"But how do you get rid of them?"
Melusine drew a breath. "Well, that's the hard part. You can send them back to the between-place-if you have some blood and hair from their physical body. And if you have all sorts of special ingredients, which I can't get. And if you have the right spell, which I don't know."
"I see."
"And in any case, that only traps him in the between-place again. It doesn't heal him. But, Gillian, there's something I've got to tell you." Melusine's face was very serious, and she spoke almost formally. "You
may not need to rely on me."
"What do you mean?"
"Gillian ... I don't think you really understand who you are. Did he-this spirit-explain to you just how important the Harmans are?"
"He said Elspeth's sister was some big witch leader."
"The biggest. She's the Crone, the leader of all the witches. And the Harmans are-well, they're sort of like the royal family to us."
Gillian smiled bleakly. "So I'm a witch princess?"
"You told me that Elspeth is your mother's mother's mother. You're descended entirely through the female line from her. But that's-extraordinary. There are almost no Harman girls left. There were only two in the world-and now there's you. Don't you see, if you let the Night World know about this, they'll flock
to help you. They'll take care of Angel."
Gillian was unimpressed. "And how long will that take?"
"For them to gather and everything... check out your family, make all the preparations ... I don't know.
It could probably be done in a matter of weeks."
"Too long. Way too long. You don't know what Angel can do in a few weeks."
"Then you can try to do it yourself."
"But how?"
"Well, you'd have to find out who he was as a person and what business he left unfinished. Then you'd have to finish it. And finally, you'd have to convince him to go on. To be willing to leave the between-place for the Other Side." She glanced wryly at Gillian. "I told you it would be hard."
"And I don't think he'd be very cooperative. He wouldn't like it."
"No. He could hurt you, Gillian."
Gillian nodded. "It doesn't matter. It's what I've got to do."
Chapter 15
Melusine was watching her. "You're strong. I think you can do it, daughter of Hellewise."
"I'm not strong. I'm scared."
"I think it may be possible to be both," Melusine said wryly. "But, Gillian? If you do get through it, please come back. I want to talk to you about some things. About the Night World-and about something called Circle Daybreak."
The way she said it alarmed Gillian. "Is it important?"
"It could be very important to you, a witch with human ancestors and surrounded by humans."
"Okay. I'll come back-if." Gillian glanced once around the shop. Maybe there was some sort of talisman or something she should take...
But she knew she was just stalling. If there were anything helpful, Melusine would have already given it to her.
There was nothing left to do now but go.
"Good luck," Melusine said, and Gillian marched to the door. Not that she had any particular idea where she was going.
She was almost at the creaky front door of the Five and Ten when she heard Melusine calling.
"I forgot to mention one thing. Whoever your 'Angel' was, he was probably from this general area.
Earthbound spirits usually hang around the place they died. Although that's probably not much help."
Gillian stood still, blinking. "No ... no, it w helpful. It's great. It's given me an idea."
She turned and went through the door without really seeing it, stepped out into the square without really hearing the piped-in Christmas music.
At least I've got a place to go now, she thought.
She drove south, back toward Somerset, then took a winding road eastward into the hills. As she rounded a gentle curve she saw the cemetery spread out beneath her.
It was a very old graveyard, but still popular. Steeped in tradition, but with plenty of room. Grandpa Trevor was buried in the newer section, but there were ancient tombstones on the wooded hill.
If she had a chance of finding Angel, it might be here.
The only way to the older section was up a wooden staircase held in place by railway ties. Gillian climbed it cautiously, holding the handrail. Then she stood at the top and looked around, trying not to shiver.
She was among tall sycamores and oaks which seemed to stretch black bony fingers in every direction.
The sun was falling lower in the sky and long shadows tinged with lavender were reaching out from the trees.
Gillian braced herself. And then, as loudly as she could, she yelled.
"Come on, you! You know what I want!"
Silence.
Gillian refused to feel foolish. Gloved hands tucked under her arms, she shouted into the stillness.
"I know you can hear me! I know you're out there! The question is, are you in here?" She kicked a foot toward a snow-covered sandstone marker.
Because of course there was nothing she could do here on her own. The only way to get the information she needed, about who Angel had been in his earthly life and what he'd done or left undone, was from
Angel himself.
Nobody else could tell her.
"Is this you?" Gillian scraped snow from a granite gravestone and read the words. " 'Thomas Ewing, 1775, Who bled and Dyed for Liberty.' Were you Thomas Ewing?"
The ice-coated twigs of the tree above her clashed together in the rising wind. It made a sound like a crystal chandelier.
"No, he sounds too brave. And you're obviously just a coward." She scraped some other stones. "Hey, maybe you were William Case. 'Cut down in the flower of Youth by falling from the Stagecoach.' That sounds more like you. Were you William Case?"