Page 60 of Ransomed to the World
“Don’t ever mistake phantoms for being weak. Each house has different strengths, and its members are deadly in their own right.”
“House?” The term was foreign to her.
“The family into which each phantom is born. There are six main houses, and they’re bred specifically for their skills, a way to ensure the strongest survive. The families train their young from birth to master just one ability. It can take decades of dedication to be able to wield even a fraction of the afterworld the way you do so casually.”
“And what does your family do?” She waited expectantly, struggling not to fidget, not sure if she really wanted to know.
“Our family is trained in warfare.”
Air whooshed out of her.
Warfare…of course.
“The other families are just as powerful and just as dangerous. One family is able to create weapons that can kill anything, another specializes in illusions, a third can track anything in any realm, the fourth can create potions that not only kill, but also allow others to use dark matter. While warfare might seem like it’s the most dangerous, it’s not. The smallest house and the most deadly is actually darkness.” The last was spoken ominously, his lean body tight with tension.
Though he said darkness, she heard death. “Reapers?”
“Not exactly.” He shook his head. “Hopefully, you’ll never have to meet them, since they’re rare and mostly keep to themselves, not to mention very few actually survive the training. Whispers say they have mastery over dark matter, similar to what you can do, but their abilities are darker. They’re called the wardens of death because it only takes a single brush from their fingertips for them to kill.”
“And if a phantom is born with no talent?” Annora wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“Every phantom has one ability or another. Only a small percentage have a skill not aligned with their house. Those kids are either traded or betrothed to other houses to forge an alliance.” He gave her a piercing look. “Natural talents such as yours are very rare and very valuable. They’re considered prodigies, and usually born once a century.”
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Much like you.”
“No.” Annora recoiled, lifting her hands palms out, as if to ward him off. The last thing she wanted was to be considered valuable.
Fuck if being considered special wasn’t what got her in trouble with her uncle in the first place.
Humor brightened his face. “Most phantoms would give anything to have your level of skill.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m not like most phantoms.”
A genuine smile curled his lips, and heat licked at her skin. She leaned forward, hungry for more information about him. But the instant she got close, he cleared his throat and pulled away, running a hand down the front of his shirt in the only nervous gesture he allowed himself. “Unlike other phantoms, your magic is driven by your instincts. You don’t have just one specific talent like most of us. Instead, you have the ability to do whatever you wish. All you have to do is imagine it.”
Annora ignored the information about her and homed in on what interested her most. “How do normal phantoms access their powers?”
“With practice and a lot of discipline.” Edgar stretched out his legs, his feet stopping so close the heat of him licked at her skin, and she became hyperaware of his nearness. When he spoke again, her concertation nearly shattered.
“Witches use spells to focus and access magic. Phantoms use complete control over our minds and bodies, usually forged by months or even years of total isolation.”
Her head snapped up in shock. “You mean you don’t touch at all?”
“Of course we do.” His eyebrows lifted, eyes twinkling. “But it can interfere with our training, so we limit physical contact until we’re older, not to mention phantoms don’t trust others to not kill them if they get the chance.”
She shivered as she imagined his bleak world. She’d lived most of her childhood in isolation and couldn’t imagine going back to that. Touch was like a craving, one she refused to give up. But his explanation revealed so much about him.
Why he kept his distance from her and the others.
He was like her and didn’t know how to be normal.
“So you’re saying that all I have to do to stop my father is get close enough to touch him?” She didn’t think it could be that easy.
Edgar gave a bark of laughter. “No. The isolation just allows us to link to the afterworld. After decades of practice, the ability has been drilled into us, and we can call on it in seconds to protect us from any kind of attack. I was trained as a warrior to slip in and out of the shadows unseen. I’m nothing more than a soldier, not skilled like you.”
She didn’t believe it for an instant.
“Show me.” Annora thrust out her hand in silent demand.
