Page 63 of By the Horns (Royal Artifactual Guild #2)

“We shall pray right here,” Sparrow says, indicating that we should all sit on the bench she’s chosen.

“And while my friends say their goodbyes, might I have a word with you, Holy Mother? My father—Lord Honori of Honori Hold—could use a bit more guidance from the god’s people.

Our last priest of Romus died when I was twelve and has never been replaced, and I am deeply concerned about his spiritual health. ”

The priestess’s eyes widen. “Lord Honori?” At Sparrow’s nod, the woman all but blushes. “Truly, it would be an honor to offer advice to anyone in a holder’s family. What are your concerns exactly?”

“My father has a new wife and son,” Sparrow continues, and discreetly closes the door behind her, shutting herself into the hall with the priestess and leaving me, Kipp, and Arrod with the dead. It’s a clever distraction, and I’m grateful for it.

Kipp makes another choked sound in the silence of the room.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” I press my sleeve to my nose to muffle the scents. My skin is crawling, but I ignore it. “I need to be close to do this, though. Maybe…maybe you and Arrod watch the doors from the other side?”

The slitherskin all but runs for the door, cracking it open and slipping back out. Arrod remains steadfast at my side, but it’s clear from the way he holds himself that he’s not breathing through his nose. “I can take it. It’s just a bit of rot. Do what you need to do.”

I nod at him, my heart fluttering with anxiety.

Time to begin.

The moment I unclench and relax against all the sensations that have been threatening to overwhelm me since we got close to the temple, the strange power washes over me.

It’s like being sucked under water. My skin prickles so hard it feels like it’s trying to come off my body, but I force myself to relax, to allow the sensation to move through me without fighting it. I open my eyes slowly….

Three spirits shimmer into place in the air around us.

They’re not people. Not really. More like foggy blobs with vague people-like faces.

It’s as if they don’t know how to hold themselves together without flesh, and so they slip and slither in the air, with only the barest sense of limbs or a head.

There are eyes, though, frightening in their darkness, like two holes punched in parchment.

And all three sets of eyes are focused on me.

The babbling of the dead fills my head even as the spirits reach for me, drifting forward.

They can’t do anything to you , I remind myself.

They’ve been here this whole time. They’re just now realizing that you can see them, that’s all.

I force myself to relax, to study each of the amorphous faces to try to determine which one is Hemmen.

The babbling in my ears gets louder, their words nonsense, and they take on a more desperate edge with every moment that passes.

“Any luck?” Arrod asks from his spot at the door.

I ignore him and focus on the three spirits in front of me. “Let me talk to Hemmen.”

Two of them surge forward, trying to get my attention.

They reach for my face and hair, their strange words more frantic, even as one of the spirits hangs back.

Somehow, I sense that’s the one I’m looking for, but I’m not going to get anything done with the other two flooding the room with chills and strange, incomprehensible words.

My head throbs and I feel dizzy, and I know it’s from them overwhelming me.

“Please stop,” I whisper. “I can’t handle this. Not all of you at once.”

They continue to talk, ignoring my words, and their tones take on a frantic edge, which makes my heart beat faster. I need help. I need…something. A guiding hand. A mentor. Help. I can’t do this alone.

Strangely enough, I think of Raptor and the impressed way he always regards me, like I’ve managed to surprise him repeatedly with my cleverness.

I imagine his heavy hand on my neck. Not steering me, not demanding, just reminding me that he’s nearby and he’s with me.

And even though he’s not here right now, imagining that weight helps me focus.

If I want to do this, I must manage it on my own.

I take a deep breath. “I can’t concentrate if you all talk at once. Let me speak to Hemmen first, and then I’ll talk with each of you, I promise.”

The babbling dies down to a low, unhappy murmur, but the spirits slide backward, retreating to their biers and hovering in the air, waiting.

Their dark eyes watch me fervently, almost hungrily, but I ignore them and focus on the third one, the least defined, the one with the most blurred edges. “Hemmen? Will you talk to me?”

He drifts forward, and there’s no urgency in his strange babbling thoughts as they flow into mine. Instead, they’re filled with different emotions. Reticence…shame.

“I’m not upset,” I say softly. “I want to help you. It’s not right that you were taken advantage of like this. I want to fix it. I want to find the person who did this so it won’t happen to anyone else. Will you speak with me?”

The spirit of Hemmen moves closer, all smoke and black eyes, and the smell of rot grows stronger. I fight the urge to cough and concentrate on what should be his face.

He speaks again, but I shake my head. “I can’t understand your words.

We’ll have to communicate another way.” I hold both my hands out, palms up.

“Can I ask you yes or no questions? If it’s a yes, touch this hand.

” I curl my left hand into a fist. “If it’s a no, touch the other one. ” I wiggle the fingers on my right.

Hemmen’s ghost reaches out and touches my left hand in what feels like the barest of whispers.

Yes.

I want to weep with relief, but I need to concentrate. His touch is unpleasant, skittering over my skin like insect legs and filling me with revulsion. I fight the urge to shake my hand to flick away his touch and concentrate.

“The guild suspects that there is a ring of thieves working with repeaters to steal artifacts. Were you part of this?”

He touches my hand again. Yes.

A wave of sadness rushes over me. “Oh, Hemmen, why?”

He hesitates, his spirit fluctuating wildly. One of the other spirits tries to push in, touching my hand, and I shake it off. “Wait your turn.” I turn back to Hemmen’s ghost. “I’m not judging you. I just wish I understood. Were they blackmailing you? The people you were working with?”

More sadness ripples through the room, and I realize it’s coming from him. He touches my right hand. No.

“But they offered you something you wanted…?”

Yes.

“Books? Riches?”

Yes.

His hand lingers on mine, and a new image flashes through my mind.

Hemmen, delirious with joy at the thought of having his own personal library, of all the books he could buy and the leisure time he would have to enjoy them.

This is what they offered him, I realize.

This is a fragment of his memory, being sent over to me.

“You stole for them?”

Hemmen touches my left hand again. Yes.

“What did you take? Artifacts? Books? Or something else?”

He hesitates, then drifts backward slightly, unsure how to answer.

Right. I purse my lips, focusing. I want to ask him how he got in to steal from the archives, but something tells me that he won’t have the answers I need, not with being constricted to yes or no.

There are still more people at work, though, and I need to find out who else could be in danger.

“Do you know who it was that killed you?”

He hesitates again, and then drifts his hand over mine. No.

I frown at that. “Did you see their face?”

Yes.

“But you don’t know who it is?”

No.

It makes no sense to me. I stab at an answer. “Do you think they hired someone to kill you, then?”

Yes.

Oh. Now we’re getting somewhere. “Do you know who it was who might have sent that person?”

Again, he taps my hand. Yes.

“And do I know this person?”

Yes.

A chill goes down my spine. “Am I their next target?”

He hesitates, then taps no. He gestures at himself, and then at me. Then at himself again.

“You were the one targeting me?”

Yes.

I’m confused. “Why would you do that? I was in your Five. My future was tied to yours.”

Hemmen’s ghost reaches out and, to my surprise, caresses my breast.

I rear back. “What are you doing?”

The spirit becomes agitated, and he gestures at the right hand that I’ve pulled away. He’s trying to say no. When I put my right hand out again, he taps it. No. No.

Then he reaches for me again, my skin shivering as he tugs at my bun of hair. I don’t understand…. “Wait. Because I’m a woman? That’s why you targeted me?”

Yes.

“So I was an easy target, then. You…wanted us to fail? Our Five?”

He taps my hand. Yes.

I’m starting to figure this out. “Because the thieves needed you as a repeater? Is that why you’ve repeated so many times?”

Yes.

So Hemmen was working with them for a long time. I ponder this, even as another ghost tries to push its way forward, his touch sending ice down my spine. “Stop it,” I tell the other ghost. “You won’t get your turn if you keep harassing me.”

It prattles frantically at me but retreats backward, going to hover close to the bier at the farthest side of the room.

I can feel its agitation in the air, and it makes me want to leave.

I want to flee, but I force myself to stay behind, to calmly get answers from poor Hemmen, who only wanted to be lazy and read books all day and ended up in over his head.

“Can you help me find the person who did this to you? The one you say I know?”

Yes.

I try to think how to approach this next. He can’t tell me the name. “Maybe a word game? Does the name begin with an ‘A’?”

No.

“A ‘B’?”

No.

I continue down the alphabet until I get to the letter where he says Yes .

Instead of brushing his fingers over my skin, he sinks them into my palm.

Images flash through my mind, bleeding over from Hemmen into me.

Frost coats me from inside, and I feel like I’m drowning.

I make a choked sound, falling backward off the bench as Hemmen’s flurry of memories pushes through my head, one after the other.

Suddenly, I know exactly who it is and how they’re working.

I know how they’re slipping through the cracks and moving about unnoticed.

“Gwenna! Are you all right?” Arrod is there, grabbing me and helping me to an upright position. He slaps my cheek lightly. “You’re like ice. Are you well?”

“I’m all right,” I breathe, even as the ghosts retreat to the back of the room. The impatient one moans, but Hemmen just looks sad and lost. I wish I could comfort him, but I have to think about the living. I jump to my feet, despite how wobbly I feel. “We have to hurry. Raptor is in danger.”

“What? How do you know?”

I know because I’ve just been shown absolutely everything.