A Shade of Vampire 23: A Flight of Souls (3 page)

T
he journey was
long and arduous. Perhaps it was just because my mind was unfocused, my soul still crying for the island I was flying away from, but the journey across the Pacific Ocean seemed to take twice as long as it ever had before. I lost count of the hours, but eventually, I spied land. Moving ashore, I was relieved to discover that I had, by some miracle, reached Canada. I found my way to the nearest town and gathered my bearings in a tourist center, which had a detailed map pinned against the wall. By the next morning, I had located the foothills of Mount Logan. From here, with much more zigging and zagging, I was able to find the route I’d taken with the ogres and make my way back to the gate dug into a snowy mountain plateau.

I moved to the edge and gazed down into the starry portal, its swirling, smoke-like walls almost beckoning to me. I prepared myself to dive through when a voice spoke behind me. A voice with a French accent.

“Are you here for the full moon?”

I thought at first that there must have been some hikers camping up here that I hadn’t noticed. I whirled around and found myself face to face with the ghost of a man, staring directly at me. Hovering over the snow only a few feet away, he was of average height and meager build, with a sharp nose and bony cheeks. He had lanky, shoulder-length hair and a goatee. His appearance was youthful—I guessed that he could not have been much more than thirty years old when he died, and, bizarrely, he wore shorts and a tropical, pineapple-patterned shirt. Evidently, his death had not occurred on this cliff—or anywhere nearby. He looked like he had just stepped off a Hawaiian beach.

His clothing only made his sudden appearance all the more confusing. What was this person doing haunting this icy landscape if he’d died thousands of miles away?

“Who are you?” I asked, staring.

“My name is Nolan,” he replied. “And this is my wife, Chantel…” I followed his gaze as he looked over his shoulder. The ethereal outline of a small, slight woman with a blonde bob drifted toward us across the snow. Like the man, she appeared young, and also like the man, she wore what appeared to be beach clothes: a strapless, light cotton dress that fell just above her knees. Now I also realized that both of their feet were bare. I scanned their bodies, looking for marks or clues as to how they had died, but found none. I wondered if they might have drowned in the ocean.

“Joseph,” I replied instinctively, even as I mocked myself. It didn’t matter if the whole world knew my name now. It wasn’t like there was anything worse that could happen to me.

“So you’re not waiting?” Nolan asked, raising a straggly eyebrow.

I narrowed my eyes on him in confusion. “Waiting for what?”

He paused, flicking his tongue across his lower lip, before exchanging a furtive glance with his wife. He cleared his throat, his tone subdued as he spoke again: “Never mind then. If you don’t already know… I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

He had piqued my interest far too much for me to allow him to brush me off now.

I remained rooted to my spot, even as his hand passed over his wife’s back and the two of them began turning away from me.

“Wait,” I called. “You must tell me what you meant.”

The couple paused, the man twisting slowly to face me again. There was a span of silence as he considered my request. He glanced again at his wife. She spoke to him in French—a language I had not learned. He nodded slowly before addressing me. “First, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

“I was about to jump through the portal and travel to the supernatural realm before you spoke to me,” I replied truthfully.

“What would you do there?” Chantel addressed me for the first time. Her accent was richer than her husband’s.

“Try to find out… what I am,” I said, raising my arms and gesturing to my body.

Chantel smiled a little, her crystal-blue eyes warming. “I remember it like it was yesterday,” she said quietly.

Nolan’s eyes lowered to the portal in the ground behind me. He swept past me and stood at the edge of it, beckoning me to do the same.

I approached next to him, my eyes cast downward into the dark abyss.

“I do not know how many times you have passed through a portal,” Nolan began. “But for supernaturals who die while still in this human realm, after their death, they often have a strong instinct to drift back to the supernatural dimension, since many feel more at home there than in this mundane world. I’m guessing that you must have come through this gate at least once in order for you to know its location.”

I nodded. “I have. I have also explored the supernatural realm a bit. I’m headed back there now because I need to speak to someone.” I paused, frowning. “You speak of supernaturals like they are familiar to you. Were you not humans in your past life?” They certainly didn’t have the appearance of anything but humans.

Nolan shook his head. “My wife and I are not—and were not—human. We are the descendants of witches, though we have never considered ourselves among them. We saw hypocrisy in their ways, and ultimately rejected them altogether. Almost three hundred years ago, we decided to leave the Sanctuary and settle like humans in this realm, anonymously.”

I felt taken aback. I wondered how many other witches might be living among humans, undetected. “Do you mind telling me how you died?” I asked.

“Our death followed soon after we both contracted a fatal disease while on holiday,” Nolan replied.

“Almost exactly fifty-one years ago,” Chantel added, glumly.

It was odd to think that witches could die of a disease. I was so used to witches curing illnesses.

My mind continued to spin. I thought back to all of the ghosts I’d seen in The Shade, who’d been beckoned by Jeramiah’s instrument—they had all been humans in their previous lives. None of them had taken the same potion I had to become ghosts. I’d assumed at the time that there must be some other way to become spirits, to stay behind in this world rather than move on to whatever awaited most people after death. Judging by the looks of that crowd of ghosts, they had all died in some kind of sudden and violent accident—and so my speculation had been that perhaps those ripped too suddenly from the world remained attached to it.

But a disease?
I wondered what kind of disease Nolan and Chantel had —whether it had caused a sudden, unexpected death. But since neither of them were offering more information about it, I didn’t want to intrude.

“So you… became a ghost just by dying from a disease?” I asked.

Nolan and his wife both shook their heads. “No,” Chantel replied. “It’s unlikely that anybody would become a ghost from what we died from… Before leaving the supernatural realm, we had taken a stock of a special kind of potion, just in case we would ever need it. It allows one to detach from the body, but still remain in one’s abode of choice. It’s actually common among witches to keep a stock of such a remedy—at least, among those who do not wish to pass on after death.”

“Why did you want to stay behind?” I asked.

Nolan raised a brow. “Why does anybody? It’s fear of the unknown, isn’t it?”

I nodded slowly.

As Nolan spoke, I was realizing that he and Chantel would probably be able to tell me more than Ernest ever could. They had been witches, and appeared to be more knowledgeable and, more importantly, more willing to talk. Trying to get information out of Ernest had been like trying to rouse a dead ox. He had been so mired in his addiction to dreams, he had barely wanted to resurface for even a moment.

Perhaps, finally, I had met with a stroke of good luck in finding these two ghosts, though I was still waiting to discover exactly what they were here for.

“I took that potion, too,” I said.

Surprise flashed across the couple’s faces.

“Oh, interesting,” Nolan said. He eyed me from head to foot. “From the looks of you, you were a vampire, am I right?”

“Yes, I was,” I replied. Using the past tense to describe myself brought about a strange feeling.

“How did you come upon the potion, then?” Chantel asked, frowning.

“It was given to me by someone,” I replied, before changing the subject. “And now, what are you doing here?”

Nolan heaved a sigh. “You know, Joseph, this life as a ghost gets old. Very old. We’ve hung onto this existence for decades, but it’s worn us down.”

I shuddered internally. I did not want to contemplate my life as a ghost for a year, let alone decades. I’d only been one for… I had lost track of the time, but from the moment I’d discovered myself to be a ghost, I had been itching to escape from this half-life.

“We’re here for this gate,” Nolan continued, gesturing downward to the crater. “Have you ever wondered what is beyond those swirling tunnel walls?”

My eyes shot toward the walls, made of a light blue, ethereal substance.

I recalled my journey through this portal with the ogres. On my way down, I had paused to wonder what exactly was beyond the walls. I’d even considered sticking my hand through the translucent barrier out of curiosity, but I’d been in a hurry to return to The Shade at the time, and I hadn’t wanted to risk something happening.

Now curiosity flared up in me again. “I have wondered. Do you know?” I asked Nolan.

“Not exactly,” he replied. “At least, we have never witnessed it for ourselves.”

I raised a brow, prompting him to continue.

Nolan’s eyes took on a distant quality, as if recalling a memory. “There is an open secret among ghosts—a legend, if you like. It is said that all those spirits who mistakenly stay behind in this mortal world still have a chance to correct their mistake and pass on to where they ought to be… once every full moon.” He glanced at me as if gauging my reaction before going on. “According to the rumors, soon after midnight on a full moon night, these supernatural portals glow with a warm, welcome light. A light that can be seen by ghosts alone, for it is only meant for us. Any ghost within a glowing gate’s proximity feels an irresistible calling to the light, and none can resist it. Not even the most self-willed spirit. They are sucked toward it, and then down into it… never to return.”

His words hung in the frigid air as he finished.

I stared at him in disbelief. “Uh… If these gates suck in all ghosts present, never to return, how could there be any witnesses left to tell the tale?”

Nolan shared my frown, and paused. “That is a good point,” he said.

Chantel coughed out a bitter laugh. “We are desperate, Joseph,” she said. “And desperation has a way of making one look past such details.”

“But we are not alone in believing them,” Nolan said. “There are many others who have also heard of this rumor, however it was initially told. There are others already here, waiting along with us for the next full moon.” He gestured with his head toward the edge of the cliff, and then began walking toward it, indicating that I follow him. Gazing down, I saw that Nolan’s words were true. There was a whole crowd of ghosts, perched on the ledge, most of them in casual positions, gazing out at the beautiful view. I stepped back again with Nolan and returned my eyes to the gate.

“When is the next full moon?” I asked.

“According to the last lunar calendar I glimpsed—and according to my memory—it’s tonight,” Nolan said. “At midnight.”

Midnight
. As if the story wasn’t fairytale-ish enough already. I nodded slowly. “I see.”

“We have nothing to lose by being here,” Nolan muttered. “If the story is true, we can only gain.”

“So there’s supposed to be some light that shines from the gate, and ghosts get sucked in… According to the story, what causes the light? And where do they go exactly? What is on the other side?”

“We don’t know exactly,” Nolan replied, shrugging. “All we know is that it’s supposed to lead to where we belong.”

There was a pause as I struggled to believe even a single word Nolan spoke.

“Will you wait with us?” Chantel asked after a span of silence.

I shook my head. I doubted that there was truth to this fable, but even if it was true, of course I was not ready to leave this world. Yes, I was curious to know what was on the “other side”—if it really even existed—but I wasn’t prepared to move on.

“No,” I replied.

“Then you will continue on your way, to the supernatural realm?”

I stalled. My original intention in going there had been to visit Ernest, but I was put off by that idea now. I’d only thought of him because I’d been desperate, not knowing of any other ghosts’ location. Now that I was here with Chantel and Nolan, I asked the question that I’d been burning to ask all along.

“Is there any way at all to reverse the potion?”

Both Chantel and Nolan were already shaking their heads.

“No,” Chantel said. “That potion is final. There is no way to reconnect with our bodies.”

“Believe us,” Nolan added. “We’ve tried.”

Of course, even if there was a way to reconnect with my body—assuming it hadn’t rotted away or been swiped from that Cruor mountain by now—I couldn’t. Because my heart was infected and the moment I came to life again, I would risk the Elders’ uprising all over again.

Still, I wasn’t ready to give in to the idea that there was no other way for me to live an even half-fulfilling life on Earth. That my only way of future happiness was to “move on”. Perhaps I just had not been a ghost long enough yet—had not been beaten down by the passage of time—but I still had some fire in me. Especially since the discovery that I could inhabit animals.

Clenching my jaw, I accepted their answer with a nod, though internally I was pushing it away with all that I had.

“You’re welcome,” they said together.

The two of them waved before turning around and heading back to the ledge to join the other ghosts.

“Oh, wait,” I called, suddenly remembering something else that had been bugging me since the conversation started. “Why were you hesitant to talk to me at first?”

Nolan’s shoulders sagged. “Because not all ghosts welcome talk of the afterlife. Some, especially those who are newly deceased, become very angry about it.”