The twisted dead, p.7
The Twisted Dead, page 7
It wasn’t traditional unfinished business in the sense that they needed to conclude something or find closure.
It was more like…they couldn’t let go of what they’d had. Perhaps a part of them knew that, when they passed into the next life, they would be the same as everyone else. There was no special, superior afterlife waiting for them. And they couldn’t stomach that.
And so they clung to what they had once had, feeding off the heir, in the same way they had once been fed on. Their little family secret.
Out of the family tree, only a handful were not present. Keira skimmed over the names. George Crispin had died in jail. His son, Frank, had hanged himself in the old mill. Their ghosts would have both passed over without the chance to cling to the family estate. There were others, some who might have let go at the point of death, unwilling to become parasites. Others who, Keira suspected, were still in the house but hadn’t shown themselves yet.
The lingering ghosts went all the way back to the first generations that had built their home in Blighty and established its industry with the mill. In those earliest generations, the burden would have been light, three or four ghosts that fed on the dozen children and nephews and nieces. They would have barely been noticed.
As time went on, the balance began to shift. The family line narrowed as children moved away or didn’t marry. More ghosts, fewer sources of food. Even then, though, it was probably easy to ignore the effects. Maybe the family would have felt lethargic or had short tempers on bad days.
But the family had continued to narrow, and more generations of ghosts carved out their place in the house. Until it all came down to Dane.
One last descendent. A lineage spreading back hundreds of years. Dane was being crushed by the metaphorical weight of them.
At least three dozen ghosts. None of whom want to move on.
She thought of how exhausted she’d been after banishing the shade. How long would it take her to build enough energy to clear out even one of these ghosts? She could ask Mason and Zoe for help, borrowing energy from them like she had before, but that could only take her so far.
How long would it take to rid Dane of his parasites?
Years upon years. And that’s if I neglect every other spirit I’ve promised to help, both in the cemetery and at the mill.
“Okay.” Keira braced herself on the table as she stared down at the sprawling, interconnected list of names. “Okay, we can figure this out. We can…we can fix this. I think.”
She still couldn’t bring herself to look at Dane while his mother ate from him, but she could feel his gaze on her, silent but desperate.
“Does fixing this feel like something we can get done within, like, twenty minutes?” Zoe’s smile was weary. “I realise this is a super-serious, life-altering situation that requires the most delicate of handling, but also I have work tomorrow and it’s already one in the morning.”
“It’s what?” Keira turned to the wall behind her where a clock ticked faintly. Zoe was right. The hour hand was creeping past one. “When did it get so late?”
“My apologies.” Dane pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against. “I didn’t mean to keep you here for so long. I’d offer to let you sleep in one of the guest rooms, but none of them are very habitable right now.”
Is this it? We leave. He stays. Surrounded by a shroud of dead slowly sapping the life out of him. Am I really going to abandon him to them?
But what other choice do I have?
Keira took a sharp breath. Fresh hope thrummed through her. “You’ll come with us.”
Dane didn’t speak but watched her warily.
“Ghosts have tethers,” Keira explained, the words running together as excitement made her speak faster. “Usually either the place they died or the place they were buried. And, well, I’m assuming all of these ghosts died inside the house. Which means they’re also tethered here. They can’t leave. If we can get you far enough away, you’ll be free of them.”
“Is it that simple?” The hope had returned to his dark eyes. The prominent Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
Keira rushed to gather up the copy of the family tree. Now that she had a plan, she was furiously eager to get them out of the house. “You’ll stay at my cottage tonight. It’s a little bit crispy around the edges and the cat snores, but I can promise you it’s better than being here.”
“I…I don’t want to intrude…”
“You won’t be. I’m already sleeping in a tent. We’ll figure out something more permanent tomorrow.” She was breathless and giddy as she turned towards the door. “Why didn’t I think of this before? I can’t remove the ghosts from you, but we can remove you from the ghosts.”
“Ooh, like fishing him out of a pot of ghost soup and letting him drain,” Zoe offered.
“That’s a weird but surprisingly accurate analogy.” She turned back to Dane. “Do you need to get anything before we leave?”
“No.” His breathing was shallow and shuddering as he pulled his jacket over his shoulders. “I’m ready.”
They moved through the house in single file, with Dane at the head of the group. He carried the lantern and it lit strips of the walls in flickering gold while the ghosts clung to him like cobwebs blowing in his wake. His footsteps formed a strange tempo as they crossed the foyer in long strides, under the watchful gaze of the myriad portraits.
Dane held the front door open as they slipped out, then stepped onto the porch himself. He made to close the massive wooden door but hesitated.
“Did you need to get something?” Keira asked.
“I don’t have the keys to lock it.” Then he clicked his tongue and shook his head. “As though there’s anything here that I’d regret having stolen. No. Let’s keep moving.”
CHAPTER TEN
Dane snuffed the lantern and left it on the porch. Ribbons of moonlight rained through the jagged, dead branches as the four of them rushed through the overgrown, crumbling gardens.
The night air was bitingly cold. Keira’s exhales snaked away from her as plumes of condensation, spiralling into the mist that was forming between the trees. Ahead, the ivy-covered gates loomed, still propped open from when they’d entered. They slipped through one at a time before Dane dragged the gate closed again. Then they turned towards town.
“How far away do we need to get?” Zoe asked, arms folded around her torso as she shivered in her ballgown.
“Not sure. A few minutes from the house, at least.” Keira rubbed her hands in an effort to keep them warm. “I’ll tell you when the ghosts start disappearing.”
She’d seen the spirits’ tethers in action a few times before. She’d visited a hospital with Adage where an older woman’s ghost had tried to lead her to a van outside. The woman hadn’t been able to travel to the stairs or elevators but instead led Keira through her room’s window before vanishing once they reached the ground. Her tether had been three dozen meters at most.
The shade, on the other hand, had seen its sphere expand as it absorbed more energy. It had originally been limited to within a few feet of its tombstone before spilling out into the graveyard and even encroaching on the parsonage as it drew power.
That meant the stronger a ghost was, the farther it could travel. And these spirits, although not carrying the aggressive power of the shade, had spent their years eating from a captive prey. Keira guessed they might need to walk for a bit before the dead could no longer follow.
It wouldn’t matter too much. The graveyard was far enough away that even the most powerful Crispin ghost wouldn’t be able to reach it. In the meantime, Keira kept one eye on Dane’s hunched form and the mist-like figures that clutched their arms around him.
“It’s a nice night,” Dane said unexpectedly. “There’s a good moon to help us see our way.”
“You like to take walks at night, don’t you?” Zoe asked.
“When the insomnia sinks in, yes, it’s one of the few things that helps.” He glanced aside. “I avoid leaving my home during the day. Or straying too close to town. People stare.”
Zoe’s eyes narrowed. “Y’know, radical idea, but maybe they’d stare less if you didn’t try to hide all the time.”
“You’re not shy to express your thoughts, are you?”
“I’ve been accused of many things but never shyness.”
A huffing, scoffing noise escaped Dane, and it took Keira a second to realise he’d laughed. A small, tentative smile had begun to form on his sallow features.
Ahead, Keira could make out the rooflines marking the town’s centre. None of the lights were on and the buildings appeared uncomfortably cold, as though they’d been abandoned for years. Dead leaves skittered across the dirt road, tangling around her feet.
The spirits continued to stick to Dane. They were either stronger than Keira had expected or the continual feeding was artificially stretching their tethers.
They can’t last much longer, surely. They’ll have to snap back to their resting place soon, no matter how much energy they’ve stolen.
A glimmer of movement made her glance towards the trees lining the path. Mist coiled between the trunks and left a coating of dew over the bark. Keira could have sworn she’d seen something inside the trees, though. A pale figure, gone before her eyes could find it.
Keira tracked the space as they passed it by. She couldn’t suppress the instinct to quicken her pace.
The mist was thickening around them, forming a lake of fog that they had to wade through. It clung to Keira’s exposed skin and stuck loose strands of hair to her throat. When she swallowed, she tasted the icy droplets on her tongue.
No other sounds were audible above the crackle of dried leaves beneath their feet and their low, rough breathing. Another flicker of movement registered to her right, but it was gone the second she turned towards it.
“No one else saw that, did they?” Keira felt compelled to keep her voice to a whisper.
“Hm?” Zoe had her arms crossed and her shoulders hunched. “I can’t see much of anything.”
Keira couldn’t blame her. As they passed under the shadows of the stores and the surrounding trees at the edge of town, the dappled moonlight began to play tricks on her eyes. She could no longer see more than forty paces through the fog. It was growing thicker…and faster than the night warranted.
Keira increased her speed again, her breathing turning raw. She thought she knew what was happening. The presence of ghosts could make an area feel cold and create mist where none had been before.
This was the first time she’d entered the town with her second sight engaged. She had no idea how many spirits might be lingering between the old stone buildings and on the worn sidewalks.
Ahead, the fountain marking the crossroads rose like a monument through the hazy white. Beyond it, figures flickered at the edges of Keira’s vision. She pulled harder on the muscle that controlled her second sight and felt the headache burn behind her eyes. She’d badly overused it, but she couldn’t afford to drop it yet.
She turned to see Dane. She’d been so preoccupied on the shapes around them that she hadn’t been watching to see when the parasites lost their ability to cling to him. Even hunched, he created an imposing figure: his features were lost in the shadows and mist, but his black clothes and dark, shaggy hair created a wild silhouette. Surrounded by the old stone buildings and cobblestone streets, it was possible to imagine she’d fallen back in time.
The transparent, bony forms still hung from him, their eyes closed as they fed.
This shouldn’t be possible. How can their tethers reach so far? Are they really that strong?
Keira ran a hand over her face. It came away damp with dew.
Something icy cold brushed against her back. It left the skin prickling like a low electric current had touched her, and hairs rose across her body.
She knew that sensation. A spirit had touched her. She turned to see the woman—the one who had laughed at Keira’s attempts to banish her—glide past as she approached Dane.
“No,” Keira whispered. She took a step back and turned, scanning the town’s crossroads with increasing desperation. Faces stared back at her, rising out of the fog before fading again.
She’d assumed she was seeing ghosts who had died inside the town of Blighty—she was wrong. They were the Crispins, the same men and women she’d encountered inside the mansion. They’d followed her.
Not quite. They followed Dane.
A stab of defeat hit her hard enough to rob her breath.
“What is it?” Mason asked. He’d stopped close beside her, tentatively hopeful.
“I was wrong.” The words tasted like poison on her tongue. “They aren’t tethered to the estate. They’re tethered to Dane.”
She thought they must have been chained to the house at one point. Many of the spirits had been dead since before Dane was even born. But Dane was now the last living human in the house, and the spirits had been feeding from him for decades. Their tether had changed.
“So I’ll never be free from them no matter how far I travel,” Dane said.
Keira was helpless to do anything except nod miserably.
“I understand.” Dane’s dark eyes were unreadable. He turned away. “If it makes no difference where I spend the night, I may as well return to my home.”
“I’m sorry.” Keira didn’t know what else to say. “I’ll keep trying. There must be a way to get rid of them.”
He didn’t answer other than to raise one hand in farewell as he strode towards the shadows. The ethereal shapes in the mist moved to follow him, their flowing hair blending into the softly swirling fog.
As he disappeared behind the buildings, Keira finally let her second sight drop. The headache behind her eyes was a steady, aching thing, and she knew she’d feel its aftereffects the following morning. She frowned at the damp cobblestones as she focussed on keeping her frustration under control.
“Well, damn.” Zoe squinted up at the moon. “If my ancestors kept pestering me even after they’d died, I bet I’d be miserable too.”
“It’s definitely not helping,” Mason agreed.
Zoe sent a sharp glance towards Keira. “Hey. Are you going to collapse into a heap of guilt-riddled despair if I let you out of my sight?”
“Nope,” Keira said resolutely.
“Cool, because I have work in five hours and I’m so tired I think I could face-plant onto the road and not even wake when cars started driving over me come morning. I’m going to catch some shut-eye. I’ll come by after work tomorrow, though, and we’ll see if we can brainstorm this thing out.”
“I’d like that.” Keira tried to smile even though her face didn’t want to form the right expression. “Thanks, Zo.”
“Anytime. Here.” She passed over the paper with the replicated family tree, then hiked her opera gloves farther up her arms. “Try to get some sleep. Both of you.”
Zoe’s shoes rang out against the road as she half jogged in the direction of her home. Keira shivered, then turned towards the path that would lead her to the cemetery. “Thank you too, Mason. And sorry for keeping you out so late.”
“Good thing I don’t have a curfew.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice. “Let me walk you home.”
She glanced up at him. His dark hair was growing heavy as the fog dampened it. His eyes were warm, though. He’d always been the steadiest person Keira knew. Being around him sometimes felt like holding on to an anchor in the middle of a storm, and she didn’t like the idea of letting go of that security when she had so little else. But the cemetery was in the opposite direction of his house, and even if he didn’t have work, he was still going to be missing sleep. She felt a small pang of regret as she said, “Thanks, but I think I need to be alone with my thoughts for a bit. Talk to you tomorrow, though?”
“Absolutely.”
Keira turned away, then felt something warm and heavy land over her shoulders. Mason’s jacket.
“You should keep—”
“My home’s only a minute away. You’ve got the longer walk.” He was backing away, looking cold in only his shirt but still smiling. “I’ll pick it up tomorrow, all right?”
“All right.” As Mason left, Keira dug her fingers into the grey wool jacket’s lapels and pulled it tightly around herself. It dwarfed her, but it was warm and thick, and Keira couldn’t stop herself from burying her face in the collar as she turned towards the cemetery.
Despite promising Zoe she wasn’t going to collapse into a heap of guilt-riddled despair, she felt uncomfortably close to exactly that. She’d promised Dane she would help. She had no idea how she was going to do that. Or even where to start looking.
As Keira’s pace quickened to a brisk walk, one thought surfaced: she wasn’t entirely alone anymore when it came to matters relating to the dead.
She had an entire cemetery to help.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Hm.” Keira squinted as the early sun stung her eyes. She stood outside the cottage, still wearing the rumpled cat sweater from the night before, toothbrush gripped loosely in one hand and her mouth full of frothy toothpaste.
A steady headache thumped through her skull. She’d overtaxed the second sight. Keira gave the muscle a tentative pull and winced as the headache redoubled. A blur of ghosts flickered into view, then faded again as she let the sight relax.
Keira turned into the cottage, shuffling, her eyes squinted, and made her way to the bathroom, where she spat out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth.
She’d been so tired when she’d arrived home that she’d assumed she would sleep until noon. Instead, she’d crawled out of her tent just after six, headachy and bleary and unable to stay still any longer.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the helpless resignation scrawled across Dane Crispin’s face.
She dunked her face under the tap’s cold water and rested there for a moment, letting the chill invade her head and cool the throbbing pain behind her eyes. When she resurfaced, blinking water out of her eyes and blindly reaching for a towel, she felt a fraction more human.
