Robin Thorne keeps a promise. An orphan is reunited with their parent.
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love endures all things
June 16th, 2024
Eugene, Oregon
It took Thorne a week to track down the daughter of Billy Mitchell McCool.
Rachel Morgan McCool got off of her closing shift at Olive Garden to find them sitting on the hood of her Subura Impreza.
"Can I help you?" She asked.
"That depends," Thorne said. "Was your father Billy Mitchell McCool?"
The waitress' face flushed with panic. "Who are you?"
"I'll take that as a yes," Thorne said, mostly to themself. They pulled out their badge and presented it to Rachel. "To answer your question, I'm Special Agent Robin Thorne."
Rachel glanced back and forth between the badge and Thorne's face. "Am I in trouble?"
"No. I work for a special division of the FBI tasked with investigating and responding to paranormal and supernatural incidents."
"Like the X-Files?" It was the first thing that she could think of.
Thorne sighed. "Not quite." They snapped their fingers, conjuring up a small flame that danced in the air above their hand.
"Holy shit!" Rachel jumped back in surprise. "How did you do that?"
"I'm a wizard," Thorne explained. They clenched their fist, extinguishing the flame. "Do you know how your father died?"
Rachel nodded. "He was killed by another inmate while trying to escape prison."
Thorne shook their head. "That's just the cover story. Do you want to know what really happened?"
She nodded vigorously.
Thorne cleared their throat. "Your father didn't try to escape from prison. He was broken out by a group of criminals who used magic to force him to kill someone. When they were done with him, they killed him. But before he died, he was able to pass on some critical information to my mother — she was also an FBI agent in the special division I mentioned. Unfortunately, she died shortly later — a victim of the same criminals — but I recently came into possession of her journal and was able to use that to track down the people who killed both of our parents. Thanks to your father, the FBI is currently in the middle of arresting the ringleaders of an international criminal conspiracy that has lasted for decades and killed countless people. Your father died a hero."
Rachel stared at them, mouth agape. "That's…"
"Unbelievable?" Thorne suggested. "I know it's a lot to take in, but I promise you that it's the truth."
"My father was a hero…" Rachel whispered. Tears began to pool in her eyes. "All this time, I thought he was a bad guy."
"There's one more thing," Thorne said. "I can't promise that it will work, but with your permission, I'd like to try to summon your father's ghost, so that you can speak to him."
Rachel gasped. "You can do that?"
"Maybe. It's not a type of magic that I'm particularly skilled in, and your father's ghost might be… difficult to contact."
"But you'll try?"
"If you want me to, yes."
"Yes. Please."
Thorne nodded. "I'll need a strand of your hair."
To her credit, Rachel didn't ask why. Without hesitation, she plucked a hair from her head and offered it to Thorne.
They had already tried summoning the ghost of Billy Mitchell McCool again after their return from Washington, without any success. The memories that Adam had taken from the shade had left it too weak to manifest, at least for a necromancer of Thorne's skill level. But the discussion of liminal shades with Adam had given them an idea, and they were pretty sure they could use the memories of Florence and Rachel as an anchor to strengthen the summoning.
Holding the hair in one hand and the gem of the necklace in the other, Thorne focused on Florence's memory of Billy Mitchell McCool, and the one fact that she had known about him for certain: he would do anything to see his daughter again.
Thorne whispered, "Billy Mitchell McCool, if you can hear me, your daughter would like to speak to you."
The hair burst into flames in Thorne's hand, burning to ashes in a matter of moments. The smoke and the ash coalesced into the spectral form of Billy Mitchell McCool.
"Dad?" Rachel whispered.
"Rachel?" The ghost asked. He looked at Thorne in confusion. "Who are you?"
"No one important," Thorne replied. "What matters is that you have until sunrise to spend with your daughter. I can't keep the spell going any longer than that, I'm sorry."
The McCools looked at them in astonishment. "That's more time than I ever thought I'd get to have," Rachel said. "Thank you."
"It was the least I could do to repay your father for his assistance."
The ghost of Billy Mitchell looked at them quizzically. "What did I do to help you?"
"You helped me find the truth," Thorne said. They reached into their suit and pulled out a business card, which they offered to Rachel. "Miss McCool, if you ever need anything, please feel free to call. But if there's nothing else, I believe it would be best if I left the two of you to your reunion. I expect you have a lot to talk about."
Thorne turned and began walking back towards the local library, and the Way back to the Library. Aside from wanting to give the McCools their privacy, they preferred not to watch the reunion. It just reminded them that there would be no such reunion for them. Florence had made her wishes with regards to necromancy very clear, and the funeral rites that Dean Belmonte had performed ensured that there would be no ghost to summon.
There was always the option of calling up a liminal shade, of course. Thorne had been contemplating it ever since Adam had revealed that possibility. It probably wouldn't even be that hard. A ghost was just a collection of memories, and the necklace was full of those. It would be trivial to use the gemstone grimoire as an anchor to summon a shade from any point in Florence's life.
But it wouldn't have been their mother, just a memory of her. And Thorne had plenty of those now.
They touched the gem and called up the memory of the first time Florence had held them as a baby.
"I love you," she said to the newborn cradled in her arms. "Don't you ever forget it."
"I love you too, mom," Thorne whispered. "I always will."
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.
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