Free Darker Still by Leanna Renee Hieber

described the incredible and otherworldly aspects: the particulars of that oddly exquisite little room with a hazy window onto the world beyond, the wild desperation of Denbury’s imprisoned soul in contrast to his stoic painted appearance, and the strange sensation of tumbling in and out of another reality.
    I accepted another cup of tea, wondering if I’d ever stop shaking from the madness of it all and signed something to the effect of: “Does spiritualism have a precedent for this?”
    Mrs. Northe shook her head. “Hardly. I fear I’m out of my depth in this matter. While I’ve no experience, I do have some ideas. But remember, Natalie, this is the blackest of magic. I deal in spirits, human forms transcendent to energy. I embrace and use positive things, beautiful but generally simple things along the veil between life and death. This matter is entirely different. We are dealing with demons and vile, complex magic. I’d take a mere haunting any day over this.”
    And then something that had been nagging me from the first inkling of the supernatural reared its head. There was something I was ignoring, avoiding. Something that made my eyes well up with tears as it bit the back of my mind.
    If what had happened today was real, then so was the Whisper. The movement at my eye was real. Perhaps messages came from the beyond after all. From Mother. This event cracked open everything I’d ever wondered, hoped, or believed. My heart burned with all of it trapped inside.
    “Do you speak to the dead?” I signed.
    She stared at me, deeply and for a long time, as if measuring my worthiness to the weight of her answer. “I have,” she replied quietly, “but I’m not sure Denbury is dead.”
    I stared at my lap. My present concern had nothing to do with Denbury. “No, not him.” Shaking hands did not make for good sign language. “Would you…” I couldn’t look at her.
    “Speak with your mother? Or at least try?” Mrs. Northe finished simply.
    Tears fell again from my eyes, and I batted at them. I did not want to get the reputation of being a weepy, weak, or sniveling girl. I was no orphan, no cripple, and I was not fond of tears. But I wanted to speak to my mother. It seemed a reasonable request.
    “In due time, if you feel it is right, we can try,” Mrs. Northe replied gently before cautioning me, “But with forces like these afoot, we don’t dare draw anything so meaningful to you. We can’t summon anything as tied to your heart as her. Your desires could be used against you. We must keep careful guard around sacred and loving connections, and use them in the proper time and place. They are our greatest vulnerability and greatest weapon.”
    I glanced at her, and I know the disappointment I felt was evidenced on my face.
    She patted my hand. “I’m sorry to deny you,” she murmured. “But you must steel your heart, Natalie. Lock it tight against those who would pry it apart. Keep your energy close, your spirit sound. Else unsavory forces may suck the very life out of you.” My eyes widened, and my hand went to cover my throat.
    Mrs. Northe set her jaw. “No, I don’t mean one of those vampires in those dreadful penny theatricals. Though such a creature may indeed exist, there are worse things than such carnivores. Denbury chose you . If you’re found out, you will also be a target of such magic as was used against him.”
    I stared at her, eyes wide. Panic surged in my veins.
    “Denbury was cursed,” Mrs. Northe clarified. “We simply have to find the counter-curse. And as I doubt the magic will let me in, it’s likely up to you to find it.” She smiled softly.
    “What I learn, I’ll tell you,” I signed. “In words , I hope.”
    My fear turned into a little thrill. It was true: I had spoken . My teachers had told me that I was capable of the act if I only trusted myself. Apparently, when faced with the impossible, an act I’d written off as impossible refused to be ignored and showed