A little farther along the passage, we encounter the shirtless body of Henry Partridge, sitting against the wall with his eyes closed. Anne makes a strangled sound of grief and clutches Mama, turning away from the sight.
Carefully, respectfully, Beresford picks up the body and walks ahead. The rest of us follow him past the boundary where blue rock gives way to gray and brown stone.
When Henry approaches that spot, he hesitates. “I feel a strange energy here.”
We all pause while he halts and sets down one of the bags of treasure. Extending sharp-nailed fingers, he tests the air in front of him. Then he snatches his hand back and winces with pain. “I can’t go any farther.”
“It’s all right,” I say. “We planned for this. Wait here, and we’ll call for you once we’re outside.”
“What’s going on?” Anne asks.
“We weren’t sure if he’d be able to leave the Barrow in the wight’s form without being summoned,” I explain. “I brought supplies so we can do the ritual and bring him out. Once he’s free of the Barrow, he’ll be able to stay in our world.”
She doesn’t reply, and her mouth sets in a grim line. But as she watches the little demons scamper ahead of us, a faint warmth enters her eyes. Their delight at being free is contagious. When we reach the opening, they run straight out of the Barrow and scatter into the forest.
Beresford steps outside into a patch of fading afternoon sunlight, holding Henry’s body in his arms, smiling as he watches the creatures run. Anne approaches him and gingerly touches Henry’s lifeless face.
“It’s so strange,” she murmurs. “He’s dead, and yet he isn’t.”
“Fucking magic,” I say, and her mouth twitches a little. Almost a smile.
Mama exits the Barrow and hands me the satchel I gave her for safe-keeping.
First, I lay out the raw beef on its butcher paper, then pour some of the milk into a bowl and drizzle a bit of honey into it. I place the loaf of round bread that I brought and scatter the berries. Facing north, I carve a tiny cut on my palm and drip blood into the honey-milk, Then I call two names aloud: Alchelinore and Henry Partridge.
We wait for what feels like far too long.
Anne moves away from Henry’s corpse, watching the crack in the hillside anxiously. “Did something go wrong?”
I check the offering of food again. “Everything’s here. Should I call the names one more time?”
“It couldn’t hurt,” says Mama.
Beresford chuckles. “Impatience seems to be a family trait. Give the ritual time to work.”
Sighing, I cross my arms and gaze around at the forest. The corruption is still present, but it doesn’t feel like it’s being actively fed by evil energy, and the air is already clearer.
“If Henry has to live in that hole forever, Sybil, I swear to the gods,” Anne grits out.
But a few seconds later, a tall, thin form emerges from the darkness, striding along the passage. The instant the wight’s figure clears the Barrow’s entrance, Anne lunges at him, punching him in the chest so hard he grunts.
“Motherfucker!” she yells, punctuating her words with more punches. “You scared us! Don’t you ever—you can’t justdecidethings, do you understand? I was just starting to love your stupidface. You can’t switch bodies with no warning, especially when someone loves you. I don’t care if you’re pretty now—I don’t give a shit about that anymore. You are not allowed to give up your fucking soul for me. It’s wrong, it’s too big of a sacrifice, and I may be grateful for it, but you can’t expect me to be happy about it.”
“Of course not,” says Henry meekly. “I promise I won’t do it again.”
Anne stares at him for a minute, panting… and then she starts to laugh, helplessly, joyfully.
Henry drops both bags of treasure and pulls her against him.
It’s incredibly strange to see my sister hugging the Barrow-Man. But it’s a huge relief to know that I didn’t ruin her happiness forever, and that with time, she will be all right. Like Beresford once told me, the combination of fear and anger together can clarify what you truly want, and my sister wants Henry, no matter what shape he’s in.
After a tight embrace, Anne steps back. She doesn’t kiss him yet… she isn’t quite ready to kiss the lips that threatened both of us with such dreadful things. But she does smile at him, and I exchange a delighted smile with Mama, too.
Taking a few more steps away from the Barrow, Henry lifts his hands and closes his eyes.
The entire atmosphere of Wormsloe shifts immediately. I can actually see the corruption around us being sucked out of the trees and bushes, flowing along the ground toward him. He stands there for a long time, withdrawing the rot that the wight caused, until he wavers from exhaustion. I catch his arm to steady him.
“I can’t undo it all at once,” he gasps. “There’s too much.”
