Chapter 35 Wraiths and Wards
WRAITHS AND WARDS
Aknock sounds on Edmond’s open door, and Griffin appears, one hand gripping the doorjamb. “Sorry to interrupt, Edmond, but we’ll have to reschedule today’s lesson.”
Edmond doesn’t try to hide his annoyance, but I’m already out of my seat, ready to learn how to swim if it will get me out of this room. If I have to memorize one more nuance about Council members’ elements and assumed elements, I’ll lose it. I was up entirely too late for gremlin night.
Griffin tips his head toward the hallway in silent instruction. At the end of the hall, Kai is waiting.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“New theory,” Kai says.
My gaze shifts to his light blue eyes. Little has changed between us, but what has feels significant.
His dimples stamp as he grins. “You know how emotions trigger our cindrels?”
Slowly, questioningly, I nod.
Kai’s grin widens. “We’re going to try and activate your cindrel.”
Intrigue or possibly that constant tugging sensation in my chest has me following them out into the thick forest to the same clearing we always use. Daire and Lochlan are already there, exchanging jokes and digs. Holden’s circling the space, creating runes and charms.
“Your cindrel gets triggered by fear and your desire to protect,” Kai says. I’m grateful he doesn’t mention pain. He nods to the middle where Daire draws a broadsword.
Lochlan grins, getting into a defensive position. “Do your worst.”
“Wait.” I raise both hands. “This is your idea? Fight and see if it makes me light things on fire?”
“We’re hoping that if we can trigger your cindrel, it will begin to feel more natural and familiar so you can call on it when necessary.” Kai’s voice is entirely too calm.
“This is a terrible plan,” I say, hating that I’m never involved in the conversations regarding my cindrel or training.
Without warning, a line of fire surrounds Lochlan, licking at his legs.
Griffin shifts closer to me as Daire and Lochlan circle each other with matching sadistic smiles.
“I watch you guys spar all the time,” I point out, quiet enough that I’m not sure anyone hears me. But Daire proves he can, making me regret the words as he brings his broadsword down with a crushing force and kicks Lochlan hard in the stomach.
They circle each other a few more times, and then Lochlan strikes fast. I’m so busy watching the impact that I don’t see the fireball racing from his hand until it’s millimeters from hitting Daire’s face.
My heart stops and then begins to sprint as a vine forms and lashes out at Lochlan, leaving a trail of crimson across his light blue shirt. Lochlan doesn’t acknowledge it, smiling wider as he pivots. “I thought we were only using our primary elements?”
“So did I,” Daire says, shifting with him.
“This is a terrible idea,” I echo, closing my eyes.
The fight continues. A grunt has me opening my eyes in time to see Lochlan slam an invisible force into Daire’s chest. They both laugh—wry and easy—continuing like this is a sport rather than an actual theory.
I’m torn, balanced on that same thin ledge between desperation to watch and repulsion as both men begin sweating.
The wind shifts, an icy touch sluicing over my skin.
Another jarring clang echoes as Kai’s head snaps up. “Pause.” His voice is quiet, but as sharp as one of the blades. “Something’s not right.” He shifts, searching the woods.
The fight is abandoned as a putrid scent has me covering my nose.
“How secure is your rune?” Griffin asks.
“Depends on what in the hell’s out there,” Holden says, glancing in the opposite direction. “What the fuck’s that smell? It’s not Seelie.”
Kai scents the air and shakes his head. “I don’t recognize it.”
Daire curses as the sky darkens, though we should have another hour of daylight. He cuts a hand through the air—unzipping space and time—reaching into darkness and pulling out another broadsword.
“Holy shit.” I step back, stumbling over Griffin’s foot before he pins me against his chest. Even in my alarmed state, I register how much taller he is—my head barely reaching his shoulder. “How in the hell did he just do that?”
“I’m a wayfinder,” Daire explains. “I can travel and reach through designated spaces. This one leads to an armory.”
I shake my head. “How?”
Griffin takes my shoulders, turning me to face him. “We’ll explain later. For now, a couple of ground rules, okay?”
I stare at him numbly.
“No running.” He gives me a stern look as he runs his thumb the length of my jaw. “This boundary is one way. You can leave, but you can’t get back in. I want you glued to the center. You hear me?”
“What about the house? Gwen? Scarlet? Lief?” Fear splinters my voice.
Griffin shakes his head. “No one can reach the house. It has more wards than anywhere in Lowick.” He dips his head so all I can see are his eyes. “Give me your word.”
“I swear,” I whisper.
He nods, then presses a kiss to my hairline, filling me with a lungful of eucalyptus and mint before he steps back, slips his sword over one shoulder, and turns.
“Lief is sending out an alert,” Lochlan says, shoving his crystal link into a pocket before accepting a pair of throwing knives—weapons I watch him train with most mornings.
Holden is the last to strap a sword to his body, pocketing a pair of daggers as well.
I study the dark, muddied sky as the temperature cools several more degrees.
“It has to be something from Monstrath,” Kai says as the five create a perimeter, their backs to me. “Nothing else stinks like that.”
“I haven’t read about Monstrath.” My gaze swings to Holden.
“You won’t,” he says. “It’s where the Council sends anything too dangerous to kill or too useful to waste.”
I search for the darkest patches of the forest, recalling the dark, inky patch of destruction, slithering like a pool of oil. “Could it be an Unseelie?”
“No,” Kai answers.
A faint rustling has me twisting, my heart stalling as my eyes climb endlessly, attempting to take in the dark shape that looms nearly as tall as the trees. It’s impossibly thin, darker than night, all ragged, cruel edges.
An arm encircles my waist, and I’m spun, braced against a hard body. The scents of eucalyptus and mint flood my senses, revealing Griffin has me. He places a large hand on the back of my head, tucking me into his shoulder.
Daire presses against my back, and Kai moves to my side, so close that I could touch him. “Tell me that’s not a fucking wraith,” Kai whispers.
“It sure as hell looks like one,” Holden says quietly from my other side. “Do any of you recognize it?”
Griffin grunts. “The ugly bastards all look alike.”
“Remember, they’re mostly deaf and entirely blind. They rely on scent and emotions,” Holden says. “The runes should allow us to speak freely, but our emotions will broadcast if we don’t shield.”
“How in the hell did it get here?” Kai demands.
“They have to be summoned.” Lochlan’s voice is liquid steel, his insinuation as clear as the bindings that wrap around my wrists, keeping my hands at my sides.
I jerk away from Griffin so I can face him. “Are you out of your mind? You think I summoned that thing?”
Lochlan’s jaw clenches as those unworldly eyes narrow on me.
The towering wraith floats across the forest floor, barely making a rustle as it gains distance.
“You need to shield. Now.” Griffin’s voice is a demand as his hand grips my arm, turning me with a gentleness that doesn’t seem possible, so I’m facing him once again. “Look at me.” His blue eyes seem to glow again with his demand. “Focus on me and shield. It senses you.”
My breath is a hard stutter, and my chest feels concave. I’m unable to think about anything but the rustling sound growing closer and the painful beats of my heart as fear chases away every instruction on how to shield.
I try to turn to face the wraith, but Griffin’s hand is a second cuff around me.
“Focus on me. Not it.” And just like at the healing center, a dose of calmness brushes over me.
I don’t know if Daire is touching me or if Griffin has the same ability, but it offers enough room in my addled mind to draw on my old bedroom and the checkered blanket, my favorite reading chair, and a cup of hot chocolate steaming beside me.
“Keep going,” Griffin says, glancing over my shoulder as he reaches for the pommel of his sword.
Coldness sweeps across me, slipping into my muscles, down to my bones.
“Fucking hell.” The words are a growl before my mental room disappears, and I stumble into a mental space I don’t recognize. It’s jarring and disorienting but becomes significantly more confusing when I turn and notice Lochlan’s in the same mental space.
Say anything and I’ll deny it, he warns without saying a word aloud, yet his voice is crystal clear in my head.
I don’t know how to respond, how to even try, so instead, I take in the space around us.
The floors, walls, and ceiling are all made of a light maple wood, with thick beams overhead.
An expansive stone fireplace with a roaring fire warms my chilled skin.
On each side are shelves filled with books, so many that they’re an art piece.
A black chandelier hangs overhead and burnt orange couches sit across from each other.
The only cream item is the area rug in the center of the room. It’s beautiful.
Movement breaks my focus of the mental space Lochlan has pulled me into. Griffin lifts his sword as the wraith pauses at the very edge of where the runes were drawn.
Not a word, Witchling, Lochlan says.
No one speaks. No one breathes.
My heart hammers brutally against my chest, and that sick feeling of being too warm and cold at the same time spins through my veins.
Lochlan’s head jerks toward me in this strange in-between place. What in the hell are you doing?
I shake my head, panic blaring in my thoughts.