Grave Visions(35)

Now that the body was empty, the grave tugged on me hard, trying to draw my magic and heat to it. I closed my shields, blocking it out as best I could. I didn’t need the distraction right now.

The fae ghost hadn’t moved, and she looked more shocked than anything I’d categorize as angry or enraged, so I took a chance. “Hi, I’m Alex. What’s your name?”

Her enormous, dark eyes moved to me, rounding out as she studied me. I kept the dagger pressed by my side, hidden in the folds of the gown where I hoped she didn’t notice. I didn’t know if it was her small stature or huge eyes, but she looked very childlike and more than a little scared. I didn’t want to come off as threatening. But I wasn’t going to put the dagger away. Looks could be deceiving.

She wrapped her twig-thin arms around her chest like she was hugging herself, and her bottom eyelids quivered. I thought for a moment she might start crying.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice high-pitched and clear as a bell. She looked down, where the knapsack slumped by her ankles. She didn’t have eyebrows, but her forehead creased, and now I was sure she’d start crying any second. “What is that?”

“Give me your hand,” I said, holding mine toward her.

She didn’t. She wasn’t even looking at me. She was staring at the bag. I didn’t know exactly what she was seeing—it really depended on how close to the chasm between the land of the dead and the living she was, but I guessed she could see her bones through the bag. That couldn’t be good. I was pretty sure if I were in her shoes, the last thing I’d want to focus on would be my own desecrated body. I had to get her attention.

Besides, she seemed rational so it was quite possible she could answer the queen’s questions. Making the ghost manifest in reality would be a whole lot simpler than raising a shade from mere bones—and take a lot less energy. As exhausted as I already was, expending less magic definitely sounded like a plus. I wasn’t sure if questioning her would be kinder or crueler than questioning her shade, but the horrified way she stared at her own bones made me think seeing her shade would not be good for her mental health—not that I thought it would be for anyone. I took a step toward her, my hand still extended, and she pushed off the ground, her snowflake wings fluttering into motion behind her as she lifted three feet in the air.

Well, I guess the wings aren’t just decoration.

She shot upward, but the circle I’d drawn wasn’t very large, so she hit the ceiling and bounced off. My teeth chattered with the impact, the magical vibration jolting through me.

I doubted she could see the magical barrier as it was Aetheric energy and most fae couldn’t reach that plane, but she definitely felt it because she turned and beat both small fists against the barrier. Each pound of her fist made me cringe. I squeezed my eyes closed and channeled more magic into the circle to reinforce it.

“Stop,” I yelled at the phantom. If she’d been a shade she would have had to obey me. But she wasn’t, and she took no notice of my command.

“Alex?” Falin said from outside the circle, sounding concerned. He couldn’t see the fae, didn’t know what was happening, but my reactions were enough to tell him something was wrong.

I could have made the ghost visible without touching her, but it would have used a lot more energy. So, forcing my eyes open despite the pounding in my brain that reverberated with each slam of her fists, I rushed across the circle and grabbed her ankle. Power surged out of me, flooding over her through the contact. She screamed, writhing in my grip. I’d pulled this particular trick with multiple ghosts, and only once, when I’d lost control, had I been told it hurt, so I doubted her scream indicated pain.

But scream she did, her voice going shrill and piercing the air. I almost pulled my hand back to cover my ears, but I held on, dragging her close to the mortal realm.

“Be silent,” the queen commanded, and even through my circle, there was power in her words.

The thrashing fae went still. Her head jerked around, and she seemed to become aware of the world beyond the circle—and the people just on the other side of it—for the first time. Her scream died in her throat, and she floated back to the ground. I switched my grasp from her ankle to her elbow as she moved, but I doubt she noticed. Her entire focus centered on the queen.

She sank to her knees in the tall grass, all but dragging me down with her.

“My queen,” she said, her head bowing.

The queen stared at her, studying her wings more than her face. “You are one of my handmaidens, are you not?”

“Yes, my lady.”