Page 67 of Reap the Night
“Ingrid has the power to force her back,” Ordell said.
And yet Daisy was willing to save her? Maybe I was misjudging her. It didn’t matter, because I needed her help, which meant accepting her deal. “Help me save Ingrid, and I’ll speak to her and tell her what you did to save her. I’ll ask her not to lock you away. That’s all I can do.”
She considered this. “Deal.” She grinned, but her eyes remained dark pits of awfulness. “You’ll need supplies. Salt and iron.”
“We can get those,” Hemlock said.
“Then we’re ready.”
I hoped I wasn’t making a mistake trusting her again, but if Ingrid was in the lost room, then I’d have to take the risk.
Matthew metus at the door to the lost room with a bag of salt mixed with iron filings and a huge bump on his head. His eyes looked glassy too.
“You could have a concussion, Matthew. You should rest.”
“I’m fine,” he said tightly. “I’m just annoyed I fell for her act.”
“We all did,” Hemlock said.
I took the bag off him. It was small enough to be held in the palm of my hand.
“The concoction will ward them off,” Daisy said. “But it will disperse me too, so be careful when you cast it to create a path. The lost room is the epicenter of spectral power, so they won’t be quelled for long. Your life will be a beacon to them, evoking jealousy, longing, and rage. Don’t let those emotions consume you. You must be strong.”
“You make it sound as if it’ll be a long journey. The room isn’t that large.”
Her smile was a wicked, jagged thing. “The room is as large as they wish it to be, and Ingrid has been their keeper for too long. She’s the reason they’re trapped. They won’t give her up easily.”
“Butyouwant to help because you’re ‘better.’”
She tipped her head to the side. “They can all be better. We just need a little more time.”
There was something in the way that she was looking at me, an intensity that made my skin crawl and my stomach bubble. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Daisy glided toward the door and stopped. “After you.”
Ordell gently gripped my elbow. “If things get difficult, if it’s too much, you get out of there.”
I dropped him a nod, pushed open the door, and stepped into a blizzard.
The icy air screamed as it scraped at my skin and raked through my hair. It filled my lungs with frost, making it difficult to breathe.
Someone called out my name. Ordell?
But his voice was cut off a moment later as the door slammed shut, and then there was only the shriek of rage-filled specters.
“The salt,” Daisy cried. “Use the salt.”
Shit. I fumbled with the bag, hissing with pain as talons scratched at my cheek, trailing cold fire in their wake. The salt slipped through my fingers as I grabbed a handful and flung it out before me.
The world wailed, the wind died, and the room came into view—wooden furniture and torn paintings.
“Where is it?” I hurried forward as the air thrummed with gathering energy.
“There, under the table!” Daisy pointed.
I spotted a silver cube decorated with symbols that glowed softly, but I’d barely taken a step before the blizzard was back. Phantom ice chips swirled, obscuring my view and whiting out the room. The temperature plummeted, freezing my face and numbing my fingers so that they refused to work.
“Hurry!” Daisy cried. “Salt!”
