Page 13 of Ivy & Bone

“I imagine it was sent back to the gate entrance,” Cyrus said. “In Faidon.”

“Where?”

A crash echoed above them, and Prue yelped, covering her face with her hands. Dust and pebbles rained from the ceiling.

”Release me from the circle, witch!” Cyrus said, his voice taking on a panicked edge.

“You’ll kill me!”

“I cannot. We are bound. Let me out!”

The ground rumbled, and Prue teetered, almost falling to the ground. “Swear to me.”

“Shit, woman, we haven’t time for this!”

“Swear it!”

Cyrus roared in fury and bared his teeth. “I, Osiris of the Underworld, pledge to you, my witch and my wife, that I will not harm you until we reach the gate to the Underworld.” He spread his arms. “Satisfied?”

Prue didn’t have time to consider his words, to analyze the power of his pledge to her. She drew her athame and pressed it into her palm, then extended her hand to him. “Seal it.”

Cyrus nodded, stretching out his own hand. She pricked him, too, and a drop of silver blood welled from the wound. Their hands met, and a surge of power burst between them in an explosion of white light. Prue winced against the intensity of it, almost as severe as when she summoned Cyrus. But in a flash, it was gone. Magic crackled in the air, and Prue sensed the power leaving the summoning circle.

Just like that, Cyrus was free.

She waited for him to lunge for her, to burn her up with his unholy flames. In her frantic desperation, she had no doubt she’d made a mistake making this bargain with him. But to her surprise, he touched her elbow. “Where is the way out?”

“This way.” Prue led him out of the chamber, and they hastened up the steps. The ground continued to quake, and heavier rocks fell from the ceiling. Cyrus jerked her out of the way before she was crushed. She spared him a look of surprise before continuing onward.

A sinking sensation in her chest told her she knew what she’d find when they emerged from the crypt. Sure enough, when they surfaced, Prue sucked in a gasp at the sight before her.

Pearly white spirits floated through the air, streaking back and forth like birds of prey. Shouts echoed from the village square. Everywhere around them, people were sprinting as ghosts chased after them. Doors slammed shut, crates and barrels smashed as people carelessly crashed into them in their haste to escape the spirits.

Prue’s spell had invoked a horde of ghosts. And they were attacking the village.

GHOSTS

CYRUS

“If you would just give me back my magic, I could help with this,” Cyrus said as he followed the dark-haired witch, relying on her to guide him through the forest and out of the path of restless souls. He cried out as his bare foot met something sharp and thorny on the ground.

“And undo our bond?” she said over her shoulder. “Absolutely not. You’d probably just magick yourself right back to the Underworld and leave me to deal with these ghosts.”

Cyrus didn’t bother telling her he could only go back through the gate in Faidon. But in a way, she was right. If he had full access to his powers, he would abandon her without a second thought.

Cyrus swore as something sliced through his foot again. “Gods, how do you get around without shoes?” He eyed the witch’s bare feet—though filthy, they seemed unharmed.

“I’ve lived here my whole life,” she said. “Just step where I step.”

Cyrus mumbled a string of swear words. She said it like it was easy. If he didn’t also have to watch out for a wayward spirit careening toward him, then yes, he could easily just follow her steps.

At long last, they emerged from the dense wood, and Cyrus blinked at the scene before him. Tiny hovels lined the pebble road that wound uphill. The briny air smelled of salt and fish. Shrill cries echoed in the air, and Cyrus knew from pure instinct that it was the sound of screaming souls mingling with terrified villagers. Even as he stood there watching, a spirit consumed an old man, its pearly form vanishing inside the villager’s chest. The man seized and twitched, his limbs jutting out at odd angles. His eyes turned a milky white, his expression smoothing into a look of cold apathy. His movements were jerky as he strode forward, no doubt looking to wreak further havoc on the village.

Cyrus expected the witch to halt and stare in horror, or perhaps to join in with the screaming, as women were wont to do. But instead, she surged into action, hurrying up the road to the home perched on top of the hill.

“Just what do you intend to do?” Cyrus demanded as he followed after her.

She didn’t answer.

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