“Hello, Miss Corvi,” a very real voice says behind me.
When a Mortemagi materializes a ghost, they become immune to conduits. Materialized ghosts walk among us—they have an uncanny habit of walking through walls and students. Even though they aren’t quite human, they should be treated as such.
YSENIA FARO,DEATH MAGIC FOR BEGINNERS, CHAPTER 9
twenty | sylas
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1939
Victor Carver stands behind us, his crow-black hair a mess, a hesitant smile on his face, and his amber eyes too alive for someone who’s dead. I squint and notice the faint translucence of his skin.
Viola hasn’t blinked in a few seconds. She clutches the laurel leaf so tight I worry the metal will cut into her hand. If her glare could vaporize Victor into nothingness, he’d already be gone.
“How?” she asks. “No,” she replies to herself, before shoving the laurel leaf back into the vault and slamming the door shut. Then she walks into Victor, forgetting that he isn’t real, and stops herself. “Why the riddles? And why did my sister tell me to find you?” Viola wastes no time.
Victor backs away. “I apologize, I… It’s dangerous for ghosts to wander in the open because of conduits. And we don’t speak in riddles; our words just come out that way when we try to communicate with the living.”
“Whatare you?” I ask, instead of the ten other questions I need to ask, like who killed him, or where is Beau’s ghost, or where isThe Founder’s Book of Relicshe took from the library.
“Still a ghost,” he says. “But now that a Mortemagi materialized me, I’m immune to conduits. They won’t be able to lead me into the Underiver.”
“How is this possible?” Viola asks. I would also like to know, because Victor looks more human than ghost; he even sounds human.
“We realized you were a whisperer at the funeral home. We followed you when we could. Avoiding conduits needs its own mage rank at Gorhail—it’s near impossible.” He laughs, then stops when he sees the look on our faces. “When a Mortemagi and a ghost touch the ghost’s ancestral relic at the same time, the ghost can materialize. Now, we have perhaps one or two days to stitch my ghost with my body.”
We. Who is he talking about?
“What do you mean ‘stitch your ghost’?” Viola paces back and forth, her chest heaving. “Mortemagi can’t bring people back from the dead. I read every book. I—”
Olivia. She doesn’t have to say it out loud. I would have gone to the depths of the Underiver if it meant I could bring Beau back. Our eyes lock for a moment, hers welled with tears, mine empty. I almost reach for her—almost—but I don’t. After this, we’ll go our separate ways.
“Miss Corvi—” he starts.
“Viola,” she cuts him off.
“Vi-Viola,” he stammers. “You… you have a relic second only to the Founder’s relic. There’s little you cannot do. Besides, we’re notdeaddead.”
Weagain.
“You’ve been dead for days,” she argues. “Your body is in a state of decomposition by now, if they haven’t already disposed of it.”
“I injected myself with frost venom,” he tells her. “It wasn’t a lot, just enough for about a week, give or take a day, if my calculations are correct.”
I clear my throat. “Beau—he sold you the frost venom…” My voice cracks, and I don’t finish my sentence.
Victor steps back. He doesn’t meet my eyes, but he nods at Viola. Her eyebrows knit together, like they always do when she’s working through something. She considers me for a moment, then nods. Her shoulders relax, and she twirls my dagger in her hand. All I can think about is how perfect that dagger is for her. Then it all happens in a blur. Her prying open the Cardot vault, retrieving a red aspier, and the same light breeze that came with Victor’s reappearance.
“These pesky conduits need to find a new line of work.” Beau’s silvery voice fills the room.
I stop breathing. My throat is thick, my tongue heavy, and my eyesblurry with tears. This cannot be real. He cannot be here. It’s impossible. Yet here he stands, next to Viola, his dimpled smile so bright, his messy brown hair all over the place, and his clear blue eyes wide with wonder, oddly reminiscent of the first time Dad brought him home.
“Are you real?” I choke up tears. My hands shake as I try to reach for him.
“As real as a ghost can be,” Beau jests. “Sorry I died.”
“Shut up,” I say, my face wet with tears. “I wish I could hug you.”
Beau glances at Viola and nods. “Love you, too, Sy.”