CHAPTER 11
Do Not Annoy The Spirits
There are days that murder just doesn’t seem like that bad a thing. I remember arguing in an ethics class that we could all kill another human being under the perfect storm of circumstances. I stood there, in the single-digit temperatures, autumn mist now turned to rain and drenching me, and the bone-chilling wind blowing off the Atlantic Ocean two hundred feet from where I stood, and I stared at David, thinking this was that perfect storm of circumstances.
“Shut up,” I growled. The power I’d been holding drained out from me and my vision blurred from the unexpected release. The sky was darker than it had been, and Manny now held a flashlight. In the distance, sirens wailed and police lights flashed. “How much time did we lose?”
Jeremy pulled up his jacket sleeve to see his watch. “You were at it for about twenty minutes.”
“Shit,” I said. “I was close, too.” I glared at David. “I’ll have to start over. Don’t speak. At all.”
David opened his mouth to argue, but Mrs. Saunders cracked him against the back of the calves with her cane. She sat on her walker’s seat, a blanket wrapped around her, Manny holding an umbrella over her bundled form.
She shook her finger at David. “You listen ‘ere, my son, I’ve had enough of your foolishness. You’re gonna shut your mouth, that’s what you’re gonna do. Not anodder peep, you ‘ear me? Not a peep.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ll be having a talk with that pastor of yours as soon as this is over with, that’s what I’ll be doin’. You harassing good people like Rachel with those religious tracts and she out risking her life. Arsehole.” She mumbled the last word under her breath.
David just stared at the old lady. So did I. What else do you do when a ninety-three-year-old woman hits you, scowls at you, and then swears at you? You shut up, that’s what you do.
I looked at Jeremy, who shrugged a shoulder but had a wide grin on his face. Manny had a shocked look on his face: the one children often have when they first see someone else stand up to a parent—and win.
I gathered up my bearings and started again. I whispered for the spirits only once and a crushing pressure pressed against my chest. I gasped out a breath, frantically trying to work my lungs. Beside me, Mrs. Saunders gasped, “Mother of God.”
I opened my eyes and saw the spirits walking in my direction. Some still in their shimmering ethereal form, fading in and out, as though this world and the other played tug of war with them.
“Lord preserve us,” David whispered. “Demons.”
A shiver shook my body and I pretended it was the cold rain splashing against my face. I gathered up my will and continued to call the spirits to me. These were the native peoples of the region’s history: average height, a range of skin from ruddy dark to paler tones, though all had dark brown or black hair.
The wardrobes varied as well, no doubt representing the many thousand years of peoples that settled the area: a historian’s wet dream. Weapons, clothing, and decorations all varied amongst the spirits, though more richly decorated than I suspected was true of them in life. Perhaps they carried their burial items with them in the afterlife.
My focus waned as I stared at the hundreds of spirits circling us, more appearing with each breath. None were the Viking spirits, however. How did I screw that up? Why didn’t they come? I’d called them, too.
Pain like I’ve never experienced gripped my soul. I fell to one knee, clutching myself, fruitless against the cutting, scratching, stabbing that shook me.
“Rachel!” Jeremy exclaimed and dropped down next to me. “What’s wrong?”
“I am what’s wrong,” a voice said in English. Not Newfie English, but the Queen’s English.
Jeremy helped me to my feet, though I still had to lean against him to remain upright. The spirits, both normal and flesh, parted the way. A middle-aged woman walked towards us. Her hair was grey and hung loosely over her shoulders. Two thin braids, richly decorated with leather, shells, and bone, framed her face. The old spirit leaned against a wooden walking stick.
With each of her steps, my muscles clenched. I shook from the psychic pressure her presence caused. After this night, I would need weeks to recover from being near this spirit, provided I survived with my brain still intact.
“Little one,” she said, her voice musical. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.”
Uh-oh.
This wasn’t just a normal spirit. Before me stood the most powerful one I’d ever encountered—and she knew me.
I gulped. “You speak English.”
The spirit smiled. “Yes. I learned it when they came to Newfoundland,” she said, pronouncing it the local way—”Newf-in-land.”
“So you aren’t very old then.” That didn’t match the aura of power that emanated from her.
“No, little one. I learned the language thousands of years after my death. I am one of the wise women, the shaman that continues to guide her people even once the body has passed into the next existence.”
I trembled and Jeremy held me closer.
“What’s going on?” he whispered.
“To summarize,” the spirit said, now turning to smile to Jeremy, “the little caster disobeyed his elders and resurrected spirits who have no mind or purpose of their own.” She narrowed her eyes at Jeremy before turning back to me. “Little caller, is this the man whose name you curse when you speak to your ancestors? The one who is blind to your affection and you left us to try to forget?” She sized Jeremy up. “He is rather tall.”
Heat rose in my cheeks. Stupid know-it-all spirits. “I am here to put the shades back to rest. Manny is a child and did not understand what he was doing when he called on the spirits for help.”
“Then the little caster should not have been so careless. Do not his elders follow the book with the rule to obey one’s parents?”
“This is a demon,” growled David and he began chanting the Lord’s Prayer.
“Shut up,” I whispered back. “Don’t piss the spirit off.”
“No,” the spirit said, laughter bubbling in her raspy voice, “do not.”
Her laughter scratched across the surface of my soul. I could see Jeremy staring at me in my peripheral vision, but I ignored him. The spirit was trying to distract me. She was doing a good job, too.
“Great spirit,” I said, steadying my voice, even though Jeremy’s strong arms were all that kept me vertical, “please return to your rest. I apologize for the insult of waking you.”
“Oh, there is no insult,” the spirit rasped.
She took two steps closer and the headache doubled. My legs wobbled, but I pushed my will to reinforce my mind’s defences.
“I am rarely at rest, little caller.”
My eyes widened. I’d attracted the attention of an aware, alive spirit whose power could crush my mind like a bug on the windshield, shattering my sanity and crushing my body. Ye gods. I looked at the motionless spirits around us. “Are you their leader?”
The old spirit took a moment to consider. “No.”
“Then why aren’t they attacking?” Mrs. Saunders asked.
The old spirit turned to Mrs. Saunders—and bowed. “Great Elder, I am keeping these mindless echoes from attacking you and ripping your bones through your flesh.”
Oh shit. “Great Spirit, I am honoured that you’ve taken notice of me.” The spirit grinned as I grimaced saying the words. “I seek your permission to allow these shades to return to their rest.”
“If the Great Elder can banish them, certainly you can, little caller.”
“They came back,” I whispered. “I need them to leave permanently.”
“This is our land,” she snarled and the words cut through me. I cried out in pain and my knees buckled under me, but I stayed upright. “Why should we be driven out first?”
I stared at the elder spirit, her eyes aflame. Literally. Red flickered in her eyes and her rage-fuelled power grew. I gulped down my fear.
“Elder spirit, I d
on’t wish to offend you,” I said, pushing myself to my feet.
Jeremy tightened his grip around my waist and I was grateful for the physical contact; it helped me strengthen my mental barriers.
“Old Spirit, I don’t want to fight you,” I said. It would have been more convincing if my voice didn’t crack.
The spirit laughed at me, a chortling sound that echoed in both my ears and my soul. “I have no control over these spirits. You waste your time focusing on me, little caller.” The spirit turned her gaze to the docks.
An explosion rocked the ground. The flesh spirits around us charged past. The elder spirit shrugged and walked away, the sense of her presence fading with each step farther from me.
“Merciful Redeemer,” Mrs. Saunders muttered.
A fireball burned its way through wood and fog. The docks were on fire. Sirens split the air seconds later.
I just stared at the fire, dread filling me. I had let the elder spirit distract me and had not continued the banishing. I had let her confuse and awe me with her presence. I should have ignored her and continued with calling and banishing the other spirits. She might have been too powerful to put back into the grave, but the others were not.
“Stupid Rachel,” I said under my breath.