“Sounds exciting.”
“It was. ’Course, by the time I took my test, things around here were a whole lot quieter,” Lucio gestures to the empty space around us. I close my eyes and try to imagine what it must have looked like when this enormous plateau was covered end to end with luiseach in training. But I can only picture it as empty as it looks now. I guess I haven’t been a luiseach long enough to know what it’s really like on an average day.
Lucio hops down from his boulder, nodding at the space behind me. Aidan’s walking across the playground to meet us.
“I just took an inventory,” Aidan says once he’s close enough for us to hear. “But do another head count before you turn in.”
“A head count?” I ask. “I thought we were the only people here.”
“We are,” Aidan answers.
“Got it, boss.” Lucio starts jogging down the mountain, his steps as easy and assured as a cat’s.
“And Lucio!” Aidan calls after him. “Get some rest. I need you strong.”
“Strong for what?” I ask.
“Let’s not lose our focus,” Aidan says. “We’ve got a lot of work of our own to do.”
“My mom really wants me to get better at handling multiple spirits,” I begin. “She’s worried that what happened in the parking lot might happen again.”
“It will happen again. But we’ll get you stronger before it does. Before someone uses that particular weakness against you.”
“What do you mean?”
“A luiseach can draw spirits toward him or herself. Which means a crafty luiseach could draw spirits toward a weaker luiseach nearby as well.”
“Why would someone—”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Aidan interrupts. “I’d like to start small. Close your eyes.”
The look on Aidan’s face tells me he’s not the type of teacher who tolerates students who talk back too much, so I let my eyelids fall shut. The sun is so bright that even with my eyes closed, I see brightness; a collage of reds and oranges play against my eyelids.
“Concentrate,” Aidan commands, like he knows I’m already distracted, paying attention to what I see instead of what I feel.
It’s there, that feeling I first felt in the hospital, the electric hum of spirits in the air around me, spirits who may have departed from this very spot, spirits who may have come into being close by. I can feel what’s left of them, like shadows falling over my skin. I’m filled with an odd sense of calmness, a connection to the past, to that moment of peace so many spirits have felt in this place.
“As you know,” Aidan begins, sounding like Mr. Packer at the start of one of his lectures. Should I be taking notes? I can hear his footsteps as he paces slowly around me on the smooth stone surface. “Spirits are drawn toward the nearest luiseach, like moths to the flame. However, we can help them find us sooner. We can pull spirits toward us from miles away, from across the country, from across the continent. If you concentrate, you can feel the instant a spirit is released from its body. Do you feel it?” I take a deep breath, pressing my eyes shut tight. Somewhere, right at this moment, a spirit is being set loose. At first there’s only the hint of its presence, barely enough to raise goosebumps on my skin. Last night Lucio said he was looking for a spirit and couldn’t find it. Is this how he searches? By closing his eyes and waiting for the chill to set in? As suddenly as I begin to feel the spirit’s presence arrive, it vanishes.
I open my eyes. Much to my surprise, Aidan’s face is close to mine, our noses almost touching. “Don’t let yourself get distracted,” he says. I press my lips together. How did he know my mind was wandering? “Focus only on the task at hand. Seek it out. Concentrate.”
I tense all of my muscles until I feel the chill again; my heart begins beating fast.
“Now draw him close. Trust your instincts.”
Aidan must feel the spirit too, an eighty-year-old man named Miguel from San Antonio who smoked his first cigarette at thirteen and whose lungs slowly turned black and finally gave out.
“Don’t lose your focus!” Aidan shouts, but his voice sounds terribly far away. “Draw him closer. Give him the peace he deserves.”
I can taste smoke in my mouth as if I’m a smoker. As if I’m feeling what it was like to be this man. It’s overwhelming.
“Concentrate. Remember what happens to spirits who don’t move on in time.”
“What’s happening to me?” I manage to say right before I see him there, in front of us. He’s so close that I’m shivering. I stretch my arms out in front of me, drawing him close enough to touch. His face, leathery and dried from years in the sun, has an expression of wonderment and fear all at once, as if he’s unsure of what’s happening. The taste of smoke is overwhelming, and I can hardly breathe as I touch his shoulder and send him on his way.