“No, I contest the possibility of an ib being bound to me.” Mr. Carter said. “I do not know these ghosts. I am certain I do not know these ghosts. I am certain I have not experienced any of the symptoms of ib bonding. I have not experienced any out-of-place thoughts, feelings, or emotions. I have not had strange dreams. I have not had strange visions. The last person who could have possibly produced a ghost that could bind its ib to my soul was my uncle, and not only did he die before the Gnome was constructed, well before I had even started my directing career, he disliked the theater and strongly encouraged me to become a scrivener instead. There is no way Uncle Henry would be on a stage!”

“Mr. Carter, we’ve had several cases where clients were very surprised to learn that they were ib bonded.” Matthew said. “Like you, they protested how impossible it was, but illumination revealed proof to the contrary. They went on and on about how they didn’t know the manes, how they didn’t know anyone even remotely like the manes. Yet illumination revealed the truth, and after we conducted our investigation and brought every little detail to light, they looked at the facts we had uncovered and went “Ah! The manes was so-and-so! I remember them now!” Sometimes, Mr. Carter, we’re not aware of all the connections we’ve made in life.”

“I actually live a very organized life with a very small circle of friends and acquaintances. It’s impossible for there to be a connection I am unaware of.” Mr. Carter said.

“We would like to test that, Mr. Carter.” Matthew said. “May we have your permission to illuminate you?”

“All we do is shine our gaeite candles on you.” Joseph said. “It’s simple, quick, and easy.”

“But…there’s no need!” Mr. Carter protested. “I couldn’t possibly have be bound to an ib!!”

“We would just like to make sure.” Matthew said.

“It is a completely painless procedure, I promise you.” Matthew said. “The light is neither blinding nor burning.”

Mr. Carter knew, rationally, that he had nothing to fear from gaeite candles. He knew that the London fireball was caused by a careless, nameless manesologist doing the unthinkable--putting his gaeite candle down in the middle of a haunting. A ghost got a hold of the candle, and as the candle was lit and radiating olprt energy, it was an active gate into the higher, energized realms of the Astral. An Astral hand touched an Astral gate, and a power that could have drowned the world in fire swept across London, stopping only because the thaumaturgists of the Ror Raas worked a miracle within a fraction of a second.

Mr. Carter knew this. Everyone knew this. Not a soul in all the world, save perhaps some tribesmen beyond the colonial reach of the Empire, was ignorant of the fate of the world’s largest city and how it came about. But he also knew that the Ror Raas had taken steps to ensure that what happened to London would never happen again. The candles had been altered and fixed in such a way so that they turned themselves off when not held by a manesologists, and could not be turned back on unless touched by the same manesologists that placed them down.

Mr. Carter knew gaeite candles were safe. And yet…he could not forget London.

An entire city. On fire.

And the photographs…ruins as far as the eye could see…

“Can this be done later?” Mr. Carter whined. “Can this be done after the ghosts are removed?”

“What we reveal may help us in resolving this haunting.” Matthew said.

“Is there no way to…I don’t know…not do this?”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“I would think a man would want to know for sure if he’s been affected by a ghost or not.” Joseph said.

“I don’t.” Mr. Carter said. “Not now. Not with everything happening so fast…” Mr. Carter sighed.

Then he relented. “Very well then, bring out the candles.”

Martin stood up. “I’ll go get them. We keep them in a very secure place.” Martin opened the door and vanished into the hallway.

A few moments of silence passed.

Awkwardness lingered in the room

And then, suddenly, there was a loud thumping sound that echoed throughout the building.

Mr. Carter nearly jumped out of his skin. “What was that?” he shouted.

Joseph stood up. “Oh, that’s just Eva.” Joseph walked to the door and rapt his large knuckles on the wall. “Hey! Keep it down, girl, we got company over!”

“Who is Eva?” Mr. Carter asked.

“She’s the little girl that lives in our walls and floors.” Joseph said.

“Oh. I see.” Mr. Carter said.

“Are you sure you’ve never heard of her? I believe they printed her story in Illustrated Phantom Stories a couple of times.”

“Well, uh, now that you mention her, I think I do remember her.”

“Do you, now?”

“Oh, yes Dr. Morton, I remember Eva! I’m surprised I even forgot her! She’s…interesting.”

“Oh, very!”

“But she’s a good girl, all things considered.”

Mr. Carter never read a thing about Eva, and didn’t want to know a thing about Eva.

“Ha ha!” Joseph chuckled. “She has her moments! But on the whole, yes, she’s a good girl!”

Martin returned with a metal chest, not unlike what people used on sea voyages, and placed it on the table. The three manesologists reached into the chest and withdrew their gaeite candles.

“My word!” Mr. Carter gasped. “They’re sharp!”

“The gaeite columns are very sharp.” Joseph said. He brought his finger close to the edges of the amber colored column. “You can cut your finger on them if you aren’t careful.”

“He should know.” Martin smiled. “He’s done it a few times.”

“They’re such small things.” Mr. Carter said. “They really are the size of a simple wax candle, just a little bit thicker, and yet London happened...”

“But never again.” Matthew said. He pressed a knob built into the side of the candle’s metal base and the amber column began to glow a soft, silvery-white. The other manesologists followed suit.

Mr. Carter gulped. He could feel himself sweat.

“We can tell the candles make you nervous.” Matthew said.

‘What? Did you say something, Dr. Ernst?” Mr. Carter asked.

“There’s no need for your fear. Fearing this ancient power is understandable, but you need to trust the hands that hold such power.”

“Of course I trust you all…” Mr. Carter could not take his eyes off the candles. They were the color of square moons yet glowed like little stars.

“We started on a low setting to ease you into this.” Matthew said. “We will expand the olprt radiance in a moment and uncover what, if anything, ties you to the ghosts of your theater. You may see a dark spot around you. It may look like a shadow stuck to your skin or a cloak hanging off your shoulders. It may look like soot on your clothes or a piece of black fabric tied to your arm. It may look like none of these things. Do you understand?”

“Hope and pray that nothing black is on me. Yes, I understand.” Mr. Carter said.

“If anything is on you, Mr. Carter, be not alarmed.” Matthew said. “All it means is that an ib is bound to you. It was considered a great shame not to be bound to an ib back in aeon of the Dyeus culture.”

“My, how times have changed…”

“We will begin now. Are you ready, Mr. Carter?”

“Just do it…” Mr. Carter whimpered.

“Very well.” The manesologists increased the strength of their olprt radiance. Silvery-white light filled the room. Mr. Carter shut his eyes, anticipating a blinding flash, but found the light was serene and painless.

The manesologists then summoned images to their mind which had been passed down through aeons, through the dreams of Abramelin.

Mental images combined with silvery-white light and suffused the room.

A Dyeus king felt a chill run down his spine and in one motion, drew his gaeite blade and turned to face who he knew would be behind him. His brother had come to avenge his death.

The Pehuson Operation

Mr. Carter blinked.

He was expecting something black to appear on his arms or hands, and so his attention was originally upon his extremities. But a flash of darkness against the light made him adjust his field of vision and he saw it.

There was a thorn, like a jagged piece of black glass, sticking out of his chest.

Some impulse within Mr. Carter brought his fingers to curl around the thorn, but another impulse prevented him from touching it.

Mr. Carter screamed.