Page 73 of Shackled to the World
“Lies!” But he didn’t sound too sure of himself. “If you try to kill me, you’ll only die yourself.”
She couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled up. “But Uncle, thanks to your tender care, I welcome death. There is nothing here for me to fear.” She glanced at the fog that swirled around them, then back at him. “Besides, I have no need to kill you. You’ll do that yourself.”
The stench of his terror polluted the air. Shadows began to churn behind him, a form slowly taking shape. Then another. And another. The phantoms here were different—like the life had been drained out of them, leaving behind only their ghostly forms.
Then understanding dawned.
They were the banished.
The weak.
Without anything to tether them to the human world, they became nothing but shadows.
This world was what had terrified Edgar.
She remembered how they dragged off the wolf, and she wasn’t sure if Edgar had been more worried about becoming one of them or being consumed by them.
As if seeing her looking over his shoulder, her uncle spun, then clutched the book closer to his chest, backing away from the new threat.
One of the shadows spilled across the floor like tentacles, the fog seeking out its prey. It slowly grew taller and taller, until the vaporous form of a man appeared, his face whisking in and out of reality like a ghost.
One moment he looked like a normal man, then his face would flicker until she saw what looked like his skeleton beneath, before he ultimately turned transparent once more.
Like his body couldn’t hold its form.
He glanced at the book, then turned toward her, his expression softened. “You are as beautiful as your mother.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, her throat too tight to speak. She wet her lips and tried again, taking a step toward him. “You knew my mother?”
He gave her a broken smile and shrugged. “She was trying to help my brother. It was how we met.”
Her world tilted on its axis.
This was how her mother met her father. It wasn’t some random accident.
When her uncle turned and scurried into the woods, she narrowed her eyes and moved to go after him.
“Leave him,” the specter said. “You did your job by getting him here. We’ll take care of the rest. He won’t escape, or hurt you, ever again.”
Annora froze at the ominous tone, and she carefully looked at the man who was her uncle, then lifted her chin mutinously. “Are you going to kill me, too?”
She had too much shit to do before she died.
She couldn’t leave the guys to fight alone.
They would never forgive her.
The specter shook his head slowly and turned to glance toward where her uncle had disappeared. As if it was a signal, her uncle’s piercing scream of terror rent the air. A pleased smile twisted his face when he turned back toward her. Then his eyes turned sad. He lifted a chain over his head, the gold coin dangling from the end spinning wildly, the glints of light reflecting off it making it appear to glow.
“This isn’t a safe place for you. You’ve stayed too long already. The phantoms are going to be coming for you soon.” He carefully held out the chain for her. “Take this. It will protect you.”
She held out her hand. When he set the chain in her palm, she half expected it to fall straight through. Instead the metal was bitterly cold, searing into her skin, and she curled her fingers around it. The phantom smiled down at her, like she just passed some sort of test. When he turned to go, she reached toward him. “Wait.”
He hesitated, then glanced back at her over his shoulder, a brow quirked in question.
She chewed on her lip for a moment, eyeing the only relative she had left who didn’t seem to hate her. She had so many questions to ask. “What’s your name?”
“You may call me Valen.” Then he disintegrated before her eyes. The dark particles blasted toward her, and she lifted her arms and staggered backwards as the tiny grains of sand pelted her. A brilliant light blazed behind her closed eyelids, the heat chilling her cold flesh, much like the spell she’d cast back at the house.
