The Haunting - Chapter 18
Fall 1893
In contrast to the hot summer, autumn was a blessed relief. The temperatures dropped in time with the leaves. The cold was moderate, and Richard Castle bundled himself up for his daily constitutional. Katherine hovered about him, fussing with his scarf. Her form flickered in and out of his visual spectrum, but her touch was ever present. His top hat dropped off the hook and floated over to him. He held out his hand and accepted it with a smile, placing the hat on top of his head with a flourish that brought a smile to his ghostly love's beautiful face.
"How do I look?" he inquired with a grin.
"Very dashing, milord," Katherine teased back, her lips quirking up in a bemused smirk. Her ethereal hands moved forward to adjust the lapels of his overcoat, making sure he was properly bundled up to ward off the early evening chill.
Castle placed his hands over hers. A shiver ran up his spine, and his fingers tingled with the plasmatic energy that her spectral form was composed of. He watched her throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes flicking up to his in a nervous fashion. He squeezed his hands over hers in an effort to reassure her.
"It will work," he insisted, not willing to give credence to any of the apprehension and qualms that had plagued both of them after their failure the previous week. "It has to work."
"I know," Katherine relented with a sigh as she leaned into him, resting her forehead against his.
The small hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he pursed his lips and gazed into the pale blue vision of her flickering before him. He knew that the shade of Katherine Beckett was conflicted over their plans. When he had initially revealed his scheme to break down the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead, defying the universe itself, so that he could be with her, Katherine had been skeptical. However, after their initial experiments had proven to be successful, she had surrendered to his enthusiasm and committed herself wholeheartedly to his insane endeavor, in spite of some lingering doubts.
Castle, on the other hand, firmly believed in the rightness of their cause. In his mind, nothing could be more righteous than true love. Emotions ruled over reason, and he dove into his studies of the occult and all things magical to ensure the achievement of his goal of otherworldly love. Just like the characters in his novel, he wanted to prove that love could conquer all. Even death.
"We are going to beat the odds, Katherine," he told her, cupping her ghostly cheek in his hand. "After all, that is what all the great love stories are all about. And ours… ours is a great love story." He leaned forward then, capturing the faint presence of her lips. "I will not be long. I just need to acquire a few items and speak with a visiting medium. I shalt take long, my love. I shall be back presently."
Castle pressed another feather of a kiss to her ghostly lips, and then made his departure. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he walked down the front steps of the brownstone. Looking both ways, he ducked his head down to ward off the chill of the autumn breeze, before taking off towards his destination, feeling confident that if everything went the way he hoped it would, by nightfall there would no longer be any barrier preventing him from showing Katherine just how much he loved her.
XXX
He set down the last candle. Placing a hand on his knee, he straightened his back and stood back up, tilting his head slightly to the side to gauge his work. He had placed twelve candles across the floor in Katherine's bedroom, forming a circle; another candle—the thirteenth—stood in the center, waiting to be lit. The flames flickered, casting deep shadows along the walls. He stretched out and grabbed the rare book he had spent most of the summer trying to acquire—Occulta Magicae. Rumor said that the tome was crafted from the vast knowledge of the ancient magicians and sorcerers from antiquity. Castle had first heard about it while he was in San Francisco. He believed that if he paired the arcane magic with eastern mysticism, he would be able to break through the final and last barrier separating him from his beloved Katherine.
Clutching the ancient tome in trembling hands, Castle carefully opened it, hesitating slightly as the spine creaked loudly. He gently turned the pages until he located the information he needed. The entire book was written an archaic form of Latin, not easily translated. He had visited with the soothsayers in the small community of Romanian immigrants living in the Bronx, searching for a medium who could understand the ancient language.
His request was denied.
He was told that he was dealing with dark magic, and the community elders were not eager to get involved with something that could add to further hostilities towards their people. However, one of the mediums took pity on him, and told him about a visiting Creole mystic from Louisiana.
Madame Éliane Parish was an enchanting and fascinating woman. She listened to his story with rapt attention, never once patronizing him or casting doubt on his tale.
"You are a man in love, Mister Castle," she had declared in a thick bayou accent.
"Will you help me?" he had implored, trying hard to ignore the skulls and other morbid artifacts decorating her parlor.
Madame Éliane had grabbed his hand, closed her eyes and murmured some words. When her chanting was finished, she gazed at him with a wistful expression on her face. "Yes, Mister Castle," she had answered with a smooth smile, her dark eyes dropping down to gaze upon his hand still clutched in hers. She traced a finger along one of the lines on his open palm. "Your cause is true, and your love pure. The lines cannot tell a lie. This woman you describe is your soul mate, you are meant to be together." She let go of his hand and smiled enigmatically. "Now, show me this book you have brought and I shall see if I can help."
And she had. Madame Éliane had been able to find the passage in the ancient tome that would allow him to bring Katherine across the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead, and give her corporeal form.
"You are a brave man, Mister Castle," Madame Éliane had said as he carefully placed the tome back in his leather-worn satchel and packaged the other items he had purchase from her. "You are wading into dangerous waters. What you risk is much, the price high."
"Katherine is worth the risk," he had asserted, hoisting the leather strap of his satchel over his shoulder. "I cannot accept a love like ours would exist if we were never meant to be. That… that would just be too cruel."
Madame Éliane had inclined her head in agreement. "The universe works in mysterious ways," she concurred. "Do what I have instructed, and all should go as it should." She gestured towards the doorway, where a muscular swarthy man appeared. "My manservant Javier will see you safely home."
It was now two weeks later, and he stood in the illumination of the flickering candlelight on All Hallows Eve, following the directions provided to him. The appointed hour was almost upon them. Soon, he told himself. Soon you shall be with the one you love.
"Are you sure about this, Richard?" Katherine's ethereal voice resounded throughout the room. A gentle whirl of wind swirled around him as her presence became manifest. The pale blue transparent beauty glided across the threshold and into the heart of the room.
He glanced back at her, noting her worried expression.
"I am," he vowed. "I have no doubts. It will work."
"What of the consequences?" she questioned, still expressing some hesitation.
"To be with you, Katherine," he spoke softly, gazing at her with nothing but love reflecting out of his eyes, "I am willing to take the risk."
She paused for a moment, hovering in place, before gracing him with a warm smile and a gentle nod of her head. "Then so am I," she attested.
Katherine floated across the floor until she was hovering in the center of the circle of candles. She turned around to face him, her eyes displaying nothing but love and trust. He smiled back at her, and then glanced down at the ancient tome, running a fingertip along the Latin words, silently sounding out the pronunciation in his mind. Madame Éliane had told him he had to speak the words of the spell correctly or else he would accidently create a breach in the veil between the living and the dead, unknowingly letting loose all sorts of nasty horrors into the world. Spoken correctly, the spell would be focused on the location he had chosen, hence the circle of twelve candles with a thirteenth in the middle.
"Ready?" he asked, glancing back up at the beautiful specter of his beloved.
"As ready as I will ever be," Katherine answered tentatively.
Inhaling a deep breath, Castle knelt down and picked up one of the twelve candles, using its flame to light the thirteenth. Straightening, he took a step back, double-checking the instructions in the tome one more time before beginning the spell. Leaving the book open, he placed it down on the vanity and picked up a little wooden box. Pushing the lid open, he held the box in one hand while slowly walking around the circle of candles, sprinkling the tiny speckles of salt, creating a secondary circle.
Finished, Castle retrieved the washbowl filled with rainwater. It had taken them longer than he had anticipated to collect the amount they required for the potion. The weather had not cooperated with them. He placed the washbowl just in front of the glowing circle of candles and the shimmering form of his ghostly love. Castle then reached for a small glass jar containing soil samples from Katherine's grave. It had been a difficult trip for him. He had never visited her gravesite before. It had made her death all the more real. He had almost given into the despair that their task was futile. Katherine had spent most of that night consoling him with the tender caress of her ghostly fingers through his hair. He had fallen asleep with the tingling sensation of her arms around him, engulfing him in her cool embrace. He unscrewed the lid, and measured out the appropriate amount of soil, stirring it into the rainwater.
Next, Castle pulled out Katherine's hairbrush. Buried with the bristles were tiny strands of brunette hair. He held the brush above the washbowl and rubbed his flat hand along the bristles, dislodging every single strand of hair, adding it to the mixture. He pursed his lips and drew his brow together in concentration as he withdrew a vial from his vest pocket. The last ingredient. Popping the stopper off, he poured the dark crimson liquid—his blood—into the rainwater mixture. He had needed to return to that depraved Gentleman's Club to enlist the assistance of Doctor Davidson to draw the blood from his veins.
As instructed, Castle used his own finger to stir the mixture. He swallowed, tilting his head up to gaze upon the beautiful countenance of his beloved. Katherine watched him with soft, loving eyes. Castle gained strength from the love he felt reflecting back at him, and he refocused his attention on the final preparations.
Done, Castle stood up and stepped over to the vanity, rechecking the ancient tome for the next step.
"Richard," Katherine's voice echoed throughout the room.
He arched his neck and looked back over his shoulder.
"Yes?"
"I love you," Katherine declared, voice soft and sincere.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat and bowed his head. "I love you, too, Katherine, so very much," he answered, tears in his eyes. He blinked, and wiped at his cheeks, picking up the book, and returning to his spot in front of the circle. Katherine floated before him, looking radiant and angelic.
Castle closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, gathering his courage to perform what many in civilized society would probably call the dark arts. He found his center, and released his breath, kneeling down before the washbowl. Cupping the spine of the tome in one hand, while spreading his other out over the bowl, Richard Castle, lawyer turned author, lover of a ghost, began to speak an ancient incantation that not only violated the laws of God and man, but that of the universe itself.
Within moment, the room began to vibrate with supernatural energy. The washbowl shook, and its contents rippled in a strange and unnatural pattern. An unseen vise clamped around his chest, putting pressure on his lungs. Castle hissed out a breath, and struggled through it, ignoring the throbbing pain in his sides as he continued on, unwavering in his determination to see this to its completion.
Katherine's form flickered in and out of sight as he continued the chant, her beautiful features contorting in a strange combination of pain and bliss. He hated seeing her like that, but he could not relent. If he stopped at all, the spell would be broken, and they would have to wait another year until they could attempt this again, and Castle was unwilling to wait.
The flames of the twelve candles flickered with new energy, invigorated with ethereal power, rising up higher, shifting colors from orange to blue to green. The inner candle—number thirteen—burned a bright white, and Castle had to avert his eyes, it was so blinding. He held his hand steady over the rippling water, his voice sounding odd to his own ears as he continued the incantation. The walls faded away, turning to nothing, replaced by the black void of the space between spaces. Everything blurred around him as he reached the crux of the ancient and dangerous spell.
Blinding white light suddenly infused his entire visual spectrum. He clenched his eyes shut, and gritted his teeth, as the world seemed to quake around him. A horrendous thundering sound like lightning crackled nearby, the boom nearly making him deaf. A torrent of wind swirled around him, dark and terrible, howling like a wolf. Through the violent cacophony, Castle could barely make out the wailing screams of the woman he loved. It sounded like she was being ripped apart by wild animals. It took all his will power to ignore her bloodcurdling cries, and finish the incantation.
"Omnia!"
A tornado of dark clouds swirled around him.
"Vincit!"
The invisible vise around his torso clenched tighter.
"Amor!"
Love Conquers All.
Castle gritted his teeth and curled his fingers into a fist, and then he plunged his balled up hand into the washbowl, sending the concoction splashing into the air. The wind caught it and the bubbles of water rolled and floated around him, flashing with sparkling supernatural energy as they collided. He watched in awe as they coalesced before him, forming together to create something. When the last bits of the potion molded together a violent explosion of pale green light burst forth, sending him flying backwards.
His head struck against something hard, and he blacked out.
