Ghostly Echoes (Jackaby, #3)

by William Ritter

It is the ugliest aspect of human nature that we fear what is most different from ourselves with such violent contempt.”

“If you ever see her again,” my employer growled, “you will remember that monsters pick on the weak and the harmless because it is the monsters who are afraid.”

He slowed and then came to a stop and looked me square in the eyes. “That’s up to her to decide, I suppose, but it’s not what I saw. Underneath, she was herself — as are we all. Lydia Lee is as much a lady as you or Jenny or anyone. I imagine the midwife or attending doctor probably had another opinion on the matter, but it only goes to show what doctors really know.” “Shouldn’t a doctor be able to tell at least that much?” Jackaby’s expression clouded darkly. “I have great respect for the medical profession, Miss Rook,” he said soberly, “but it is not for doctors to tell us who we are.”

“There is something humbling about knowing that an entity capable of moving mountains and reshaping continents still takes the time to tend to the smallest patch of dirt. Little things matter. Footsteps matter.”

“People often feel more alone than ever when they first arrive in a new place,” Jackaby continued, “but we are never alone. We bring with us the spirits of our ancestors. We are haunted by their demons and protected by their deities.”

This city is alive. It has a soul, and that soul is a glorious mess of beliefs and cultures all swirling together into something precious and strange and new.”

We should have run. We should have run away and never stopped running. I should have kept her safe, but I was a stupid, frightened little boy, and I did nothing. I told her to think how it would look if they found us. She scowled and told me I shouldn’t concern myself with how things look to others. Others are generally wrong.” “That’s what you said to me,” I said, “the first day we met.”

Kindness is an act of bravery, I think, just as hatred is an act of fear.

I felt a flood of fear and fury bubbling out of control inside my skull. I could barely hear myself think. I focused. “Jenny,” I thought. “I’m here. You’re not alone.” The storm of emotions softened. “I’m afraid,” she thought. “I’m so sorry. I tried. I can’t move.” “Let’s try again,” I thought. “Together.”

“Stop waiting,” he said. “You’ve always been strong for me. It’s time for you to be strong for you.”

“Well then,” I said, summoning the strength to stand up without wobbling. “Let’s go save the world.”

Jackaby looked at me for a long time. His storm gray eyes bore into mine, but his expression was curiously gentle. At length he rose to his feet. “Good night, Miss Rook,” he said. “Until tomorrow comes.” In another moment Jackaby would be out the door. Soon I would hear his feet pad down the carpet, hear his door click shut at the end of the hall. For that instant, though, I felt a curious sensation ripple over me. I felt the knot of fear inside me loosen. I felt as though if I looked down I might see myself aglow — blue, perhaps, but a warm blue, a hopeful blue. “Good night, Mr. Jackaby,” I said. “Until tomorrow comes.”