Dead Living (Spirit Caller Book 5) (17 page)

Die. You need to die. Grab a gun and pull the trigger. Blow your brains out all over the ground. Die. Die. Die.

Dema snapped her head to look at me and said, “Spirit Caller, beware!”

I didn’t look at her. I glared back at the man who had tried to kill me, Mrs. Saunders, and Manny. Who had successfully killed four teenagers by convincing them to commit suicide, so that there would be no investigation, no manhunt.

“Do not make me defend myself,” I said harshly. “Stop what you are doing.”

Worthless. So worthless. Kill everyone. Kill myself. Kill the Mounties. Slit, stab, shoot.

I threw my head back and laughed. “Is that the best you got, asshole?” I shouted.

“No,” said the Whisperer. “Though it seems your little pet demon here has taught you enough witchcraft to shield yourself.”

“No,” I said. “That was you thinking I was some little girl would couldn’t defend herself.” I eyed the scars on his cheek. “Did I do those?”

He touched his face, but didn’t reply.

“You’re lucky I didn’t do more.”

He snorted. “We’re here to rid the world of the likes of you.”

He raised his gun to fire. Dema’s tendrils reached across me, just as she’d done the night Jeremy had been shot. He fired. Nothing happened. The sound of metal hitting the ground filled my ears. I looked down to see the tiny little bullets rolling around on the ground.

“I can call spirits, too, when I need to,” the Whisperer said. “I can stop that old ghost of yours.”

I turned my head and said, “Dema, what would happen if I called the spirits here? Like, all of them?”

Dema’s eyes grew wide. So did the Whisperer’s. “Spirit Caller, you…please do not. I…cannot guarantee you will remain yourself after such an action.”

Behind me, I heard everyone crawling out of the van. The Whisperer raised his gun to aim at them, but I gently pushed it down. He let me.

“Enough people have died because of you,” I said. “How many accidents did we all cause on the highway today? How many children have you tricked into taking their lives? No more.”

“You can’t stop us, little girl.”

Fragments of memories stirred inside me from when Dema had possessed me. I knew I had the power to call to the spirits, but until this moment I didn’t realize how powerful that could be. I could call an army. How many people had lived and died in this area? All of the settlers who came first to fish. What about the natives who lived on the land before? What about the explorers and their train of servants? What about the various groups who lived and died over the millennia on this land?

“Spirit Caller, no,” Dema whispered. “It could kill you.”

But I was already into the spell. My eyes were closed as I searched the threads of
other
that existed in this area. When I found the threads, I could see in my mind how they were connected. When I tugged on a string with my mind, I realized I wasn’t pulling on individual spirits, but on time and place. I found myself reaching out well beyond the ground I stood upon. I felt my mind searching and calling from time immemorial, to even Dema’s ancestors. I pulled from all over the island.

I pulled them all to me. I didn’t issue forth commands or edicts. I just tugged on their lines, summoning them to my side, to protect me.

Vaguely in the distance, I heard shouting. I heard automatic weapons fire, a distinct sound of groaning metal and the stench of burning cordite. I knew my name was being called. I ignored it.

I tugged at more threads. Then I began to pull at them with my mind. Gone was gentle. I needed them here to protect me. If I was put on this earth to be a Spirit Caller, then I would be one. If I was going to die today for having been a Spirit Caller, then I would die having called every single spirit within my abilities.

I yanked on the threads with my mind. I raked and clawed at them. Some pulled free in clumps and knots. I could feel my concentration wavering. I knew I was exhausting myself. I knew I was about to fall. I knew I was about to lose.

And yet I still pulled more protection to my side. If they wanted a fight, I’d give them such a damn fucking fight that they would never attack another Spirit Caller without a goddamn nuke.

I ran out of threads within my grasp. The rest were beyond my reach. I was too tired to pull any more. I dropped my metaphysical hand and let go of the image in my mind. A stabbing pain blasted through one side of my body and I dimly realized I’d fallen to one knee.

I opened one eye then the other. The grey clouds hid some, but not all, of the searing light. I winced. My stomach rolled and churned. Muscles ached that I didn’t know existed. Eye-watering pain stopped me from craning my neck. A cold sensation passed over me and I shivered. A dull ache hit my temple.

The muted screams and shouts were slowly coming back to me. I blinked several times and gasped when I couldn’t see in front of me. I fell back on my butt and kicked my feet out, trying to scurry backward.

“Jesus have mercy upon my soul.”

It took me a moment to realize it was Manny saying that. “What?”

“How is this even possible?” That was Isabella.

“She is
ours
,” Dema said. Even through the haze and confusion, I heard the pride in her voice.

I rolled over to my side. I felt a strong arm scoop under my armpit and pull me to my feet. It was Isabella. She stared at me with wide-eyed fascination, her handgun still firmly held in one hand.

She asked, “You okay?” She didn’t look at me. She was too busy scanning the area.

“I…I think so.” I touched my face and I pulled back wet fingers. Sweat, tears, and blood mingled on my hands, and I could finally place the odd taste in my mouth.

“Nose bleed,” Isabella supplied. “Javi, we clear on your side?”

“Clear,” Javier called back. He also didn’t look at me. “How is she?”

“On her feet,” Isabella answered. “Jeremy?”

“They’ve retreated back to the shoulder of the highway,” he said. “Rach, you okay?”

“I’m fine, I think.”

I looked around me in amazement. I knew my jaw was hanging open, but…Manny was right. Have mercy upon my soul.

We were still around the overturned car. Everyone was spread out, keeping a circle of defence around us. Whoever had weapons had them drawn and at the ready. Dema’s green shield was still around me, hazier than I’d seen her create before, but nevertheless there.

The Whisperers, however, I couldn’t see. That was because a fucking undead army stood between them and me. I hadn’t just pulled single threads to single spirits; I’d pulled on entire generations of threads.

Many were simple shades, barely visible to the naked eye. Some were solid. Some…dear ancestors, some I recognized. Mrs. McAvoy and the little girl from the grocery store stood in front of me. The little girl was holding Mrs. McAvoy’s hand. She looked over her shoulder at me and waved with her free hand. Then her smile faded and she went back to staring ahead.

Thousands of spirits stretched out all around us from several millennia of lives that had walked this area. From the first Maritime Archaic people who walked these lands to the fishermen deemed too valuable to go to Normandy, they were all here. They stood together, as one.

“Look,” Connie said, pointing straight ahead of us.

That’s when I saw the shield. The front ranks of the spirits had created a greyish-hued shield of their own spiritual energy, blocking the Whisperers from both my sight and no doubt their influencing abilities. If the Whisperers attacked, those spirits would be the first to give up their eternal existence.

I didn’t know what happened to them if they were plunged into a sword like Javier or Isabella’s. Would they be aware of their existence? Would they find peace? Or, would it be endless torture? Even Javier didn’t know much about the swords. Only that they were rare and powerful.

And that most of the people in the world who had them were currently blocking the road.

“What are they doing?” I didn’t say it to anyone in particular.

Dema stepped next to me. “We await your word, Spirit Caller.”

I don’t know what terrified me more in that moment: that I’d called a freaking army of spooks to protect me, or that I was in charge of the freaking army of spooks. Maybe both. Yeah, it was probably both that were equally terrifying me.

I shambled ahead, Dema’s glow around me. “Excuse me,” I said to Mrs. McAvoy, and all of the spirits turned to part, creating a corridor down the road to our attackers.

I limped, and didn’t even try to cover it up. I had horrible whiplash, and knew I’d be feeling this for days. My leg was killing me, and while I was pretty sure I had no broken bones, it hurt like I did. Scabs were already forming on my hands from where the tiny pieces of glass had managed to cut through my shirtsleeves.

But I kept limping toward them, if for no other reason than I needed to do it. Oh, sure, they’d come for Javier and Isabella, but they’d put my life at risk, too. They’d put my friends’ lives at risk. They’d put innocent people who just wanted to bake bread and run their businesses in peace at risk. They might have even put children at risk, and I’d be damned if I was going to let that happen.

The Whisperer sneered at me. “I thought you didn’t like to call spirits. That you wanted to be a normal little girl.”

I ignored his little insults. “I do when they threaten my family.”

He snorted. “These people aren’t your family.”

“Family is more than just blood!” I shouted. Rage I didn’t know I had boiled within me. “And this is my family! Get off my island and don’t ever come back, or I swear to God I will let all of these spirits possess me until I can take on all of you. Do you understand me? Do not fuck with me.”

“Or me,” Jeremy said. He stood next to me, a firm stance, Javier’s handgun pointed at the Whisperer’s centre of mass.

“Me, too,” Manny said. He stood next to me and nodded. He whispered under his breath and twenty spirits immediately appeared around him.

“I will learn how to turn your brains into pudding,” Connie said sweetly. Damn, she was scary.

Javier stood with his spirit sword in one hand and his little machine gun pistol James Bond thing in the other. “Well, you know Izzy and I will hunt you until your dying days.”

“This is a declaration of war,” Brent said. Brent was still looking like shit, from the back seat of the car they’d no doubt stolen.

“Oh, shut up,” I said. “This is my island. Go fight somewhere else, and leave my friends alone.”

In the distance, sirens wailed. A
lot
of sirens.

“Andrew, Brent, I suggest we negotiate a peace treaty,” Isabella said. “Otherwise, we’re all going to be hauled off to jail.”

“Jail doesn’t frighten me,” Brent said. He was looking rough. I felt a little sting of guilt, but not enough to go help him or anything.

Javier grunted. “It will when the rest of the team shows up and hauls you to our jail cells.”

I glanced at Javier. “You have your own jail cells?”

Javier gave me a look that clearly said he was trying to be scary and I wasn’t helping. I shut my mouth.

“We didn’t come here to pick a fight with her,” The female Whisperer said, motioning at me. “We’re here for you two.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass,” I said. “Solve this crap. I got potatoes to dig up soon. And those sirens are growing close.”

“Shit, will this violate my parole?” Manny asked.

“I’ll cover for ya,” Jeremy said.

“Thanks, Jeremy.”

“You’re welcome, kid.”

“What’s it going to be?” Javier said. “She got you beat. You know that.”

“You wouldn’t dare have them attack us,” Brent said.

I looked at Javier and he motioned for me to speak. “All of the province.”

“Just where you live,” The male Whisperer that Javier called Andrew said.

“The island,” I countered. “Hurry up, I’m sure they’re flying in snipers from St John’s right now.”

“In this little backwater place?”

Jeremy grinned. “Someone’s gotta take the moose down.”

“Neutral territory then?”

I nodded. “If you come back here, I will put Dema here in charge of how to hurt you the most.”

Dema bowed. “I would be honored, Spirit Caller.”

“We won’t be back.” Andrew looked at his people. “Let’s go.”

Epilogue

With Friends Like These

Nearly two weeks had passed since the stand-off in Bonne Bay and things were returning to order. Jeremy was
still
filling out reports and giving statements. Coached by Javier and Isabella, his stance remained the same: wrong place at the wrong time. The bad guys were smuggling drugs across the island when one of them recognized Jeremy. They panicked, opened fire, and that’s how it all went downhill from there.

I thought it was far-fetched at first, but it really did work. Amanda didn’t believe a word of it. She’d never really been interested in asking about the supernatural weirdness that went on around me, and I was rather fine with not volunteering up that information. Besides, the drug story worked well enough.

The group had ended up at our house most nights to argue out next moves and what the future held for everyone. Jeremy and I made sandwiches, since the gathering was rather impromptu and we didn’t have anything cooked. This was Jeremy’s fault, by the way. Not mine. He’s the cook. Not me.

Manny and Connie were curled up on my sofa together, looking young and in love. Isabella was leaning against my kitchen counter chatting with Mary. Javier and Dema were arguing about the best way to protect me.

“This will only attract more problems,” Javier was saying. “You need to talk some sense into her, Spirit.”

Dema’s outfit reminded me of the models I’d seen at the Beothuk exhibit. Caribou dress with caribou hide trousers underneath to keep her legs warm. Thick moccasins lined with fur. Red ochre strategically painted on her outfit. No purple yoga pants, nor silliness. Around Javier, she was all business.

“Do not demand tasks of me.”