Someone who has died.
The answer came instantly, which struck her as odd. Just what kind of spirit was he?
You’ll see,he promised.Choose.
“Bixby,” she said at once.
Revulsion flooded her mind.You would offer me something you hate? What kind of a sacrifice is that?
Marci sighed. So much for the easy out. Then again, she supposed it made sense. Deals with the devil never worked when you tried to foist off something you didn’t care about.
I’m not the devil,the voice said grumpily, sounding much more like Ghost than he had before.I chose you because I thought you knew that. You accepted me as I was.
“Sorry,” Marci said, and she was. For all his creepiness, Ghost had always done right by her. That said, though, if he wouldn’t take Bixby, that left only one person.
Marci’s hands went unbidden to the rectangular shape at the bottom of her shoulder bag. With so much going on, she hadn’t had a chance to move her dad’s ashes somewhere safer, or maybe she just hadn’t wanted to let them go. Either way, surrendering his memory to a spirit, even Ghost, felt unspeakably wrong. She was his last living family, the only one who still remembered the big-hearted, overly-generous man that was Aldo Novalli. If she gave that up, he’d be forgotten forever.
The dead are always forgotten.
“Not helping,” she muttered, looking up again at Vann Jeger’s prison. She still couldn’t see through the wall of water, but she could hear the battle inside, which she hoped meant both dragons were still holding out. That was a miracle in and of itself, and Marci wasn’t foolish enough to think it would continue much longer. Unlike her father, Julius and Chelsie were still alive and depending on her. Her dad would understand. If he were here now, he might even volunteer. Aldo Novalli never had been able to resist playing the hero.
The thought brought a smile to her lips, and Marci lowered her head. Slowly, reverently, she pulled the box of ashes out of her bag and placed it in her lap, stroking the name printed on the cardboard with loving fingers. “Okay,” she whispered, blinking back the tears that blurred her vision as she tried her best to remember her father as she’d loved him best: the mage who’d taught her magic, the trickster who’d made her laugh, the one person who’d always believe in her no matter what. She gathered those memories and held them tight as she could, like she was hugging him one last time. And then, all at once, she let go.
“Goodbye, daddy.”
The moment the words left her mouth, the world went dark. Not night dark or closet dark or even the dark of the Underground, but absolute pitch. But while that should have been terrifying, Marci wasn’t afraid, because she wasn’t alone. There was a weight on her shoulder, a large, ice-cold hand squeezing gently.
The price is paid,the voice said loud and clear behind her.The bond is forged. What will you do with it?
The image of Vann Jeger’s smug blue face flashed through her mind, and Marci bared her teeth. “Take him down.”
It was impossible to see in the dark, but Marci would have sworn the spirit smiled.
As you wish.
His voice was still hanging in the air when the hand on her shoulder vanished, and then a wind began to rise, blowing away the darkness as Marci got to her feet to see what she had brought into the world.
***
“Chelsie!”
Julius rolled in the dirt, dodging the giant hammer seconds before it landed on his head. On the other side of the circle, his sister jumped at Vann Jeger, slamming her boot into the spirit’s arm and throwing his next attack crooked just long enough for Julius to scramble away. Ten minutes ago, the daring escape would have been cause for celebration. Now, with his lungs burning and every muscle in his body on the edge of giving out, Julius couldn’t even spare it a thought.
“Come on,” his sister growled, snatching him onto his feet again as she raced by. “Keep moving.”
Julius nodded and tried to move faster, though he wasn’t sure if the effort made an actual difference in his pace, or the fight’s seemingly inevitable outcome. “He’s just toying with us,” he panted, looking back over his shoulder at Vann Jeger, who was making a great show of selecting his next weapon.
“That’s why we’re still alive,” Chelsie said, her face grim. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
That was true enough, but Julius was no longer sure he preferred death-from-exhaustion over death by whatever crazy tool Vann Jeger pulled out next. He’d lost all track of time after Vann Jeger had eaten his sister’s sword, but they had to be well past Marci’s deadline, and there was still no end in sight. Just more running, the two of them avoiding Vann Jeger’s attacks by smaller and smaller margins while the spirit stood in the center, blatantly enjoying the sight of dragons scurrying like mice.
Even for Julius, who was used to running, it was a humiliating experience. Or, he would have been humiliated if he hadn’t also been so terrified. Even Bethesda had never brought him as close to death as he’d come to tonight, or half as many times. Chelsie was the only reason he hadn’t gone over. She’d stuck by him like glue, constantly pulling him out of danger and keeping him moving even when he was sure he couldn’t take another step. But grateful as Julius was for his sister’s help, it had taken everything both of them had to survive this long, and he didn’t have any illusions about their chances going forward.
“Come on, Marci,” he whispered, risking a glance at the wall of water where he thought she was, though he’d been around so many times now, he couldn’t be sure anymore. “Comeon.”
“Forget her,” Chelsie snapped, reaching back to yank him forward. “The plan’s failed. I don’t know what she’s been doing, but Vann Jeger’s no weaker now than he was when we came in.”
Julius didn’t want to believe that, but it was getting harder and harder to keep up hope. Still. “Marci will think of something,” he said firmly. “She always does.”
