If you’re decisive enough to banish the demons – against their will – then have the courage of your convictions and make sure the bastards can’t get back out.
Thick.
I compose myself, glad that they can’t hear my thoughts. I love Fletcher and his family, I really do, but if some people had had as much sense as they did magic, way back when they banished the demons, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now about to start some dodgy ritual in a room full of candles, which has got to be a fire hazard, if nothing else.
“Close your eyes. Do not open them until I say.”
I do as I’m told, and straight away my eyeballs are itching, and I want to peek – like when you have to close your eyes in school assemblies when it’s time to pray, but you open them anyway, and can’t have a row, because if someone sees you looking, then they are looking too.
But I’m not a kid anymore, and this isn’t primary school. This shit is real.
I keep my eyes closed and focus on what Elodie is saying.
“Secrets of the book are ours to know. Secrets of the book are ours to know. Secrets of the book are ours to know.”
Ember and Fletcher join in the chant, so I do too, stumbling over the words a bit, but trying my best.
The room goes chilly, and even with my eyes closed I can tell that the candles have gone out – the room is darker, and I can smell the distinct burning smell you only get when they go out.
We are still chanting, but Elodie is shouting something else, loudly, above our voices: “Secrets of the book are ours to know, ours to use. We need your help. We need to call the demons to the portal and banish them again. We need you to show us how. We need the evil magic of the past, to help the good magic of the future.”
She is silent, and I stop too, I can’t help it, I feel a shiver, a prickle of unease all along my spine, I would swear someone was running a sharp knife all the way along it. I shudder.
And I open my eyes.
Why did I open my eyes?
I am too scared to move and too scared to make a sound.
The candles have gone out, and the room is full of ghosts. I think they’re ghosts – I’ve never seen one before, which I always thought meant that they weren’t real. I live in a funeral home, with so many dead bodies, surely if there were such a thing as ghosts, I’d have seen one by now? Law of probability.
But here they are. Very different from demons – I can see that now.
They are exactly like you see them in the films, wispy, see through, floating through the air. There are hundreds of them, swimming, flying, whatever ghosts do, through the air. They are passing through each other and us.
I take a huge breath as one swoops down and goes through me. I turn to see it float up to the ceiling. This is weird.
But not scary. Now I can see them, I can see that they are friendly ghosts. They are smiling and swooping, and I cannot take my eyes off them.
I wish the others would open their eyes and see this, this gathering of spirits. The feeling in the room is lovely too, warm, gentle, weirdly peaceful.
And then I wonder why I felt that prickle of unease? What made me feel uncomfortable when all I can see are friendly, kindly ghosts.
I cough, trying to get Fletcher’s attention, but he doesn’t flinch.
I smile as I watch the ghosts mill around. They must be bringing the secrets of the book to us. They are so kind. This is just a delight, I’ll be honest.
And then I see her. Them.
The prickle of unease is back.
I can see Zeta and Efa in ghost form – a little less transparent than the others, maybe because they are freshly minted ghosts. Newly dead.
Ooh, they don’t look happy. These two look mad.
They are mad. They aren’t floating gently around, swooping through the air like graceful jelly fish. They are darting around, knocking the other ghosts out of the way; I bet it was them that snuffed the candles out.
Even dead, they are both horrible.
The other ghosts are trying to shoo them away, trying to fight back – but they’re all ghosts. I’m not sure what capabilities or limits any of them have. But the friendly ghosts look scared. They look uneasy, and instead of swooping, they have gathered into a little huddle near the fire.
Zeta and Efa are ushering them towards the flame, shepherding them that way. This doesn’t look good. They are cackling, and the ghosts are whimpering. I know they want to hurt them; to stop them helping us, and I can’t let it happen.
There’s a hiss and a flurry of black smoke as one ghost hits the flames and turns to ash.
“Fletcher!” I need to break the spell. I need to stop the ghosts being turned into ash. I need to help.
“Fletcher! Elodie! Ember!” I scream as loud as I can and then I reach across the gap between us, over the book, and grab Fletcher.
And it breaks the spell.
Elodie, Ember and Fletcher open their eyes, all three of them frowning at me, and I look around the room in surprise. The candles are still lit; the ghosts have all vanished and so have Zeta and Efa.
I shake my head.
“Ellis, what’s wrong?”
I close my eyes. Have I ruined this? I should never have opened my eyes, but I have to admit it, so they know what went wrong, so they can, hopefully, fix it.
“I opened my eyes.”
Elodie looks crestfallen, disappointed in me, Fletcher looks frustrated and Ember just looks angry.
“What did you see?”
“The room was full of ghosts. Then Zeta and Efa were here, trying to
