Ghostly Echoes (Jackaby #3)(51)

“Where on earth . . . ?”

“No,” Charon answered her flatly. Finstern gaped and stared at the ghost, peering at her this way and that as a jeweler might a rare diamond. She was still translucent, the faintest outlines of the roots beyond her visible through her silvery features, but she looked more whole than I had ever seen her. Charon’s haggard head cocked to one side. “What else is in the bag?”

Jackaby’s eyes darted to Finstern and back to the robed figure. “Odds and ends,” he hedged. “Some odder than others.”

“It is a wrong thing.”

“Which is why I’m keeping it out of the wrong hands.”

Finstern, whose mouth had been open since Jenny’s arrival, finally made use of it. “Wait. My machine? You have it?”

Jackaby frowned and sighed. “Yes. And my abode has suffered greatly for its safekeeping.”

Finstern eyed the satchel suspiciously. “It can’t be. Your bag is much too small.”

“You said you studied Welsh folklore. Ever heard of Rhiannon? You see, she had a sack—”

“Gentlemen,” I interrupted. “I believe we’re getting a bit off topic, don’t you? You have very nice toys, both of you, but we are at the gates to the great abyss right now.” I turned toward Charon. “Or knobby wooden hole to the great abyss. You were saying something about rules?”

“No second chances,” he said. “That is the first rule. You may ask for time, you may ask for favors, you may ask for mercy—but you are given what you are given. Make the most of it. It is all you will get.”

“Understood,” said Jackaby.

“Nobody enters the gate. This is the second rule.”

“You might have opened with that one,” Jackaby said. “Why have a gate at all, then?”

“Doesn’t everybody enter?” I asked. “Like you said, eventually?”

“No. Everyone enters. Every soul, but no body. If you enter, you must leave your flesh behind you.”

“Well then,” said Jenny. “For once I think I’ve got a leg up on the rest of you.”

“You may enter if you wish, Jennifer Cavanaugh,” Charon’s voice rumbled. “But if you do, you may never return to the land of the living. You belong below. You are a soul without a shell. Heed the first rule. This is your chance, your reprieve. You will not be given another.”

“It’s fine,” said Jackaby. “You stay topside. I’ll bring the answers back to you.”

“Only mortals may pass. This is the third rule.”

“Yes, that’s all right. I am mortal,” said Jackaby.

“You are, but a part of you isn’t. Within you dwells a force unending. You may pass. You might return. Your gift will not. You cannot take it with you.”

“I wouldn’t be the Seer anymore,” Jackaby said. “I would be technically dead. The sight would move on to its next host.” It was hard to read my employer’s expression, but some part of him seemed to be legitimately considering the notion. “I would be free.”

Charon pointed a long finger at the inventor, who flinched. “For you it would be less pleasant. You too possess a spark of immortality, Owen Finstern, but it is woven through your core. The fair folk cannot enter. Should you attempt to cross over, your soul would be torn in two. I do not know if any shred of you would survive.”

“I wasn’t volunteering,” Finstern replied.

“It’s me, then,” I said. My stomach fluttered. I had occasionally felt inadequate in the company of my extraordinary friends—like a rough stone among gems. I had always felt boring. Normal. Now it seemed my normalcy was what we needed. “I’ll go.”

“Abigail,” Jenny said.

“No,” said Jackaby. “It’s too dangerous. I won’t allow it.”

“You don’t have much choice, though, do you?” I said. “It’s me or it’s nothing. They’ve killed so many people already—more than we know, Pavel said—and a lot more might be coming. We need to know who’s behind all of it. I can find out.”

Jenny floated close to me. She reached her hand to my face, and I felt the faintest cool breeze on my cheek. “You’ve already done so much, Abigail. We can’t ask you to do this, too.”

“It’s good that you don’t have to, then. I’ve been digging my way into the ground my whole life, looking for that profound discovery that no one else has ever seen. Doesn’t get much deeper than this. It’s my choice. It’s my adventure. I can find us the answers we need. I’m going.”

“No,” said Jackaby.

“No,” said Charon.

I turned back to the ferryman. “Wait. No?” I said.

“You may not enter until you have severed your ties. This is the fourth rule. You may carry over no tethers connecting you to the world of the living, neither physical nor metaphysical.”

“That’s ludicrous,” I said. “Of course I have ties to the world of the living. Everyone I know lives in the world of the living.”

“You are permitted your emotions, Abigail Rook. You are not permitted a channel.”

“A channel?”

“Your pocket.”