Page 21

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“Where are you going?” Finn asked as I slipped into the small space between the barrels and the dirty wall, but I could not answer him.

There was something nearby that was calling to me, something that I could use to help.

I was sure of it.

I moved without effort—without thought—as I knelt on the ground.

It was a tiny space—barely enough room for me to squeeze through—and it was quite uncomfortable. The light could not reach back here. Decades, or maybe even more, of grime was thick around me, and my skin felt scratchy and gross as dust coated my clothes and bare skin.

I pressed my hands against the floor. It was a chilly and uneven surface. Even so, the tips of my fingers burned.

“Bianca, what are you doing?” Finn stood at my back, at the tiny entrance that he had no hope of fitting into, and I could sense his disapproval. “Get back here. ”

“Not yet,” I told him. I crawled, pushing forward until the top of my head brushed against a hard, flat surface. It was at that moment, when I could go no further, that the touch of a smooth, and small, metal object brushed against the outside of my left hand.

“Hey, I found something,” I interrupted Finn’s indiscernible grievances, and he quieted. I closed my fingers around the object. “It feels like a ring.”

“Whatever, just get out.” Finn didn’t seem to care about my discovery. “I don’t like you going into places where I can’t see you. It makes me uncomfortable.”

I furrowed my brow. I didn’t care what he liked, nor was I concerned about his comfort. But still, I obeyed. He stood aside as I backed out, and he hovered in front of me, watching as I opened my upturned hand.

“It is a ring,” he said, pressing his lips together, as he’d doubted me. “What do you think it was doing back there?”

“It was…” I held it to the light between my thumb and pointer finger, noting the way the silver reflected the orange glow. A design of complicated knots was woven around the band, and a green stone was artistically displayed in the center of the elaborate setting.

“It belongs to her,” I said. There was a sense of overwhelming sadness spreading through my chest, even though I wasn’t quite sure why. “The ghost I’m trying to save.”

“How do you know that? Besides, isn’t it—supposedly—trying to kill you?” Finn asked, rolling his eyes. “Obviously, your first reaction would be to help it.”

“It’s not the same ghost!” I glared at him. He would have known this if he’d helped me from the beginning, but now he was so out of the loop it was pathetic. “There’s two of them. ”

“All right, all right.” Finn shook his head. “So, how are you planning on saving it?”

“I…” I began, turning the ring between my fingers. “I don’t know.” And that was the frustrating thing.

Honestly, since he’d arrived, I’d been hoping that he might have some ideas. But apparently, he was not as wise as Damen.

“Do you even know the ghost’s name?” Finn asked, frowning down at the ring. “That would help.”

“I…” I said again, this time allowing the guilt to turn my stomach into knots. But it was true; I’d never asked. Most of our conversations had been of a bemoaning variety.

My skin grew cold as I held the ring and allowed my regret to linger. Would it have helped? I only had one other hint about her life. It was from my earlier dream, and that might not even be accurate.

She’d come here looking for someone.

“I don’t know,” I began, ignoring the chill spreading down my arms. “But I do know she had a sister,” I added, even though I wasn’t sure how helpful the information might be. “Her name was Eleanor.”

The ring pulsed in tune with my rising heartbeat, and the ice spread through my veins. I looked up, capturing Finn’s surprised expression, but was unable to make out his words before the ground fell out from under my feet.

I stumbled forward into daylight.

The vibrant, green grass was a welcome change to the damp room I’d left behind. I curled my toes against the soft ground and breathed deeply. A sweet, soothing scent filled my senses, and the brightness surrounding me dimmed enough to show that I stood in a field of tall, vibrant lavender.

A robin flew past me, and I followed the bird’s flight. I spotted them as I turned.

Two girls in puffy lace dresses were having a picnic on top of a gingham blanket. One girl was familiar—the ghost that I’d been chasing for days—and one was not. But they had a similar appearance outside of their hair color and the sharp angles of their chins. Their rosy cheeks shone as they leaned toward each other, carrying on a conversation that remained outside the reach of my senses.

Neither one looked in my direction, and when I waved my hand, there was no response.

This was like before—a dream, but also not.

A memory, perhaps?

The giggling stopped after the blonde began to root through a woven basket, and the darker-haired girl’s focus drifted away. She looked to the distant side where—now visible—was the back of a familiar house.

I hugged myself against the chill in her impassive look and flinched as she shuddered. I was choking on her dread.

“Eleanor!” The blonde leaned across the blanket, her voice recapturing both of our attention. She was holding an apple, which she lowered back to her side. “Are you listening?”

“Yes,” Eleanor responded. Her worried gaze lingered before finally returning to her sister. “Sorry, Rose.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her face this time. “I thought I heard my name.”

Rose—yet the name still didn’t feel right—frowned. “Who is he to demand that you jump at his whim? Marrying you heightened his position, not the other way around. He should be grateful.”

Eleanor shrugged, noncommittally. “Don’t misunderstand. ”

Rose fiddled with her frilly skirt as she continued without concern. “I’ve heard that arsenic can be quite effective. That’s always an option.”

“That’s nice,” Eleanor replied, her expression unchanged.

Rose remained undeterred by her sister’s disinterest. “Then, afterward, we can bury him in the cellar. I’ve never liked that place—it’s too dreary.” She paused, clearly waiting for a response, but after there was none, she continued, “Though he is quite a bit larger than us. We’ll likely have to chop him into little pieces first to move him.”

“That’s…” Eleanor began but then blinked. “Rosalie Anne Marshall! How dare you joke about such things. He is my husband. What books have you been reading?”

Rosalie… I pressed my shaking hands to my chest. Her name was Rosalie.

Rosalie linked her fingers in her lap, small lips pursed, as she asked, “Does he beat you?”

Eleanor jerked back. “Rosalie…”

“Answer me,” Rosalie pressed, a hint of coyness in her expression. “You might be older and wiser, but we both know that I’m the strong one. You can tell me anything.”

“Don’t misunderstand.” Eleanor sighed and looked down as her long, loose curls fell around her shoulders. “While he’s quite strange, he’s also passive and quiet. It is not him who worries me. He tries his best, but doesn’t understand much about society.”

“Then who is it?” Rosalie raised her eyebrow.

But Eleanor pressed her lips together, obviously planning to remain mute.

“Would you like to borrow Snowball for a while?” Rosalie asked.

“No!” That broke Eleanor’s silence and she sat straighter, shaking her head. “In fact, it’d be for the best to keep your shikigami away, at least for the time being. Not many people know that you have one, and I don’t want to draw any attention to our abilities.”

“Eleanor?” Rosalie’s lips turned down as she tilted her head. “What did you see?”

“Nothing I understand.” Eleanor moved to her feet. “But enough to warrant concern for any girl of our age. Especially an overpowered one who likes to brandish her wayward shikigami to seek out my husband’s family’s demise.”

Rosalie crossed her arms, grinning, and my pulse raced. The expression suited her. She’d changed so much. “I’m not scared of them.”

“You should be,” Rosalie answered.“ At least in some regard. I fear that your safety will only be the cataclysm for an event far more deadly.”

Darkness dropped in around me, and my sight went black as the wind moved around my bare calves. By the time I’d blinked next, I was back in the basement.

“Bianca!” I could hear Finn calling me. It felt like ages had passed, but his expression was the same as before. Only now, he held my elbow with his left hand, and my skin felt damp from sweat. “What were you…” His words trailed away as our gazes locked.

My throat went dry as I saw his shocked, pale face. In all our years of knowing each other, rarely had anything caused him to look this way.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Finn lowered his hand from my arm and stepped away, and in the time it took for me to suck in a breath, his surprise had already passed. “Did you figure out your ghosts’ name?” he asked, his tone conversational, but definitely wary.

“I’m not sure,” I replied, looking back at my hand. While I wasn’t sure why he’d think such a thing, he wasn’t wrong. This ring must have belonged to her—or to Eleanor—although nothing like this had ever happened in the past.

“I think… Rosalie,” I said out loud, scarcely hoping, but also wanting it to be real. I hadn’t gone anywhere this time, nor, apparently, had any time passed—so things were slightly different from my last ‘dream.’

If I was right, though, it’d be nice. Maybe I could finally set her free.

“Yes?” A new voice jumped into the conversation.

Finn jumped—although I wasn’t sure how he knew we had a visitor—and spun until the light shone towards the center of the room. There, in the place between us and the foot of the basement stairs, was the girl who’d been haunting me for days.

“Rosalie.” I wasn’t sure what to do now that I’d gotten her attention. “How—how are you?”

“I’m deceased.” She was blunt for someone who’d once worn a puffy dress. But then again, she was outspoken in the scenes I’d witnessed—and was obviously far more nervous despite her harsh tone. “Why are you wasting your energy with me?”

“I—” I stuttered. “I wanted to help you.” It was the only explanation that I could offer.

“I asked you to stay away,” she answered, refusing to meet my gaze. Instead, her focus was anywhere else—particularly towards the ceiling. She linked her fingers together in front of her as she added, “Please.”

My skin flushed as I felt Finn’s eyes on me. He was thinking, ‘I told you so,’ triumphant in the knowledge that this ghost did not want help. I knew it deep in my bones.

“That isn’t what I’m talking about…” I muttered, feeling properly embarrassed. Despite her constant warnings, my blood was si nging as an electrifying sensation ran down my arms. She was lying, trying to protect me.

And things weren’t meant to be this way.

I’d seen many ghosts throughout my life—including spirits that were content in their current states. And usually, I wouldn’t be bothered.

But I was beginning to grow a sense of confidence in my skills, and something about Rosalie that was not right. Maybe it was because she’d asked for help once, and since then, her intentions had shifted.

A spirit that really didn’t want assistance would be far more aggressive—she would try to force me to leave. The more powerful ghosts could manipulate nature, to an extent. She should take no issue with making her stance perfectly clear. But instead, Rosalie was passive.

It didn’t feel right at all.

“Why don’t you want me to help you?” I asked. “You asked once.” Very briefly, and I’d almost missed it.

But she had.

“I didn’t realize who you were,” she answered, pulling on a loose, silvery curl. “It was presumptuous. You’ll likely become a target in exchange, and it’s not worth the risk. He’s a pawn and is not able to make rational decisions. There is no way to end this without someone getting hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said.

I could feel Finn’s disapproval as he glared daggers between my shoulder blades. But it was true; it really didn’t matter what happened to me. Sure, I’d rather not be targeted—after all, being killed by a spirit would be vexing. But…

It’s not her job to protect us.

There was a swelling growing through me, a warmth that began from my feet and expanded to the tip of my nose. I moved on instinct and reached for her. She was a good person, a good soul, and I couldn’t abandon her.

“Don’t worry about me.” The words seemed to slip from my lips. “Let me help you move on,” even though I had no idea how.

Rosalie looked past me, shivering, as the four corners of the room grew darker. Long, thin tendrils of shadow reached towards us, kept at bay by the flickering light burning in Finn’s hands. A sinister presence tried to break through our safe circle.

I didn’t even know how she died, or her story, but that didn’t matter. I only knew that if I let her go now, she might be swallowed by the darkness.

Everything else could come later.

“Please,” I said.

She hesitated as a concentrated sense of helplessness was making it harder to breathe. My short-term confidence faded. I was beyond unprepared—I hadn’t even planned on any of this; of course, I had no idea what to do—and had next to no knowledge about what I might be able to offer.

How did a ghost move on? I’d never felt more useless.

Believe in yourself, don’t let outside influences affect your abilities.

It was then that Finn stepped closer, and his soft light highlighted something in Rosalie’s stricken expression that I’d missed before—fear.

Comprehension thrummed in my blood. Rosalie’s fear. That’s what was causing my throat to close and my heart to race. These weren’t my emotions.

“Let it go,” he said, addressing Rosalie.

I was unsure of what he meant, but Rosalie apparently understood. She touched her chin and looked between us. “But…”

“You don’t need to protect her anymore,” Finn continued. “I can handle the aftermath. But she can’t help you if you’re afraid.”

Rosalie chewed her bottom lip before she spoke. “You are an Er Bashou,” she said, and a faint flicker of hope lit her features. “It will be okay…”

I had no idea what that meant, but she was right that Finn was supposed to be very important. Then again, she’d mentioned having a shikigami, so obviously, she was an onmyoji too. I wasn’t privy to the intricate workings of the onmyoji. Perhaps they had a sixth sense about each other.

She looked back at me. “You’ll stay with him?”

“Sure,” I said, nodding, slightly miffed she’d believe I required his assistance. “He’s here to help you too.”

And I dared him to say otherwise.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure how Finn might respond. Our dynamics were different now. We’d never worked with spirits in the past—only degenerates and misunderstood peers—but I had to believe he’d do the right thing.

He cared about others more than he liked to admit.

“Listen to Bianca.” Finn’s reply was blunt. He might look and sound nonchalant, but I knew, from our history together, that the way he remained unable to hold eye contact, meant that he was invested.

Why would he feel guilty? It was clear he did; it was plainly written on his face. Was it because he’d ignored my concerns, or was there something more?

“And don’t worry, keeping her safe is my responsibility,” he told her.

My breath caught—he’d said something similar, with Julian, and it hurt.

I didn’t understand why those words caused the back of my eyes to prickle. I wasn’t a burden, although, yes, I’d done some burdensome things.

I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone .

“He’ll attack after I’m gone,” she was saying to Finn, and he nodded in response.

Wait. What? I blinked between the two of them, sure that I’d misheard, or even missed, a sliver of context somewhere.

“I know,” Finn replied, and there was a steeliness to his tone only used when he was preparing for a fight.

“Who?” I asked, unease twisting in my stomach. I didn’t like it when Finn needlessly fought people.

“We’re talking about the spirit,” Finn answered. “The one that apparently wants to kill you. Rosalie has been using all her energy to keep it from hurting you. If she’s gone, there’d be nothing left to stop him.”

An unpleasant taste filled my mouth as the implications hit. Essentially, I was exchanging myself for her. Finn shot me a look—brows lifted and eyes alert—his silent way of asking me, ‘Is that what you want?’.

It’s the right thing to do .

“It’ll be okay,” I smiled at her, trying to be brave despite my own reservations. Finn looked at me. “Trust me.”

Rosalie’s grief lifted. She turned her attention back to me, her hand outstretched, palm facing forward. “I feel so much better now!”

Well, at least one of us was happy.

“Oh, good,” I managed, weakly mimicking her movements. We’d been in this position once before, although only in a reflection. “What do you…”

“Thank you,” she said, closing her eyes and touching her hand to mine. “I’d like to go now, please.”

There was a second of solidity—almost as if she were still alive—before the space between us glowed a bright green, and her palm sunk into mine. Despite the peaceful look on her face, there was a growing buzzing in my ears, and my body began to feel weightless. Alarm and panic rose in my chest, but just as quickly as they came, the feeling was swallowed away.

Don’t be afraid.

There it was again—I had no way to know she’d be safe. I didn’t even know what was expected of me.

She’ll be safe because you want it to be so. Focus on that feeling.

“Then go,” I told her, allowing the warmness to fill my chest. “You’ll no longer be tied to this world.” I didn’t know where the words were coming from, but they made sense to her. There was a tiny smile on her lips, and when she fell forward, I was strangely devoid of fear.

I was surrounded by an emerald light and I fell to my knees as a glow filled the space, chasing away the darkness. I squeezed my eyes shut, and my chest and arms were tingling anywhere she’d pressed into me. But after a short moment, the vibrations in the air gradually stilled.

I knew that, when I opened my eyes again, she’d be gone.

Now what?

Finn was beside me, still brandishing his light as he stood guard. “We need to go,” he said, not moving his attention from the bottom of the stairs.

I was ready to argue but stopped at the sight of his face. He’d been contemplative, defensive, and alert, almost constantly from the very first moment I saw him.

But, right now, he was afraid.

“Finn…” I began, but he reached down and grabbed my arm, dragging me to my feet.

“Now!” he commanded in a voice that left little choice but compliance.

I stumbled forward, with hardly a second to catch my balance, before the light vanished and Finn grabbed my hand. The dark basement pressed in around us—suffocating, scary—as he dragged me after him to the stairwell.

“Get upstairs!” He pushed me in front of him as I stumbled into the bottom stairs. The order had been shouted this time, but I could barely hear him over the sound of my harsh breaths and pounding heartbeat.

It was only after I felt the handrail and stepped onto the first stair that the dam burst.

The air shrieked, and a piercing bang echoed through the room. It was followed by the sound of spilling, breaking wood, and crashing glass. The floor shook and splintered under my feet as I stumbled up the stairs. Finn followed me, both of us grasping onto the higher stairs and handrails, as we fought to keep our balance over the suddenly shaking staircase.

“Finn!” My voice sounded panicky and pathetic as I tripped over a knotty stair. I banged my knee as I fell, and he went down with me. My hands were splayed over the splintering wood as the stairway strained under us.

It was going to collapse. The air shrieked as it grabbed and pulled at our ankles. The presence was trying to take us down. We couldn’t fall. We’d be trapped in here with it.

“Bianca!” Finn wrapped his arm around my waist and lifted me from the ground. However, instead of setting me back to my feet, the wind was knocked from me as he threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

I was too scared to be offended, or even embarrassed. In fact, I barely registered his short whistle and the following flash of light diving back behind us as we stumbled forward into the brightly lit kitchen.