Spirit Prophecy (The Gateway Trilogy Book 2)
Read Spirit Prophecy (The Gateway Trilogy Book 2) Online
Authors: E.E. Holmes
SPIRIT PROPHECY
E.E. HOLMES
~~~
Lily Faire Publishing
Wakefield, MA
Copyright ©2014 by E.E. Holmes
All rights reserved
ISBN 978-0-9895080-3-2 (Paperback edition)
ISBN 978-0-9895080-4-9 (Digital edition)
Publisher’s note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover design by James T. Egan of Bookfly Design LLC
Book design by Joseph Holmes
Author photography by Cydney Scott Photography
To my mother, my biggest fan always, and to my father, who taught me many things, including how to devour a good book.
After great pain a formal feeling comes —
The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
The stiff Heart questions —was it He that bore?
And yesterday —or centuries before?
The feet, mechanical, go round
A wooden way
Of ground, or air, or ought,
Regardless grown,
A quartz contentment, like a stone.
This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow —
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.
—Emily Dickinson
UP IN THE AIR
BREATHE IN. BREATHE OUT. BREATHE IN. BREATHE OUT. Now repeat to yourself: We are not going to die. We are
not
going to die. People did this every day. So what if it seemed to defy all logic and the natural order of where and how human beings were supposed to exist? So what if the only things keeping us dangling thousands of feet above the open ocean were the sketchy and, in my opinion, totally unreliable laws of physics? Do you know what I remembered from physics? Gravity. That inescapable force that would send us plummeting to a watery grave at any moment.
“Barf bag?”
I unclenched my face enough to open one eye. Milo was grinning at me from the aisle seat. “No, thank you.”
“Are you sure? It looks like your airplane food may have purchased a round trip ticket.”
I considered hitting him, but that would have required releasing my white-knuckled grip from my armrest. It also would have been completely pointless.
“I’m fine. Besides, if I throw up, I fully intend to aim for you.”
“Empty threats, darling.”
Damn it, he was right. Someone as annoying as Milo had no right to be dead. It seriously depleted my options for revenge, physical violence being my first choice.
My twin sister Hannah leaned across me, placing a gentle hand on my arm. “Milo, be nice, please.”
“Come on, Hannah, let’s not set him up to fail. Give him an easier one.”
Hannah tried to scowl at me, but smiled instead. “Milo, can’t you find something else to do other than bother Jess? I think I saw a woman up in first class reading the new Vogue.”
“Ooh, Vogue? See you later, sweetness.” Milo winked, and shimmered out of view. “Yeah, go haunt someone else for a while,” I mumbled, fighting a wave of nausea. “Just take some deep breaths, Jess. We’ll be there soon, don’t worry,” Hannah soothed.
Her words did little to ease my tension. What I was heading toward was just as stressful as how I was getting there. I felt like someone had hijacked my life.
I was supposed to be a regular college student, testing my maturity level with some hard-earned freedom and spending school vacations with my loving, if somewhat disastrous, mother. Instead, my mother was dead, and I was flying across the ocean with a twin sister I never knew I had, to develop a newly discovered talent for seeing ghosts everywhere I went. I knew the first year of college was supposed to be full of change and new experiences, but come on, how much change could one person take?
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself somewhere, anywhere, else. My thoughts wandered back to my goodbyes at St. Matt’s the day before.
§
Pierce’s office door was open, revealing the familiar jumbled disaster of papers, ashtrays, and used coffee mugs. He was encased in an enormous pair of headphones and crouched over a legal pad, writing feverishly. His face was a masterclass in concentration. If this hadn’t been my only chance to say goodbye, I wouldn’t have disturbed him. But it was now or never, so I knocked on the door frame.
He looked up, startled, and his face broke into a grin. He yanked off his headphones. “You’re alive!”
“No thanks to you.”
“Hey, don’t look at me. Crazy shit like that didn’t happen on my investigations until you showed up.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, well, I had to uphold my reputation as ‘ghost girl’.”
Pierce’s smile shriveled a bit. He gestured to his decrepit sofa. “So, you really are okay?”
I sat. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Pierce looked me in the eyes, as though searching for a hint of the otherness he’d seen there the night he found me in the bathroom. Then he sighed and flopped back in his chair. “I’m so sorry, Ballard. I had no idea anything like that was going to go down. I never would have suggested it if I thought—”
I held up a hand to silence him. “Don’t. Please don’t blame yourself. No one could have predicted what happened in there. I don’t even think the ghost knew what was happening. I’m okay now, really.”
Pierce still looked slightly miserable. I tried to distract him.
“What are you listening to?”
“Your parapsychology homework,” he said, plucking a little silver voice recorder off of his desk. I recognized it at once as the one he’d given me to record EVPs while I slept. I’d forgotten all about it.
“So, did it catch anything spooky?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
“Spooky, Ballard, is the freaking understatement of the century,” Pierce said. He pressed the “play” button.
At first I heard nothing but the innocent noises of sleep; a little tossing and turning, a bit of deep breathing. Then, a whispering began, soft enough that it could have been dismissed as the breeze or the rustling of a sheet. But then a second whispering joined in, and then a third, and the vague swishing began to resolve itself into sounds and words.
“Take her! What are you waiting for?”
“Something’s wrong.”
“I can feel it, she’s the one.”
More voices split and echoed from the first.
“She pulls me. She draws me.”
“She is incomplete. There is no light here.”
“Wake her! Enter her! We must get through.”
Pierce stopped the tape. Our eyes met across his desk. “That goes on for about six hours,” he said.
It took me a few moments to make sure I could suppress the tremors in my voice.
“Right. So, as far as homework goes… ”
“I’d say you passed.” He looked down at the recorder like it was his first-born child and then slid it across the desk to me. “Here.”
“I don’t want it!” I cried, then collected myself. “I mean, I’m not going to listen to any more of that, so you can just keep it.”
“No, actually, I don’t think I can,” Pierce said grimly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, someone has made it abundantly clear that I’m not supposed to keep any evidence related to you.” He waved a hand toward a large box perched on the radiator. It was full of cassette tapes, CDs, video tapes, and memory cards. “That’s every piece of video and audio captured from our investigation. And every single one of them is blank.”
“Blank?”
“Wiped clean. Someone broke into my office while we were at the hospital. The only reason they missed this recorder is because I still had it in my pocket. They did a very neat job of it, too. Dan’s spent hours trying to retrieve the files, but it’s no use. Iggy’s in a state of depression, and I think Oscar may never recover.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a sad little smile. He looked like he was the one who might not recover.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. Karen had told me the Durupinen had been protecting their secrets for centuries, that they had complex systems and methods for doing so. If we’d been willing to wait, Finvarra could have arranged Hannah’s release from New Beginnings using her own mysterious connections. Pierce’s video and audio evidence of my abilities was exactly the kind of thing they would go out of their way to destroy. I imagined Lucida scaling the side of Wiltshire Hall and slipping into Pierce’s office, like some kind of Bond girl super-spy. I almost laughed until I realized how plausible that scenario actually was.
I took the voice recorder from Pierce’s desk. I’d have to choose my words carefully to protect him. “I’m really sorry that I can’t tell you what’s going on. If anyone deserves to know the truth, it’s you. You believed me when almost no one else did. You did so much to help me, and I’ll never, ever forget that.”
He nodded. “I had a feeling we’d be having a conversation rather like this. Are you leaving?”
“Yeah, for a while. ‘Study abroad program’,” I said, with air quotes.
“Do you know how long?”
“Two years. Karen promised I could come back and finish my senior year here at St. Matt’s.”
“And I’m guessing that joining in on ghost hunts will not be on your list of approved activities when you get back?”
I shook my head sadly.
“Well, I would have kicked myself if I didn’t at least ask.” Pierce stood up and shuffled through the mess to his ancient coffee maker. “Want a hit?”
“You know me. Can’t resist caffeine,” I smiled.
Pierce turned his back on me to doctor up my coffee, but kept talking. “I guess I’ve always been a bit of a glutton for punishment. Stubborn as hell, y’know? Whenever someone told me I couldn’t do something, I’d turn right around and do it, just as a ‘fuck you.’ That attitude followed me right into academia. The world said parapsychology wasn’t legitimate science. So of course, I studied it. But it wasn’t just that. I really believed in it. That’s why I knew I had to help you; I recognized another kid scared shitless by stuff she couldn’t explain.”
I took the chipped mug from him and cradled it in my hands. “So, you had your own experience when you were younger?”
“Sure did. When I was just a kid, my older brother Teddy came home from Vietnam the night of my eighth birthday. He woke me up just after midnight to wish me a happy birthday, still in his uniform. I was so happy to see him I didn’t even stop to wonder why he still had his helmet on and an M16 assault rifle slung across him. We talked for hours, until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore, and fell asleep. When I got up in the morning, I ran downstairs to have breakfast with him, and my mother told me I must have been dreaming; he hadn’t come home. I didn’t believe her; I searched the whole house, wouldn’t let it go for days. Then about a week later, the uniformed officer showed up and destroyed my mother with three sharp knocks on our battered screen door.”
