Page 136 of Dead Vengeance

He’s not here. Jem’s not. I search and I search, but there’s no one, nothing that resembles the man I saw dead on the floor earlier today.

I call his name, again and again. A volley of howls and cries comes through to meet us. Liam shrinks closer to me, and Fabian’s hand almost slips loose.

Then, suddenly, clear as day, “Liam? Liam, it’s me.”

Liam jumps, his movement so sharp he almost breaks the circle. “That’s him! That’s him, Archer. I know his voice. Jem?”

“Liam, I’m here! It’s me!”

But it’s not.

I know it’s not.

This thing is old. I can feel it—the age and the power and the wrongness of the presence. This thing isn’t a ghost. “Liam—”

“I’ve missed you so much,” the thing calls through the veil, its voice so melancholy it could break any heart. Especially Liam’s.

“It’s not him,” I whisper, barely able to make a sound, all my energy concentrated on holding the gateway in place—stopping these entities breaking through.

Liam either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t want to. His voice comes broken, ravaged. “Where are you? Jem, are you happy? Are you okay? What happened to you?”

“I have to close this,” I tell him. “It’s not him, Liam. It’s something tricking you.”

Liam’s fingers dig sharp into my hand. “No. No, don’t do it. Jem! Jem, tell me what happened. Please, Archer, no. Not yet.”

“It hurts too much,” the voice cries out, the sound echoing around the room, coming from near, then far, like it’s got in here with us already.

There’s a small and hurt sound from Liam’s throat. “Who does? Where are you? How can I help you?”

“You need to let me in,” the thing begs.

“That’s not your brother,” Simon cuts in. “Archer, close it.”

I’m already pouring my energy into it, visualising the light rising up, shutting the gateway that’s letting this thing talk.

“They hurt me…” The voice is so close. Too close. Right by my ear. Right between me and Liam.

I almost turn my head. But I can’t. That’s what it wants. To distract me. To stop me closing this. To let them all through. I have to concentrate.

Liam’s grip is so tight it hurts, but he has enough inner strength to go on—to hold the circle complete and never flinch away. “Tell me who killed you. Tell me, and I swear it on my life, I’ll get them for you. I’ll have them found, and I will get revenge.”

His words scare me, but not half as much as the ones that answer.

“There’s only one way to help…”

“Stop talking to it, Liam!” I force out. But every word’s a fight, risking losing this energy flow.

This is bad. This is so bad. I know what it wants. The vortex is almost closed. I’m pushing it back. Back. But this thing has found its way in. And I can’t stop it. It’s all around us, a malevolent thing. A thing that whispers and whines on the air, calling to Liam, “Help me. It hurts where I am.”

“What can I do?” The tears in Liam’s voice are visceral. “Just tell me what to do!”

Clear as day, whispered harshly, just on the other side of Liam: “Let. Me. In.”

Panic makes the greater part of my power. It’s a heartbeat, a loud and vicious one, and I fling my arms up, snapping the gateway closed, locking all of them out, closing this séance early, consequences be damned.

A shout comes from Fabian, a cry of fear from Liam. He falls back against me, scrambling to get away from the green and mottled face that leers at him from the foot of the table, human-like but not human and so wrong in every aspect of its existence.

“Get the fuck away from him!” I shout, scrambling to get an arm in front of him, hide him away from it.