“Just like that? Maybe I don’t need to tell you, detective, but my feelings about my brother aren’t exactly proof.”
Harper gestures around the cabin with a sweep of his arm. “And this isn’t a court of law.” True. It’s a lot cozier and there are more moose heads. He places a hand on my knee. “We’re gonna need more proof to do anything about Rowan. But for me? I know you and I can see how much your brother means to you. That’s enough for me. You came searching for him and you never stopped wanting to find him. Anyone you love that much, I don’t think they’re capable of this.”
Wow. Harper is either going to kill me or turn me into a romantic, I’m not sure which one. I stare at his hand on my knee, then back at his face, those golden eyes watching me with such certainty. Have I ever had someone’s complete trust before? Not in a long time. The feeling is intoxicating, like the first perfect chord change struck on my guitar when learning a tricky song.
Maybe it feels so good because I’d convinced myself I’d never be this close to him again. I spent days moping around this cabin. Missing something that barely had a chance to begin. But I still wondered what it would be like to have... this. Him. The steady presence beside me, the unwavering belief in my corner.
“Granted I don’t know all the details yet,” he continues. “Like why witnesses pointed the finger at your brother or howRowan is involved, but it’s clear he’s wrapped up in this mess somehow.”
“Thank you,” I say, so grateful he isn’t gone. But there’s still doubt that I got my brother all wrong. “I just wish we could know for sure.”
“Good idea.” He sits up straighter, nodding. “Let’s find out then.”
“What? How?”
“You’re capable of something detectives dream about,” he says. “You can contact the victims even after they’re gone.”
Ghost Hotline
Dodger
For a newbie witch and necromancer, my little altar isn’t that bad. Okay, I’m using the coffee table in the cabin and there isn’t much to the sad display on the table, but I’m trying to stay positive here.
We have everything we need, plus a bit extra. A black candle. Flowers gathered from the forest as an offering. The newspaper pages that Rowan hand delivered. Along with some other things in the cabin that may or may not have mystical properties since I’m following along with something I found in a book.
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter.
I light the candle and try to focus as the wick sizzles to life. I try not to watch Harper. I think I want answers for him more than myself, though it would sure be nice to look him in the eye and know my brother didn’t cause the death of people he loved.
The old newspaper clipping burns easily when exposed to the candle flame, steadily turning the yellowed page to ash.
“Whoever can hear this,” I say, watching the paper curl and blacken at the edges, “we’re looking for the information not covered in this article. We want to know the truth. Come forth. Tell us what really happened five years ago.”
We aren’t reaching out to any spirit in particular, though there are a few that we’re hoping will hear this call in particular. I think of them each, James, Elaine… and Jonathan. Since we don’t know how much any one of them knows, or what I mightend up seeing, we’re letting them decide whether to answer and which one wants to speak.
Still, I wonder about Jonathan in particular. Will he pick up the spirit phone? Will I recognize him if he does?
Harper hands me a bell, and I swallow hard as I grasp the handle. Marlow says the bell guides the spirits to me, along with this little ritual, so I don’t need to open up a passageway and go searching for them. I have no idea if he really knows this or just read it in some kind of Necromancy for Dummies book but he’s our “expert,” so I go along.
Harper stands over me, watching it all silently. How can he stay so calm? Is it just an act? No, I don’t think so. He was understandably pissed for a minute there before we put together this little ritual, pissed when he learned how I found out who his brother was, even if he understood how I couldn’t mention Rowan’s visit without mentioning the devastating news he revealed.
But now he’s just… patient and steady.
“Concentrate,” he instructs softly when he sees me wavering. I’m not used to having backup. And I’m definitely not used to having someone I can’t stand to think about losing. That part’s new.
I swallow hard and try to take his advice. Concentrate. My hand shakes a little. The bell rattles as I grip it tighter, but I don’t let go. I ring the bell once. The sound pierces the room, sharp and loud.
My eyes are closed as I grip onto the bell, desperately hoping someone will answer. I ring it again. And again. Five times, one for each year since it happened.
I don’t know how long it takes spirits to cross over to us. I don’t know whether they’ve been listening or they even want to talk to us. I don’t know what I’ll say to them if they do. Hi,James. Hi, Elaine. Is my brother with you? Do you know if he killed you?
Oh god. Should I have prepared something to say? Something better than,Hey, heard you’re dead. How’s that working out for you? You got any good ghost stories?
Then again, there’s no point preparing if I have nobody to talk to. Did it even work? No idea.
