Page 71 of Deadly Maiden

“Something else is coming.” Wyntre whips around, turns wide, scared eyes on me. “And it’s not a ghost.”

Then…all hell breaks loose.

Fun, fun, fun.

Action is my meat and broth.

I rip out my sword and unsheathe my claws. Something furred slithers down the stairs then leaps for my throat, blurring the air with its speed. The frightening simultaneous screech it emits is merely an audible attack. It’s not a freaking ghost, that much is clear. Blue light pours from its eyes. Drool spatters.

Love it.

In that last second, as this creature stretches forth, with its spindly limbs lengthening as it tries to, maybe, tear out my throat, from the corner of my eye I see Wyntre fling her arms high. White-lit and haloed, a tornado circles her and obliterates her from my view.

I stab the thing in front of me and pin it to the stairway wall. My sword crunches into the ancient sepulchral stone, spewing dust and fragments, burrowing in until the blade is buried to within a hands-width of the hilt. Blood spurts and drips around the splayed creature, staining the stone.

The creature wriggles, its toothed mouth gaping. I have it pierced through and through. It will not escape the sword’s steel.

Only then do I have time to spin and save my soulmate from what must be the most terrible demise.

I squint at her. She’s leaning against the right-hand shelf staring at the ampoule she brought with her and humming. The grin she throws me…

“I…what? You defeated it? The ghost?”

“Defeated? I encouraged it to leave this endless unlife and find peace. It is what it is. True death can be a blessing, Rorsyd.”

“Oh. I thought you needed me.” I gesture vaguely then swivel to stare at whatever it is I killed. “I suppose I gave this thing peace then?”

“What is that?” She propels herself forward.

I hold my arm out, barring her from getting too close. I really have no idea what I killed except it was vicious. I frown at it. Four legs, skinny, size of a weasel, and those round poppy eyes with the blue light that has faded. “Oh. It’s a kleech. They prey on the weak, the unwary, the stupid. Infest their minds and bodies by being absorbed into their prey.”

“I’ve never heard of these.”

“Rare, but this place has few visitors, so it would have been starving. It attacked the wrong people. Legend has it one of these grabbed a prince, took his mind, and made him wander in lost lands for a decade kissing frogs before he was found.”

“Poor thing.” She actually looks sorry. “Anyway. We have some gheist. Now all I have to do is turn it into etharum.”

“Excellent.” I take hold of my hilt and tug, then put my foot on the wall beside it and brace myself. It’s still lodged tight. “This might take a while.”

Once I get my sword to slide free, we go outside to test this final process. I agree with Wyntre that sitting in the sun is better than squatting on the floor of the tomb, with the kleech a dead and bloody pile on the step, the skeletons, the spiders, and all.

Also, ghosts are not what I’d invite to a picnic.

*Scared, you are.Ghosts are nasty.*

I grunt agreement at ID. Who cares. Of course, he knows. Ghosts are not my specialty.

*Pussy.* The bastard chuckles, deep and low, inside my mind.

Really? You had to think that?

But Wyntre has set everything on the bedroll: gun, collected ampoule of gheist, and our pendants. Their crystals seem to be the same as the one attached to the gun.

“These all appear to be warnite crystals.” I look to her.

“Yes. The only difference is the gheist colors the crystal blue while the pendant crystals are greenish. I’m tempted to switch them into the gun, or the other way around, and see what happens.”

“Uhhh.”

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