Page 18 of Feathered Web

“I’m pretty sure this is what they used on her to kidnap her,” Rowan said. “And a second use will nullify their control over her. I found the recipe for the charm in an old book that I have about spirit shamans.”

“What’s the book?” Kerris asked.

“I’ll lend it to you, if you like. But I need it back. There aren’t too many copies in existence. In fact, I’ll make a copy for you, because the copy I have is from the early 1900s and it hasn’t been reprinted in decades.”

As Rowan turned toward the door, there was a noise at the back of the mausoleum. I glanced over just in time to see two skeletal guards appear, manifesting right in front of me. A pale green illuminated their eye sockets, giving them a freakish look, and they began to advance on us.

“Crap,” I said. “They set up a booby trap.”

I had only been planning on taking care of a few ghosts. I wasn’t prepared to fight a skeleton.

“Killian!” I shouted.

Killian immediately rushed in, taking in the sight.

“Get out,” he growled.

Rowan, Kerris, and I dashed out of the mausoleum as the men pushed in. We weren’t equipped to fight walking skeletons—but they were. Shifters were always stronger, physically, than witches, and demons trumped both. As they dove in, fighting the skeletons, we backed off to give them room.

I heard something and turned to see a swirl of mist heading toward us. It began to coalesce into a ghostly form as it approached, driving anger and fear before it. The form took on a shape and features—it was a man, in a doctor’s coat, with a malevolent glare in his eyes. He barked a silent command and three glowing orbs of light shot forward, heading toward us.

Before I could move, the spirit of Dr. Myopa slammed against me, his hand forward, and what felt like an icy sharp needle pierced my shoulder, the sensation ricocheting through my body in a shockwave of pain. I screamed and stumbled back, surprised by the amount of pain the ghost had inflicted. As I struggled to recover, Kerris jumped in front of me.

“I am the spirit shaman of Whisper Hollow—hear me and despair!” She held up her athame and the ghosts hesitated.

“Well, we know they’re not friendly.” I stood, trying to shake off the pain. I pulled out my own athame from my tote bag. The blade glistened in the dim afternoon light. Crossing to Kerris’s side, I began to draw a series of runes in the air to bind enemies.

By earth and air, by water and fire, I cast this spell from my desire,

By cave and storm, by wave and warmth, I bind thee from inflicting harm.

Back to the Veil, I command thee fly, Back to the spirit world, all who’ve died.

Back to the grave, back to the ground, away from sight, away from sound.

Away from life, away from thought, all spirits flee and harm us not.

As I poured energy into the spell, Kerris joined me.

I had taught her the incantation this morning, and she used her force as a spirit shaman, drawing her own series of runes with her own dagger.

Her runes, unlike mine, were brilliant and visible, taking on a neon glow as she carved out their shapes in the air. The first was a lightning bolt with an upside-down scythe. The second, a crescent moon with an arrow through it, and the third, a cauldron with a skull on it.

The ghosts hadn’t moved since she had stepped up. Now, they began to back away, as though they already knew what she was doing.

I drove the incantation harder, and as Kerris finished the third rune, she cut them free and the arrow in the crescent moon flew, straight toward the doctor’s spirit.

The ghosts turned, trying to flee, but the arrow hit the doctor and he—and both of his companions—froze.

Kerris shouted something in a language I didn’t understand. The next moment, there was an explosion of light and all three of the ghosts vanished, sizzling like dying embers.

She turned toward me. “We have to hurry. The energy we created will alert every malevolent ghost in the cemetery. Nobody’s been around to move them on through the Veil, and there are a lot of angry spirits here. If you want to free Agnes and any others, we have to do it now.”

“Rowan—” I wasn’t sure what to do.

“Go, you and Kerris help those who want to be free. I’ll try to keep the path clear as the men carry Penelope’s sarcophagus to the truck.” She turned toward the graveyard and began to chant a low, thrumming song.

I grabbed Kerris’s hand and we ran toward the house. At that moment, Tarvish, Killian, and Bryan appeared, carrying Penelope’s sarcophagus. They struggled, even with their combined strength, but they were managing.

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