Page 4 of Necromance
There. A rustle of movement in the air, just beyond my reach. A presence coiled tight, watching. More than one too.
I lifted my chin, keeping my voice calm, steady. “You’re not very welcoming, are you?” There was silence to my sarcastic question. But it was the aware kind of silence. The kind that came when something was listening closely.
My fingers curled around the cool metal of the locket at my throat, a habit more than a need for comfort. I had faced many spirits before, had called them forth and sent them away in equal measure. Ravenspire didn’t want either of those things.
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and strode toward the entrance. The lock groaned in protest as I slid the key in the door and turned the rusty mechanism. The moment my foot crossed the threshold, Ravenspire shuddered.
A gust of wind rushed past me, though the air had been still outside. The iron chandelier overhead rattled, its chains groaning. The heavy wooden door behind me creaked further open as if reluctant to let me go deeper.
The floorboards beneath my boots gave the faintest tremor, then, a sigh. Faint, Feminine, echoing from somewhere within.
Perhaps it was a trick of the wind? Or perhaps it was something else entirely.
I smiled as my magic bubbled curiously inside of me. Ah, there they were.So many spirits…
“Now that’s more like it.”
Another sharp gust of wind swept through the foyer, kicking up dust, rattling unseen things in the dark corners above. The house was testing me, trying to unsettle me and send me running back through the door.
I was not so easily ruffled.
Unhurried, I reached into my satchel, withdrawing a small bundle of dried herbs. I crushed them between my fingers, releasing the bold scent of rosemary and sage into the air. The energy shifted, uneasy now, like a cat with its fur bristling. I could feel a few of the spirits drawn to the herbs, yet something seemed to hold them back.
Something dark.
“Interesting,” I mused, ignoring the prickling sensation at my back.
The house groaned in response, its bones creaking as if to protest. I slipped further inside, shutting the door behind me. Ravenspire wasn’t just haunted. It wasalive.
And it wasn’t pleased that I was here.
I struck a match, its sharp flare cutting through the gloom, and touched it to the nearest wall sconce. The tiny flame flickered, struggling against the draft that slithered through the corridor.
Light spilled over the stone walls, casting long, wavering shadows. The flickering glow revealed intricate carvings along the wainscoting, ivy and thorns curling together, nearly swallowing the delicate shapes of roses. I traced my fingers over the raised pattern, surprised by thelevel of craftsmanship, the detail that had not yet succumbed to time’s decay.
Ravenspire had once been a thing of beauty. Still was, in its own way.
I moved to another sconce, lighting it, then another, until the corridor was bathed in a dim, golden glow. Then I retrieved a candle from my satchel, set it in a holder, and coaxed it to life with another match. The warm light did little to banish the overwhelming sense of stillness pressing in from all sides.
With my candle in hand, I started my exploration.
The castle’s energy wrapped around me, thick and watchful. Each step I took sent faint echoes skittering through the vast space. Dust motes drifted in the candlelight, unsettled by my presence.
I trailed my fingertips along the wooden banister of a grand staircase, the once polished surface was dulled by neglect. The spindles were carved in twisting shapes, almost serpentine, and the stairs curved upward into a darkness that my candle’s feeble glow couldn’t touch.
Above, the ceiling arched high, its beams lost in the shadows. A great chandelier hung there, its crystals coated in dust and cobwebs, though I could tell that when lit, it must have once bathed the grand hall in a cascade of glittering light.
My footsteps slowed as I took in the details, the faded tapestry thatclung to the stone wall, depicting a garden overrun with brambles, the marble fireplace, its mantle adorned with figures I couldn’t quite make out in the dimness, the grand windows, tall and narrow, where the moon strained to push through the grime coating the glass.
It was hauntingly beautiful. And terribly lonely.
Something brushed against the edge of my senses, a ripple in the heavy stillness, a presence lingering just out of reach. Not malevolent, simply curious. Again, however, the spirit avoided me.
I exhaled slowly. “You don’t want me here, do you?”
The candle’s flame sputtered, dipping sideways as if stirred by an unseen breath.
I smiled to myself, unfazed. “You’ll have to try harder than that.”
