Spirit Ascendancy (35 page)

“You’re so bossy,” I grumbled, and he grinned at me as I clambered up off of his threadbare sofa. We bent our heads together, and Pierce pushed the “play” button.

The voice began again, but it was coming, not from the recorder, but from somewhere outside the window. I maneuvered around the boxes and stacks to the window; the Queen of England stared primly up at me from the nearest pile of books. I pushed the dusty old ficus tree and a bobble head of the Prince of Wales aside, and peered out into the courtyard.

It wasn’t the courtyard of St. Matt’s; it was the Fairhaven courtyard.

“Where are we?” I asked.

No one answered. I turned around. I was alone in the office. Pierce’s shelves were full of teapots and ceramic figurines instead of books.

I rubbed at the grimy glass with the sleeve of my shirt and looked out again. A tiny figure was standing in the center of a cobblestone circle, facing an ancient stone archway. She looked very familiar. I still couldn’t hear what she was chanting, but the sound of it was so alluring that I half wanted to leap from the window to follow the call of it.

The call of it. The Call of it. Calling.

I turned and ran as fast as I could out of the office and down a steep, winding staircase. A few steps from the bottom I lost my footing and stumbled forward. I thrust my arms out in front of me to break my fall.

They plunged wrist-deep into cold, fluffy snow.

I looked around. I was huddled in the shadow of a brick building. All of the windows were illuminated, and figures moved back and forth in some of them. I could hear raucous laughter, and the rhythmic thud of music.

The snow was soft under my hands. So soft I thought that if I laid down on it, I could fall asleep, like on a bed of down. I pressed my cheek to it. It was cool and comforting. Then I waited to hear his voice, because I knew I would.

“Hey, there.”

“Hi, Evan.”

I rolled over. He lay beside me, looking at me with those warm, friendly eyes, his face alight with that heart-stopping smile.

“Nice fall.”

I groaned. “You saw that?”

He winked. “Maybe.”

“I am the epitome of grace,” I said, flushing. “I’m well-known for it.”

“What took you so long?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

He took my hand, causing my heart to leap with giddy excitement into my throat.

“How did you get here?” he asked after a moment.

“I don’t remember. I came out here looking for something.”

“What was it?”

“I don’t remember,” I said again. The snow beneath my head seemed to be leeching memories out of me, leaving behind a pleasant, happy haze. It was lovely not to have to think, to worry, to fight. It was so easy, just to be here with him.

“Tell me something,” I said to him.

“What do you want to hear?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Anything. Just your voice.”

He laughed, a carefree sound. It was musical, in perfect harmony with the music floating down from the nearby window.

“Anything, huh? Okay, let’s see.” He cleared his throat theatrically, and we both laughed. Then he said, “She abides with darkness.”

I sat up. “What did you say?”

He smiled.

“She abides with darkness.

It clings to her like ash

To the tips of her eyelashes, to the soles of her feet.

It wraps about her, a soft, gossamer shroud

That shields the world from the shine of her eyes.

If I could brush it like stardust

From the constellations of her cheeks,

And see beyond the seeping veil, the blossoming sorrow,

What mightn’t I give to be so blinded?

All within me, surely, the pulse of every cell

For a single brush of lip on lip.”

I stared at him. “Why would you say that?”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “You told me to say anything.”

“I know but… of all the things you could have said, why did you say that?”

He shrugged casually, turning his eyes back up to the sky above us. “It just seemed like something you should hear,” he said.

I stared up at the sky, too. It was starry, like the sky above my mother and me as we stargazed all those years ago. Or was it a few minutes ago? Where was I?

“How do you know that poem?” I asked.

“I read it somewhere,” he replied with a contented sigh.

“Where?”

“In this.”

And he pulled from his back pocket a small, battered black book. He tossed it into the grass between us. I slid my hand out of his and reached for the book. And in the moment I let go of him and touched the book, I remembered.

I couldn’t stay here.

And where a moment before there had been the brick face of a building, there was now a door, old and crumbling and carved all over with faded runic markings. It stood ajar, bathed in a purplish glow, and if I squinted, I could just make out a dark figure standing deep in the heart of it.

“Hannah.”

“What’s that?” Evan asked.

“It’s Hannah. She’s Calling me.”

He frowned. “I don’t hear anything.”

“You aren’t supposed to. It’s just for me.”

I turned for one last look at him. He smiled at me, that smile that could almost convince me to stay. Almost. He was beautiful. He was perfect. He was gone.

And I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to be gone.

I strode, without another backward look, to the threshold of the door. I stood upon it as though poised for flight. Far away, Hannah’s voice was Calling me. And I would answer it.

I leapt onto the current of her Calling and rode it back.

I sat up and sucked in that first, dizzying breath as I connected once again to my body, but almost immediately all of that air was knocked clean out of me; Hannah had tackled me in a hug so fierce I was flat on my back again.

“It worked! Oh, it worked! Oh, Jess, thank God, thank GOD!” she was sobbing.

I wrapped an arm around her. “I never doubted you. I knew you could do it.”

“I didn’t. I thought you were gone,” she gasped.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you,” I said.

I brushed her mane of hair away from my face to see Finn smiling at me, his face glazed with tears.

“Are you alright?” I asked him.

He actually threw back his head and laughed. “You literally come back from the dead, and you ask me if I’m alright?”

I laughed, too, a little sheepishly. I could feel myself blushing under the intensity of his gaze and hastily looked away in time to see Milo flying at me.

“Gah! Stop! Back away!” I cried as he attempted some sort of ghost version of a hug that just left me feeling freezing cold and tingling uncomfortably.

“I can’t help it! I’m having a proud mama moment over here!” he said. “My two girls! That was the most badass thing I’ve ever seen!”

“If you say so,” I said, then gasped as I caught sight of the Geatgrima behind him.

“Whoa.”

Or rather, what had been the Geatgrima, for it had crumbled to a pile of rubble upon its dais. Figures were gathered all around the perimeter of the courtyard, just visible through the still-settling dust. It seemed that Savvy and Annabelle had been successful in freeing the inhabitants of the castle. I spotted them, arm in arm, near the entrance to the Grand Council Room. To their right, Celeste and Fiona were helping Finvarra rise shakily to her feet. The walls were lined with students, teachers, Caomhnóir and Council members alike, all with rather awed expressions on their faces. I felt myself turn, if possible, even redder under all of their eyes. I dropped my gaze and found myself staring at Neil’s motionless figure, sprawled in the far side of the platform.

“Neil?” I asked.

Hannah shook her head. “The part of him that could follow you into the Gateway did. It didn’t come back out again.”

I pushed the reality of that thought away and allowed the intense relief bubbling up inside me to wash over everything. It was over. It really was over.

“Jess, I don’t know how to… I’m just so sorry,” Hannah said. “I was so stupid. They told me… I mean, they made it sound like—”

I cupped her face between my hands. “Look at me. You don’t apologize to me. Not for this. Not ever,” I said. “I’ll explain it to you later, but I know all about what they said to you, and you have nothing to apologize for. We ended this together. That’s all that counts here, no matter what anyone else says. You understand me?”

Her face broke into a watery smile. “Yes.”

I smiled back. A little word, reclaimed.

I started to climb to my feet, but before I could do more than slide one awkwardly bent leg out from under me, Finn was there, one arm around my waist, the other grasping my hand to assist me. Jess from a few days ago would have slapped him away. But that Jess hadn’t seen what I’d seen.

“Thank you,” I said, accepting his help and leaning on him as I regained my bearings.

“You’re welcome.”

I let him accept my thanks without his really understanding exactly what it was I was thanking him for. I wondered if I would ever tell him how close I had come to staying behind, to ignoring the summons that had brought us back together. I wondered if I would ever tell him that it was his words, the ones he’d woven together so beautifully, that had created the net that caught me before I’d been irretrievably lost. I thought, perhaps, I would. Someday.

I held tight to his hand long after I’d managed to stand on my own two feet again.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE we’re packing again. Doesn’t it feel like we just did this?” Hannah sighed.

“I guess so,” I said breathlessly as I dragged my suitcase over to the stack of luggage by the door of our room. “We haven’t been here very long in the grand scheme of things, but a hell of a lot has happened since we first set foot in this place. In some ways, Boston was a lifetime ago.” Many lifetimes ago, and none of them our own.

Hannah nodded. “You’re right. I don’t even know how I feel about going back.”

“I do. I’m voluntarily getting back on a plane. That should give you a fair idea of how I’m feeling about it.”

Hannah smiled a little sadly and looked out the window. I did not share her reluctance to leave this place and everything it stood for. Because we were leaving. That was certain, even if nothing else was.

“What time is it?” I asked.

Hannah glanced at the delicate silver watch on her wrist. “Nearly time. Should we go down?”

“They should be coming up here,” Milo said from his perch on the corner of the fireplace mantle, where he had been lording over the packing process like a monarch delegating undesirable duties. “When I think that they have the nerve to summon you anywhere…”

He shook his head, apparently lost for words dire enough to express his opinion of them, and indeed, when Milo lacked the ability to bitch someone out, you knew the circumstances were extreme.

“They aren’t summoning us,” Hannah said patiently. “Not like that, anyway.”

“Yeah, well, I still say they should be groveling,” Milo grumbled.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said. I took a last look around the room. It really was beautiful, with its dark wood paneling, antique furniture, and lush draperies, like something out of an Austen novel; my own personal slice of Pemberley. But despite the fire crackling merrily away in the fireplace, all I felt when I looked at it was cold. I’d take the industrial cinderblocks and poster-plastered walls of my St. Matt’s dorm room any day.

As we walked down the hallway, some of the other girls stared unabashedly through the open doors of their own rooms. They weren’t exactly the same kinds of stares and whispers we’d attracted on our first day there; they had changed subtly. The hostility had diminished into a fearful sort of awe; the superiority had melted into wariness. We were no longer victims, but we were still outsiders, now more than ever.

The trip down to the Grand Council Room was much quieter and less eventful than walking through the halls of Fairhaven used to be. So many of the ghosts that used to haunt its halls were gone now, having faded away when their essences had Crossed through the open Geatgrima. I swallowed back a terrible guilt-ridden something that had risen in my throat; though Mary had seemed at peace, I would always wonder about that decision, to take the torch with me through the Gateway. Surely the spirits belonged there, and yet, they hadn’t made the choice for themselves. But, as Finn had reassured me afterward, it was a far better fate than what would have happened to them if the torch had been allowed to burn out on the cobblestones of the courtyard.

“Are you okay? You look troubled.” Hannah was watching me. Nearly a week had passed, but her features still maintained the transformative beauty that the power of the reversal had left upon them. It was unsettling to look at, so I kept my eyes on the hallway ahead as I answered.

“I’m just anxious to get out of here,” I lied. There was no point bringing up the spirit torch. If I was feeling guilty about it, it was nothing to how she must feel, seeing as she trapped them there in the first place.

Karen was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs, a lone figure with a long tan trench coat thrown over her forearm and a black leather carry-on suitcase at her feet. She’d arrived back at Fairhaven in less than twelve hours after the ordeal had ended, and she’d been advocating and doing damage control ever since. She’d already met with the Council and was in true mama-bear mode as she’d marched in. I could hear her shouting before the doors had even properly shut behind her. She still had that protective gleam in her eye as we reached the bottom of the stairs. The entrance hall had been restored to its former glory, not only by the removal of all of the Necromancer paraphernalia, but by the meticulous removal of all traces of my Muse-created mural. As much as the image it had depicted had terrified me, it felt wrong to see it gone; as though the Durupinen were once again sweeping the unsavory details of their history under the rug.

“Ready?” Karen asked us, as we arrived beside her. She dropped her cell phone into her pocket.

“Yes,” I said, and then pointed to the spot where her phone had just vanished. “Any word from Annabelle?”

“Yes,” Karen said. “I’ve put her in touch with a friend of mine who is a real estate lawyer. The insurance situation is a bit of a mess, but I think she’ll be able to reopen her shop when it’s all cleared up. She’s very glad to hear you’ll be stateside again soon.”

Someone cleared his throat. A Caomhnóir stood waiting to bring us before the Council. He was tapping his foot impatiently.

“They’re waiting for you,” she said, gesturing in the direction of the Grand Council Room.

I took a deep breath. “Are we sure they’re not going to try to lock us in the dungeons again?”

“Oh, I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Karen said with the shadow of a smile.

“Are we leaving soon?” Hannah asked her.

“Very soon. Our flight departs in three hours.” She too seemed to have a hard time looking Hannah in the eye, though I think it may just have been her resemblance to our mother, which was even more pronounced now. “So whatever they have to say to you, they’ll need to say it quickly. You aren’t bringing a lot of souvenirs home with you, are you? We’re going to need the extra room in the car for the ride home.”

“No souvenirs,” I said with a snort. “I looked everywhere, but they don’t sell ‘I SURVIVED THE SPIRIT APOCOLYPSE’ t-shirts.”

No one laughed.

“What, too soon?” I asked, widening my eyes innocently. “Aw, c’mon kids. If we don’t laugh, we’ll cry.” I nudged Hannah in the ribs, and she gave me a grudging, tight-lipped smile. I turned back to Karen. “What do we need the extra room in the car for?”

Karen really did smile this time. “Tia. Her flight gets in just after ours. We’re giving her a ride back to the city and she’s going to stay with us for a few days before you all head back to St. Matt’s.”

“Tia’s coming back?” I cried. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just did!” said Karen, winking. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Tia’s great, you’re going to love her,” I told Hannah. “She likes her stuff almost as organized as you do.”

“And you don’t think she’ll mind living with me?” Hannah asked anxiously.

“Are you kidding? She spent half of her freshman year looking for you! Of course she won’t mind living with you! You, on the other hand,” I said, smiling at Milo, “are going to take some serious getting used to.”

Milo batted his eyelashes. “What are you talking about? I’m delightful.”

“We’ll talk more about all the college arrangements on the way to the airport. But for now,” Karen said, gesturing to the Grand Council Room doors, “after you girls.”

The scene was nearly identical to the day I had stood before them all and learned of the prophecy. There they all sat on their Council benches, silent and waiting. Finvarra was reinstated in her place of power, and Carrick stood at attention beside her. He caught my eye as we entered and nodded respectfully, but looked quickly away again. Hannah knew the truth about him now; he had a long talk with her after he’d recovered from the Elemental attack, but there was still so much that remained unsaid between the three of us. I could not see what kind of meaningful relationship we could have, with him Bound to someone who lived halfway across the world, but I was leaving that door open regardless, in case any of us wanted to walk through it one day. A few glaring differences reminded us all that much had changed since that last meeting. Marion was gone, voted out of the Council and, if the rumors were to be believed, facing an international committee of Durupinen leaders to answer for her attempted coup. Her Clan could even be stripped of its Gateway, Mackie had whispered to us, as we’d watched a very subdued Peyton pass us in the hallway the previous night. Those remaining of Marion’s inner circle sat stiffly, perhaps worried about their own continued status as Council members. The back wall was nearly rebuilt, but a few feet of grey morning sky peeked through where a window had yet to be replaced. The real difference was how I felt facing them.

“Thank you for coming,” Finvarra said.

I just nodded. I hadn’t really felt that we’d had a choice. Perhaps Finvarra had felt differently.

“I thought it important that we meet with you before you go,” she went on. “Much has transpired.”

Milo laughed softly behind me. I could almost hear him through our connection, or perhaps we just knew each other really well now.
Understatement of the century.

“I called all members of the community here, because I wanted to make things as clear as I can. The events of the past few weeks have been complicated in the extreme, and only time will bring to light the many layers and factors that brought us to this moment. But the important thing to know is that they cannot be reduced to black and white, or to right and wrong.”

It was so still, it felt like the collective group of us had stopped breathing. Hannah was trembling beside me. Karen was standing very stiffly, doing her very best not to fly off the handle. Her hands were clenching and unclenching at her sides.

“Countless errors of judgement were made, some of them my own. In many ways, we, the leaders of the Northern Clans, brought about our own near-destruction. History, no doubt, will judge us for it, for we are surely leaving behind us a complicated and troubling legacy.”

Agitated stirring swept through the benches, like the fluttering wings of nervous birds.

“Hannah,” Finvarra said, and though she addressed her quite gently, Hannah jumped beside me. I reached out and grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly. “I want to make it perfectly clear, to you and to the others assembled here, that you are not to blame for what has come to pass. It was the Necromancers alone, with their machinations and manipulations, which brought the prophecy to pass. If we had done more to protect you, to earn your trust, you would not have been left in such a vulnerable position.”

I couldn’t help but notice that many faces did not reflect this attitude. Indeed, there were as many disgruntled expressions as there were contented ones. The decision had obviously been far from a unanimous one. But Hannah only had eyes for Finvarra, at whom she was staring with pronounced relief splashed across her features. Finvarra, though, had turned now to face me.

“Jessica, we owe you a great debt of gratitude. You risked your very life to close the Geatgrima when it seemed that all would be lost. Our order survives because of you. I can promise you that, as long as I am High Priestess, we will not squander this second chance we have been granted by your actions.”

The blood was rushing to my face. I had no idea what to say to any of this.

“That is why our first order of business is to invite your family to rejoin our Council.”

A ringing silence met her words.

“What are you saying?” I asked when I found my voice at last.

“Marion’s position on the Council is now open, a position that was held by your Clan for many years. Your family has rendered a great service to the Durupinen, and so it seems only fitting to offer the Council seat to you. Your input and opinions would be greatly valued here.”

“You want us on the Council?” I asked blankly.

“Yes, indeed. What do you say? Shall the Clan Sassanaigh sit amongst the ruling Clans once more?” Finvarra asked, her arms raised as though in welcome.

Karen turned to us, her mouth open, and yet empty of words to respond. My eyes sought Hannah’s though, and in what was perhaps our first nearly telepathic twin moment, we said not a word but understood each other perfectly.

“No,” I said. The cavernous hall added an emphatic echo.

Finvarra dropped her arms, and her warm expression. “No?”

“No, thank you,” I repeated, with an attempt at politeness.

“But this is a great honor,” she said, as the Council began to buzz like a hive with reactions to our refusal. “Surely you must see that. This is your chance to establish your Clan’s position once again. I don’t think you understand what you’re walking away from.”

Perhaps it was Celeste’s approving nod or Fiona’s amused cackle. Perhaps it was Savvy’s voice somewhere to my left whispering what sounded suspiciously like, “Oh, snap!” Or perhaps it was simply Finvarra’s casual use of the word “walking,” which would surely never hold the same meaning for me again. But I drew myself up with more confidence than I’d ever felt in that room before.

“We understand exactly what we are walking away from.”

Finn was waiting by the car, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and something very like a smile on his face. He was coming with us, of course; where the Gateway went, its protector must follow. Once upon a time I would have felt guilty about that, but now…

“Well, they let you leave without burning the place down. That’s a good start,” he said as we loaded our luggage.

“Was that a joke?” I asked. “Like, an actual joke?”

“I guess so, yes,” he said with a shrug.

“There’s hope for you yet, Carey,” I said, punching him playfully on the arm. “Are you sure you’re ready for this move?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Are you sure you can handle it? I’m all kinds of trouble, you know.”

“I know.”

Karen snatched the keys from the waiting Caomhnóir and slid into the driver’s seat. “We’ll drive ourselves, thank you.”

We piled into the back seat, Finn on one side of me, Hannah on the other, Milo stretched luxuriously in the front seat after crowing “Shotgun!” at the top of his lungs.

A small black book was peeking out of Finn’s pocket. I grabbed it and tucked it into my own.