You have no business here. Turn back.
The thoughts pop into my head unbidden. I can’t account for them. They’re strange, authoritative declarations. I glance around, although I’m positive no one has spoken. Slowly, I move forward.
You have been warned. Turn back. Mind your own business.
I freeze again. I peer over my shoulder. A sensation of being watched crawls across my skin. I feel like a naughty child breaking any number of rules.
“Someone’s telling me to stop,” I whisper to Malcolm.
“A ghost?”
I raise my chin and sample the air. “No. Nothing like that. It’s a voice, only not.”
“Oh,” he says, and he sounds almost amused. “Remember when Nigel taught you how to create a ward?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you’ve just walked into one.”
“Whose? Orson’s?”
“What does it sound like?” Malcolm asks
