“Who?”
“Hecate.”
My great-grandmother’s name was Hecate. “You knew Hecate Graves?”
The ghost grins again. “Hecate was my queen, but she was also my childhood playmate.”
Ah, I see. “And when you got older, did you stay in touch?”
“Indeed. Until she took my closest friend as her husband.”
My brows cinch. “That didn’t make you closer?”
“Not when I had formed such an unfortunate attachment to my dearest companion.”
Oh.
“Inever possessed the courage to speak my heart,” the ghost continues. “It remains my most profound regret. Though I was quite certain my affections would not be reciprocated, I departed your earthly realm without ever having confessed the true nature of my sentiments. Too worried I’d upset him.”
Guilt pricks behind my eyes. That’s terrible. “Is that why you are here?”
I instantly regret my words as soon as I speak. Can you ask a ghost about unfinished business, or is that too personal a question?
“I waited until it was too late to pursue what I most desired in my life,” the ghost says before another masked dancer taps his shoulder to cut in.
The person I was dancing with releases me and bows before slinking off into the crowd.
“Your Majesty, dare I say I couldn’t believe it when I heard the news?” my new dance partner says in an eloquent tone. Heis much larger in build than my previous partner and wears a crooked grin beneath his checkered mask.
I yelp as he tugs me closer until our bodies almost touch. He whisks me around the room in a spirited polka. We move so fast that the party becomes a blur of reds, blacks, and whites.
“What news?” I finally ask during a brief pause between musical phrases.
“That you would come to us. Please, tell me of home. Is it truly so that we prevailed in the war?”
“Do you mean the First War?”
A nod.
Goodness, this ghost is as old as Aradia; only after years of lingering in my world has Aradia adapted to more modern speech. My heart races along with the beat. “Do you know Aradia? Is she here?”
“As a member of the Council, naturally I was acquainted with her. And no, I regret to say she is not.”
I almost miss a step. Is he talking about theFirstCouncil? All those witches were killed, bombed by the Nebula over a hundred and fifty years ago. These spirits aren’t just any ghosts; they are the very souls who shaped our history. Most of them have been here for centuries. But if that’s true, shouldn’t they have moved to the other levels of Mictlan? Is there a lottery system I didn’t know about?
“I suspect I know your thoughts,” the ghost says. “If we are ghosts indeed, why are we not mourning in the wilderness or seeking oblivion in the river’s flow?”
“River?” My voice trembles. Does he mean the Acheron? “Is that the portal to the next level of despair? Did you make a deal with Kosac not to go into it?”
“Kosac proves most gracious in his divine nature, should you possess the courage to strike a bargain with him.”
“What sort of bargain?”
The ghost grips my hand tighter. The pressure feels like dry ice on my skin. “Servitude.”
I drop my hands, refusing to move as the rest of the dancers continue to circle us in a whirlwind of masks and silks. Some inch closer, but I keep my focus on my companion.
“Are you saying that you are a prisoner, but willingly?”
