Whisper (Riley Bloom 4)

But already betting against it as I made my way down.

2

The first thing I noticed when I landed in the ludus was the noise. It was loud. Insanely, annoyingly loud. So loud I was unable to sift through it, unable to determine which world it belonged to—the physical, the unearthly, or both.

The second thing I noticed was the smell. Just because I was dead—just because I no longer breathed—didn’t mean I couldn’t smell. And that particular smell, well, it was awful—unbearable, revolting, and putrid in the very worst way. Like all the worst smells in the universe had been blended together and pumped into the very spot where I stood.

I moved, hoping to find someplace quiet, desperate to get a whiff of something a little more pleasant. My shoes alternately slip-slopping through the mud and skidding over large patches of weeds still damp from the morning rain, as I tried to get a better look at the same crumbling ruins I’d seen from above. But all I could make out was soggy earth, crumbling walls, and … well … that’s about it. There were no people, no ghosts, no wild animals—neither living nor dead, and absolutely no reason whatsoever for why it should smell so horribly foul.

I glanced back toward Bodhi, half expecting to find him and Buttercup perched at a table, enjoying their own elegant five-course meal, having totally forgotten about me—and relieved to find Bodhi still balancing on the railing right where I’d left him. Smiling and waving and urging me on, sending me a telepathic message that quickly wound its way to my head.

Don’t worry. The reassuring sound of his voice swirled deep within me. You can do this. Just ask yourself: What’s the one thing most ghosts share in common?

I paused, hooked my thumbs into my blue denim belt loops, and thought long and hard. Cracking a smile when I replied: Terrible fashion sense? Remembering some of the truly horrendous ensembles some ghosts chose to wear, despite the fact that they were perfectly capable of manifesting just about anything else.

Bodhi laughed. I was hoping he would. It broke up the tension and helped me relax. Well, yeah, there is that, he replied. But what does that horrible fashion sense prove?

It took me less than a second to get it, and, unfortunately for Bodhi, my answer must’ve sounded like a shout in his head: It proves that they’re stuck! It proves that they’re stuck in the time that they died in and refuse to move on!

Exactly, he confirmed, adding a to go along with it—a telepathic emoticon that made me smile too. They’re stuck, and Theocoles is no different. He doesn’t experience the ludus in the same way as you. So far, you’ve only skimmed the surface. In order to see what he sees, you have to go deeper. You have to see it as it used to be. Though I’m afraid my guidance ends here, I’m not allowed to tell you how to do that.

I frowned, wondering if it was the Council who forbade him from helping me, or if he came up with that all on his own. Bodhi was never much for giving away the tricks of the Soul Catcher trade, or any other kind of helpful hints or advice that might actually help me

do my job. Everything I’d learned so far, I’d learned on my own, the hard way—through trial and error and hands-on experience. And while he still hadn’t told me anything I didn’t already know, maybe that’s exactly what a good guide does—reinforces the knowledge you’ve already learned.

I froze, shocked by the words that replayed in my head.

I’d referred to Bodhi as a good guide.

Practically from the moment we’d met I’d been petitioning for his replacement. All we ever seemed to do was fight and bicker and argue—only agreeing to work together when we were knee-deep in trouble and all out of options.

Which is why I couldn’t fathom my sudden change of heart. Where had it come from? At what point had I stopped seeing him as my number one enemy?

And then I remembered. Remembered the day I’d seen him with his new girlfriend Jasmine. Remembered how strange it made me feel to watch him read poetry to her, pausing a moment to manifest a flower—a jasmine for Jasmine—that he gently weaved into her braids.

I shook my head, ridding myself of the thought. I had a big, bad gladiator ghost to deal with, and wasting time thinking about my ever-evolving relationship with Bodhi wasn’t going to change that. So I returned my attention to the ludus, knowing I had to find a way to see it in the same way Theocoles did if I had any chance of meeting him. Problem was, I had no idea how those crumbling old walls might’ve looked in his day. I’d died well before my history class got around to studying the Roman Empire.

I continued to pace, trying to see it in the way it once stood. Manifesting a roof, replacing the bed of weeds with a dry, dirt floor—but sadly that’s about the best I could do. I mean, excuse me for saying so, but I died in the twenty-first century—a child of the new millennium—a verified member of Generation Mini Mall. Recreating an ancient gladiator school was a little out of my league.

I gritted my teeth, pushed my scraggly bangs off my face, and vowed to try again. Noticing a small pile of rocks that shone like bones in the moonlight, I bent to examine them—tracing my fingers over their deep crags and crevices, I closed my eyes and thought: What am I missing? Please show me—show me everything there is to see! And when I opened my eyes and looked all around, I couldn’t help but gasp in surprise.

The universe had answered my wish.

But instead of finding myself face-to-face with Theocoles, I found myself surrounded by hundreds of angry, raging gladiator ghosts.

3

I cowered in the dirt, my arms circling protectively as I lowered my head to my knees, attempting to make myself smaller, less of a target, doing my best to avoid the rampage of angry ghosts. Punching the air with their fists, they shouted and roared a long list of threats at some unseen enemy—the words spoken in a language that, much like them, had died centuries before, though the message rang clear. Every last one of them was so consumed by their memories, they were blind to everyone else.

Spying an opening in the crowd, I jumped to my feet, only to be knocked down again by a huge, hulking monster of a ghost who thundered right past me. Not even bothering to stop or slow down when his shoulder plowed smack into my jaw.

“Hey—watch it!” I yelled, rolling my eyes and shaking my head as I struggled to my feet once again. “I mean, I get that you’re like a gazillion times bigger than me, but do you really have to be so rude?”

I scowled, thrust my hands on my hips, and glared at his retreating back. Willing him to turn and give me the apology he most certainly owed me, but he just kept going, as oblivious to my presence as he was to the noise that blared all around. A noise that was not only loud and unpleasant, but also, or at least in the beginning anyway, impossible to make out. Though it wasn’t long before I was able to break it into more manageable chunks. Instantly recognizing it as the sound of hunger and pain and uncontrollable rage—in other words, the sound of enslavement. I’d heard it before.

It was continuous. Unceasing. The only relief coming in a quick burst of laughter that ended as soon as it started. Though I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be worth laughing about in that horrible underground prison of sorts.

Brushing the dirt from my jeans, I set off. Having seen just enough of the ludus to know I didn’t want to linger any longer than I had to, I was more determined than ever to get down to the business of finding Theocoles so I could cross him right over and get the heck out.