I nodded. Now that we were back in mortal reality and I was once again in touch with the land of the dead, the corpse sang soft lullabies just outside my range of hearing, as if tempting me to listen in and learn all her secrets. Without even thinking about it, I could feel that she had in fact been female. Usually I could guesstimate the age a corpse had died at as well, but not with fae. The body felt old, very old. But what did that mean for a fae? Two hundred years? Two thousand years? I didn’t have the experience to gauge how long she’d lived before someone had done . . . Well, whatever had happened to her.
Falin retreated, leaving me alone beside the bag. I glanced around, ensuring the thin line of the circle hadn’t gotten scuffed or broken. It looked complete, and I tapped into the raw magic stored in my ring, channeling it into the line in the grass.
The magical circle sprang up around me, strong and solid. Satisfied, I removed the shields on my charm bracelet and opened my mind. I kept my eyes closed—while touching the grave I tended to see the world slightly rotted away, and I didn’t want to catch a glimpse of the bones crammed into a decaying bag. Besides, I didn’t need my eyes to reach with my magic.
I could feel the corpse in my circle, but the grave didn’t claw at me as viciously as expected. Cold wind danced across my skin, but it didn’t rip at me, didn’t try to crawl under my flesh. I’d never raised a fae before. A couple of feykin, but no full-blooded fae. So at first I thought that might be the difference.
Then my magic touched the corpse and I knew I was mistaken.
My eyes popped open, and through the rotted material of the bag, I could see what I already knew I’d find: a silver shimmering soul clinging to the now-dismembered bones. A shiver crawled down my flesh, making my hair stand on end. Her soul was still in there, trapped in the bones. Aware.
I swallowed around the sick taste that crawled up the back of my throat. I knew nothing about this fae, but I ached for her. I’d never considered the full ramifications of the fact the collectors couldn’t enter Faerie. How long had a living soul been stuck inside a dead body? How much of what happened to that shell had she been aware of? I cringed again, catching sight of how very small the bag was where her bones had been shoved.
But guilt and sympathy were not the only issues I had to deal with. Her soul presented a very big complication.
I couldn’t raise a shade while the soul was still inside the body—my magic just didn’t work that way.
As long as the soul was inside the body, it was somewhat alive and protected. I could eject the soul, but it would become a ghost and be stuck inside my circle until I broke the barrier. Ghosts couldn’t interact with the mortal world, but I was a crossover point for realities, and they were very physical to me. I didn’t know what kind of fae I was dealing with, or how well she’d cope with being dead. But even if she didn’t go all poltergeist on me, to eject her, trap her in a circle with her desecrated body, and then raise her shade in front of her would be a type of torture.
I turned to where the others waited outside my circle. “We have a problem. She’s still . . . in there,” I said and the queen raised one dark eyebrow, not understanding. “Meaning her soul hasn’t been collected and moved on yet.”
“So?”
“I can’t raise her shade unless I eject her soul and force her to become a ghost.”
Ryese scoffed under his breath. “See. I told you this would be more trouble than it’s worth.”
Lyell nodded in agreement, but the queen ignored both men. She looked more harassed than concerned. “Ghost. Shade. I don’t care what you have to raise as long as I get my answers.”
Right. I wasn’t actually suggesting questioning the ghost. “Ghosts aren’t reliable witnesses. Unlike a shade, they have an ego, their own motivations, and they can—” I cut off because I’d been about to say a ghost could lie, but fae couldn’t lie during life so it was unlikely being dead would change that fact. Besides, while a shade might be an ideal witness, a ghost was basically a person minus the fleshy bits, and most eyewitness accounts came from the living. I might value the blunt honesty of a shade, but most people were accustomed to dealing with the living, and aside from the obvious corporeal limitations, ghosts weren’t all that different personality-wise from a live witness.
So maybe questioning the ghost wouldn’t be the worst thing, if she cooperated. The problem was, I had no idea what kind of ghost would emerge from that bag. How long had she been dead? Nothing decayed in Faerie, so she might have been a savaged skeleton for centuries—and aware of it the entire time. She clearly hadn’t died of natural causes. What tortures might have been inflicted on her premortem? And speaking of torture, Falin had disassembled her skeleton and shoved her in a bag. This ghost might emerge insane.
And I’d be trapped in a circle with her.