Some powdered herbs joined the mixture, and I crushed it up until I had a thin black-brown liquid.
I reached beyond the confines of the circle I’d created and I wiped away a section of the line I’d made. I drew out a circle with the hair-ink, then placed the paper with Leonard’s history within the circle.
After some consideration, I put an empty wine bottle atop the folded paper.
The general idea was the same I’d used to set things up for the awakening ritual. Adding something to the diagram. In this case, an accounting of what had happened to poor Leonard.
“Fire’s getting low,” Rose said.
I reached for the firewood I’d stacked behind me and put a fresh log inside each ring of bricks.
“Leonard Harlan. Father of Nathan Harlan. Factory worker. An unassuming man. Leonard Harlan.”
How many reference points could I name, to give the connection more grounding?
“Leonard Harlan. Killing himself with drink.”
I felt the connection appear.
“There we go. Leonard Harlan, murderer.”
It strengthened. I had something, and I could feel it growing in intensity.
He didn’t seem as strong as June had been. That said a lot, because I’d used blood for power and weakened myself a fair bit in the time since I’d talked to June. If June had been strong enough to penetrate the salt circle before, and I could barely feel Leonard, he was little more than a wisp.
An overgrown beard that splayed out, a receding hairline, a very tall face with a brow creased by worry. He’d distorted quite a bit since his demise, I assumed. Bug eyed, neck too thin, facial features out of proportion. He had a bad slouch, and he carried a bottle, even as a ghost.
His eyes, when he met mine, were dead in a way that went beyond his current status. The only thing I could make out in them was pain.
“It was a mistake anyone could make,” I said.
I felt the connection weakening.
“But you don’t want to hear it. You don’t believe it, and it isn’t a part of what you’ve brought with you to… wherever you are now. If I want a stronger connection, I need to validate you. I’d have to call you a murderer, a thoughtless idiot, a drunk, a loser.”
Sure enough, those words alone were strong enough to clarify the connection. I could see the spirits running along the ink I’d drawn out.
“I can’t do that, so I’m only going to say the truth. You were a single father, without much help, without advice or support. You worked and did what you could to ensure that your baby son was okay. You cooked, did laundry, worked, washed him, and cleaned. It was when you were cleaning that you killed your son. Caustic fumes, maybe a mix of chemicals, and he was a baby that wasn’t even old enough sit upright. He suffocated, right there, on your kitchen counter. You damaged your own lungs, too, and some said that was why you never said another word. But my grandmother wrote that it was more likely to be grief.”
I could smell something in the air, now. Stringent, like strong urine or bitter vinegar. The wind was still, but we were outdoors, and that helped, but I knew something was getting past the salt circle.
Where June had flickered from form to form as we’d walked her through her story, Leonard wasn’t capable.
All that was left of his ghost was a single drawn out moment. Standing there, mute, staring off into space, lost inside his own head.
He coughed, a small, painful sound, then resumed his former position.
“Come with me, Leo,” I said.
He didn’t move. I could see him fading, and I could see how disconnected he was from the rest of the world. If I lost him, he’d be gone.
“Leonard,” I said. His identity is tied to the full name, not any short form.
It helped, but not much. The connection was weaker than it had been when he’d first appeared. Leonard was too.
“I’m losing him, Rose.”
“Leonard,” she said.
I could feel her connection to him. Was it stronger than mine, or was she piggybacking off of what I’d set up?
“Help me out,” I said. “I can help you find peace.”
Leonard looked at me. I felt like I was being drawn out, as if his eyes were a well that could suck me into it. He was fading, but the smell he’d brought with him was getting more pungent.
I coughed.
“Leonard, come,” Rose said.
The smell momentarily tripled in intensity, and then Leonard was gone.
The bottle wobbled precariously. I reached across the circle to catch it before it fell and cracked open on the patio.
Lacking a stopper, I put the folded paper in the neck of the bottle, jamming it in with one finger.
“There we go,” Rose said, very quiet.
“Welcome back to the family, Leonard,” I said.
I kept one thumb over the end of the bottle while I picked up the various items that now littered the inside of the circle. Bags and bottles of herbs, the mortar and pestle, the swiss army knife, some scraps of paper and three books.
I left the cord of wood, chain, and the two small fires, making my way into the kitchen.
The rest of our stuff was laid out on the small table below the window, the Valkyrie book open already to a relevant page.
With black painter’s tape, I began encircling the bottle, using the tape to draw out lines and patterns. I watched the fires from the window.
“You don’t look good, Blake,” Rose said.
“You don’t know how close I just came to a sarcastic response,” I said. “I know I don’t look good. Why does this need constant restating?”
“I’m noticing it more. You look bleached. Even the clothes you wear, they look washed out somehow, faded. Your hair and eyes are lighter, you don’t have the dark circles under your eyes…”
I ducked down to get a look at myself in the side of the toaster, the remembered I couldn’t. I pulled some hair down in front of my eyes to see. Was my hair lighter? It had been blond to begin with, but more the sort of blond that was tending towards brownish with adulthood. Now… less so? I might not have noticed if I hadn’t been looking for it. If I had noticed, I might have dismissed it as a result of odd lighting.
I glanced back at the fires, my hands working with the black tape. “Maybe.”
“You gave up a lot of yourself, when you gave up blood. That power, it comes from somewhere. From your substance.”
“Lesson learned,” I said. “I’ll finish binding Leonard into the bottle, put out the fires, and then eat.”
“The fires seem like they’re more hassle than they’re worth.”
“I wasn’t about to freeze to death a second time,” I said. “And I don’t mind having a nice barrier of iron, on top of that.”
“Maggie,” Rose said.
“Yes, Maggie,” I confirmed. “Metal fed with power by way of the elements, to protect against goblins. I’m assuming conducted heat counts.”
“I can’t imagine her attacking you.”
“Wasn’t long ago you were being the voice of reason, telling me to be careful in dealing with her,” I said.
“We talked to her though. I’m more comfortable dealing with people when I know what they’re gunning for. I spent a long time dealing with our family, with the schemes and plots. Figuring out the why of it, you figure out their weak points.”
“Were you the type to attack weak points?” I asked. I continued with the tape, glancing up at the fires.