WHISPERS

Tonya ran up the path that skirted the west side of the cemetery then, eventually, slowed to a walk. Her chest heaved, and her mouth escaped her turtleneck. Listening to her breathing she wondered if she had already inhaled the contagion that killed Professor Rudolph. Would she die too? How much time before the infection took effect? His voice in her head reminded her of a gravedigger fungus she’d once stumbled upon as a child, in a dark corner of the cemetery.

She still remembered how it sent wordless whispers through her mind. In a panic, she had rushed to the shop to ask Aunt Helen about it.

“Gravediggers grow into the brains of the dead. Their telepathic whispers frighten outsiders away.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s harmless.”

“You planted it, didn’t you?”

Her aunt looked away, but not fast enough to hide her smile. “Of course not. Everybody knows I avoid death magic.”

The Professor’s voice in her head had sounded ten times more powerful than the telepathic fungus of her childhood memory. She stretched the neck of her sweater over her nose and went back to look for telltale signs of fungus. Normally, a gravedigger just gave you that cemetery feeling, like raised hairs on the back of your neck, or rustling sounds in the bushes. It was a harmless guardian but the way it propagated itself creeped Tonya out. It sent up one kind of shoot to sense movement, and another to spread spores. Tonya didn’t like to think of it spying on her, then releasing a cloud of spores as she passed by.

Tonya wished her aunt had explained how to destroy the fungus. She suspected Aunt Helen knew more about it than she would admit. Her aunt claimed to create folk cures from natural elements like herbs and minerals, but there was another kind of spell, cast purely through the will of the caster. Such spells required dark energies, the kind it would take to boost the powers of a mindless, mildly telepathic fungus into something more sinister . . .

Tonya tried to swallow the lump that rose in her throat. Her parents were mixed up in this with Aunt Helen. They never spoke of the danger, but the warning, delivered by the entranced woman at City Hall, confirmed it. Whoever was behind this must have defeated Aunt Helen and done something to her parents. Helen wanted to fight this battle alone, but there had been some kind of magical showdown at the store which sent Helen to the hospital. She had checked herself out but still hadn’t contacted Tonya, leaving her niece alone and surrounded by unknown enemies.

Even in daylight, this forested patch on the edge of the cemetery was half-dark. She shivered and zipped her coat up to her chin, scrunching her face into her collar in case of spores. What if they didn’t only grow in the brains of the dead? What if they could grow inside her living brain? The wind blew through her hair, whipping it around and making the trees hiss and sway, lending life to the artificial creatures Priya had hidden there. Tonya closed her eyes and stood still, wondering how far the Dead Professor’s mind reached. Did the link work in two directions, allowing him to overhear her thoughts, and broadcast his? Could he feel her shivering right now?

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Tonya sped up. As she passed through the Eastern Gate and crossed the road back to campus, she had a new theory which would explain Professor Rudolph and Marta. It had to be the gravedigger plant, enhanced by dark magic. This gravedigger couldn’t just broadcast whispers into people’s minds, but implant ideas as well. Ideas like the compulsion to eat.

She had to stop tonight’s gathering at all costs. Tonya started jogging toward campus.

She yearned to leave this to the authorities, but the Provincial Police would laugh at her. And campus administration? She’d never find somebody to talk to her on a Saturday. Besides, they’d think she was crazy.

With no other choice, Tonya pulled out her phone and called.

“Loon Lake police.” The chipper voice didn’t sound familiar to Tonya. Was the receptionist mundane or Old Family?

“Miss, are you still there?”

“Uh, I want to report a death.” Tonya didn’t risk saying more.

“Where are you?”

“Loon Lake Cemetery.”

“Young Lady, we don’t tolerate pranks! I should warn you this call is being recorded.”

“Something terrible is happening to my Professor Rudolph. I just found his body, laid out at the base of the Ash Tree.”

“Now aren’t you smart, to know the kind of tree. What’s your name, Miss?”

“Tonya.”

“I guess that makes you Helen’s . . .”

“Her niece.”

“Hm. Well, don’t trouble yourself about Rudolph.”

“You’ll take care of it, then?”

“In a way. Some things have a way of taking care of themselves.”

“Should I stay with the body?”

“Leave him to us. I’m sure you’ve done enough.”

Tonya hesitated. “Warn your personnel to wear masks. I think he’s contagious.” She emphasized the word, hoping the woman would understand this was a special, magical kind of contagion.

“You sure know a lot for someone who just found the body.”

“Yeah, well, send the right people and they’ll understand.” She hung up but, in her mind, Tonya saw him again, white shoots snaking up from underground to invade his lifeless body.

She didn’t trust the police. The lady on the phone had recognized her and acted like she’d been expecting her call. The receptionist sounded like she was working for the Old Families but if so, why hadn’t she seemed more concerned? Professor Rudolph had died under suspicious circumstances. Were the Old Families and the police working together to cover it up?

At City Hall, the lady with the flowery dress had brushed her off. It made Tonya want to march into City Hall and complain to the Mayor—if that would do any good. Tonya wondered if the councilors actively opposed Helen. They were mostly Trads, and some were Pures, which didn’t help her aunt’s case. Tonya wasn’t supposed to know, but when Helen’s hair turned white overnight in her late teens, she had been accused of using death magic. The mayor had exiled Aunt Helen for ten years right around the time Tonya was born.

Since she couldn’t count on the police or the Old Families, Tonya had few places to turn for help. She had shown Priya magic. Maybe together they could convince the Ninjas to move the festivities out of the cemetery.

She phoned and sent Priya urgent texts, but she didn’t answer. Time to make house calls.