Demon's Dance (Lizzie Grace 4)

“No,” I said. “In fact, I'm going to try and talk to Alice's ghost—”

Jaz's gaze darted around. “There's a ghost here?”

“Yes. I'm going to attempt to talk to her and see if she can tell us anything.”

She frowned. “I didn't think you were the one who could talk to spirits?”

“I'm not.”

“Then how—”

“It's complicated,” I said. “But it basically involves a telepathic connection between Belle and me, and her using my eyes to see what might be going on.”

“Oh.” Her expression suggested the explanation had left her none the wiser. “I daresay Aiden will want me to record—”

“There won't be anything to see beyond me asking questions. You won't hear the replies, and because Belle is working through me—basically taking me over—I won't be able to repeat them.” I returned my gaze to Monty. “I'll need you to keep an eye on things magically—”

“I'll go one better.” He pulled a small silk bag from his pocket. “I can create a protection circle for you.”

“That would be great.” Especially given the anger still emanating from Alice.

“So you don't need me here?” Jaz said.

I shook my head. “If she's able to give us anything, I'll tell you.”

She nodded, then spun and quickly disappeared down the hill. I watched Monty set up his protection circle, sensed the caress of his magic as he raised the spell, and felt wholly inadequate in the face of such power. Although I had to wonder if it was nothing more than a rogue emotion from the past—from a time when I was constantly reminded of my lack, not just by my father, but also by the never-ending energy haze that came with being in the presence of witches who hadn't yet learned to contain their output. Truth be told, in this place—thanks to the wild magic—I wasn’t powerless. It might yet prove to come with undesirable consequences, but for the moment, at least, I was the equal of any other witch here.

And if I told myself that often enough, I just might start believing it. One day. Far in the future, possibly.

The threads of Monty's magic wove in and out of each other in the air above his spell stones, the golden strands glittering brightly in the morning light, until a dome-like structure hovered in the air.

He lowered his arms and stepped back. Wisps of gold circled lazily around his fingertips, an indication that while the protection circle had been created, the spell had yet to be activated.

“Ready?” he said, glancing at me.

I nodded and stepped inside the protection circle. The force of his spell flared around me briefly then dropped away. I sat crossed-legged in the middle and then said, “Right, ready.”

As he closed the circle, I reached out for Belle. Her thoughts flowed through mine, then her being, until we were fused as one—not so deeply that her soul left her body and became a part of me, but deeply enough that she could use her talents while seeing through my eyes.

A shudder went through her—through me.

That's one pissed-off ghost, let me tell you.

Can you talk to her? Or is she one of those ghosts who are all emotion and no real sense of being?

I can connect. You ready?

Yes. Go for it.

Belle took a deep, mental breath, then her energy centered inside of me and took over. Alice's form abruptly sharpened—she was still ghostly, but her form was complete rather than a mere sparkle. Her fury was evident in the glitter of her eyes, in the flexing of her fingers.

What have you done? she all but spat. Why didn't you tell me—

“Alice,” Belle cut in, her voice—my voice—holding the whip of command. “You need to calm down.”

Would you be fucking calm if you were me? If you'd walked into your mom's house and found not your mom, but a thing that was in her body?

The meek, mild Alice who had come into the café had obviously died with her flesh. Or maybe losing her life had finally unleashed some long-repressed but deeply fierce part of her nature.