Chapter 21 #2
Denise wiped her eyes. “You promised you’d find out.”
“I did and I will. It’s important we do this with the right timing, and the timing is off. I won’t charge you for this session. Let’s schedule another rising, and I’ll pay for the permit.” A second filing would cost me, but I wasn’t staying in this graveyard a moment longer.
I motioned for the Carters to leave with me and started walking to the car. I glanced back to see if Ranth was following.
That’s when I saw Harold.
Maybe it was the light, but Harold moved sleekly over the grass between the graves with a gait that didn’t seem human.
But then, technically, I shouldn’t be able to see him at all.
The moon was a waxing crescent, and the filtered light through the trees wasn’t enough for me to be able to see his face—but I could.
I racked my brain for demon types. Firuni demons were green and glowing with a poison attack, but his glow had a peachy cast to the edges.
The ground rolled again, and Harold had almost caught up to Ranth. I glanced at the Carters. I’d trailed behind, and they were already in the parking lot.
“I’ll call you,” I yelled out to them with a wave. Then I sprinted toward Ranth.
“Run,” I shouted.
He didn’t move. I stepped in front of him and faced the glowy Harold.
His green-orange cast looked like he was made of chlorophyll, like a leaf illuminated by the sun.
Floristra demon? But Ranth had said he was an Eharnin, a wizard who had a pact with a demon.
The bond between Ranth and I had sharpened my sight.
Harold’s outline burned peach at the edges.
But orange edges were the color of Olumie demons.
Oh my Gardenias.
Harold was drawing on the nature magic from the graveyard, but he’d sucked up something else too.
I reminded myself to breathe. Cool, cool. I had this—I hoped.
“Give it here.” Harold’s voice was loud in my head, and my shoulders tightened in reflex.
“Give what?” He wanted the Essifer fore-bone, but I had to buy some time. I rummaged in my belt pouches for cornflowers.
Ranth was moving around me and about to break my line of sight with Harold.
I grabbed Ranth, and the bond arced blue between us. I dropped my hand and stared at it. What the hellebore was going on?
While my guard was dropped, Harold moved at otherworldly speed to a spot behind me, and beside Ranth.
His eyes bored into Ranth. “The bone, Collector?”
The name sliced through my confusion. Ranth slipped his hand into the deep, inside pocket of the fleece and pulled out the Essifer fore-bone.
I grabbed Ranth’s arm. “Wait. Stop. Don’t give it to him yet.”
Both Ranth and Harold looked at me as if I were high on sage. The questions were becoming layers of questions. I ordered them in my head, trying to figure out which to ask first.
“Why do you want the bone?” I asked Harold.
“It’s what you owe me.”
“For what? What exactly did you do to us? And why?”
Harold’s lips pursed and jutted out, then moved around as if he were swishing around his answer in his mouth.
Finally, he replied, “You two were connected, but I took the curse from the bracelet and split it between you.”
“We knew that already. How?” I crossed my arms.
“In my book, there’s a spell that alters a curse.”
“You’re lying. There wasn’t anything about curses in the book. The text was poetry and theory. There weren’t incantations or instructions.”
Harold’s forehead furrowed. “You have to know how to read, my dear. You should have the Collector teach you. The fore-bone now, please?” He extended a hand to Ranth, and it flickered gold-green to orange.
Ranth reached out with the fore-bone. “Not yet.” I waved at Ranth. “Why does he keep calling you, the Collector?”
Ranth’s eyes narrowed. “The term is incorrect. A poor translation. But it’s hard to explain.”
“I’m good at understanding.”
“I have a skill…”
“Go on.”
“The fore-bone, please.” This time Harold’s voice sent shooting pains behind my eyes.
“What is your skill?” I shouted as searing agony clawed through my head. I fought against the attack and pushed Harold out of my thoughts.
“I can collect things others can’t,” Ranth replied.
“So that’s how you got the fore-bone? How does Harold know that?” I shouted again.
The ground rumbled.
“Now, that is an excellent question.” Ranth’s expression twisted as he glanced at Harold.
The ground rippled, and I stumbled sideways.
I rolled into a crouch, ready to sprint.
The path was clear—for the moment. “Explain later. Let’s get to the car!
” I leaped up and dashed toward the parking lot.
I was getting off this hallowed ground before we—and the Olumie demon about to appear—unsettled graves.
I leaned on the car’s hood, panting while the world narrowed to a sharpened point of wrongness.
Ranth and Harold hadn’t moved.
The ground undulated like ocean waves and ten sigil–crusted, white bony Olumie demons spilled out of an orange-edged portal that had opened up next to the grave we’d been working.
Foxgloves.
I threw my satchel on the hood of the car and rummaged in it, breaking open the emergency kit. Ten demons were twice the number I’d ever fought at once. I ran around to the trunk and popped it open to grab the second catastrophe kit, keeping tabs on the graveyard horror cinema.
The Olumie demons ambled toward Ranth and Harold, who still hadn’t moved.
With the maca root in my palm and the power-enhancing vials tucked into my waistband, I slung a garlic-herb wreath over my neck and extended the silver pins on my wrist bands.
To tackle multiple demons, I’d need a boost, and I had just enough cornflower juice to blast four extra energy balls.
“Ready or not, here I come,” I said under my breath as I walked back on the cemetery ground. Or rather tried to. I got to the gate and couldn’t walk over the threshold.
My blood turned colder than the air. Like a spectator behind a glass panel, I stood helplessly as the demons circled around Ranth and Harold. Why weren’t they attacking? Because if Ranth died…