“Abigail,” I sputter, unable to make sense of anything going on here. “This is my friend—you helped me save her.”
Glancing over her shoulder, Abigail shakes her head. “This is but an echo of your friend, a remnant of her soul which needs to be reclaimed. Surely you can feel it?”
My eyes widen as I peer from her to Cat.
This isn’t Cat? The real Cat?
Suddenly, all of the odd exchanges I’ve had with her over the past few months come into focus. Things have felt off from time to time—but I couldn’t put my finger on why. Not to mention when Wade and I saw her on the side of the road…
“What is she?” I say, taking a step back and forcing Wade’s grandpa to shuffle behind me.
“A Fetch,” Abigail says, keeping her eyes trained ahead of her. Without looking behind her, she raises a finger and points to the grimoire. “It is of utmost importance that you continue your work. Quickly.”
“But I can’t read it—” I say, fumbling my way back to the book. “And what the hell is a Fetch?”
“See, this is a predicament we’re in here, ladies. An impasse, actually. I’ve been working very hard to destabilize things and I can’t have you putting it all back the way it was before,” Cat’s doppelgänger says, her voice painted with thinly veiled fury. “I want more.”
“The Fetch must have come into being at the time of Ms. Gilbert’s resurrection. It has been known to happen, though I know not why it would have done so for her,” Abigail says, refusing to divert her gaze from Cat. “I know not how, but I believe she is syphoning the power used to bring these revenants to life. It must be merged into the remainder of your friend’s soul, but this level of magic will take its toll.”
“Oh, no…there will be no merging; no resting. No releasing my pets. I have been buried in the shadows of that Goodie Two-shoes for far too long. I refuse to go back to the way things were. I have far too much to do,” Cat says, casually stepping forward, her hands still behind her back.
My pulse races and a cold sweat breaks out across my forehead.
She’s toying with us… But why? What is it she thinks she’ll get from us here?
Glancing down at the grimoire, the power and energy of it radiates into the palms of my hands. Centuries of magic have been imbued into these pages, and while I may not yet understand the contents, I don’t have to be told that having it fall into the wrong hands could be catastrophic. Why else would it be hidden here?
“What do you need me to do?” I say, flipping through the pages quickly.
Abigail shakes her head. “You do not yet possess the power to accomplish what needs to be done. It shall have to be me…”
Without waiting for Cat to make a move, Abigail raises her arms out wide, chanting something just under her breath. The torches on the walls flicker, and deep beneath our feet, the catacombs rumble with a power I’ve never experienced. It puts every cell in my body on notice, and I know Cat feels it, too. While she might not be corporeal, Abigail’s etheric energy is still a force to reckon with.
Cat screeches, bounding forward at Abigail, but stumbles as she goes straight through her ghostly body. I cry out in alarm, slamming the grimoire shut and pulling it to my chest to protect it. There is no way I’m letting the Fetch get ahold of this book. No matter how much she looks like my best friend.
“You know, your dead grandma isn’t as daft as she appears,” she says, picking herself up off the floor and dusting at her arms. “When I gave Colton the idea to raise the dead, I didn’t know it would lead me here so soon. As my plan took form, I thought for sure it would take ages to find out where the Blackwood grimoire was hidden.”
“You’re not going to get it,” I say, taking another step backward.
Abigail continues to summon whatever magic is needed, but so far it’s not enough to stop the Fetch’s advancements. She continues to walk toward me like a true cat stalking its prey.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Cat purrs. “We could work together in this. Imagine the ways we could bend the laws of life to our will.”
I look over at Wade’s grandpa; his ashen form continues to hover just off to my left, waiting in his strange stand-by mode for whatever his next mission will be. Why would anyone want to bend life and death to their own whim? Who would ever want that kind of burden?
Sometimes, the dead should stay that way.
“I don’t get it… the Gilbert family should have its own grimoire. Why not leech from that one? You come from a powerful family,” I say, trying to buy Abigail more time.
“True,” Cat nods. She keeps her gaze on me, evidently unfazed by whatever Abigail is doing, Instead, she puts her entire focus on making her way to me. “But their book is nowhere near as powerful as I need. They don’t possess any of the ancient secrets to life and death. That’s why you’re going to hand over yours.”
“Over my dead body,” I mutter through clenched teeth. Energy begins to radiate in the palms of my hands, making them burn where I clutch the ancient tome.
Cat’s doppelgänger smiles. “That can be arranged.”
“Do not listen to her. If she had such power, she would not be tormenting us so,” Abigail says, turning to face us. Her eyes have abandoned their soft-green color for a sheath of pure white.
The room begins to radiate—glowing with a white light that expands outward from the center of Abigail. Suddenly, it condenses to a beam that seeks out Cat like
