I was heading home without Harry. The wizard had stayed behind with Sunset to discuss cultists, sectarians, maniacs, and other lunatics. It was possible that before the arch came into play, our killer had been using more primitive methods, but the police had failed to link those crimes to the current ones.

  Knuckles dropped me off at the porch and drove off to park the Royal in the makeshift shelter that had replaced the stables after Harry and James had spectacularly demolished them. I entered the house, determined to make the most of the day improving my magical defences and knowledge.

  For some time, I’d been toying with the idea of creating a ghost-repelling ring. I hadn’t decided yet whether it should serve as a shield or an offensive spell capable of destroying an ethereal body. I had already jotted down formulas against ethereal entities in my journal, which for now served as a makeshift spellbook. I had to be realistic: I wasn’t ready for a proper one yet. I could have started a small notebook for a dozen spells, but I was still in the process of forming that dozen, having shamefully delayed Harry’s task. Unfortunately, spells weren’t something I could rely on in a critical moment, whereas a ring on my finger… At this rate, I’d end up decking myself out like a cheap harlot. Still, better that than dying at the hands of a ghost.

  I glanced into the library, grabbed a few books, and swiped another reference manual from Harry’s desk. A chill ran down my spine. I turned sharply, my eyes locking onto the arch. It seemed as though a few papers on the floor had stirred.

  A draught?

  I instinctively opened my third eye and spotted an ethereal shadow seeping through the floor. What was this filth wandering about in the house? What was below us? I mentally mapped the house’s layout. It seemed to be an empty sitting room – possibly the same one we’d used yesterday.

  I darted into the hallway and bounded down the stairs, nearly knocking Cap over in the process.

  “Watch it!” the boy yelped, clutching the jar with the spark he was holding under his arm. He managed to save the jar but fell onto his backside, sliding down a few steps in the process.

  Ignoring him, I rushed on, taking a detour through the kitchen, as the most direct route went through the hall, and I had no intention of barging into the place of power without Harry. He’d set up some kind of elaborate protection system there that shielded the rest of the house from the ether. It still seeped through, of course, but not as much as it could have.

  The sitting room was empty. Either I’d miscalculated the layout or the shadow had already moved on. Stepping into the adjacent room, I immediately spotted a blue stream of ether near the hall wall. The shadow was trying to reach the source, but Harry’s defences were holding it back. It crept further, leaving no trace of the ethereal mist that usually seeped through the barier. A ghost or a spirit – whatever it was, it was feeding. The shadow thickened, taking on increasingly human-like contours.

  Damn it, how inconvenient! I couldn’t gauge how much energy this leech was consuming or how much damage it was doing to the defences – if it was doing any at all. Was it dangerous, or could it, conversely, provide a couple of vials of ectoplasm and a handful of other ingredients worth thousands of pounds?

  The shadow quickly slid to the corner and slipped through the wall to the outside of the building.

  “What’s going on?” Cap asked, finally catching up to me. He hadn’t managed to see the ghost.

  “Nothing. Go take a walk.”

  “You’re hiding something, Duncan!”

  The lad had grown bolder. He used to only call me “Lord.”

  “Get out of here!” I ordered, throwing open a window and leaning out to peer along the wall. The figure seemed to walk through the air, half of its body outside while the other half remained embedded in the wall. The ethereal entity hadn’t even finished circling the hall, yet it had already grown a discernible arm.

  I glanced back. Through the hall wall where the shadow had passed, ether was once again beginning to seep. At this rate, it would soon regenerate a full body. And then what? It was entirely possible I was witnessing the birth of a spirit. It wouldn’t necessarily turn out evil – that would largely depend on its first encounter with humans.

  Harry, Harry, damn you to hell – I don’t even know where to find you!

  Running outside was pointless; the thing would just crawl back into the house again, passing through another couple of walls before ending up near the hall doors, where the ether concentration was much higher.

  Cap ignored my order to leave and froze in the doorway, watching nervously. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

  “Call the police immediately and ask for Harry. He’s either with Sunset, at the Fourth Precinct, or at the Special Squad base. Tell them we’ve got an emergency involving the place of power. Go!” I barked.

  Cap flinched, nearly dropping the jar with the spark, then bolted for the phone. Meanwhile, I returned to the hall to wait for the shadow by the door.

  “Use the phone on the second floor!” I shouted after him.

  I wasn’t lacking in manners, really – I just preferred to stay prepared. Besides, my tone and demeanour were persuasive enough to send Nathan scurrying upstairs with his jar in hands.

  Pulling my journal from my satchel, I flipped to the page with the ghost-banishing spells. Writing them between ordinary notes had turned out to be a terrible idea. Somehow, both spells had ended up crammed on a single page, with notes about the Archmaker on the reverse. Well, the shadow definitely wasn’t the Archmaker.

  I tore the page from the journal and carefully ripped it in half to separate the spell diagrams. Placing the pieces on the floor, I touched them with my fingers and began charging them with ether. At least I was good at this. Especially near a place of power, where I didn’t have to worry about conserving my personal reservoir – it would replenish quickly here.

  Each page had just one rune left to charge when the figure emerged from the wall. Its body was still indistinct, but I immediately noticed the hole in its translucent head.

  “Simon?!”

  The spectre froze, turning its head toward me. I felt a tingling under my fingers. The spells had taken their final shapes, sparking with power. They seemed to solidify, but they were on the verge of exploding from the force within. This was the moment Harry had warned me about – when you’re supposed to rip the spell off the page.

  Driven by a sudden impulse, I willed the diagram beneath my right hand into action and yanked it upward. The spell shattered like glass, scattering waves of ether in all directions. For Feron, it was a signal – he lunged for the door.

  Cursing, I grabbed the second page and raced after him.

  The ghost reached the door first, slamming into it and spreading across its surface like a liquid against the barrier Harry had constructed. Symbols and runes I’d never seen before flared to life on the wood. The spirit couldn’t get through, but the ether seeping from every crack and seam quickly mended its body, restoring its usual form and colour.

  I raised the page, ready to strike, aiming the spell at the spectre’s weak point – the gaping hole in its head. But before I could bring it down, the ghost suddenly turned its head 180 degrees, twisting its left arm in the same unnatural motion, all while continuing to claw at the door with its right.

  A phantom hand grabbed my wrist just as the page was mere centimetres from the hole in its head. The grip was so strong I couldn’t even budge my left hand. Instinctively, I swung my right fist at its insolent face, fully aware that my hand would pass straight through it. And, of course, it did.

  With no other options, I activated the spell.

  The page flared with blue-silver light, and it burned the ghost’s face the way morning rays scorch a nestling vampire. Except, where a vampire’s skin would blister, the spectre’s hand and face simply vanished, dissolving into a blue weave of pure ether.

  Simon didn’t make a sound, but my head felt like it was going to split apart from the scream echoing inside it. The ghost recoiled, spreading like a smear across the door, only to peel off, shoot straight through me, and vanish into the wall at the second-floor level.

  Damn it! That’s… I had a rough idea where.

  I dashed upstairs, startling Cap at the side table with the phone, and bolted into the room, kicking the door open. The ghost hung near the ceiling, both hands shoved elbow-deep into what was left of its face. Something was happening to it. Its colour had faded slightly, paled, but there were no patches of pure ether left on its body.

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  I poured another generous dose of ether into the spell page I’d grabbed, and Simon felt it.

  The ghost jerked to the side, sharply pulling its hands away from its face. Both its face and hands were still far too transparent, but Feron was recovering – that much was obvious. And I wasn’t even close to finishing recharging the damned spell.

  Simon grinned. I thought he was about to grab my throat again and braced myself to endure it until the spell was ready. But he made a smarter move – he fled again, diving back downstairs.

  Damn it! Straight to the doors radiating ether! If that bastard feeds, he won’t just strangle me later – he’ll shred me into ribbons.

  Run? That wouldn’t help. The spectre wasn’t tethered to the place – it was bound to the killer, and that meant me. I could teleport to the other side of the world, and it wouldn’t make a difference. Though if that option were available, I’d gladly use it to cut him off from his source of sustenance.

  I bolted out of the room and raced back down the stairs.

  Simon was feeding at the door. He repeated his head-turning trick, only this time, his mutilated face was twisted into a smirk of mockery and disdain.

  I glanced quickly at the spell page. It needed a few more seconds to charge. Simon followed my gaze but only smiled wider.

  I quickened my pace, sensing the worst. The ghost twisted his left arm again, aiming to intercept my strike.

  Not this time, you bastard. Not this time!

  I raised the page, feeling the tingling in my fingers, but Simon smirked and suddenly shot upwards, disappearing behind the opposite wall on the second floor this time.

  “Oh, come on!”

  I couldn’t keep this up forever. An eternity of chasing him? Out of the question. My stamina isn’t infinite, and ghosts don’t tire. They only lose power – and even that doesn’t happen when there’s a convenient source of ether for them to feed on.

  I bounded up the stairs and gave Cap a brief nod as if to ask, “Well?” He shook his head, still chattering into the phone.

  What a life Harry has, I thought. The one time in a hundred years he goes out into the city, and he risks coming back to a house full of corpses. Maybe…

  “Get out of the house,” I ordered. “Take Knuckles and go to Sunset at the station.”

  “But…” Cap started to object.

  I waved him off bitterly and darted into the room where Simon had vanished. The ghost was waiting for me. He gave a little wave and floated backwards through the far wall, the one opposite the hall.

  I ran into the corridor and stopped dead in my tracks.

  Liar! There’s nothing there for you!

  I spun back toward the stairs and didn’t bother counting the steps. Instead, I vaulted over the banister and landed directly by the doors to the hall. As it turned out, I was faster than Simon this time.

  The ghost emerged from the wall on the first floor, saw me, and narrowed his eyes in annoyance.

  “Clever little rat,” he hissed.

  “Talking about how I tricked you as a kid?” I asked, forcing down the first signs of breathlessness. “Or is it the hole in your head?” I didn’t care either way. Stalling and annoying him worked in my favour – I’d catch my breath, and he’d waste time fuming.

  It worked. Feron had always been quick to anger, and this time he clenched his etherial teeth so hard that his jawline sharpened, though there hadn’t been any flesh beneath it for a long time.

  “We’ll see,” he sneered, “how long you last.” Then he drifted backwards through the same wall he’d come through, clearly enjoying his new trick.

  I was supposed to follow. Snatching up the page with the other spell from the floor, I began channelling ether into it. Simon could still gather crumbs of ether under the walls while I stood guard near the main breach. I couldn’t let that happen. Every second he was focused on me was a second he wasn’t feeding.

  “It’s… it’s!” Cap stammered in terror.

  I snapped my head up to see Nathan standing frozen at the second-floor landing, just above the doors to the hall, where the wings of the staircase met.

  “Yes! Grab Knuckles and get out!”

  Simon must have heard something because his head popped out of the second-floor wall. He looked at me, then at the boy, and his face spread into a satisfied grin.

  “And who’s this frightened little thing?”

  Cap’s eyes widened like saucers, but he didn’t run. Instead, he adjusted the jar under his arm, straightened his cap on his head, and, in a voice high-pitched from fear but still proud, declared:

  “A wizard’s apprentice, ectoplasm! I think you’d make a fine couple of vials!”

  To say I was stunned would be an understatement. My jaw dropped. I lost my focus completely! The spell on the first page shattered, dissolving into ether. Simon didn’t miss it. He hadn’t seen me pick up the second page, but instead of coming for me, he went for the easier target.

  “Run!” I shouted.

  Cap screamed like a pig in a butcher’s grasp, hurled the jar at the ghost, and bolted in whatever direction his eyes happened to be pointing – which, conveniently, was away from Simon, down the corridor.

  Simon didn’t consider the jar a serious threat and didn’t bother altering his trajectory. That is, until it smacked him right in the face. Of course! The jar had restraining seals meant to hold the spark! Had being the key word.

  The impact triggered a flash of light and a crackling burst of etheric discharges, throwing a disoriented Simon into a spiralling trajectory that ended with him vanishing into one of the walls. The jar, meanwhile, did what jars do best – it crashed onto the floor, shattering into large shards of glass.

  “Cap, not that way!” I bellowed. “Get to the garage with Knuckles! MOVE!”

  I vaulted up the stairs, reaching the landing, ready to fend off the ghost’s next attack. Nathan, meanwhile, had made it to the corner where the corridor turned deeper into the house. He hesitated, looking back at me.

  “That way!” I barked, jabbing my finger toward the stairs leading down. “Quickly!”

  I added some aggression to my voice, and that did the trick. The lad spun around faster than he’d been running before and dashed down the stairs, through the hall, and toward the kitchen to cut across to the garage. He made it just in time – no sooner had he disappeared than Simon’s snarling face emerged from the wall.

  The second spell was fully charged. I sprang toward the wall and slapped the paper against it. Simon pulled his head back just in time, and the page hit the wall instead. The spell activated involuntarily, and Simon’s pained cry was my reward.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see the results of the spell to compare which had worked better on Feron.

  I rushed into the room the ghost had vanished into, pouring ether into both scraps of spell-covered paper at once – only to realise, to my horror, that I was completely drained. Completely drained.

  Lucky for me, Simon hadn’t noticed.

  The cracks spidering across his face suggested the spells had done some damage. His vision wasn’t impaired this time, but it was clear he wasn’t feeling too great. He’d grown even more transparent, his face frozen in a grimace of pain as the cracks emitted wisps of etheric smoke.

  A loss of energy? That was excellent!

  But Simon wasn’t done. He was trying to gather ether with his hands – and damn it, it was working.

  “Ha!” I shouted triumphantly and leapt straight at the ghost, holding the spell page high above my head.

  Simon took the bait. He grabbed another gulp of ether and dove into the floor, spreading out across the parquet like a stain.

  Below us was the hall, and Simon slammed into the defences. He quickly reoriented and phased through the wall. I, however, stayed behind. Simon had just given me an idea.

  I stepped into the etheric breach and started pulling energy into myself. My third eye ached from the sudden influx, tears streaming from my physical ones, but within moments, I was fully recharged. The remaining wisps of smoke were enough to refresh my spells as well.

  The balance of power had just tipped in my favour.

  I peeked into the next room but saw no sign of the ghost. A quick check of two more rooms and a return to the hall yielded nothing either. Simon had changed tactics and slipped away.

  As I debated myself whether to stand guard by the door or run around the house like a madman, a crash sounded from the direction of the kitchen, and Knuckles burst into the hall – naturally, with a Tommy gun in hand.

  “The same one?” he asked, clearly referring to the ghost. I nodded.

  “Ghost,” I reminded him, gesturing toward the Thompson.

  “Ether rounds in the drum. And if you mean what happened last time, when it grabbed hold…” Knuckles tapped the forward grip, showing me a carved rune and a tiny reservoir embedded in its centre.

  Well, I’ll be damned. Better prepared than I was. I felt a pang of envy, though it was probably for the best.

  “Harry’s work?”

  “Built it myself, following his instructions,” Knuckles replied, quickly adding, “He tested it.”

  I barely had time to nod before Sparrow raised the barrel and fired a burst into the wall on the second floor, through the balcony. When I looked up, Simon was already gone – just holes in the plaster where he’d been. Pity. After Nathan’s jar, Simon had grown more cautious. I would’ve liked to see how Clint’s rounds tore through his etheric form.

  Simon darted out of a nearby wall and fled into the ceiling. Knuckles fired another burst but missed, and the ghost reappeared from the ceiling – this time behind the shooter.

  “There!” I shouted.

  Knuckles spun around, but he didn’t even have time to fire. Simon shot like a bullet toward the floor, vanishing beneath the floorboards, only to pop back up behind Clint and grab his arms, the ones holding the tommy gun. A flash erupted, and Simon recoiled with a curse, raising his etheric stumps, from which smoke billowed.

  I seized the moment, lunging forward and thrusting the spell paper into the hole in his translucent head – the same spell that had ripped his face off earlier. Another flash blew Simon’s head clean off, but his body didn’t disintegrate. Instead, it somehow evaded my follow-up spell, phasing through me to escape.

  “Get down!” Knuckles barked.

  I dropped to the floor, and the hall exploded with the roar of automatic fire. Several rounds punched fist-sized holes into the ghost’s form before the headless body gave up and dissolved into smoke. Knuckles, ever thorough, kept shooting until the last wisps were shredded.

  The front doors were suddenly blown off their hinges, and Harry stormed in, his spellbook hovering by his left shoulder and his staff raised like a spear.

  “Right on time,” I remarked.

  “What the hell have you lot been doing in here?” the wizard demanded sternly.