A Flight of Souls
Page 18
“How are ghouls able to touch us?” I asked. “And for that matter, how are fae able to touch us?”
“I don’t know for sure,” she replied. “All I know is that both are spirits of a different kind. Although they can assume physical forms—as solid as any human—their natural state is subtle.”
I wondered now if jinn could touch and see ghosts. I’d never gotten a chance to see Aisha again after I left my body. She’d been trapped in Julie’s blasted Elder box.
My mind trailed back to just before the fae had caught me. I’d ventured beyond the walls and explored the vacuum. Then, before returning, I’d yelled. I supposed that those fae must have been somewhere nearby to hear… although I hadn’t been able to spot them when I was drifting around on the other side.
“I doubt there is any ‘other side’ after all,” Chantel croaked.
“Oh, there may well be,” the old woman replied. “A counterfeit object doesn’t preclude the existence of a genuine one. It’s just that this… this is all a hoax. To unsuspecting humans or supernaturals—those who have never encountered fae before—they look quite like the traditional concept of angels, don’t you think? The cunning creatures know this, and they use this to fool people and lure them into their trap. They are the worst, most despicable kind of cheaters, playing on the hopes and desperation of lost souls.”
Bastards.
Now I wondered whether it was even possible for a ghost to reach the other side, if the whole glowing gate thing was a load of crap. I wondered whether “the other side” was still indeed beyond the walls of the portal, as Nolan and Chantel had believed. Anyway, there was no point in thinking of it now.
My mind turned back to escape. “So, what you’re really trying to tell me, is that you don’t know a single ghost who’s managed to escape this place?”
“That is what I’m telling you,” the woman replied. “I’m not saying it’s impossible but after a few tries… it tends to wear you down. There’ve been cases of particularly stubborn ghosts who try and try again, but it’s always them who end up being removed from the upper levels first. The rumor among ghosts here is that five is the unlucky number.”
I raised a brow. “Meaning?”
“After five attempts—failed attempts, I might add, which they always are—no ghost has been known to possess enough life to warrant the ghouls keeping them in the levels above The Necropolis.”
My eyes traveled over the grim ghosts surrounding me—almost everyone now seemed to be listening in to our conversation. Their hopeless, pale faces were a harrowing sight, and these ghosts were supposed to be among the latest recruits. I couldn’t imagine how any ghost would still have a sound mind after one year in this hellhole. It was no wonder that they became shadows of their former selves… What was life as a ghost like here? What did they do all day and night, cooped up like koi fish? I guessed the same applied for any ghost, in a way. What did ghosts do with their time? Try to get lost in dreams like Ernest, I guessed. Though in this place, I couldn’t imagine there were any dreams. Only nightmares.
I studied the old woman’s face closely, again wondering what she was—or rather what she had been. This time, I asked.
“A werewolf,” she replied, with a small, strained smile.
That would explain the bushiness of her brows…
“And a rather old one at that. My name is Marcilla. Marcilla, of the Brownback tribe, from The Woodlands.”
The Woodlands. The realm of the werewolves, where I had visited briefly.
So the fae are stealing ghosts away from the portals in the supernatural dimension, too.
Although there were still hundreds more questions crowding my mind, I was already suffering from information overload. I needed to first process what I’d learned so far.
“Thank you, Marcilla, for answering my questions,” I said.
“You’re welcome… Joseph, I believe the witch called you?”
I didn’t bother to correct her with my real name. I simply nodded before drifting back. The rest of the ghosts in the pond were still silent, eyeing me. Some looked even disappointed, as though they had wanted the conversation to continue. I guessed the drama that followed the arrival of a new recruit was the only entertainment they had all day.
Now I needed to be alone. Alone with my thoughts. Alone to face my fears. As dead as I was, seeing my mother, sister and River back in that oracle’s cave had sparked a fire within me. I was going to escape, no matter what the pain or sacrifice. I had to. I’d made a promise to River, and I intended to keep it, no matter how impossible it seemed.
On the subject of the oracle… damn the woman!
I realized now that, had it not been for her ambiguous wording, I probably wouldn’t have bothered to float through the tunnel walls. I probably would have followed my instinct and fled the moment I saw that fae emerging from the gate. But playing at the back of my mind all along had been the faint possibility she’d planted with that one little devious answer…
“You’re telling me I need to go to the ‘other side?’… But how would that bring me back to my old life?”
“I never said it would,” she’d countered. “Though I never said it wouldn’t, either.”
I hadn’t even been aware at the time how much her words had been playing on my subconscious. But now I saw it all. Why else would I have bothered venturing through the tunnel walls when I’d already been told that “the other side” lay somewhere beyond them? Buried within me had been the small belief that maybe I ought to blindly follow the oracle’s suggestion, and trust that I would be better off for it.
“I don’t know for sure,” she replied. “All I know is that both are spirits of a different kind. Although they can assume physical forms—as solid as any human—their natural state is subtle.”
I wondered now if jinn could touch and see ghosts. I’d never gotten a chance to see Aisha again after I left my body. She’d been trapped in Julie’s blasted Elder box.
My mind trailed back to just before the fae had caught me. I’d ventured beyond the walls and explored the vacuum. Then, before returning, I’d yelled. I supposed that those fae must have been somewhere nearby to hear… although I hadn’t been able to spot them when I was drifting around on the other side.
“I doubt there is any ‘other side’ after all,” Chantel croaked.
“Oh, there may well be,” the old woman replied. “A counterfeit object doesn’t preclude the existence of a genuine one. It’s just that this… this is all a hoax. To unsuspecting humans or supernaturals—those who have never encountered fae before—they look quite like the traditional concept of angels, don’t you think? The cunning creatures know this, and they use this to fool people and lure them into their trap. They are the worst, most despicable kind of cheaters, playing on the hopes and desperation of lost souls.”
Bastards.
Now I wondered whether it was even possible for a ghost to reach the other side, if the whole glowing gate thing was a load of crap. I wondered whether “the other side” was still indeed beyond the walls of the portal, as Nolan and Chantel had believed. Anyway, there was no point in thinking of it now.
My mind turned back to escape. “So, what you’re really trying to tell me, is that you don’t know a single ghost who’s managed to escape this place?”
“That is what I’m telling you,” the woman replied. “I’m not saying it’s impossible but after a few tries… it tends to wear you down. There’ve been cases of particularly stubborn ghosts who try and try again, but it’s always them who end up being removed from the upper levels first. The rumor among ghosts here is that five is the unlucky number.”
I raised a brow. “Meaning?”
“After five attempts—failed attempts, I might add, which they always are—no ghost has been known to possess enough life to warrant the ghouls keeping them in the levels above The Necropolis.”
My eyes traveled over the grim ghosts surrounding me—almost everyone now seemed to be listening in to our conversation. Their hopeless, pale faces were a harrowing sight, and these ghosts were supposed to be among the latest recruits. I couldn’t imagine how any ghost would still have a sound mind after one year in this hellhole. It was no wonder that they became shadows of their former selves… What was life as a ghost like here? What did they do all day and night, cooped up like koi fish? I guessed the same applied for any ghost, in a way. What did ghosts do with their time? Try to get lost in dreams like Ernest, I guessed. Though in this place, I couldn’t imagine there were any dreams. Only nightmares.
I studied the old woman’s face closely, again wondering what she was—or rather what she had been. This time, I asked.
“A werewolf,” she replied, with a small, strained smile.
That would explain the bushiness of her brows…
“And a rather old one at that. My name is Marcilla. Marcilla, of the Brownback tribe, from The Woodlands.”
The Woodlands. The realm of the werewolves, where I had visited briefly.
So the fae are stealing ghosts away from the portals in the supernatural dimension, too.
Although there were still hundreds more questions crowding my mind, I was already suffering from information overload. I needed to first process what I’d learned so far.
“Thank you, Marcilla, for answering my questions,” I said.
“You’re welcome… Joseph, I believe the witch called you?”
I didn’t bother to correct her with my real name. I simply nodded before drifting back. The rest of the ghosts in the pond were still silent, eyeing me. Some looked even disappointed, as though they had wanted the conversation to continue. I guessed the drama that followed the arrival of a new recruit was the only entertainment they had all day.
Now I needed to be alone. Alone with my thoughts. Alone to face my fears. As dead as I was, seeing my mother, sister and River back in that oracle’s cave had sparked a fire within me. I was going to escape, no matter what the pain or sacrifice. I had to. I’d made a promise to River, and I intended to keep it, no matter how impossible it seemed.
On the subject of the oracle… damn the woman!
I realized now that, had it not been for her ambiguous wording, I probably wouldn’t have bothered to float through the tunnel walls. I probably would have followed my instinct and fled the moment I saw that fae emerging from the gate. But playing at the back of my mind all along had been the faint possibility she’d planted with that one little devious answer…
“You’re telling me I need to go to the ‘other side?’… But how would that bring me back to my old life?”
“I never said it would,” she’d countered. “Though I never said it wouldn’t, either.”
I hadn’t even been aware at the time how much her words had been playing on my subconscious. But now I saw it all. Why else would I have bothered venturing through the tunnel walls when I’d already been told that “the other side” lay somewhere beyond them? Buried within me had been the small belief that maybe I ought to blindly follow the oracle’s suggestion, and trust that I would be better off for it.
