Page 27 of Ghostly Touches

“You’d risk being seen forher?” Viktor scoffs.

“Yes!”

To my surprise, Viktor’s arm pulls away from my neck, and his weight vanishes. I climb to my feet and whirl around to face him, ready to argue the point, but Viktor raises his hands in defeat.

“We broke protocol and risked our lives coming back to our world for answers. I’m not letting a bunch of old hags stop us now.” He turns and looks at the house. “Do you have a plan, or are you going to wing it?”

“I was just going to walk straight up to the house and demand to see her,” I admit.

Viktor starts to shake his head but pauses to tilt it to one side. “Actually, that just might work. Let’s go.”

He turns and strolls towards the grand entrance without hesitation. I blink, taken aback by the easy acceptance of my plan by one of the most disagreeable men I have ever met. Viktor’s sour attitude is probably his most notable quality. Never one to laugh, and quick to anger, Viktor isn’t what most would call a people-person. In the eighty years we’ve worked together, we’ve probably agreed on possibly five things in total.

“Where’s Theodon?” I ask, my feet falling in step with the other Ghost.

“Chasing down that Shadebroode.”

“Jonah. His name is Jonah,” I correct with a scowl.

“I don’t care what its name is.” Viktor shrugs. “Why we’re bothering to keep a pet around is beyond me.”

I scowl. “Compassion goes a long way, Viktor.”

“It also causes indigestion, so I’d rather not waste my time with it.” Viktor chuckles at his own joke as we stop in front of the door.

Viktor raises his fist and knocks. We stand there, waiting. My heart races as I listen to the sound of footsteps growing closer on the other side of the door. Besides Willow, I can’t remember the last time I spoke to another individual other than my fellow brothers. For thirty years, we’ve been avoiding the other Ghosts, knowing that if they see my face they’ll immediately report, or worse, kill us.

The door opens, and an old man appears. The annoyance on his old, wrinkled face disappears as his cloudy gaze slides over our attire. The fancy robe, with embroidered language of ancient Fae verses sewn into the edges of sleeves and around our hoods are a dead giveaway to who we are if one knows the legends of the Brotherhood of Ghosts. Apparently, this old mage does. His eyes widen, and he immediately steps back, opening the door wider. Behind him, I can see the inside is outdated with wood paneling, dull brass accent pieces, and well-worn carpets.

“Y-you’rethewarriors. You’re Ghosts!” he says in a hushed voice.

“Indeed,” Viktor drawls. “We’re here on official business. You have something of ours, and we need it returned.”

The mage frowns. His white, scraggly brows wiggle as he thinks about Viktor’s request.

“What could we have possibly obtained that belongs to you?” he asks.

“Bernard, who’s at the door this late? It better not be those teenage witches again, playing a prank on us, or I’ll turn them into ladybugs,” an old woman says, hobbling in from a side room and holding onto a cane for dear life. She stops when she sees us. “Ghosts!”

“They say we have something of theirs,” Bernard, the old mage, tells her with a wide smile. He turns to look at us and says, “Whatever we can do to help, please, let us know. Come on in.”

He steps back further, and both Viktor and I step into the house. The door shuts behind us on its own. I inhale, scenting the air around me. Immediately, I stiffen as my skin’s vibrations change in response to the scent lingering in the house.

“How can we help—?” Bernard asks.

I hold up a hand. “It smells like Mornstrikes in here.”

What’s going on here?

“Is that what you call monsters?” the older woman says with a frown. “We had several try to enter our facility within the past week. It’s been madness trying to keep them out. That’s why the front looks like a war zone.”

Viktor doesn’t look at me, but he doesn’t have to.

Something doesn’t make sense here. Why would creatures from the Third Realm come here? With posts on either side of the ripples between realms, it’s rare for Mornstrike, Tangeling, or Shadebroode to make it through. This is the second time within a week that they’ve made it through to this realm.

“Have you had any issues with these things before?” Viktor asks. “Have any of you been dabbling in anything you shouldn’t be?”

“We’re old, not stupid,” the woman says with a scowl. “We wouldn’t dream of calling upon creatures like these.”

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