Rings of the Inconquo Trilogy by A L Knorr & Aaron D Schneider

Author:A L Knorr & Aaron D Schneider [Knorr, A L & Schneider, Aaron D]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Intellectually Promiscuous Press
Published: 2020-07-30T22:00:00+00:00

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“Ibby Bashir,” Professor James Lowe shouted from the top of the spiral stairs that led up to the commons. “Quite the company you’ve brought today. If I’d known we were giving a tour, I might have cleaned up a bit.”

He was being absurd. As a condensation of psychic energy and ectoplasm bound by very old, very powerful, memories, the ghost-station didn’t require cleaning or maintenance. It remained a perfect replica of the British Museum Station of 1900.

“Things have gotten interesting in the world of the living, Professor,” I called up to him, our feet ringing on the ironwork stairs. “We’ve got a lot of news, and not a bit of it good, I’m afraid.”

“When is it ever?” Lowe replied. “But you might as well make yourselves at home. Judging from your bags, you seem to have something like that in mind.”

I frowned as I reached the top of the stairs. That was a bit gloomy for Lowe, who was typically optimistic. Remarkably so, given that he had been dead for almost a century. Over the past year, he had shared his knowledge about the Inconquo and guided me in using my new-found powers. He’d also been trying to learn more about our trapped demon––Kezsarak.

“Two new faces,” Lowe said, “but one of them I’m quite sure I already know.”

Lowe stepped towards Uncle Iry and held out a pale, long-fingered hand. “Welcome, Master Irshad Bashir,” Lowe said, smiling warmly. “I am Professor James Lowe. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Uncle Iry took the proffered hand and managed to hide a wince as he smiled back. Shaking a hand with a ghost is a chilly business.

“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Iry had a wide-eyed look around. “Your ... er, home, is very impressive.”

“I’m afraid I can’t take an ounce of credit for the ol’ mausoleum.” Lowe sighed, looking around with what could generously be called a weary eye.

“But it is good to see fresh faces,” Lowe said, some pluck back in his demeanour. “Not that your lovely niece hasn’t brightened the place when she manages to find the time. So busy this one, with this and with that. The heroine has no time but for saving the world.”

He shot me a mockingly severe glance. Uncle Iry and Lowe shared a chuckle.

I huffed, balling a fist on an outthrust hip as I looked at my uncle and the ghost in their sudden camraderie. “One minute together and already taking the mickey.”

Lowe and Uncle Iry did their best to look abashed, but a moment later, they were both sniggering again. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “You two are hopeless.”

I was overjoyed that the two most important men in my life were getting along so well, but I was avoiding the inevitable. I didn’t want to face what came next, partly because I didn’t know how Lowe would react and partly because even though it wasn’t even past lunch, I was dead tired. I just wanted to find a cozy alcove to crash in and handle all the explaining and strategizing later.

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