Page 13 of Unruly
“It isn’t magic.”
“But you can do stuff?”
“I’m aware of the world beyond the veil. I see what mortals don’t, as you will too, but I’ve had many, many years of practice.”
“Cool.” He looks ahead. “Come on.”
We cross the busy street while all the vehicles stop and wait for us. How polite. When we reach the opposite sidewalk, I take only one step before I’m brought up short by a person passing me and yelling at the top of their lungs, but their words make no sense to me. Borja seems oblivious to the person.
“Borja, what is wrong with that person?”
Borja looks over his shoulder and shrugs. “Who knows? Bad day, drugs, mental illness. Hard to say.”
“What is he yelling?”
“Sounds like Bible verses.”
I can tell from Borja’s casual reaction that this is not cause for alarm, and as I look around, I see most people aren’t reacting. One man stops and tries to hand the man what looks like money, but the man doesn’t take it, instead yelling “Repent” before walking on. This is confusing.
“You didn’t have people yelling randomly in the streets in your day, I take it?”
“No. They would have been taken to receive care.”
“Yeah, we don’t really take people against their will anymore, but we do have programs and resources. In the city, you’ll see people out at night offering food, clean clothes, things like that to people.”
“I see.”
Borja opens the door to the antique store, and as I step in, I’m immediately hit with the sense of an overbearing presence, but I’m almost certain it’s not the one I’m looking for.
“This way,” I murmur, already walking in the direction of the strongest energy.
Down each aisle, benign spirits vie for my attention, poking their heads out from various objects. Borja suddenly moves close to me, grabbing my arm. His eyes are wide.
“There are… Everywhere.”
“Benign, as you can see from their aura color.”
He nods, swallowing hard enough that his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Purple, right?”
“Correct. They won’t hurt you. They can’t.”
“A benign spirit can’t become a Horror?”
“No, they were never in the Below. They escaped from their respective houses, likely because they have some tie orunfinished business here keeping them tethered to this realm. We don’t have the resources or any real interest in pursuing them.”
“They know you’re here?”
“They do. Perhaps one of them can be useful.”
We end up at the end of an aisle in a small, cramped room filled with all sorts of historical objects, from kitchen items to mirrors to books. There’s a small bowl full of old jewelry on the counter, and a box of antique photos.
“The energy is strongest here, but there’s no Horror.”
“There was.”
I tilt my head back to see the source of the voice and find a small spirit lurking behind a bookshelf. “Hello, GMW472.”
The spirit floats down, settling before me and Borja. “Georgina Marie Wilkins. How are you, Mr. Renard?”
