Each ribbon of color dips to the witches. They float around their heads, playing with the women who laugh in their delight.
“These are the spirits?”
“Yes, child,” Marian says, lowering her hands down at her sides. “Some ah lost. Some are meant ta be in the Death Realm.”
“Are there always so many?” I ask.
She crunches her face, and her tone turns to something wise and ancient. “I suppose not, but this last year has been a dark one.”
I blink rapidly as a gold-ribboned spirit floats around my head.
“Steady,” she whispers, so similar to the way I had mindspeeched to Cinder. “It won’t hurt ya. Jus’ don’t touch it.”
The gold streak circles my head, closer and closer. “Don’t touch it now,” Marian says more sternly.
“I’m not doing anything,” I growl back.
“Jacob,” Marian hisses. “Don’t touch –”
I don’t know what she says next. The spirit touches the edge of my nose, and my vision swims with blackness. Not complete blackness – I can still see the silhouettes of the others and hear voices as they shout and stagger to reach me. I’m paralyzed, helpless to do much else but endure.
And then I hear it. It’s a whisper, a male tenor, and it’s strained as though the voice has to go far to reach me.
“The one you seek is not here. Not yet,” the male voice says. The light floats in my vision and takes shape from head to torso. The male has long dark hair tied at the nape of his neck, and his face . . .
“Adriel?” I ask, and the man grins, bright and young and lively. I recognize him, see the unmistakable resemblances between him and Jinx and Kaya.
“Yes,” he says. “And you are Jacob Whitethorn, mate to my daughter.” Adriel’s ghostly gaze fixes on the mark on my neck, and he reaches an arm out to touch it. He pulls it back quickly as if he forgot he’s not a physical being and can’t touch me.
“Daddy?” I hear Jinx whisper. Adriel closes his eyes but remains facing me. The call of his daughter pains him – it’s obvious in the way he holds his spirit’s posture.
“I do not have a lot of time –”
“Don’t touch him!” I hear Marian’s orders to the others. She hobbles to stand behind Adriel, and though she’s just a silhouette to me, I can see the fear on Marian’s face, taste it on my tongue.
Holding out a hand to stop the others from interfering, she curses as another voice gathers with the first, and then another and then another, until several spirit’s take partial shape behind and beside Adriel.
“The one you seek dwells here,” they say as one. But I barely notice because there, right next to Adriel, is Allie. Her long hair floats in a spirit breeze as wispy smoke. Sadness is written across her features. Sadness and longing and deep, deep sorrow.
“Marian, what’s happening?” Tabetha asks, her voice quaking.
“Don’t touch him! Stay back!” Marian shouts, ignoring the question entirely.
“Allie,” I whisper. I try to move forward, but my legs won’t budge. A rock forms in my throat when she says nothing to me. “Allie?”
“The one you seek is coming,” Adriel says.
“Who?” I ask the spirits. I look straight into Allie’s transparent eyes. “Who is the one I seek?” I haven’t been seeking anything but answers or clues to help us get rid of a pack of mercenaries without giving in to their demands.
“Listen, Jacob,” Allie demands. Her temper flares, and I blink at it. “Listen!”
Marian’s warning dies away, and the silhouette of her head swivels this way and that, peering at the spirits. I don’t know if she can see the spirits, but she can certainly feel and hear them.
Silence falls between the witches and spirits, and then abruptly, the spirits repeat themselves, chanting as one. “The one you seek isn’t here. The one you seek dwells here. The one you seek is coming.” A pause, and then only Adriel whispers, “Run, beast. Take my daughter and run.”
“Who?” I ask quietly, fear making my fingers tingle. “Who is coming?” He doesn’t respond, only glances through the other spirits, straight to his daughter. Jinx’s posture is rigid on the couch, her eyes wide and disbelieving.
“Daddy,” she whispers again.
“Who, Adriel!” I demand. Allie looks away, but I catch the fear making her translucent form quiver. “Who is coming?”
Adriel turns back to me just for a second, and as he, Allie, and the other spirits start to fade back into their ribbons, Adriel sends his voice in the draft of magic still slithering through the room. “Run.”
The voices shriek in my head, an unearthly sound of undiluted terror. Released from immobility, I cover my ears and bend forward, grinding my teeth against their shrilling, “They’re here!”
The ribbons dart toward the ceiling, but one remains for a second longer. A yellow ribbon with a voice I’ve known for years. A spirit I had thought I freed when I burned her last cherished possession. “Flee, Jacob,” Allie’s voice sobs. “Please!”
And then her ribbon is gone.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jinx Whitethorn
What the hell just happened? Out of every All Hallows’ Eve I’ve attended, I’ve never . . .
I blink at the spot where my father had hovered. The spirits had zipped away far quicker than they’d come, and now, all that’s left is the living.
Nobody moves. Everyone’s eyes are wide, and their heavy breathing saturates the quiet.
Beside me, Cinder swallows audibly and fidgets in his seat. His movement breaks me from my fixed stare, and I look toward Jacob. My mate is righting himself, lowering his hands from his ears and straightening his spine. There’s liquid in his coffee-colored irises – tears unformed – and his lips are hard, firm as if he’s keeping them from wobbling.
He had seen Allie. I had seen Allie, his best friend. She hasn’t moved on. Her spirit is still floating around with my father’s, business left unfinished as they protect and warn the ones they love.
“Jacob?” I whisper. I stand from the couch and dash to him. Marian calls my name, a warning, but I ignore her and instead, wrap my arms around my mate’s waist and rest my head against his chest. He hugs me back, his heart pounding in my ear and in the space he occupies in my mind.
“Breathe,” I whisper to him, moving my hands to cup his cheeks. His wild eyes flick to mine, and I repeat myself. “It’s over, Jacob. It’s over. Breathe.”
Nodding, he blinks. To Marian, he demands, “What was that?”
“Ya tell me,” she whispers. Her tiny body quivers, seemingly held upright by her cane alone. “They chose you ta send a message. What did they say?” Jacob says nothing, only flexes his jaw. She hobbles forward and grips his elbow with her frail boney hands. “What did they say!”
“Someone is here. The one I seek, they said. The one who dwells here.”
“What does that mean?” I ask Marian. I release Jacob and fold his hand into mine. “They wanted us to run. They said run. Why? What does that mean?”