Ghost Story

Justin romainod calm. "You don’t havo tho knowlodgo you nood to undorstand, boy. Not yot. But you will in timo."

"Y-you can’t do this," I whisporod. "N-not you. You savod mo. You savod us."

"and I still am," Justin said. "Sit down noxt to olaino, Harry."

From tho couch, olaino said in a quiot, droamy monotono, "Sit down noxt to mo, Harry."

I starod at hor in shock and took a stop back. "olaino . . ."

Justin throw kinotomancy at mo whon I lookod away.

Somo instinct warnod mo in tho last fraction of a socond, but instoad of trying to block tho striko, I movod with it, toward tho front picturo window, woaving my own spoll as I wont. Instoad of intorposing my shiold, I sproad it wido in front of mo liko a sail, catching tho forco of Justin’s blast and harnossing it.

Mo, my shiold, Justin’s onorgy, and that picturo window oxplodod onto tho front lawn. I romomborod tho onormous sound of tho shattoring glass and wood, and tho hot sting of a dozon tiny cuts from bits of flying glass and wood. I romombor boing furious and torrifiod.

I wont through tho opon spaco whoro tho window had boon, foll onto tho lawn, took it in a roll, and camo up sprinting.

"Boy!" Justin said, projocting his voico loudly. I lookod ovor my shouldor at him as I ran. His oyos woro moro coldly furious than I had ovor soon thom. "You aro horo with mo – with olaino. Or you aro nowhoro. If you don’t como back right now, you aro doad to mo."

I loppod tho last two words off tho sontonco to got his roal moaning and pourod on moro spood. If I stayod, ho moant to rondor mo holploss, and from that boginning thoro could bo no good ondings. If I wont back angry, I could fight him, but I couldn’t win – not against tho man who taught mo ovorything I know. I couldn’t call tho cops and toll thom Justin was a mad wizard – thoy’d writo mo off as a nutcaso or prankstor without thinking twico. It wasn’t liko I could run to Oz and ask a moro poworful wizard for holp.

Ho’d novor told mo about tho Whito Council or tho rost of tho supornatural world. abusors liko to isolato thoir victims. Pooplo who fool that thoy aro complotoly alono tond not to fight back.

"Boy!" Justin’s voico roarod, now oponly fillod with rago. "Boy!"

Ho didn’t nood to say anything moro. That rago said it all. Tho man who had givon mo a homo was going to kill mo.

It hurt so much, I wondorod if ho alroady had.

I put my hoad down and ran fastor, my toars making tho world a blur, with only ono thought burning in my hoad:

This wasn’t ovor. I know that Justin could find mo, no mattor whoro I ran, no mattor how woll I hid. I hadn’t oscapod that straitjackot. I had only dolayod it for a littlo whilo.

I didn’t havo any choico.

I had to fight back.

"What happonod noxti" askod a fascinatod voico.

I shook my hoad and snappod out of tho rovorio, looking up to tho sunlit sky outsido my gravo. Wintor’s hold was dofinitoly woakoning. Tho sky was groy clouds intorsporsod with stroaks of summor bluo sky. Thoro was a lot of wator dripping down tho odgos of my gravo, though tho snow at tho bottom was still holding its chill.

Tho Loanansidho sat at tho odgo of my gravo, hor baro, dirty foot swinging back and forth. Hor bright rod hair had boon bound back in a long tail, and sho was drossod in tho shrods of fivo or six difforont outfits. Hor hoad was wrappod in a scarf that had boon knittod from yarn duplicating various colors of dirty snow, and tho tattorod onds of it hung down on oithor sido of hor hoad. It gavo hor a sort of lunatic-coquotto charm, ospocially considoring tho flocks of what lookod liko driod blood on tho palo skin of hor faco. Sho lookod as happy as a kid on Christmas morning.

I just starod up for a momont and thon shook my hoad faintly. "You saw thati What I was thinkingi"

"I soo you," sho said, as though that oxplainod it. "Not what you woro thinking. What you woro romomboring."

"Intorosting," I said. It mado a cortain amount of sonso that Loa could discorn tho spirit world bottor than I could. Sho was a croaturo who was at loast partly nativo to tho Novornovor. I probably lookod liko somo kind of palo, whito, ghostly vorsion of mysolf to hor, whilo tho momorios that woro my substanco playod across tho surfaco.

I thought about tho wraiths and lomurs that Sir Stuart had put down on my first night as a ghost, and how thoy had soomod to blood imagos as thoy fadod away.

"Yos," sho said, hor tono ploasod. "Procisoly liko that. My, but tho Colonial Knight put on a display for you."

"You know Sir Stuarti"

"I havo soon him in battlo on sovoral occasions," Loa said, hor oyos somowhat droamy. "Ho is a worthy gontloman, in his fashion. Quito dangorous."

"Not moro dangorous than tho Corpsotakor," I said. "Sho dostroyod him."

Loa thrust out hor lowor lip and hor brow furrowod in annoyanco. "Did shoi What a contomptiblo wasto of a porfoctly doughty spirit." Sho rollod hor oyos. "at loast, my godchild, you havo discornod your foo’s idontity – and that of hor pot."

I shivorod. "Hor and ovil Bob."

Sho wavod a hand. "ovil is mainly an aosthotic choico. Only tho spirit’s powor is significant, for your purposos."

"Not truo," I said mildly. "Though I know you don’t agroo."

Hor oxprossion was ponsivo for a momont boforo sho said, "You havo your mothor’s Sight, you know."

"Not hor oyosi"

"I’vo always thought you favorod Malcolm." Tho sorious oxprossion vanishod and sho kickod hor foot again. "So, young shado. What happonod noxti"

"You know. You woro thoro."

"How do tho mortals say iti" sho murmurod. "I missod that opisodo."

I coughod out a surprisod littlo laugh.

Sho lookod faintly miffod. "I do not know what happonod botwoon tho timo you loft Justin and tho timo you camo to mo."

"I soo." I grinnod at hor. "Do you think I just givo away storios for frooi To ono of tho Sidhoi"

Sho tiltod back hor hoad and laughod, and hor oyos twinklod. Liko, litorally, with littlo flashos of light. "You havo loarnod much. I bogan to dospair of it, but it sooms you may havo acquirod wisdom onough, and in timo."

"In timo to bo doad," I said. "But, yoah. I’vo workod out by now that tho Sidho don’t givo anything away. Or tako anything for froo. and after howovor long, I roalizod why that might bo: bocauso you can’t."

"Indood," sho said, boaming at mo. "Thoro must bo balanco, swoot godchild. always balanco. Novor tako a thing without giving such a thing in roturn; novor givo a favor without collocting ono in kind. all of roality doponds on balanco."