AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It did sound like Hanna had the situation under control.She sounds more confident than I’ve felt since the basement. Gran needs me more than Hanna does right now.It was a truth, and an excuse, and he didn’t care which fit it better. The pit of his stomach clenched at the thought of going out into the hall, and Gran had asked him to stay.
I would go out there if she needed me.But right now, he felt as though he needed her far more.
* * *
The near-formless spectercrossed the hallway in front of the stairs, looming closer, always closer, to where Hanna made her stand. She blinked, and that older woman she had seen in the dream, the one with the disapproving face who rode in the fancy car, strode across the space with blackest rage on her face. Then Hanna blinked again, and only the formless shadow remained.
Behind her, she could feel the tremulous chill of a terrified, hiding Stuart. Further, she could feel another presence, vague but distinct, and she knew the governess had not left her charge even now.
“I’ll help them,” she promised. “She can’t have any of you tonight.”
The ghost of Marion Pritchard surged forward. Hanna’s tattoo burned.Athena says I’m a psychopomp. I can send a ghost on to the afterlife. I wish I’d asked for better instructions, but there’s no time now.She stepped out of the doorway and into the hall.
“My name is Hanna Sparrow, and you will listen when I speak,” she said, in the same tone of voice she used to command attention from unruly toddlers.
Wind hissed past her. It sounded like contemptuous laughter.
“In times long ago, when people held faith in the passage of souls, they believed sparrows carried spirits to the afterlife. Without sparrows, a soul might become stuck. Trapped in the realm of the living. A phantom, a shade that can’t even find the shape it knew when it was alive. Just a shadow of its former, living self.”
Another hiss, louder, rage evident in the harsh sibilance of the sound. But the phantom slowed its advance.
Hanna took another step forward. “I am your sparrow, Marion Pritchard. Mother. Murderer. And I will carry you, screaming and hissing, to the afterlife you so richly deserve. One where you burn a thousand aeons for every life you stole.”
The phantom recoiled, undulating backward as if struck.
Another step forward. “I will set free every spirit in this house. I will carry them on gentle wings to the life beyond this one, where judgement awaits. A scale. A wheel. Judges in a court of souls. Reincarnation. If you do not burn, you will spend lifetime after lifetime as a dung beetle until you realize what you threw away. Go now. Go, of your own accord, and maybe there will be mercy for your soul.”
Wind blasted into Hanna, a battering ram of winter and malice given form. She flinched, raised her hands to protect her face as it whipped around her, attempted to throw her over. A voice on the air shrieked,“You cannot touch me.”
The cold air froze Hanna to her marrow, and she knew the phantom had overtaken her. Too cold to move, too cold to fight back – but for the scalding, inked lines at the top of her spine. Her tattoo, the one she had gotten in memory of her beloved uncle, who’d told her of the blessing of sparrows.“They catch the souls of the dead in gentle little feet so the souls never have to feel the ground again. Once the sparrows grab hold, they fly higher, and higher, until the soul is past the world and into the beautiful place beyond the sky.”
Eyes closed, fingers spread like talons, Hanna reached out. She imagined her hands were the gentle little feet of birds who could take a soul beyond the dark world of the living and into the light that waited for them.
The scent of patchouli, carnations, and vanilla filled her nose. Her hand closed on good cloth with furred trim, and the solid arm beneath it.
Then it was gone. The wind around Hanna stilled. The cold receded and left a faint, lingering chill in the air that dissipated as warmer air moved in. She blinked her eyes open in surprise. No phantom. No shadows. Just a fall of her own displaced hair hanging over her face.
She spun around to look into her room. Nothing. Only a small flock of sparrows on the sill of her open window. One puffed up its feathers, tweeted a soft sound, then the flock flew off into the garden again.
“Stuart? Are you and your friend here still?” She stepped back into the bedroom to look around.
Nothing. No cooler places, no sense of any presence other than her own.
“Sorry if I scared you,” she murmured. “Though you probably scared the pants off– Vivian.”
Even though she knew Gregory had gone to his grandmother, Hanna still wanted to check in. She trotted down the hall, bare feet wincing at the cold trail on the floor, to poke her head into the room.
Gregory sat on the edge of the bed, holding his grandmother’s hands. Both looked at Hanna when she appeared in the doorway. He smiled with relief. “Hanna. Are you all right?”
“Of course!” Hanna said with false confidence. “The wind just made a mess. I was cleaning it up. Are you both okay?”
“We’re fine. I’m about to bring Laura in to check Gran over. Can you believe she slept through all that?” Gregory sounded strained but amused.
Somehow, I can. The widow probably didn’t want her awake. I notice Martin didn’t wake up, either.“Some people can sleep through anything,” Hanna said. “Why don’t I make a pot of herbal tea for all of us? That wind was chilly.”
“That would be lovely, dear,” Vivian said. She caught Hanna’s gaze and raised an eyebrow.
Hanna gave a small nod. “Then I’ll run downstairs for it. I’ll wake Laura up on my way. Gregory can stay with you.”
