A Summoning of Souls. Leanna Renee Hieber

But this time, there was a more welcome sight at the threshold. The spirit children reappeared.

      “We’ll help protect you,” Giacomo, again at the forefront of the trio, said. “We’ll try. If he can manifest force, maybe so can we.”

      “Thank you, Giacomo,” Eve said, lowering her fists. “I don’t want you to deny eternal rest on our account.”

      “We’ll rest once all this is settled,” the young spirit, hardened by a life and death of disrespect, declared. “These men disturbed us directly, but they’ve offended the whole spirit world now.”

      This echoed what Eve had heard from within Sanctuary.

      “This isn’t over until he’s stopped his quest,” Magdalena whispered, taking her brother’s hand. Her breathlessness made her words all the more chilling. “He wants us all gone. And he must think you are one of the reasons keeping us here.”

      At this, Eve shuddered. It was true. It wasn’t just that she was part of the inquiry into Albert Prenze, his family, his practice; it was that she tethered what he hated most.

      The detective stepped around broken clock parts to pick up all the receipts and papers from their discovery to replace them in the file.

      “I doubt after all this we’ll be able to make headway at either of our offices,” Eve said. “We should go on ahead to my house so we don’t keep the Bishops waiting. We need them. Now that Prenze while manifesting can throw things at us like a damned poltergeist… We need shields.”

      “Lead on, then, Whitby.” Tucking the file under his arm, the detective gestured toward the door. “Let us be schooled in the steeling of minds.”

      He rubbed his hands together, his tone firm as he continued. “But I’m going to request clearance on the Prenze mansion. The whole family needs to be watched. Tomorrow morning I’ll scout locations. If I recall correctly, there are a few new hotels climbing up north of Longacre Square. We’ll find one with a view of his property, procure a telescope and binoculars, and engage in some good old-fashioned surveillance.”

      He said it with such surety it actually gave Eve a surge of hope. Herein was a workable solution that avoided confrontation, something they couldn’t do yet.

      “Thank you,” she said. “Sometimes the spirits make me unable to see the forest for the trees. I don’t mean to not think like a detective, but sometimes my problem solving is all fantastical and forgets to offer up solutions in the practical.”

      “I had hoped we could pounce on something.” Horowitz exited with Eve, locking the door behind him. “But we need a lynchpin. All the rest of this”—he indicated the papers under his arm—“will fall in around it. From what I know about casework, the more personal we get, the closer to the truth. We have to know what’s going on in the family manse.”

      “Yes,” Eve mused, withdrawing the tintype from her pocket, staring at a cruel face. “Mother dearest made a monster. But I doubt it was solely her fault. I hope we can see something to prove Albert’s duplicity over Alfred, find some way to extricate him before Albert finally does him in. I wouldn’t put it past him, to just take over.”

      “We’ll need to know what’s happening,” the detective declared. “He can’t be the one doing all the watching. Let’s turn the tables.”

      Chapter Five

      Fort Denbury wasn’t terribly far south or west, two adjoining brick townhouses along Waverly Place, just off Washington Square Park. The nickname for the properties had come fondly from Maggie, and she, along with the other Ghost Precinct regulars, kept to Eve’s somber-looking side out of respect for Eve’s parents who lived in the one next door. Lady Denbury held a notable dislike of ghostly intrusion, a seemingly incurable tension between her and Eve.

      Eve glanced up Waverly toward the edges of trees nearly leafless as autumn drew cooler. Her eye caught a few luminous forms floating a stroll along the stones, losing sight of vague outlines against the white of the Washington Square Arch.

      “I’m trying to see if I can see the ghosts that catch your eye,” the detective said, as if by being around her he might pick up on more of her talents. He’d started their acquaintance an unapologetic skeptic, but he’d grown more aware and able since they’d been working together and he seemed to be warming to the ghosts’ chills.

      “I can’t help it here; I always try to see any that pass along the park, even if only an echo. I want them to feel seen and known. The bones below the park are so numerous and so forgotten in this now prized neighborhood, thousands piled together from the epidemics of the last century. They lie there all unnamed. No plaque, no memorial. The more recent dead of the city fear they’ll be similarly neglected.”

      “It is good of you to honor the forgotten, Eve, in a way no one else I know can,” Jacob said as they climbed her stoop, facing the black crepe mourning wreath she maintained on the outside of her door.

      “The occasional spirit that floats across the bricks and paths are the only monument to that pit of bones,” Eve explained, turning back to the edge of the park visible from her doorstep, “whispering to anyone who cares to listen that this is a place where hordes rest. I try always to hear the voiceless, in everything I champion.” She shook her head, frustration rising in a wave of heat. “I don’t want to lose track of that battling Prenze. I hate that this living man who was supposed to be dead is taking so much time away from the actual dead that need me to help them help the city. It’s maddening.”

      “It is, and we’ll stop him.”

      For all the ways that her Sensitivities made her feel volatile, the detective was a welcome force of balance and determination. She turned the key in an ornate silver scrollwork lock.

      As Eve entered, she heard commotion in her parlor, the clinking of glass. Stepping forward into the center of the entrance hall, she looked through the open pocket doors to see Gran, backlit by a fire in the parlor’s brick fireplace. She sat at the large circular parlor table that hosted séances when the girls chose to work from home rather than their offices.

      Turning to the window at the sound of clinking glass, Eve was surprised to see Clara Bishop, already there and at work with curious glass vials in her hands. The distinct features of the birdlike woman seemed more pronounced by the gaslight sconces casting her dark blond hair in a halo. A flowing silver evening dress brought out the silver streaks in the braids coiled atop her head, especially the one that hung low to hide her scar.

      Clara clinked one of the vials with her fingernail, and the material inside, soil or something of the sort, settled. Gran had spoken of wards before. This must be how the Bishops had crafted them.

      “Hello Eve and companion,” Clara said. “I’m protecting thresholds. Come in.”

      Gesturing beside her, Eve brushed her hand across Jacob’s sleeve as she introduced him. “This is Detective Horowitz, Mrs. Bishop. He has been a part of all my recent cases and has also been threatened by Albert Prenze. He is a vital asset to my team, and I want him to learn any strategy of advantage and protection.”

      The detective bobbed his head. “Mrs. Bishop, a pleasure.”

      “Ah, yes, Detective.” Clara cocked her head to the side like a songbird, listening. “Evelyn has said wonderful things about you, and your presence complements the young Eve stunningly. And that’s not an easy feat seeing as she’s so distinct a tone, she’s loud, like me, but...” She gestured around her good ear, as if she were hearing something, and smiled. “You’re harmonious.”

      Before Eve or Jacob could react to any of this, or before Eve could explain to Jacob that Clara heard energies like music, the force of nature continued. “Forgive my barging in and working ahead of you.” Mrs. Bishop turned toward the furthest of the two front windows, where she sat down one of the vials against the window in the corner of the sill. “But there’s no time to waste. A character like Prenze will stop at nothing, and I sense that he feels