She whipped her head around to glare at me. “Of course not.”
I waited for her to meet my eye, as defiant as her gaze was. “This is important,” I said quietly. “We’re only going to get one shot at this. You need to be focused. For Bernadette.”
Something sharp in Persi’s eyes melted. The defiance drained away, and only quiet determination remained.
“I know. I promise,” she said huskily.
I turned back to Jess. “We’re ready. What do I need to do?”
Jess waved me over to her. “You can help me set the circle. Come on over here.”
I joined Jess about ten feet away from the Geatgrima. We set to work—or rather, she set to work, and I handed her the things she needed to dothat work: chalk, candles, gemstones. It was remarkable how much our magic had in common, even though the incantations and rituals surrounding it were very different. I tried to commit as much of it as I could to memory, but she worked swiftly and quietly, and in the end, I gave up and concentrated instead on making sure I had whatever she needed ready in my hand. At last, she stood up and inspected her work, looking satisfied.
“Okay, the circle’s ready, but we still need the bait to set the trap. Wren?”
I handed her Casting bag back to her, and pulled my own backpack from my shoulder and onto the ground. I extracted the grimoires and held them out to her.
“And we’re sure the protective spell on the grimoires will hold?” Jess asked, looking down at them with wary eyes.
“Yes,” Persi said, because she was the one who had cast it. “She’ll be able to see them, but she won’t be able to touch them.”
“Good, good,” Jess said. “Okay, set them in the circle, Wren, and let’s get this show on the road.”
“Like this?” I asked, setting them down and adjusting them arbitrarily.
“Perfect,” Jess said, and then stilled my hands by placing her own on top. “Seriously, Wren. You can’t screw this part up. If it’s inside the boundary of the circle, you did it right.”
“Right, sorry,” I said, backing away and rubbing my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Now what?”
“Now, I summon her, and we see if she answers. There’s definitely some lingering spirit energy here, and it’s not coming from the Geatgrima. If I’m not mistaken, she’s been here very recently. Once she’s trapped in the circle, we can question her. Go take your spot and wait. You too, Persi.”
Persi jerked out of a kind of trance, tearing her eyes from the Geatgrima and hurrying to join me behind a wall of jungle-like vines that still hung like a curtain from the ceiling of the cavern. By parting them slightly, we had a clear view of Jess, the circle, and the Geatgrima itself.
My pulse boomed in my ears as I watched Jess settle herself out of sight beyond the boundary of the circle. She knelt down, closed her eyes, and began to concentrate. As she did so, I felt a ripple of energy expand outward through the cavern. Beside me, I felt Persi shudder and knew that she felt it, too. I had to remind myself to breathe as we waited.
We didn’t have to wait long.
The temperature in the cavern, already chilly, began to drop. Beside me, Persi’s breath was coming out in sharp little puffs, like a steam engine. But it was more than cold that permeated—it was also a tidal wave of intense emotion—fear and hope and curiosity and anger, all twisted together. It hit me like a fist, and I reeled back from it, trying instinctively to stop it from tangling itself into my own feelings, confusing me. I glanced at Persi. She had noticed the change in temperature, but that seemed to be all. I turned back to the circle just in time to see a figure shiver into existence within it.
“She’s here,” Jess murmured from beyond the circle. “She’s been here all along.”
I would have known her anywhere. Sarah Claire’s spirit. Persi stiffened beside me, and I laid a steadying hand on her arm, as much a gesture of warning as it was of support. I could see from her expression that she would have liked nothing better than to leap across the room and tear Sarah to spectral shreds. Persi did not look at me but she did nod once, sharply, a gesture which seemed to say, “Yes, I know. I’ll behave myself.”
Sarah seemed to be all thin limbs and wild hair and huge, dark eyes that were focused entirely on the Claire grimoire. Jess was right—her connection to it had drawn her right in. She drifted toward it with an expression of bemusement, like she recognized it, but couldn’t place it in her memory. She sank into a crouch to examine it, and that was when she saw the Vesper grimoire as well. The change that came over her face was terrifying. An absolutely feral hunger swept over her features, and a keening moan of longing burst from her lips. She dove toward the book, and then gasped in alarm when she found she could not touch it. Her fingers clawed desperately at thin air, never able to come within aninch of its battered leather cover. She unleashed a scream of rage and then turned, eyes combing the ground, and settling on a nearby piece of rubble. She reached for it but, because it was outside of the boundary of the circle, she could not pick it up. Her eyes went wide with rage as she realized what had happened: she was trapped.
Persi made an incredulous noise beside me. “It worked,” she muttered. “I can’t believe it actually worked.”
I could. I’d seen the extent of Jess’ magic before.
Sarah began to scream with frustration, throwing herself against the barrier of the circle in all directions, noticing the chalk upon the ground, and shrieking even louder. After all, witches used circles too. Her voice rose to a crescendo, the ferocity of her energy making the very air vibrate.
“Stop.”
It was Jess’ voice. She spoke quietly, and yet it cut through Sarah’s cries completely, and silenced her at once. She stepped out from her hiding place, her gaze trained on Sarah with a mixture of anger and pity. Sarah glared at her, but seemed too wary to speak at first.
“I said stop. Stop now. It’s over,” Jess said.
Sarah cocked her head to one side, and looked Jess over from top to bottom in a swift assessment. Then she curled her lip in disdain.
