darkness. I jumped violently and felt the colour drain from my face. My brain stuttered and refused to absorb what my senses
were telling it. Nico couldn’t be controlling the weather; it had to be a coincidence. But how likely was a lightning strike at the exact second he demanded one?

‘All of the Solomonarii are born with a birthmark.’ He dragged the hair behind his left ear back. Involuntarily, I looked up and saw an ugly, puckered mark, dark against his pale
skin. ‘I think it looks like a mask. What do you think?’

The black mark was striking and I could see why he thought it looked like a mask. That explained why he kept his hair longer than the rest of the boys as well. I’d assumed he was working
the rock god look but he’d actually been hiding something which would have caused awkward comments at school. I ignored his question. ‘Loads of people have birthmarks. It doesn’t
mean they’re members of a secret society.’

He sighed impatiently. ‘Still not convinced? How about some thunder?’

On cue, a deep boom rumbled ominously overhead, and I couldn’t deny the truth any more. I was suddenly more scared than I’d ever been. ‘You’re not joking.’

He clapped slowly. ‘Well done.’

And if he was telling the truth about the weather, that must mean —

‘Can you really talk to the dead?’ I blurted out.

‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘Controlling the weather is easy, but I can’t seem to contact the spirit world. So that’s why I need you.’

A shudder ran through me. Was this what Dontay had heard him say I wouldn’t do? ‘I’m not being your mouthpiece, if that’s what you think.’ He eyed me, a look of
genuine puzzlement on his face. ‘We ’ve got something good together. Why not make it better?’

I glared back at him. ‘Well, let’s see. You lie about why you wanted to come in here, drag me about like I’m a rag-doll and get me totally lost.’ A horrible thought
occurred to me. ‘You planned this from the very beginning, didn’t you?’

‘What?’ he said, surprised. ‘Of course I didn’t. Although you caught my interest much more than I expected.’

‘Liar,’ I said savagely. ‘The gig at the Roundhouse was meant to make me fall head over heels for you, wasn’t it, so I’d help you talk to ghosts? Well, here’s
a newsflash, Nico: you’re not that irresistible.’

He looked away. ‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ he answered in a low voice. ‘I had no idea there was anything unusual about you when I saw you in that alley with Peterson. You
just seemed like you needed my help, and for some reason I wanted to protect you. Then I got to know you, and the more I found out, the more I wanted to know.’

‘And you needed to trap me here so you could tell me that?’

He shook his head. ‘New members of the Solomonarii have to pass an initiation test. They have to prove to the other members that they can influence a ghost for the good of the
order.’ Then his shoulders slumped in defeat. ‘I hoped you’d be able to help.’

He looked so vulnerable that for a moment I was almost tempted. But then common sense kicked in. I didn’t know why the Solomonarii were so obsessed with manipulating the dead, but their
reasons couldn’t be honourable. What I needed was to buy myself a bit of time to work out how to get away. I pursed my lips and pretended to think. ‘Let’s just say I help you.
What do I have to do? And what happens to the ghost?’

‘Once the order has evidence that I control the spirit, we let it go.’

There was a subtle shift behind his eyes and I knew it wasn’t the truth. I wondered what kind of evidence the Solomonarii would need – how did you prove you could command a ghost?
The ones I’d met had minds of their own and rarely did as they were told.

My own eyes strayed to the watch on my wrist; it was five minutes to closing time. If I had any chance of getting out of there before the gates were padlocked for the night, I had to go now and
hope that the direction I chose led me back to the exit.

‘It looks like you’re in luck,’ I said, pointing over his left shoulder. ‘There’s a ghost coming now.’

I didn’t really expect it to work, but his eyes flickered backwards and he twisted around. Hoping my legs were long enough to find the target, I raised my knee as hard as I could.
Nico’s agonised groan told me I’d hit him exactly where I’d intended. As he doubled over and sank to the ground, I ran faster than I’d ever run before. The fog blocked out
any trace of the lamplight and nothing looked the same as it had on the way in; I could only hope I was going in the right direction. I knew it wouldn’t be long before Nico was following me,
and a muffled pounding behind me told me he was already on my trail. I didn’t think he’d actually hurt me, but there was no way I wanted to spend the night in Highgate Cemetery.

Something struck my face, bouncing off my cheek. The sharp pain caused my eyes to fill with tears and I gasped. Slowing, I swept both hands from the bridge of my nose across each cheek,
wondering if I’d been bitten. Then I felt the stab of tiny needles on the top of my head and shoulders. I looked up. Shards of ice were falling from the sky. I held out a hand to catch a
hailstone; it was the size of a marble. A second later, giant hail was tumbling around me. Throwing half a glance backwards, I sped up, ignoring the sickening crunch of snail shells under my feet.
In a few minutes the hail would turn the path into an ice rink, not to mention cut my face to ribbons.

A roaring gust of wind nearly knocked me off my feet as I reached the point where the path had forked. Struggling to stay upright and ignoring the treacherous hailstones, I hurtled forwards,
praying I’d reach the exit without breaking my neck. The wind did me a favour; up ahead, I caught a glimpse of a faint light through the flailing trees. It was too low to be one of the
lamp-posts. My heart leaped. Maybe it was a torch.

‘Wait!’ I yelled and forced my legs to move faster. ‘Wait for me!’

The shaft of light paused and swung towards me. ‘Is there someone there?’