Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Leo hurries to my side, his profile glowing in the light of his phone. “We’ve gone past the pin.”
I hope that means the bracelet is right under our noses, because there’s not much of his calming magic left in me.
It’s almost dark, and the wind has picked up.
We creep along single-file, dry leaves tumbling across our feet and bare branches crackling as they sway.
I cast glances in every direction, searching for the shimmer of red eyes or the flash of moonlight on steel.
Anxiety builds, and I wonder if it’s mine, Leo’s, or someone else’s.
How close is Brier’s team? I strain to listen for the telltale clangs, grunts, and smacks of a fight, but all I hear is the racing river and the wind.
Out of nowhere, a coldness grips me, as though someone threw open a freezer door. A moment later, it’s gone. I peer to the right, the moonlight on the river catching my eye. We’re close to the water. Close enough that cold breezes can ripple off it and—
I stop short, seized by a violent shiver. It feels like ice water pouring down the back of my neck. In front of me, through the fog of my oddly frozen breath, I watch Leo do the same. He stiffens for a moment, then spins to face me, his eyes large and alarmed. “Did you feel that?”
I gulp and nod. “Is it the river?” Please, please, please be the river.
“No.”
Cold slides like fingers across my skin. “What is it?”
He grabs my hand and takes off walking, pulling me onward as he sloppily coaxes the foliage aside, but I can still feel the chill.
It nips at my neck, then drops back, nips then drops, nips then drops.
It’s deliberately tormenting me, trying to paralyze me with fear.
I’ve read enough horror stories and watched enough Supernatural to know what’s chasing us.
I pant, “It’s the ghosts, isn’t it?” Browne’s conjured spirits.
A silvery glow curls like a mist above Leo, sending me back in a terrified lurch. He freezes, hand reaching toward me. Convulsions twist his body as the glow consumes him, pouring over him like melting wax.
I shove a fist in my mouth to stifle my scream.
His eyes are like caverns, and his bones seem to float under his transparent skin. He laughs, revealing broken teeth twice the size of his eyes. In a hollow voice that’s not his own, he howls, “Leave this place.”
Icy, glowing hands clutch my neck. Leo’s hands. My head snaps back and forth as he shakes me. Then he shoves me to the ground. “Leave!”
I scramble back on trembling arms, sliding through mud and dead leaves. “Leo!”
The silvery mist shoots up into the trees, abandoning Leo’s body. He blinks at me and collapses to his knees.
From behind me comes a moan, “Leave this place.”
I spin to find another dancing wisp, no more than a yard away. It takes a human form, features passing briefly over its face. Then it’s shapeless again, swirling in the blackness and dousing me in waves of stinging cold.
Leo lets out an indecipherable shout seconds before icicles pierce the back of my neck. He throws himself on me, knocking me onto my back and covering my body with his. The ghost swings back and forth above him, purposely taunting.
Leo shivers so hard his muscles give out and his weight crushes down on me.
I wheeze, pushing and panicking at the same time.
The ghost spreads above him like a sheet snapped open over a bed.
Lower and lower it drifts, until the pressure on my chest disappears and Leo is glaring down at me with those spectral black eyes.
His burning cold hands circle my neck. “Leave or die!”
Blood thunders in my skull. I claw at the frigid fingers squeezing the breath out of me, spots dancing before my eyes. From the trees comes a gust, so sudden and violent that Leo stills. Shadows flutter in and out of my vision, and cries pierce my ears.
Like one massive black wing, a flock of crows swoops over Leo’s back, chasing the silvery ghost up into the sky.
Thank you, Rime, wherever you are.
Leo tears his hands from my neck and falls off me, gasping in horror. I flip onto my hands and knees and drag in breath after breath, each one scorching my bruised throat.
More cries, more caws, more beating of wings.
In the chaos, someone shouts, “Where is it?” Someone close.
Slowly, painfully, I lift my head, tracing a path up the figure standing close by. Thick legs, wide shoulders, fierce eyes.
River.
He lets out a howl that makes every hair on my body stand up on end. An arpeggio of yelps echoes back from the mountains.
Leo lunges in front of me, one hand reaching toward the trees.
River sneers. “Impressive work in the library, plant weaver. But you won’t be that lucky again.”
The last word hasn’t left River’s throat before three thick, leafless branches sweep down behind him and dash him to the ground. As he staggers to his knees, one branch clotheslines him, knocking him back against another and trapping his body like a pair of tongs.
A ghost hurls itself at him. “Leave this place!”
Helpless, he thrashes as the mist melts into him. He twists and contorts, bashing his head repeatedly against a thick branch. Bark scrapes his limbs, tearing at his skin like a cheese grater and painting him with black streaks of blood.
Topaz’s voice rings out, and in a flicker of moonlight, I recognize Juniper’s violet eyes.
Snarling, fur-covered, four-legged creatures burst from the underbrush, sharp teeth flashing in their open jaws.
They swarm into the small clearing, reeking of wet fur and saliva.
Foxes, dogs, and coyotes. Dozens of them.
As they circle closer, Leo drops his arm and shoves me. “Run!”
Its weaving connection broken, the tree releases River, sending him crashing—and laughing—to the ground.
I freeze, watching in slow motion as Leo lashes a charging pit bull with a tree root the width of a fire hose.
“Betts, go!”
With a startled cry, I race for the darkest corner of the clearing, where no eyes glitter and no creatures swarm.
There’s hot breath on my heels, snarling jowls at my calves.
I race for the nearest tree and jump for its lowest, thickest branch.
Canines hurl themselves at me, nails tearing at my flailing legs.
Terrified into action, I reach up, fumble for a thick branch, and pull.
It’s been years since I’ve hung from the monkey bars, but like riding a bike, I still know how.
Adrenaline kicks in, helping me push myself up to my waist, legs swinging like a gymnast’s on the uneven bars.
I get one leg over the branch, and using all three remaining limbs, hoist myself up and out of the reach of the dogs.
But now I’m at the mercy of the birds. I swat at my head as talons rake my hair.
Wings flutter and the claws latch on, digging into my scalp.
Another bird swoops down, white and huge—an owl—and its talons are aimed at my face.
I throw up my arms, gripping the branch with my legs.
Behind me, screeches ring in my ears and beating wings blow my hair like a fan.
I peek between my elbows. Rime’s hawks. Feathers flying, they attack the owl, pecking and thrashing and chasing it into a neighboring tree.
Down below, snakes slither between the canines, lassoing them like calves and yanking them to the ground.
Juniper sends a bubbling wave of rodents swarming across the forest floor.
The snakes pause, eyes and scales reflecting the moonlight.
Then they strike, taking out squirrel after chipmunk after rat after vole.
I clutch the trunk of my tree, watching in horror as the animals show us their worst, tearing into each other in an ecstatic rage.
The dogs give chase, racing after the squirrels, while the coyotes and foxes pounce on the smaller rodents.
I wretch as they throw their heads up to the moon, limp bodies dangling from their jaws.
Topaz wrestles Burdock, the two of them kicking up leaves and snapping branches as they roll in the dirt.
The birds of prey abandon Rime to dive-bomb the rodents, leaving him to square off with Juniper, fae-to-fae.
They circle one another, red eyes locked with violet.
With a shriek, Juniper leaps for Rime’s shoulders, knocking him onto his back, but Rime takes her with him, somersaulting into the trees.
Leo is the only one left who can use his weaving, but I don’t see him anywhere. Gulping and sweating, I strain to make out shapes and figures in the chaos. As the last of the rodents disappear from the clearing, I spot him, pinned beneath an eerie glow.
A ghost must have gotten command of River.
I need to get down. I need to get to Leo and help him. I jump from the tree, too fast and too hard. Pain shoots up my leg. I take another step and drop to my knee. Fuck.
Holding River off with a forearm to the throat, Leo stretches a hand palm-down over the ground.
Roots shoot from the dirt on his left, reaching for River like hands, more hands than he can fight off.
They hook around his legs, head, shoulders, and arms, ripping him off Leo and slamming him onto his back.
Thwarted, the ghost abandons River and flies into the trees, winding like a cat around their trunks, buying its time.
“Betts! Look out!” someone shouts.
I catch a flash of Burdock’s blue-gray eyes a half-second before he tackles me. My butt hits the ground first, sending us into a roll. I writhe and punch, but once he has me pinned, it’s hopeless. His spider-like limbs are everywhere, grinding me into the mud and leaves.
In the background looms the formless ghost, growing as it floats down from the trees.
Burdock laughs as I struggle. “You’re the special one, aren’t you?” He thrusts his face close to mine, a psychotic glint in his narrowed eyes. “That’s why they brought you. You know where it is.”
His words barely graze the surface of my brain.
It’s the ghost that commands my full attention.
Burdock doesn’t know it’s there, not until it’s right on him, spreading its icy fingers across his back.
Violently, I thrash as the silver light covers us and the cold sinks into my limbs and chest. My shoulders wrench in their sockets as I fight to free my arms, desperate to shield my neck from the inevitable strangling.
Light glows off Burdock’s horrified face, but his features are still his own. Eyes small and blue. Teeth straight and whole.
Silvery hands, bony and gnarled, reach for him from below, scrabbling for his neck. But no frozen hands reach for me, no fingers squeeze the breath from my throat.
With a shout, Burdock jumps off me, arms swinging to block the greedy hands.
I clamber to my feet and stumble after him. My mouth opens and my voice—unearthly, but nevertheless mine—moans, “Leave this place.”
With every step I take, there’s less of me. As the ghost consumes my consciousness, it takes with it my senses and my fear. My final thought before it takes complete control: does it want to kill Burdock, or does it want to kill me?