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You’re supposed to be able to talk to your ancestors in this graveyard. Everything from a flash of insight, to a vision, to an audible voice in your head or a full-blown ghost. But communing with the dead—like clairvoyance or true empathy—is a little different from regular magic, and it’s never been a big skill of mine. Liam, on the other hand, not only chats to relatives we’ve known, loved, and mourned, but to long-ago ancestors and complete strangers.

I stay in place, eyes closed, for the best part of an hour, letting my mind sink into the spirit of the place. Eventually, I stand up, and drop a few purple Quality Street chocolates down next to the lilies. They were Nan’s favourite, and if her ghost does make an appearance after I’m finished, I’m sure she’ll appreciate them more than the traditional flowers.

A meditation that deep, combined with the general atmosphere of this place and the heat of the day have left me disassociated yet hyper-aware. Suddenly, I’m sure I’m no longer alone in this isolated, lonely place and that my companion is flesh and blood.

I whirl around to look, my heart racing. With crushing inevitability, it’s Gabriel. Acting on pure instinct, I throw up my hands and draw a shield around myself.

“Sadie, relax. I’m not here for you.” His voice is slower and softer than usual, like the clearing has stolen some of his edge. One hand is gripping a bunch of lilies like the ones I picked. With the other hand, he gestures to a tomb on the woodland side of the graveyard.

I follow his gaze, then step over to the grave in question.

Maeve Thornber.

Devoted mother and wife.

Born 1968, Died 2007.

Power and beauty.

The statue might not do justice to her power, but her beauty is undeniable. And it’s in unusually good repair, as though someone has not only been laying flowers, but fighting back the clearing’s tendency towards decay with all of their considerable magical strength.

I bow my head. “I didn’t realise. Go ahead and pay your respects to your mother. I’m finished here.”

It’s odd, but in this place, I don’t feel any fear, anger or lust towards him. Or indeed, any of the fury I’ve been feeling towards my family all week.

“Stay, please. I’ll only be a moment. I literally swear on my mother’s grave that I didn’t come here to find you. But as you are here, I want to apologise. Explain. Show you the real me and get to know the real you.”

“I… I honestly should go.”

“Come on, Sadie. We could head out of town for the evening. Get out of the Dome and breathe the free air. Find a restaurant your London friends would approve of.”

The correct answer is obvious. Either firmly tell him to piss off or simply leave and hope he gets the message. It was madness when I visited his house, but there was some degree of reason to it. Since then, there’s been the business with Leah, and Nikki’s warnings. There’d be no rationale for this date-night thing. It’d be fraternising with the enemy, pure and simple. Betraying my family and messing with my head.

And yet… I’m oddly intrigued by what he’s like to sit and talk to. And just thinking the wordsdate nightin the context of Gabriel has sent the blood rushing to all sorts of inappropriate places.

I stand frozen in place, not wanting to leave, not wanting to reply. Seemingly satisfied that I’m not going anywhere, Gabriel ignores me for once and walks solemnly over to the statue of his mother. Just like I’d done, he places the flowers, kneels, then lets his mind sink down into the earth. Standing behind him and a few metres away, I can’t see his eyes, but I can tell he’s deep into a core meditation. His body is unnaturally still, and so is the usually frenetic cloud of power that surrounds him.

It’s both touching and disconcerting that he’s allowing himself to be this vulnerable in my presence. While he’s this out of it, it’d be simple to take him down once and for all. But even if I had both the stomach and the desire to harm him, no practitioner would be stupid enough to attack someone in these surroundings, particularly while they were communing with the dead. You’d bring the wrath of a hundred ghosts down on your head, perhaps incur the fury of the very earth.

I shouldn’t watch him, either. He asked me to stay, but I ought to give him some privacy. Except I can’t take my eyes off him. He looks different like this. Alone, silent, and unguarded.

Eventually, he rises. I’m genuinely unsure how long it’s been. In the intensity of my focus on him, I’d slipped into a semi-meditative state myself.

“Will you lay a flower, too?” He stays by the statue but turns his head to ask me the question.

I frown. “I’m not sure that’s appropriate. I never met your mother, and I doubt she was a big fan of my family.”

“It’d mean a lot to her. And a lot to me.”

I walk off in the direction of the plot of lilies by the lake without replying. It’s unclear whether he’s actually just spoken to his mother—if anyone had the gift, it would be him—or whether he’s putting sentiments in her mouth, but it would be disrespectful to the dead to refuse at this point.

When I return to the statue, he’s smiling like I’ve done him the biggest favour as he steps aside to give me access.

I stare at Maeve Thornber’s beautiful carved face, thinking of Nikki’s story and unsure what’s expected of me. Lay the flowers and go? Kneel for a moment? Sink down into another meditation?

I glance back at Gabriel, who’s watching me intently but giving no hint as to what he wants.

I kneel, lay the flowers, and close my eyes for a moment. Another core meditation would be over the top, but I can show proper decorum.