Page 242 of The Bone Season

So this was what Warden had called a willing poltergeist – determined to stay, chained by its bitterness. I pushed myself towards it, fighting the tide of its fury. In this form, I could exert almost no pressure of my own.

I don’t want to go. She told me not to go, the poltergeist said.I must not go, I cannot go.

You have to go now. It’s time. I was close enough to touch the other spirit, but I kept a careful distance.She is holding you here, but you are stronger. You can be at peace. If you just will it, you can go. Leave and be free, spirit.

This close, I could see its neck, bent at a ghastly angle.

I cannot go, it repeated.

I had the vague sense that I needed to hurry. In the near distance, I was aware of Warden holding me, the golden cord providing a second harness.

You, the poltergeist said.I know your spirit. You did not save me, walker.

Now I knew this spirit, too. I knew the name it had given me in March.

Let me save you now, I said.I can send you a long way away, to the outer darkness, so nobody can ever hurt you again. All I have to do is speak your name.When you hear it, you can break your binding and leave. Let me set you free.

The figure blurred.There is an old secret, it said.It pertains to you, walker.

What secret?

Some are for the dead alone. You dance among us, but you live. I see the cords that join you to both flesh and sarx. I see as I never saw with my eyes.The poltergeist touched my outstretched hand, or whatever passed for a hand in this place.Save them, and you will pass unscathed.Speak my name, and I will go.

Our fingers connected. The shock of it jolted me back into my own body. I sat up with a heaving gasp, staring at my hand, the scarred one.

‘Paige,’ Warden started.

‘Sebastian Pearce. Did you see—’ My throat was refusing to work, but I managed to ask the question, misting the oxygen mask: ‘Did you see his database entry?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he have a middle name?’

‘Albert.’

No sooner had he spoken than I was reaching for the ethereal padlock, clamping my scarred hand tight around it. The cold went all the way through me, but I held on, holding that pocket of æther in my palm.

‘Sebastian Albert Pearce,’ I forced out, ‘be gone into the æther.’ The mask delivered a fresh hiss of oxygen. ‘All is settled. All debts are paid. You need not dwell among the living now.’ I closed my eyes. ‘Goodbye.’

Seb heard me. The artificial haunt collapsed as he tore free of the flimsy binding and vanished. When I removed my icy hand from the padlock, the white light went out, and the shackle clicked up.

Warden wasted no time. We must have almost run out. Gathering me to his chest, he cast off the padlock and lifted the hatch. I heard distant shouts, saw the flash of torchlight, as our allies spilled down the concrete steps. Michael rushed past us with Ivy.

As if in slow motion, I saw Birgitta Tjäder grab a gun. Her bullet hit Cyril in the neck just as he reached the hatch, killing him. Nick roared at her and emptied his rifle. She raised a ballistic shield just in time.

Warden waited for everyone to descend. His warm, solid frame was my only comfort as my awareness returned in excruciating jolts, soaking me in cold sweat.

‘Julian,’ I said thickly. ‘Warden, can you see him?’

He scanned the meadow.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I am sorry, Paige.’

Liss and Julian, my two closest friends in this city. After everything we had survived, I was going to have to leave without them.

Warden pulled the hatch back down and bolted it shut. The shouts from above blurred into a senseless cacophony, like the barking of dogs. I clenched my fingers, holding on to Warden as he followed the others down the steps. The feeling came back to my skin.

Only stolen torches lit the darkness underground, where the survivors had gathered on a short platform, which smelled of disinfectant. A stack of stretchers stood at the far end, just visible in the torchlight.

---