08.08.2014: Wake the Dead

• Name = Wake the Dead
• Cast= Emily and Castle as ST with The Supremes as Judge.
• Summary= Castle summons Emily’s sister Isabel to get answers about her death.
• Icdate= August 8, 2014
• Ictime= 9:00 P.M.
• Location= St. Agnes Church Rectory, basement casting chamber
• Prptp= Something Wicked This Way Comes
• Spheres= World of Darkness: Mortal World of Darkness: Mortal+

The stage is at last set. The hour draws nigh. The detective lingers on the front steps of St. Agnes patiently waiting for Emily to arrive. To the left of the dilapidated Church, his GTO is quiet beneath a heavy tarp. He glances that way, pulling off the fat cigar between his teeth. She’s only a couple minutes late – perhaps she backed out? Perhaps she allowed her skepticism to get the better of her? He fingers the Catholic rosary in his hand, silently counting the beads one at a time. He knows their number by heart, but the habit persists.

A distant rumble of thunder and a spark of lightning flashes in the distance. Fitting, Lincoln thinks to himself, smiling as his head shakes. He draws in of the cigar again, the cherry flaring brightly in the gloom and darkness of his forlorn abode. He’s wearing suit pants, and a vest to match. However hit collar hangs open and his tine is loose. He’s already prepared for the long night ahead of him.

Emily has mixed feelings about tonight. There was a meeting about the next Olympic games, taking place about 3 years from now. As much as it is pretty on TV? There are three times as much politics behind it all. This is not her favorite part. But she muttles through it, because....out there, on the arena floor? That is where she shines. So she swallows it down. She looks at her watch, getting impatient. Finally, fifteen minutes behind schedule, the meeting departs. She curses quietly under her breath. She is both looking forward to the meeting, yet afraid of it all at once. Maybe he's blowing hot air up her ass? Doubtful, after the time they spent in the Bahamas.

A sleek, late model Audi pulls up quick to the abandoned church. She gets out, making quick steps towards it, as if she's been here before. She's learned her lesson. Take off the stilettos before entering. Which she does. The sounding clap of thunder gets her attention, as well revokes a memory. Going forward, hazel eyes search out Castle.

“I was almost concerned,” the grizzled detective says with a smirk as the blonde climbs the front steps of the Church. “Almost.” He draws in on the cigar again, puffing a couple large rings into the night air, givig her a moment to respond. His dark eyes rest on Emily for a moment, or more precisely the pair of stilettos dangling from her hand. He gives her a little headshake, but nothing more.

A few steps and Lincoln is pulling the barricade back from the window to Emily can slip through. He follows behind her as soon as applicable.

Emily does catch sight of that look while the stilettos dangle between slender fingers. "Sorry to disappoint." She teases, before becoming somber. "A meeting about the next Olympic games ran late. Got here as soon as I could." She offers as an official explanation. She begins through the offered entrance, bending her body easily through until feeling the solid ground with bare feet on the other side. "This is not a meeting I would miss, Link. If you....could even contact my sister..." She closes her eyes, silent, while heading further inside the abandoned church. Seeming to know her way into the main living area.

Castle follows the blonde through the nave, towards the only door with light spilling out around it. The remnants of his half smoked cigar are crushed underfoot as he moves. The Rectory is the only habitable area left here. It’s all his. She’s shown in followed by the ebon skinned man, and the door is closed and locked behind them. He allows her a few seconds to collect herself, and get comfortable. “I’m glad you made the meeting. You should hold on to that – that since of normality. You’ll need it,” he offers her rather sincerely.

After she’s had time to drop her shoes, and get out of her coat, Castle slips a little closer and lowers to a knee (no, not like that – that would freak her out). He grabs the corner of a throw rug and lifts it, revealing the trap door beneath, and the dimly lit stairs leading down into the depths of the old Church. “After you, Emily.”

Emily nods, with a tilt of her head. As if she doesn't fully understand his meaning. That is, until she takes the stairs below, into the basement. It's her first real encounter with anything........out of the ordinary. Through the flickered lights, bared feet travel on the cement floor. Slowly. This is not something you see every day, unless you visit some insane occult shop. Which she doesn't. A full minute is devoted to the uncanny. The weird. The....yeah. She turns to Castle then. "Okay. If you are going to summon my dead sister? You need to do this now. Before I change my mind..."

After closing the hatch, Lincoln pauses at the foot of the stairs and silently watches Emily. The room requires a few moments for the initiated to soak in. To the initiated, it’s quite possibly overwhelming. It’s exactly what one might expect to see amidst something written by the Brother’s Grimm. Still, he’s held nothing back from her. She wanted to glimpse the other side, and so the detective will open the door for her.

“When this is finished you will believe in God, Emily. And you’ll know he holds the keys to death, hell and the grave,” Castle says in a proclamation of the future, if not a vow. He brushes past her, making the Signum Crucis, the Sign of the Cross over his torso with his Rosary. “Just be quiet, and stay away from the ring,” he instructs the blonde before donning the Rosary around his neck.

He arms himself with a glass bottle filled with a clear liquid, and a thick, old, bible. He drops to his knees beside the brass ring, and his head bows. Quietly, the prayer begins. “No Requiem aternam dona Isabel. Dómine; et lux perpétua lúceat Isabel. Requiéscat in pace. Amen,” he calls out chanting in Latin.

Emily does as she is instructed, staying away from that giant ring-thing in the floor. It makes her kind of uncomfortable anyway. She wraps slender arms around herself while watching Castle do his...thing. She doesn't say another word, not wanting to interrupt his seance, as it were. It's not that she doesn’t believe. She just has a very tangible dose of reality on her side. But. What she wouldn't give to speak to her beloved sister. One last time. She's almost hopeful. Hazel eyes gaze around the room, before focusing on Lincoln. Watching the ritual. Waiting for...well, anything, really.

A reverberation of pure, raw power disturbs the air in the in the basement, vibrating small objects and setting the candle flames to flicker. The lighting dims, as if something is sucking all the electricity from the sparse blubs.

One can feel the breeze kick up around the room, dancing through the blonde’s hair and tickling her flesh. The spell is set, the circle properly formed. The salt lining the brass ritual ring swirls, highlighting each arcane ideogram.

Bound by magic, amidst the center of the brass ring a milky white shadow begins to coalesce. It’s scale is human sized, it’s form that of a crouching woman. A girl really, though not truly corporeal. Her body is doubled over for several moments before she lifts her head. Isabel’s translucent from lifts, confused expression on her face. Even in death she appears innocent.

Emily's hazel eyes shift to the candle's light while they start to flicker. There isn't anything she doesn't pay attention to, really. While the unseen wind sifts through the flaxen locks, she turns around quickly, as if to see the cause. When there is nothing to present before her eyes, she turns again towards the brass ring, seeing the formation of...."What the fuck...?" She breathes, mesmerized.

She....watches as the energy materializes, stepping closer to the brass ring, but not crossing it. A breath is sucked in, almost in disbelief. "This...is not possible..." she breathes, watching the material form into that of her sister. Her lips part, stepping right up to the ring, but not crossing it. "....Isabel...?" Her words nearly choke up in her throat.

Sightless eyes lingering on Castle, shifting only to Emily at the sound of her voice. She’s only mildly interested in her, then she turns back to the detective. The summoner! A ghostly hand rests on the invisible sphere entrapping her. Small sparks of blue and white emanate from the contact made. The intricately crafted protective circle, hedges her out of the real word, trapping her in place after pulling her violently from her Eternal rest. Such attempts almost inevitably make a spirit hostile. Emily sister is no different.

Lightning strikes extremely close to the St. Agnes. So close that beyond the small basement windowpanes sparks from a blown transformer can be seen. The power dies immediately, leaving the Rectory bathed in the soft glow of candles, and the spectral glow of Emily’s sister; nothing more. The boom that follows the flash is loud, and vibrates the entire building. Anger twists the face of her iridescent pale form. Every glass surface in the loft frosts over, and the temperature drops below freezing in an instant.

“Back up Emily,” Castle say in a stern tone, stepping closer and thrusting his bible out as if to warn the spirit to behave. Hopefully neither of them notice his shiver. He really hates this part. The smashes the neck of the glass bottle he holds on the table, splashing the liquid across the incorporeal form of the ghost. Holy Water – that is an attention getter! “Be still you! I command it! In Nomeni Patri Et Fili Spiritus Sancti!”

Emily's body jumps at the sounds of clapped thunder. She is on edge after all. Hazel eyes gaze about while the power goes out, her young, pretty visage illuminated by nothing more than candlelight. She does not heed Castle's warning, however. She inches closer to the brass edge where her sister is now entrapped. "Izzy. It's me. It's Em. You’re okay. Don't be afraid. Oh....god I've missed you...." The blonde's voice starts to crack emotionally, just happy to see her sister again. She doesn't care anymore how she got here. She just cares that she is here. She threatens to touch the protective sphere, before the motions of Castle get her attention. There is protest in her voice. "Wha...what the hell are you doing?!? This is my /sister/?"

The large leather bound bible extends between Emily and the spirit. “No Emily. The Isabel that you knew is gone. This is her spirit. They are similar but not the same,” Castle says lowering his voice and tone now. He holds the bible as a barrier until Emily comes to her senses and listens to him. All the while, his eyes never leave the Ghost.

“Isabel, you remember your sister. You remember Emily,” he tells the incorporeal creature. It shifts its vacant eyes to the blonde, studying her for several moments before, slowly, sadly nodding in the affirmative. “Just talk to her Emily,” the detective says in a mummer to the woman at his side. “Reassure her of the bond you shared.”

“Isabel, Emily has questions for you. Your passing haunts her. She needs to know what happened to you.”

At first, Emily doesn't want to believe Castle. She pushes against his arm. Her sister is /right/ there, in front of her. It's just for a split second, but Izzie is back. Words can't describe how much she has missed the younger sibling. It's been a burden that weighs heavily on her soul. But then the large, leather bound bible comes into view, and it brings her back to the reality. That her sister is dead, and this is just her spirit. Even now, the blonde fights to keep her composure, and it takes a minute. She sucks in a deep breath, tearing away her glance, before looking again.

She places a hand on Castle's arm. Her body trembles. "Izzy..." She says, almost breathlessly. "I...have missed you...so much.." Looking at the incorporeal creature causes her to shed a silent tear. It streaks down the right side of her cheek. "I remember our days when we used to try to best each other. When you left...my heart was crushed. I don't know why...but I don't..." she glances down a bit, silent, before looking up again. "Was your death....an accident?"

Isabel twists away, she is a creature of emotion now. Were it not for the summoner keeping her in check, those emotion might spill over into anger, wrath or even violence. As it is however, she’s afforded the opportunity to feel something more. There is no doubt about the bond between siblings, and the love shared there. The spirit’s spectral features sadden, and as if weeping her pale translucent body begins to jerk. After a moment she turns back to Emily, looking past Castle and his bible, looking into the very core of the blonde’s soul.

She ignores the crackle of energy, and the luminescent flickers as her hand presses flat against the invisible barrier. She seems pained at the flood of memories that assault her. Castle lifts a brow at the Ghost’s behavior. He’s never summoned a spirit in the presence of a relative – so this is new to him as well. He glances at Emily, canting his head slightly and pursing his lips. He doesn’t know.

It pains Emily to see her sister pained in such a way - she steps closer to that barrier. "Izzie. I'm here. Just like I've always been." She can feel that pull, down to her very core. She ignores every precautionary word that was spoken to her just moments before - this is her sister. Nothing is going to interfere with that bond. Not even the man she loves.

The blonde steps forward, putting her hand against the barrier, lining it up with Isabel's. "Tell me what really happened. Then we can play in that dollhouse that dad made for us. Remember? We had so much fun there.."

Emily's hand passes through the barrier and merges with the Spirit's before Castle can react. The affects are instantaneous. For a moment she sees as Isabel saw, she feels as Isabel felt. She can feel the excitement, and the butterfly flutters of new love. Isabel's heart pounded at the scent of the man. Her knees weakened at the taste of his lips. She could feel his warmth. The press of his body against hers. She knew him, and knew what it felt like to have him inside her.

The feeling grows to a fever pitch, then plateaus. The love and desire remain, but lesson as a darkness begins to form. A suffocating pressure that begins to slowly consume the emotions the first drew her to this man. It systematically snuffs out everything she feels until the last spark fades into nothingness. Choked away.

There is heartbreak and pain, but there is resolve too. A resolve Emily knows well. A determinedness she shared with Isabel. A family trait. She can almost hear the argument between the lovers. She can smell the gym's scent, the way it was back then. He won't accept it. His voice rises in anger. Isabel's matches it. He's so familiar!

There is a flash, and then Isabel is looking into his blue eyes. She's stunned. Fear grips her to her very core. She's panicked. She can't believe what's happening. The utter and total betrayal! She thinks of Charles and Martha, and of Emily. Sweet Emily - then snap. Blackness, her bowls release as her lifeless body falls to the matted floor. Sightless eyes stare up in the face of Henry Johnson - now the voice is more clear. It was their coach!

In that split second, Castle shoulder's the blond hard. Hard enough to topple her over. He douses Isabel in Holy Water, shouting, "Be gone," to release the summoning that holds her there.

Emily's hand and forearm are blue. Actual frost has formed over her flesh, as soon as she's coherent she can feel the searing pain from a fairly serious frostbite.

What Emily sees - It's her worse nightmare. Because Henry is still the coach. Not her personal coach, but he's still there. On the Olympic team. She just had a meeting with him in the room with others tonight. He's rising through the ranks. Rising, while her sister lies cold and still in her grave. That...sonofabitch!

The gymnast is gripped by the sight she shares with her sister. She always suspected it was more than just an 'accident'. Isabel was never that careless. Neither of them were. Each knew the other's routines, and always bounced ideas off each other as to how to make them better. She knew something was wrong, but Izzie wouldn't talk to her. Stopped talking to her. Until now. Even as the frost turns her hand, her arm cold, she doesn't want to let go. Her heart fills with rage at what she sees. She wants to see more. "How did he do this to you, Izzie..." She disregards her own welfare to get to the bottom of this. That is when the connection is suddenly broken, by the sudden and unexpected jostle from the detective. Not seeing it coming, he gets a pointer, and is able to knock her to the floor. The link is broken, but it comes at a cost.

Emily's hazel eyes smolder in the sudden disconnect, disregarding the pain in her arm. "Why?!? You had no right! I was talking to my sister!"

Holy Water droplets roll around on the cement, frozen solid. Amidst the center of the brass ring, only wisps of smoke remain. Castle kneels down beside Emily, vigorously rubbing her arm to warm it. “You were freezing to death,” he replies. His breath coming out in a cloud behind each word as if to punctuate his statement. The basement of rarely warm, however the summoning has left of downright freezing. For the moment, the detective’s only care is the blonde. He’ll get to the rest of once he’s satisfied she isn’t going to lose any digits.

"I don't care. I was talking to my sister..." Emily looks to the brass ring. Isabel was just there. Where did she go? "Izzie? Izzie! Come back, please!" The gymnast calls out, placing her hand on that invisible field that no longer exists(?). She's cold, goosebumps on her skin. It doesn't matter. She looks back to Lincoln with pleading eyes. Her working hand grips his hand, "Please. Bring her back. Bring her back!"

All the detective can do, is draw the young woman close an attempt to console her. And unless she fights him off, that's exactly what he does. There are very few words he can say to help her accept the reality of the moment. And none that will bring her any peace. The most Lincoln can do is offer her the simple truth. "She's gone Em. She's been gone."