“IT’S EASY TO SUMMON ghosts who want to be called,” Margaret said, “but sometimes you need to speak to a reluctant one. While we try to respect the wishes of the dead, you’ve just seen the importance of maintaining the upper hand in the necromancer-ghost relationship. Some really believe we exist only to help them, and we must quickly disabuse them of that notion. Being firm in your summoning is one way to establish the proper reputation.”
Margaret took the lead, going from grave to grave. We visited four ghosts, chatting with them for a minute, before she found one that didn’t want to answer her summons.
She let me try. The ghost didn’t answer me either.
“Do you know how to increase the power of the summons?” Margaret asked me.
“Concentrate harder?”
“Exactly. Slowly increase your concentration and sharpen your focus. Start doing it now. Gradually, gradually…”
We kept on like this for a while, Margaret getting frustrated by how slowly I was ramping up the juice. Finally, I felt an inner twinge that said “that’s enough,” and I said so.
She sighed. “I understand you’re nervous, Chloe. Whoever raised those bodies has frightened you.”
“I raised—”
“That’s not possible. Yes, you are clearly a powerful young necromancer, but without the proper tools and rituals, you just can’t do it. I don’t even have the ingredients with me.”
“But what if that’s one of the modifications they made? Making it easier for me to raise the dead?”
“There would be no reason to—”
“Why not?” Tori interjected. “Raising the dead must have some use.”
Armies of the dead, I thought, and tried not to remember the old pictures I’d seen, crazy necromancers raising undead hordes.
“All right,” Margaret said. “You girls are worried because you don’t know what’s been done to you. But the only way to overcome that fear is to understand the extent of your powers and learn control. I’m not asking you to give it everything you have, Chloe. Just a little more.”
I did, and caught the first shimmer of an appearing spirit.
“Wonderful. Now, just a little more. Pace yourself. That’s it. Slowly, but firmly.”
That inner alarm clanged louder now.
“No more,” I said. “It doesn’t feel right.”
“But you’re making progress.”
“Maybe, but I’m not comfortable with going further.”
“If she doesn’t want to—” Tori began.
“Victoria?” Margaret held out the keys. “Please go sit in the car.”
Tori stood. “Come on, Chloe.”
I got to my feet. Margaret’s fingers wrapped around my leg. “You can’t walk away and leave a spirit like this. Look at him.”
The air shimmered. An arm poked through. A face began to take form, then faded before I could make out any features.
“He’s caught between limbo and the world of the living,” Margaret said. “You need to finish pulling him through.”
“Why don’t you?” Tori said.
“Because this is Chloe’s lesson.”
Tori started to argue again, but I silenced her with a shake of my head. Margaret was right. I had to learn to fix this problem. I wouldn’t be responsible for trapping a ghost between dimensions.
“I’ll push him back,” I said.
“Banish? That doesn’t work on trapped spirits.”
I shook my head. “I mean push him. Like summoning, only in reverse. I’ve done it before.”
The look she gave me reminded me of when I was seven and I’d proudly informed our housekeeper that I’d donated half my clothing to a charity drive at school. It had seemed perfectly sensible to me—I didn’t need so much stuff—but she’d stared at me like Margaret was now, with a mix of horror and disbelief.
“You never, ever push a ghost back, Chloe. I’ve heard it’s possible, but—” She swallowed, like she was at a loss for words.
“I think it’s a bad thing,” Tori whispered.
“It’s a terrible, cruel thing. You have no idea where you’re pushing them. They could be lost in some—some…” She shook her head. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but you can never take that risk again. Do you understand?”
I nodded. “So I keep tugging this one…”
“That’s right.”
I knelt and kept at it until sweat trickled into my eyes. I went past the mental alarms and finally the ghost began to materialize.
“That’s it, Chloe. You’re almost there. Give him one last—”
Tori yelped. My eyes flew open. She was staring at a nearby oak tree, her eyes wide. Something was moving under the tree—a shapeless mat of blackish gray fur stretched over bone.
“Send it back,” Tori whispered. “Quick.”
“Ignore that and finish summoning this spirit,” Margaret said.
I turned on her in disbelief.
“Are you nuts?” Tori said. “Can you see—?”
“Yes, I can,” Margaret’s voice was eerily calm. “Apparently I was mistaken about the extent of Chloe’s powers.”
“You think?” Tori said.
I stared at Margaret. Her face was expressionless. In shock? She had to be. While she didn’t seem like the type to freak out, she’d just seen me raise a dead animal—without rituals, without ingredients, without even trying. Gaping in horror like Tori would be a perfectly reasonable response. But she only watched the thing, creeping toward us, pulling its mangled body along.
Its head lifted, as if it could sense me watching. It had no eyes, though, no snout, no ears, just a skull covered in bits of tattered fur and skin. Its head bobbed and wobbled, like it was trying to see who had called it forth.
“Chloe,” Margaret said sharply. “As horrible as that thing is”—did her voice quaver a little?—“your priority is this human ghost. Pull him through quickly.”
“B-but if I—”
She clasped my arm, panic edging into her voice. “You need to do this, Chloe. Quickly.”
The creature was closing the gap between us. It was a squirrel; I could see tufts of long, gray fur left on the ratlike tail.
It started to chatter, a horrible squeaking, rattling sound. It lifted its head, then turned its empty eye sockets my way and continued creeping forward, leaving a trail of fur and bits behind, the wind bringing the stink of rotting flesh.
Tori clapped her hand over her mouth. “Do something,” she whispered.
I shored up my nerve, closed my eyes, and plowed forward, throwing everything I had into one massive pull, imagining myself yanking the ghost—
The ground under us shook. Tori shrieked. Margaret gasped. My eyes flew open. The earth quavered and groaned and then, with an earsplitting crack, ripped open right in front of us.
Tori grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. We backpedaled as the ground yawned open with a thundering roar, dirt spilling into the crevasse and flying up, the musty stink of it billowing out.
The chasm split wider and deeper, an avalanche of dirt rushing in from all sides, tombstones swaying and rumbling. One toppled in, and still the earth split, until the top of a coffin appeared, shaking and rattling.
“Oh no,” Tori said. “No, no, no.”
She grabbed my arm again and tried to yank me backward. I brushed her off, walked to a place far enough away to be safe, then closed my eyes and concentrated on releasing the spirits. And if that sounds incredibly calm of me, let’s just say the earth wasn’t the only thing shaking. I had to drop to my knees before they gave way.
I squeezed my eyes shut and kept at it even when Margaret grabbed my shoulders. She shouted for me to get up, but I concentrated on releasing. Release, release, release…
Someone screamed. Then someone else. I leaped up and looked around, but there was no one near the crack in the earth, now at least twenty feet long, a half-dozen coffins exposed.
The ground had gone still. All I could hear was the rustling of leaves. I looked up. The tree branches were covered in tiny, new buds. That wasn’t what was making the noise.
I followed the sound to the coffins. Not a rustling, but a scratching, nails raking the inside of the caskets. Then came the faint, muffled cries of ghosts trapped in those bodies, trying to claw their way—
I dropped to my knees again.
Release them. That’s your job now. Your only job. Release those spirits before the zombies—
Another scream, this time from behind me. A group of newly arrived mourners was coming our way, the pallbearers carrying the casket toward an open grave on the edge of the old section.
They’d stopped and were staring down at the casket. I started toward them, slowly, cautiously, gaze fixed on that coffin, telling myself they’d stopped because of the earth tremors.
A gasp from the crowd. Then I heard what they did—a bump-bump from inside the casket.
Relax. Relax and release. Release, release, re—
A low moan came from the casket, and every hair on my body rose. Another moan, louder. Muffled. Then a strangled cry from within.
Two of the pallbearers dropped their handles. Their end of the coffin tipped and the other four, startled, let go. The casket plummeted, hitting a gravestone as it fell, lid popping open with a crack.
The knot of mourners blocked my view, everyone grabbing the person nearest them—some for support and others to push them out of the way as they ran.
When the throng cleared, I saw an arm on the ground, the rest of the body still hidden behind the gravestone. It just lay there, hand palm downward, arm encased in a suit sleeve. Then the fingers moved, curling clawlike, gripping the ground as the corpse pulled himself forward, turning my way, toward the one who’d summoned him and—
And the one who’ll send him back. Now!
I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined the man, a vague figure in a suit. I imagined setting his soul free, sending up an apology with it, releasing him—
“Good,” Tori whispered beside me. “It’s stopped moving. It’s—No, wait. Keep going. Keep—Okay, it stopped.” A pause. “Still stopped.” Her voice was breathless with relief. “You did it.”
Maybe so, but I didn’t open my eyes to check. As Tori went to assess the situation, I kept releasing spirits, picturing people in suits, people in dresses, people of all ages, animal spirits, spirits of every kind; and while I did, I listened, not just for the shouts and shrieks of the living, but the thumps and cracks and scratches of the living dead.
When I opened my eyes, Tori was coming along a path toward me, keeping back from the edge of the crevasse. People lined both sides now, eyeing it warily, waiting for the earth to move. But it didn’t.
“The dead are dead again,” Tori murmured as she came up beside me. “Everything’s quiet.”
Margaret stood along the chasm with the others. When I called to her, she turned slowly, eyes meeting mine, and in them I saw fear. No, not fear. Horror and revulsion.
You aren’t like her. She sees that now, what you are, what you can do, and it scares her. Scares and disgusts.
She waved us back to the car, but didn’t move herself, like she couldn’t bear to walk with me.
“Stupid bitch,” Tori muttered. “Oh, let’s take the necromancer with superpowers to the cemetery. Of course you aren’t going to raise the dead, you silly girl.”
“I’d say I showed her, but I really would have rather not.”
Tori’s laugh quavered. “We should probably get out of here before anyone starts asking questions.”
“Not too fast,” I said. “We don’t want to look like we’re running from the scene.”
“Right.”
As we walked, we gawked—it would seem weird if we didn’t. We gaped at the crevasse. We squinted up at the sky. We pointed at the fallen casket and whispered, all the while walking as fast as we dared, trying to look like we were as shocked and confused as everyone else.
“Girls!” a man called. “Hold on.”
I turned slowly and saw a middle-aged man bearing down on us. I tried to get Margaret’s attention, tell her we might have trouble, but she was looking the other way, leaving us to deal with it.