Daughter of a Spirit Eater

Chapter 1: A Gift From the Other Side

Tao

The exam paper glares at me, demanding answers, holding my future in its smudged pages. Every mark matters if I’m going to make it to university and figure out some sort of life plan, except I can’t even focus on the first question. Not with the spirit swishing next to the teacher’s desk.

Copper hoops coat its fuzzy tail, but its long jaw resembles a fur-coated crocodile as it snaps its rows of teeth at me. Violet flashes across its beady eyes when it meets mine, the whiff of sour milk in its breath.

Grandfather would tell me to observe my visitor, to listen—that it’s come to me for a reason. But right now, the clock is ticking and I’m surrounded by normal people. If it wants to be heard, it should go find grandfather.

I pull my hair from my bun and let the cascades of black cover my peripheral vision. Spirits don’t usually linger in the material realm like this without my input, especially not during the day, and I’m trying my best to focus on the practice paper like an ordinary schoolgirl. Frantic scribbles from my classmates surround me as they carry on with the test, oblivious, but I’ve barely put pen to paper.

I don’t need this right now. I can fail on my own, thank you very much.

When the clock reaches three, that’s it. Time’s up. I leave the room with my head low, bustled around by the other students, knowing I’ve bombed yet another mock test. What a fantastic way to start Easter break.

“Hey, Tao,” my one and only friend yells from English block. It takes me two looks to recognise her. She’s cut off her blonde locks into a pixie style and bleached the tips, suiting her pointy features in a way that would never compliment my round face.

“Wait up!” she calls, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I awkwardly match her long-legged steps as we amble home, wounded from a long day of practice tests.

“Geography mock, right?” Skye asks. “How’d it go?”

All I can think about are the rows and rows of teeth from the spirit. I sink into my shoulders and lose my footing. We break apart, out of sync.

“Come on, now. Just because something feels bad doesn’t mean it actually is,” she says. “Exams can’t eat you alive.”

I chuckle. Maybe the exam couldn’t, but the snappy spirit wanted to take a bite, not that I could explain that to her without a long conversation first. Grandfather has made sure our affinity with the spirit realm is kept secret. “I guess not.”

“Anyway, isn’t that what mocks are for?”

 “To discover why we’re inadequate?”

“Exactly,” she says, grinning. “Go home and do something about it. You’ll feel tons better if you start revising now.”

“Spoken like a true A star student,” I tease.

“The wisdom of the astute,” she says, raising her head high, giving us both the giggles.

We head past the corner shop where Skye hollers to a bundle of her friends across the road. Not one of them acknowledges me, and that’s fine, really. It gives me a moment to glance over my shoulder to test my haunted status. Sure enough, the same spirit hovers a step behind with its jaw lax, displaying several layers of teeth. It swishes in box formation, leaving a trail of fading light behind it.

No, wait. It breaks from the box formation to add two extra lines, and I’m reminded of the Hanzi character for four. I shiver. Four is not a good omen when it comes to magic. In Mandarin, it’s close to the word for death for a reason.

“How’s your paps?” Skye asks as we cross the road.

“Huh?” I tense, hoping she doesn’t think I’m weird for staring into space. “Oh, Grandfather?”

“Same difference,” Skye says, reminding me that I used to call Grandfather ‘Dad’. It took Skye half of primary school to realise he wasn’t actually my father. I just never thought to correct her.

“He’s doing better. The fall wasn’t that bad,” I reply, keeping my voice even. “He was painting this morning.”

“That’s a relief.  Right, this is my turning. Oh, and remember,” Skye says, pausing as our paths home diverge. “Monday night, drinks in the park. Don’t say you won’t be there.” She closes her eyes and holds up her hands, arms crossed as if trying to banish my thoughts. “I don’t want to see your expression right now. Don’t overthink. Just come out with us to the park at midnight. You don’t have to drink, just have fun. Once you’re there, you’ll love it.”

“I don’t think—”

“That’s right, don’t think. No overthinking. Thinking is bad.”

I laugh. If only it was that easy to switch off and live in the moment like Skye. “See you later.”

“Yes, see you there. Tomorrow night!”

She turns around and dips into the alleyway, leaving me alone in the street. But not totally alone. The Ghost of Exam Failure Past floats behind me, and I can’t ignore it any longer.

With the street empty, I reach out, nervous of the teeth, but my fingers cut through its fuzzy maw like it’s nothing but smoke. There’s a warmth in the air where its energy manifests, but that’s it. The spirit must be pressed up against the veil between the living and dead, enough to shimmer through, but it hasn’t passed into the physical realm.

“Do you want to tell me something?” I ask the spirit, just like Grandfather’s taught me.

If it had the ability to speak, it probably would have by now. Instead, it snaps and swishes, desperate for my attention…but why? The rows of teeth are a bad sign for sure.

“A warning?” I ask, as someone overtakes me on the path. I cover my mouth. They walk through the spirit, oblivious, no magic in their blood. With a flash of purple and a tink, something drops from the stranger’s wrist. The spirit spirals to the pavement and places both its paws over the item. It’s desperately trying to tell me something, but I’m no good at this.

“That’s weird,” I whisper when the stranger is out of earshot. “A gift from the spirits?” I joke to myself, rolling my eyes. The laugher dies in my throat at the sight of the leather strapped watch.

My Mandarin might be lacking, but grandfather has made sure I understand signs of threats, and this gift of a clock is one of them. Combined with the teeth and number four, this is the third bad omen.

“Grandfather,” I whisper in cold terror. Clutching my backpack, I bolt down the streets. I rush past the stranger, no longer caring how weird I must look. A stitch tears my stomach in two, but I keep going. Just a little further. I keep the house at the far end in sight, the one covered in bluebells and daffodils.

By the time I reach the eight-sided mirror on our front door, I’m breathless. The spirit is reflected, no longer able to help me as our protection ward keeps it at a distance. I storm into the house panting, calming my breaths so that I can listen for danger.

“Grandfather?” I ask, peering into the living room. The black cat figurine waves from the mantelpiece, further warding unwanted magical energy from our house. Whatever’s wrong, it can’t be a nefarious spirit.

Unless it’s a super powerful one.

I sling my backpack beside the sofa and race across the living room and towards the conservatory. Light blinds me from the overhead windows. Countless paintings of beautiful gardens create a maze across the room, and everything looks normal, except the shelf in the corner. It’s missing its usual clutter! I swerve through the paintings for a closer look, and a foot pokes out from the armchair.

“Grandfather!” I cry. I rush to his side and kneel beside him. He’s lying on the floor, propped up on one elbow. His eyes are close, and my blood runs close. But then he scrunches his face tight and I realise he’s wincing, not passed out.

“Calm yourself, girl,” he says, waving me away. He might be wedged between an armchair and a shelving unit with paint tubes scattered around him, but he still has his pride. “I’m alright.”

“You’re on the floor.”

“Yes, indeed. It must be where I’m meant to be,” he jokes.

It’s not funny. In fact, it’s terrifying, but somehow we’re both chuckling as I steady him on his feet. When he’s up, he pauses for breath. His face is a masculine mirror of mine, with his cowry eyes single-lidded and lips most comfortable as a frown. White tuffs of hair adorn the sides of his head leaving his crown bald. Dark circles rim his eyes, tiredness settling into his skin.

I gather the paint tubes from the floor and hand them to him to arrange on a lower shelf. Bruises cascade down his arm that weren’t there this morning. He must have fallen a while ago, unable to stand, waiting for me to get back from sixth form college. The thought makes me sick.

“Maybe we should talk to a doctor,” I say once the room is tidy.

“A doctor could never give me what I need,” Grandfather replies, settling into his armchair in three stages. Four, if you count the sigh at the end. “If it’s my time, then it’s my time. Pass me the citrine talisman?”

From the wooden bowl, I fish out the talisman made from an ochre-coloured crystal. It’s inscribed with the Hanzi for ‘energy’ and bound to a spirit with the form of ram. When Grandfather holds it tight, a glow rises from his skin and he relaxes into the headrest. Even though the ram spirit isn’t nearby, it still gifts him a few dregs of magic.

“This is all I need,” he says, clutching the talisman. His eyes widen as he gazes into our garden. “A little boost and I can see spirits again. Look there, beside the yīngtáo tree.”

It’s the only word he ever says in Mandarin. Although he grew up here in Southampton like me, he’s spent enough time in Shanghai to speak fluent Mandarin. But he doesn’t. Ever. Except for the word ‘Cherry’. It’s as if he wants to make sure I know it.

The cherry tree is in full blossom, pink confetti showering the pond and bringing colour to our garden. Spirits shimmer beside the trunk, distorting the air but not strong enough to show their form. They need power to push through to our world, or we can lend our energy to pull them through, and Grandfather is in no state to offer his life-force. 

“Yeah, I see it.” I bite my lip, nervous that he’s even looking their way. I close my eyes to battle the tears prickling the edges of my eyes. Tears won’t help me reach through to him, but a deep breath might. “Grandfather, I’ve been thinking.”

“Hmm?”

I cough to dislodge the words stuck to my throat. It’s as if they know better than to challenge Grandfather. But another fall like that when I’m not around, and that’s it. I can’t just stand back any more. “About the night you lost your magic. The spell you performed, the one you used to save my father—”

“You mean to stop him,” Grandfather corrects in a short tone. I need to be more careful.

“Yes, when you cut off his powers. Did you know it would take yours away too?”

He closes his eyes and sighs, and I wait for him to send me away. Instead, his face softens. “Your father had absorbed the energy of countless spirits at the time—a Spirit Eater at the peak of their power. I knew only a spell with a great sacrifice would be powerful enough to stop him. Banishing my line of magic to the spirit realm was a small price to pay, although I had not realised it would affect me physically.”

It’s the first I’ve heard him talk so candidly about this. My heart flutters, eager to know more, but I take a deep breath to calm myself first. “Did you realise I’d get to keep mine?”

“Your magic comes from your mother, may her spirit find peace. She could never shift her body into the spirit realm, but she could still communicate with the dead. You’re lucky to have such a strong connection, considering.”

I smile softly. “It helps me feel closer to her, even if I can’t picture her face.”

Grandfather smiles as he watches the spirit above the garden pond. “You were only four at the time. She would just be glad you think of her.”

“I do.” I clear my throat again. “And my magic being so strong…I think it’s a sign.”

“Hmm? A sign?”

“Yes, a sign.” I’m unsure how to phrase the next bit. He pulls his eyes away from the garden to frown at me. In one breath, I blurt, “Maybe I still have magic because you need someone to offer you some?”

He grimaces, adjusting himself in his armchair. “Tao, your magic is your spiritual energy for this life and the next. What you’re suggesting, I could never allow.”

“But it could work,” I argue. “It would make you feel better.”

“I don’t need to feel better. I only need you safe.”

“If it’s this life and the next…” I begin, but I can’t finish it. I can’t admit how he’s running out of time, and without his spirit, I don’t know what will happen to him. “I don’t have it all planned out yet, but if you taught me a little bit more—”

“Enough,” he snaps. “No more talk of magic. Let’s move on. How about you make us some of your famous stir fry or cook one of those pizzas?”

“But I can help.”

“Tao, please. Enough.”

I shake my head hopelessly. I want to save him, but I don’t have a clue how.

So I focus on what I can do. I head to the kitchen to chop and fry vegetables like I’ve done the past five nights because it’s the only fresh meal I know how to make. I fold the clothes from the airing rack and load the dishwasher. The geography mock haunts the back of my mind, but the fridge is a sad sight for hungry eyes, so I spend the evening sorting out the online food basket instead of buried in books. Grandfather will always come first, not that any of these things will help him in the long run.

He needs magic, and if mine isn’t the answer, then what about his? If his magic is banished, it’s still out there somewhere. And he needs it back.

The spirit with too many teeth lingers outside my window, only fading once it spots me: another message, this one much clearer. If Grandfather won’t let me help him, he’s not the only one who can offer guidance. I can ask the spirits instead.