“No time for that,” the general said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Raven, fly up and see if you can find Marci. The rest of you, stick with me. We’re following the ghosts.”
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be,” Myron said, staring out at the dark with fear in his eyes. “This isn’t what the Merlin is supposed to do. The Mortal Spirits are supposed to be the best of us: our hopes made real, human magic given form. This is a coldhell.”
“It’s also got Algonquin on the run,” Emily said, striding out of the trees into the grassy clearing. “She’s taken over all of Reclamation Land. That’s better than we’ve ever done.”
“But at what cost?” Myron asked, pointing at the ghosts who were still walking silently past them, their flickering faces contorted with rage. “Is this what you want?”
The general shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers, Myron. You go to war with the army you have, not the army you want.”
“But there’s a line, Emily,” the mage said, his voice shaking. “You might be willing to throw away everything to win, but I say a victory that looks likethisis no victory at all.”
Emily turned around, glaring up the hill at her partner, but it was Julius who spoke first. “It’s not like that,” he said firmly. “I know what she does can look scary, but Marci’s a good person, and the dead aren’t always bad. See?” He waved his hand through one of the passing figures, gritting his teeth to keep from shivering when the grave-dark cold went through him. “They’re not attacking us.”
“I don’t think they can even see us,” Chelsie said, waving her hand in front of a ghost, who walked right through it.
“Well, they’re going somewhere,” Emily said, looking out at the ranks of ghosts marching toward the middle. “This is an attack, and where it stops, that’s where we’ll find Marci.”
There, Julius agreed. The wind was picking up now, carrying scents from all across the giant clearing. If he sorted through them, pushing aside the heavy scents of forest and water and the smothering blanket of freezing magic that lay over it all, he could just barely catch the warm, familiar smell that belonged to Marci alone. “There,” he said, pointing at the stony mountain that poked straight up from the plains like a tack. “She’s up there.”
“I’d say coming down,” Chelsie said, breathing deep. “You’re catching where she was. When you’re tracking, always go for the moving scent. That’s where your prey is now. Going by the movements and the wind, I’d say Marci’s there.”
She pointed at the ghost-covered field leading up to the pile of headless dragons, and Julius nodded. Now that she’d shown him how, he could tell the difference between the old and new scents, too, and Marci was clearly on the move. So he followed her, jogging toward the center with Chelsie at his side. The general caught up with them at once, easily keeping pace with the two dragons as they loped down the hill.
“Blast you, wait for me,” Myron grumbled, running at a much slower, human speed as he chased the others into the grassy field, where the ghosts were thick as flowers.
***
Marci walked across the field with the ghosts, her eyes wide as she glanced around the grassy plain she’d been staring at all night from above, which now looked completely different. Even in the Empty Wind’s odd dark, the loss of the spirits was painfully obvious. There were no more huge wolves or deer, no more jewel-like ponds. Even the giant trees were gone, leaving only turned-up ground to mark where they’d been. Marci hadn’t known it was possible for a tree to run away, but these clearly had, and that bothered her.
“Go!” the Empty Wind commanded, his voice ringing out from where he marched in front of her, rising larger than life above his ghostly army. “Drive them out! Take back the land as she took it from you!”
His words howled over the multitude, but the ghosts didn’t need encouragement. Their shadowed faces were already contorted with rage as they charged ahead, driving the last of the spirits—the giant wolves and golden deer, the trees and the water, anything that had dared to form Algonquin’s circles—off the field and into the lake beyond. Even the Thunderbird had taken refuge over the water, perching on top of one of the pikes holding the Three Sisters’ heads that ringed Algonquin’s tower. He was hardly alone, either. Algonquin’s lake was teeming with spirits fleeing the long-suppressed anger of the forgotten dead of Detroit.
And it bothered her.
She couldn’t say why. Logically, Marci knew she had nothing to complain about. Ghost had done everything she’d asked, breaking Algonquin’s prison on the mountain in seconds and setting them free. She certainly didn’t begrudge the ghosts. If she’d been minding her own business only to be drowned without warning by a skyscraper-sized wave because some lake spirit had woken up and thrown a fit, she’d be angry, too. When you were mortal, this brief life was all you got. To have that stolen from you by a careless immortal who’d never understand what it meant to live and die was an injustice that demanded to be answered. Marci understood that, and yet…
Her eyes went back to the Empty Wind, who was now standing tall as a giant over his army. Other than the increased size, which was new, she’d seen him in this form plenty of times, and yet he looked different. The spirit she knew had always been calm, his anger cold and determined. Now, the muscles of the Empty Wind’s bare back were as knotted as old roots, and his hands were fisted around his spear, whose point had somehow gotten more jagged. She’d never seen his face, didn’t even know if he had one, but Marci was still sure that if she somehow saw it now, his expression would be every bit as furious as the ghosts walking at his feet, and that felt wrong.Allof this felt wrong, and as the ghost army finally reached the bloody pool where Algonquin’s Mortal Spirit was forming, Marci decided she had to do something about it.
Stop.
The dead paid her no attention, but the Empty Wind froze. “Why?” he rumbled. “We are not finished.”
Yes, we are,Marci said firmly, raising her odd, disembodied voice until she could feel it rattling inside his head.We got what we wanted. We’re free, and the dead have gotten their payback by taking over Reclamation Land. All the circles are broken now. Even the crazy magic is starting to fade. That’s enough. Let’s go home.
“We have no home,” the spirit growled, his blue-white eyes flaring in the gaping emptiness of his helmet as he whirled around to face her. “There can be no home while Algonquin lives!”
His anger made Marci take a step back.But she’ll always live,she reminded him.She’s immortal.
The Empty Wind clenched his fists. “Then we shall kill her again. Over and over. One death for every life she took.”
Marci shook her head.What is wrong with you? Why are you so angry?
“Because they are angry!” he yelled, sweeping his hands over the ghosts, who’d already begun plunging their hands into the unborn Mortal Spirit’s puddle, bailing out armfuls of the magic-rich dragon blood that was keeping it alive. “She took our lives! She took everything. Now, we will take from her!” He turned and walked to the pool’s edge, kneeling down to plunge his now-giant hand into the glowing red water. “She’s spent sixty years growing this,” he growled. “So we will destroy it, and when that’s done, we’ll turn on her precious lake. We will destroy everything she’s built as she destroyed us. We will make herpay.”
“Pay,”the dead agreed. “Pay. Pay. Pay.”
Marci cringed as the mob around her began to chant, their colorless eyes flashing blue in a cold, hate-filled imitation of the Empty Wind’s own. It was so strong, Marci could actually feel their anger radiating up her connection to her spirit like electricity through a wire. As it stung her, Marci finally understood what was going on. The Empty Wind wasn’t suddenly going insane with rage toward Algonquin. He was the product of his domain, the sentient magic that had filled the concept of the Forgotten Dead. The humans were the angry ones. He was just reflecting that, becoming what their screaming voices demanded he be. And that was when Marci knew she had to stop this, before she lost her cat for good.
