A Flight of Souls
Page 23

At this, he stopped shrieking. Slowly, his hands moved away from his head and lowered at his sides. Then even more slowly, his head raised from behind his knees and his blue eyes, glinting with pain, met mine.
He frowned deeply.
“My… nephew?” he breathed.
“Yes,” I replied, nodding vigorously. I was just relieved that he had stopped causing such a ruckus. “Derek Novak is my father. Sofia Claremont-Novak, my mother.”
His lips mouthed my parents’ names, although no sound came from his mouth. Then his eyes widened, a gleam of urgency in them. His voice rose to a whisper. “And where is my sister?”
“In The Shade,” I replied, “caring for her newborn. Where the rest of our family is.” At least, those still living.
His mouth formed a hard line, and then he fell into silence.
The fact that Lucas didn’t think to ask about his father, Gregor—who had still been alive at the time my grandfather had killed Lucas—said a lot about his feelings toward him.
Lucas’ frown deepened and then, as if somebody had flicked a switch in his mind, he began shaking his head again, but at least this time he didn’t let out another howl. He just sat there, looking tortured and confused.
I’d never known my uncle. I only knew him through my parents’ eyes as being malicious, vindictive, and terribly jealous of my father. If I hadn’t recognized Lucas by his likeness to my father, I never would’ve guessed that the lost, broken man sitting before me now was him.
Such bewilderment washed over his face that I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.
“Lucas,” I said, attempting to snap him out of the daze he had fallen back into. I wondered whether he could concentrate on any train of thought for more than a few moments. “You must tell me what happened to you. How long have you been down here?”
He swallowed hard. “I… I do not know,” he replied after a long pause. “Th-There are no calendars in Hell.”
Hell. Was it possible that he believed that this was actually Hell? That in all the time he must have spent here, he’d never discovered that this was all a hoax? No wonder he lost his mind. I wondered if he’d been caught by the fae, as I had.
Again, I felt the urge to grip his shoulders hard and shake him in an attempt to ground him somehow. But all I had was my words to get through to him.
“You know that this isn’t actually Hell, right?” I asked, gazing firmly into his eyes. And what did he mean by his “son”? Is he aware of the existence of Jeramiah, after all? I wanted to flood him with questions, but his mind was terribly fragile. I needed to take this in baby steps.
Lucas squinted at me. “What?”
“Neither you nor I are in Hell. We are in the realm of ghouls.”
He continued squinting, as though he was having problems comprehending my words.
“Do you hear what I’m saying?” I pressed. “How did you get down here? Were you caught?”
He nodded slowly, and then shook his head a second later. “Not caught.”
“Then? How did you get here?”
“An angel led me here. It… it was my fate.”
So he was caught, just like the rest of us. He would have been within the catchment date of the fae’s operations; Marcilla had told me this kidnapping had been going on for nearly five decades now. Perhaps he’d hung around The Shade for a while, and then felt the urge to escape his half-life. I grimaced. “That was no angel, Lucas. It was a fae.”
“Fae? What is a fae?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. I had been too preoccupied with other questions to find out much about the creatures from Marcilla. “They’re con artists,” was the simplest way I could think to reply. “They made a contract with the ghouls—these evil creatures that surround us—decades ago and provide them with a constant flow of ghosts. The fae prey on those wishing to pass over to the other side, and spread a rumor among the ghost community that they’re some kind of messengers of heaven.”
Lucas stared at me, stunned, as though a moment of clarity had fallen upon him. “That…” he murmured. “But I knew that.”
I frowned. “You knew what?”
The certainty that had sparked in his eyes died down a little. “At least, I thought I knew,” he muttered. “I… I’m not sure what I know anymore…”
Apparently not only had he lost his mind, but also his memory.
Then, to my horror, he began groaning again.
“Listen,” I said, trying to catch his fading gaze. “Whatever these ghouls have done to you, you’re not thinking straight.” To put it lightly. “I can help you, Lucas. I can tell you the truth about what’s really going on here. But you must keep quiet. Okay?”
He stopped groaning and nodded slowly, even as he looked uncertain whether he could trust me. There was fear in his eyes that reminded me of an untrusting child. Betrayed, vulnerable, weak.
I decided that for now, it was best not to ask any more questions—questions that he was clearly in no state to answer. I was surprised that he even knew his own name anymore. Judging by the looks of the ghosts floating at the bottom of his pool, I certainly doubted they knew their names. They looked so far gone, so… dead. Compared to them, Lucas was in good shape. I found myself wondering again why he appeared to be in a different category. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. I needed to try to get through to him. He’d obviously been here for at least a few years, and he was bound to know more about this place than the ghosts on the upper levels. Perhaps he could tell me something that would give me a clue as to how to escape.