“The one near the bottom righthand corner of the picture frame.”
I leaned over the table. A glint of gold behind the flute of champagne caught my eye. I teased the ring onto the first joint of my thumb and lifted it to the recessed light fixture illuminating the niche. Granulated gold beads decorated the emerald’s blocky, rectangular setting. The stone itself was cloudy green, with markings incised on its exposed surface. “I’m not sure this is Moira’s. It’s rather heavy.” The nature of the ring’s magic felt sluggish against my heightened pulse.
“It’s hers,” Bas said. “Or it’s important to her. Bring it along.”
There was no time to satisfy my urge to snoop through Alabastair’s quarters once we closed the door and paused in his foyer. He inclined his head toward the living room area and asked me to nudge aside the rug and create a circle of containment right away.
“There’s a large tin of salt inside one of the smaller valises, the oxblood one. Keep the tin just outside the circle in case I need you to raise the height.”
Valise. Oh, Alabastair. I found the correct piece of luggage—and the salt—drew the requested circle and returned to the valise for candles which I immediately coveted. The outside of each had been dipped in metallic-tinted wax. In a box next to them was a set of matching candlesticks carved from chunks of salt.
Bas placed his armload of cloth onto the floor inside the circle and carefully tucked everything in. I whispered over the candles as I lit each one then ascertained Bas was ready. The moment the circle closed, an amorphous wall of reflected light rose, shimmering between the upright tapers and the circle on the floor.
“Did you do something to the salt you use?” I asked, bringing my fingertips to my nose. The base substance’s scent evoked the inside of an old, stone church.
“The valise I directed you to contains everything I need for working with ghosts, so in answer to your question, yes. The salt has been mixed with finely ground mica, which heightens its reflective properties. I also added crushed, dried birch bark, dried wormwood, and myrrh. I find the mixture assists with drawing out the more reticent spirits.”
“Did you come up with those ingredients yourself?” As much as I had unearthed in my studies and travels, there was always more to learn.
“Yes. Experimentation has been an important component of my self-guided studies.” Bas brushed his fingers through the wavering wall of light. His white dress shirt hung off his shoulders as he then rested his hands on his hips and surveyed the pile of sheet and curtain. “I’ve failed on numerous occasions, but this combination is one I am particularly pleased with.”
“What do you plan to do next?” I asked from outside the circle. I was curious to see how he would incorporate the items found on my bed.
“I’m going to uncover the paper dolls,” he said. “My hope is they are, as you said, your sister’s calling card, and not magically charged objects with ulterior motives. I feel a faint emanation coming from the paper, but that could be due to her handling them when she was alive.”
Bas pawed through the crumpled fabric with care. I went up on the balls of my toes and peered over the waist-high wall of light. The joined figures were there, slightly wrinkled. The necromancer hovered his hand over each one. A faint wave of my sister’s energy—barely enough to register let alone savor—floated in my direction.
“These are not under an active spell,” he said. He lifted the closest figure, folded the other four underneath, then placed them beside the sewing basket. “I’m going to look through her things before I examine the curtain.”
“Do you think she’ll manifest?” The question of why our sister could not, or would not, take her ghostly form haunted Malvyn and me. We had tried everything in our extensive repertoire, to no avail. Our parents swore they had not had contact with Moira since her death, though they created an altar to her every year for their neighborhood’s Day of the Dead celebrations.
“There’s always the possibility she won’t. But something’s afoot and I think the timing for this is perfect.” With that, Alabastair shrugged out of his shirt and handed it to me. When he turned his back, I pressed the garment to my nose, inhaled, and savored the sight of his near-naked body. The possibility that I might find companionship and more with this man softened a part of me I was unaware had grown hardened.
My needles rattled, drawing me out of my covetous moment. “What about the ring?”
“I’ll take it.” Bas spun in place and extended his arm to me. “If that’s okay with you.”
“I hear my needles calling,” I said, nodding and placing the ring in his upturned palm. “They sense my sister.”
“Would I be overstepping my bounds if I asked you to have two needles threaded and at the ready?”
“This is your show, Alabastair.” A vague notion had been flitting about in my head and Bas’s request allowed it to coalesce. My older sister had been a clothes horse until the day she died and if he could entice Moira to take form, I could quickly stitch her into a dress.
Chapter 10
There was an intuitive element inherent in every magical working. That said, I knew the ghost of Moira Brodeur was nearby and I was fairly certain whatever spell or curse was keeping her from manifesting was going to require finesse to break.
Extracting ghosts from wherever it was they were caught was a specialty of the Nekrosines and my skills at this particular service were solid. The extractions I performed had progressed from being in-house entertainment at holiday gatherings
