Danse Macabre

Chapter 9

October 2021, Edinburgh
Brontë sat outside on a balcony with a steaming cup of chamomile tea and a blanket around her arms. Leaves were covering the ground, making it glisten with a riot of reds and oranges, and the sun was shining shyly, not yet ready to say goodbye. It was the epitome of autumn, and in any other circumstances, Brontë would be taking it in, enjoying her favourite season. But now things were different. Lost in thoughts about Lachlan, Steph and Sophie, she slowly drank her tea wondering how her life got so complicated. She put the cup on the table next to her, and pulled the blanket tighter, guarding herself from the cold the same way she wished she could protect herself from the world. A tingle on the back of her neck alerted her that she was no longer alone, and she let out a long sigh.
"Long day?" Steph sat down on the chair across the table from Brontë, and for a minute it was like nothing changed.
"You have no idea."
"You may find out that you're wrong." Steph joked, but one look at Brontë's face told her that now was not the time. "Wanna talk?"
"What have I done?" Brontë whispered, hiding her face in her hands. "Sophie is gone, Steph, and it's all my fault."
Steph had never seen Brontë like this. Brontë would get angry, mad, she was like a hurricane determined to get her way. Seeing her so lost and defeated was foreign, and she wished there was more she could have done to help. But she knew better than anyone how much Brontë has been through lately and was not surprised that this was a proverbial nail in the coffin.
"About that..."
Brontë didn't seem to have heard her. "How could I be so stupid?! Why did I think, that I can change things?" She got up and started pacing the balcony back and forth. "I'm so stupid, Steph, I'm basically a murderer, I-"
"Oh, cry me a river, Stewart." startled Brontë stopped and looked at Sophie, who appeared on her balcony. Sophie, who by the looks of it was now ready to fight battles. "You've never been a "woe is me" kind of person, and now is not the time to start."
"Sophie, you don't understand-"
"I'm wise beyond my years now." Sophie cut her off again. She walked closer to Brontë and looked her into her eyes. "Happens when you die. But Steph gave me a quick crash course and explained to me the whole Necromancer thing."
"And you're not mad at me anymore?"
"I mean, you surely know where I came from? We all learned the same things about Necromancers, and I wake up dead and you can see me? Don't act like you wouldn't be worse than me."
"I mean, I like to think I wouldn't jump straight to accusations..."
"You'd jump straight to murder if you thought someone killed you." Steph laughed and Sophie's raised brows showed Brontë that the two were in total agreement.
"Touché." Brontë rolled her eyes, but she had to admit that they weren't wrong.
"I must say, I was shocked when I found out, but now that I think about it, it's not a bad thing." Sophie crossed her arms.
"It's not?"
"No. Because now, dear partner-in-crime..." Sophie smirked, and a mischievous sparkle lit up her eyes. " You'll help me find my killer."
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December 2021
"Her killer?" Auld Hornie looked surprised. "Don't get me wrong but aren't you-?"
"Her killer?" Brontë cut him off, but he didn't seem to mind and nodded along. "The person responsible for her demise?"
"Call it what you want, but the sentiment seems to be the same."
"The truth is I don't know." Brontë slid down on the wall and hugged her legs, resting her chin on her knees. She thought that she really had it, that the answers were obvious and she was too blind to see them, but now, retelling her story brought more questions that she thought were possible.
"You don't know?" Hornie seemed disappointed.
"I felt so guilty... I thought that the person whose life I took was Sophie." Brontë stared into space, not really seeing anything. "But I wasn't the person who killed her, not literally."
Was her death planned, or did my actions bring it on her? I thought that bringing Jagoda back to life, the balance of things meant that it was Sophie who lost her life. But that seemed so simple.
"And who was?"
Brontë rolled her eyes. "We have some serious issues with communication, don't we?" she said sarcastically. Her bond with Hornie was changing, and she no longer felt that afraid of him. "I just told you, I don't know. I don't know, if it was already planned or if I caused it. I was about to find out though."
"And?" Hornie had issues containing his excitement.
"And the next thing I know I'm here. "
###
October 2021, Edinburgh
The rest of the day went by as normal as it possibly could. Ghosts disappeared, and Brontë focused on cleaning an apartment that was already spotless and studying. She needed that normalcy, something to take her mind off things. She still hasn't figured out how to deal with things, but she knew who could help. Arawn, God of Death, said nothing is without consequences. Who made it clear to her that world needs to be in balance. She desperately needed him to say that it wasn't her fault, that Sophie's death, as brutal as it sounds, was pre-planned, something she couldn't have changed.
Feeling like she was slowly going insane, she took a quick shower and changed into her favourite cat-themed PJs. It's small things, she thought.
"Steph?" she whispered, still unsure about how her power works.
"Hi, hi, hello." Steph quickly materialised on the side of the bed. "I must say, as flattered I am that you crave my company this badly, I'd like it more if I wasn't forced to live within seconds."
"Forced?" Brontë blushed, unaware that this was the case. "Can't you ignore it and come at the time that works for you? I don't mind?"
"Oh, babe, there's still loads you need to learn. I can't exactly ignore teleportation."
"Teleportation? I didn't know..."
"I know." Steph smiled. "Want me to explain a bit?"
"Do I?" all this time Brontë struggled, the answers were right here. Who's better to know what power she has than ghosts themselves?
"Calm your horses, cowboy!" Steph started giggling and made her way under covers to sit next to Brontë. it was the wildest experience, as Brontë could not feel her friend, though she had seen her clearly. "I don't know everything but it's better than nothing. You know you can't touch us, but lately, we can chat - that's new. When the veil is especially thin we can interact with you more physically, but it's still not touching. It's more like going through you..."
"That sounds fantastic."
"It would be if we could possess you." Steph seemed particularly serious, and Brontë was too afraid to ask if she was joking. "As for the summoning, I think it depends on your mood and intentions. Before, with Sophie, it felt like you were asking for my help, not demanding it and I could make my way. Now, I'm not sure what you were feeling, but I felt not only compelled to come - I was thrown here."
"Could be desperation on my part."
"I wouldn't rule it out." Steph winked and Brontë rolled her eyes. "So now that we established that you desperately needed me, what's up?"
"Did she say anything about..." Brontë struggled to put her question into words.
"Her untimely demise?" Steph brought her knees to her chest and hugged them. "A thing or two. But I haven't told her about the whole Arawn, Jagoda, you unintentionally sacrificing someone's life situation."
Brontë took a long breath, unsure if she was worried or relieved. On one hand, it should be her to tell Sophie more about her power, about what she's done. On the other, it would be so much easier if Sophie just knew.
"I have to tell her." Brontë felt helpless, not for the first time in the past few days. "She'll hate me, but I have to tell her."
"Whoa, time out. I know, that what happened is tragic, but the thing is, you don't know what happened."
"What?"
"All you know is that Sophie is a ghost, but you don't know how she died. She's hell-bent on finding her killer, she has a purpose. Don't take it away from her, not when you can't offer her anything else."
"I was thinking of asking Arawn for help. He should know more than us, but I don't know how to find him. I just need him to tell me if it's Sophie... If it's Sophie who paid the price for me saving Jagoda."
"Last time you met him in your dreams, maybe think about him hard before you fall asleep?"
"I guess it's not gonna hurt."
"You've got this."
Steph waved, as she slowly disappeared and Brontë turned off her bedside lamp. She tried hard to think about Arawn, the Otherworld, the place she last saw him. About Sophie, how much she wishes she could help, how she needs to know an answer. But just before she drifted off to sleep, she thought about the soft touch of Lachlan's lips on hers.
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Brontë blinked slowly, trying to take it all in. She was wearing a floor-length pink dress that felt like nothing she ever wore before. It was soft, smelled of jasmin, and made her feel like a princess. She looked around, appreciating the high ceilings, alabaster columns and a big golden throne in the middle of the room.
Did it work? Am I in the Otherworld?
"Arawn?" she called out, hoping he'll be able to hear her, even if he wasn't there. "It's Brontë, can we talk?"
She felt awkward, alone in a throne room, shouting into the void and hoping for the best.
"Well, well, well..." a low-pitched voice sounded behind her and startled Brontë turned around fast.
The woman standing in front of her was exceptionally beautiful. With dark skin, eyes and hair colour of onyx, her cheekbones were high, as if carved in marble by Michael Angelo. Her lips were the shape of a perfect heart. The dress she wore, the colour of expensive red wine was tight, regal. She looked like an ancient queen as if Cleopatra came back alive.
"If it isn't Brontë Stewart." the woman continued, and walked closer towards the witch. "Let me have a good look at you."
Despite her beauty, she seemed friendly and approachable. Initially, Brontë felt intimidated, but that feeling slowly disappeared, replaced by happiness and warmth.
"Arawn told me a lot about you." the woman grabbed Brontë's hands and squeezed them. "I am Danu, the Mother Goddess. It is my pleasure to finally meet you, Necromancer."