I scanned the chapter headings for something about speaking to ghosts, and with surprising ease, I found information written in as dry a manner as the rest of the book.
Summoning spirits is ill-advised under any circumstances. For one, ghosts are rarely amenable to leaving the earthly realm once there. For two, the amount of magical training and power needed is extensive. Necromancers, for example, must rely on blood sacrifices to rip a temporary hole in the curtain. Voodoo requires group sessions of up to a hundred priests to open a hole. Ultimately, all methods are likely to incite the attention of the Hell Hounds (also known as barghest, black shuck, or Cˆwn Annwn, see page forty-seven for more detail).
However, mediums of the mid-1800s discovered a method that allows the curtain to remain closed and the ghost to be “called” via a séance. One must know the spirit’s name and time of death (the latter information used to adjust the strength of the “call.” A longer-dead ghost will require more power and therefore more people).
I gnawed my lip. That was it? A séance? It certainly sounded harmless enough. My own mama had hosted séances for years (with no success) in an attempt to speak to my dead father. Admittedly, she had also allowed Marcus to enter the earthly realm during one of these sessions, but I wouldn’t be so foolish.
And I had magic on my side. So let Marcus or any other spirit come. I smiled, but almost instantly my lips twisted down.
Why hadn’t Joseph and Oliver known about this method? It was so easy. . . .
A gentle buzz suddenly twirled in my gut, and I knew without looking that Oliver was near.
Two breaths later, the lab door cracked open.
“What do you want?” I snapped. My eyes never left the page.
“To talk. To . . . apologize.”
“Well, I don’t accept.”
“I messed up, El.”
“Yes, yes you did.” My teeth gnashed together, and against my will, I glanced up. Oliver stood, head hanging, in the doorway. “Why did you do that?”
“I . . . I was drunk.”
“Really? Because you seem quite sober now.”
“Drunk and jealous,” he whispered. His yellow eyes crawled up to mine. “You’re my only friend.
My family.”
“And?” I slammed the book shut and stood. “I have no family either, Oliver. Did you forget that?
Did you forget that my father is dead, my brother is dead, and my mother has renounced me? I have no money, no home, and no chance at a real life. And now— now—the only three people who are able to look beyond all that . . .” My fingers clenched into fists. “I am about to lose them too.”
Oliver hunched even further into himself. “You still have me.”
“That’s not enough!”
“It was enough for Elijah. He and I used to do everything together.”
“And I am not Elijah.”
“I know,” he murmured. “Trust me: I know. ”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” he retorted, his spine unfurling, “you don’t want to learn how to free me. It means you run off with Madame Something-or-other and silly inventors when I’m right here waiting to teach you. Elijah never missed a chance to learn more. Now, do you accept my apology or not?”
“I do not accept.” I glared at him. “One minute you behave like my oldest chum—the spitting image of Elijah. Then the next minute you’re manipulating me . I don’t trust you, Oliver.”
He sniffed. “I never asked you to.”
“No, you’re right. You did not.” I got to my feet. “Yet for some reason you still seem to expect a great deal from me. Elijah might have made you his companion, Oliver, but for me you are nothing but a tool.”
Pain flashed across his face, but it was quickly replaced by a smug arch to his eyebrow. “I see what you’re trying to do. This has nothing to do with that Daniel fellow at all. You’re afraid of something, and you’re taking it out on me. So what is it, El?” He left the doorway and strode to me, only stopping once he was inches away. “What is it you’re afraid of?”
His eyes held mine—daring me to look away. I did not. “Are you the demon raising les Morts?”
My voice was barely a whisper. “Tell me.”
“And if I do not?” He sneered. “Will you command me? Command your tool?”
“Yes, I will.”
“So do it then.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re being ridiculous, though. You know I can’t do any magic without your command.”
“How do I know that?”
“Well, I suppose you do not know for certain.” He opened his arms. “But go ahead. Ask me for the truth. Just be prepared for the consequences.”
My heart lurched. “What consequences?”