“What is this?” I take down the book in question, the chill still freezing my spine. It won’t go away until Zagiri is gone, and even then, sometimes the ice lasts an hour or more.
Avet and Sevan are still upstairs, no doubt wondering why their chant to conjure forth the roaming spirit shook the house but didn’t produce a dead girl’s translucent form in the bedroom. Apparently, Zagiri’s spirit wasn’t as attached to her room up there as it was to this book down here in the study.
Zagiri has unrest in her soul, which is why she didn’t cross completely over from this life to the next. Her spirit still hovers here because something important is undone. When this happens, it’s usually because the spirit’s killer has gone free and needs to be held to account.
I have to know what in this book is so important that Zagiri’s spirit tethered itself to the pages inside.
I open the book, noting the sweeping of the base across the shelf, clearing the spot of the small amount of dust and leaving the same line that was there before.
But that was a year ago. Surely the dust would have settled over that line by now if Zagiri was the last person to reach for this particular epistle.
Unless someone else went digging for a book that was important to Zagiri.
My voice is low with forced calm when I lift my chin to look at her. “I’m not the only one who’s conjured you up, am I? You’ve shown this book to others before.”
Zagiri nods.
“Cher?”
Another nod, and suddenly I have to fight the urge to rage. I want to shake Cher and tell her that she is better than the life of a trapper. She has more to accomplish, more to achieve. Why on earth she tried her hand at conjuring is beyond me. She should be studying, learning how to save lives with medicine, rather than wooden knives and rancid potions. This is unacceptable. When Avet hears about this, he’s going to go ballistic.
I need to get all the information I can. I have to find Cher.
My voice rasps. “Taline? Did Taline conjure you, too?”
Zagiri nods again.
They knew. Taline and Cher both joined this particular sorority, insisted on residing in Zagiri’s room, I’m guessing, so they could speak to Zagiri’s spirit.
But why?
I want to ask Zagiri exactly that, but I know I can only ask yes and no questions since ghosts can nod but they can’t talk. “Are you a trapper?”
I almost said, “Were you a trapper,” but I caught myself in time.
My own voice sounds muffled. It’s part of the chill that creeps through a person’s body. Hearing grows dull, cancelling out all other sounds so the spirit is your only focus.
Zagiri hesitates but then nods.
Sargis was right. The three of them are trappers, from trapping families. My foster father is rarely wrong, but it’s still nice to have confirmation on all the facts.
The house shakes so much that I hear the crash of picture frames falling off the walls.
I swallow hard, knowing what I need to do next. “I want to know who killed you,” I tell her. “I want to put your spirit to rest, but you have to help me.”
It’s not a yes or no question, but at least I’ve made my intentions clear. Every muscle in my body is tensed. The longer a spirit lingers in the between, the more they get used to their non-life here. They get more resistant to crossing over and can sometimes get violent in their protest.
But Zagiri doesn’t strike out at me, flinging books and furniture in my direction. She merely shakes her head and points to the book in my hand.
I turn a page without looking at it. “This is yours?”
She nods.
“This will tell me who killed you?”
She doesn’t respond.
So it might not lead me to her killer, but she wants me to have this. I glance at the pages. I need more information to go with every puzzle piece Zagiri hands me. “Did you show this to Cher and Taline when they conjured you?”