Kelley Armstrong - The Reckoning

“Are you okay?” Tori whispered.

Margaret had moved away and was dumping out the ashes of the vervain. Tori touched my arm. I realized I was shaking. I wrapped my arms around myself. “I should have brought a sweater.”

“It’s still chilly when the sun goes in, isn’t it?” Margaret said as she came back to us.

She held up a baggie of dried stuff.

“Vervain,” she said. “I’ll give you some back at the house. Obviously you could use it.”

She tried to smile, but she was out of practice and only managed a twist of her lips.

“Thank you,” I said, and surprised myself by meaning it.

“Are you up to some more work?” she asked.

I glanced down at the bag she held, like it was a prize for a lesson well done, and as much as I wanted to quit, that eager-to-please part of me blurted, “Sure.”

“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.