Clement grasped my arm, gently shaking me back to the present. We turned together, only making it twenty yards before ice spiderwebbed beneath our feet, cracking the ground. The gate loomed above us, a rift between the castle’s magic and freedom.
Just outside the castle grounds, two strangers halted. Between us, the spirits hovered, forming a black cloud. It pulsed, its tendrils sucking in the surrounding air, gathering more of the darkness.
Through the black mist, the strangers’ features were blurred, but my heart squeezed. The man wore the same silver spectacles he’d always worn, the lenses so thick his jade green eyes were magnified. His hair curled, messy and artistic, a well-worn path visible through the center where he’d run his hand through it.
The woman wore what she always did—an old cream blouse and blue overalls. When it was hot, she’d flap one of the straps down and roll up her sleeves, but she’d never take it off.
Where were their weapons? Where was the magic? Why was the air not filled with gunpowder snaps and flashes of power?
The woman rolled up her sleeves and cracked her neck, lowering into a crouch. The man stood behind her, his hands hidden within deep pockets, his wiry body wound like a spring. They both leaped over the threshold.
The spirits swarmed toward the couple.
“Go!” Clement shoved my shoulder. “They’re distracted, go now.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away as the roiling darkness descended on them. Clicks, scrapes, screams spun into the air. How long would they be able to hold them off?
The spirits slipped into a whirling tornado, encircling them. Dark streaks broke off and lunged inside, shrieking, the air clouded with drifting ash.
I couldn’t leave them to die.
The spirits’ chant filled my mind, urgent this time, desperate, but there was an edge of sadness. It swamped me, prickling my skin, tugging at my soul.
Stop! I screamed at them.
They hesitated. The black mass flickered.
The Collectors passed through the swarm, advancing toward the prince, but the thread linking me wavered. The pressure increased, removing my control and the spirits flashed back into motion. Siobhan had vanished, but the gargoyle still gripped the prince, and he was reclaiming them. Blood trickled over his lips and down his chin, soaking into the membrane that enclosed him. His mouth moved in a silent command focused on the spirits.
No.
I wrestled back control. Sweat ran in a line down my back, my entire body rigid. I forced their chant to calm, binding them to the rhythm of my heart, making them mine.
The Collectors reached the prince. The man withdrew a hatchet from his waistband, bringing the butt down upon the gargoyle. It shattered like glass upon the cobblestones. The woman caught the prince, tugging his head back to expose his neck. The man flipped the ax around and sliced down the prince’s neck. His blood didn’t spurt but trickled slowly, congealing into sludge as it hit the cold air, steam hissing into the night.
The connection between the spirits snapped tight like reins. The opposing force eradicated.
Go rest.
With the prince dead, they’d be able to return to haunting the castle, waiting for another master. Until then, they could be in peace.
The Collectors held their positions, watching the blood drain from the prince, his struggles ebbing.
“Go!” Clement pushed me.
Fires ignited in the courtyard beyond. Guests clattered toward the exits carrying flames. The telltale march of the guards led the charge, their pace determined, hunting for the prince.
I kept staring at the dying prince, at the Collectors fixated on their task.
Clement lunged toward me, but I sidestepped, spinning around to watch again. “Go now, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder like a bale of fucking hay.”
The woman’s eyes lifted to mine. Eight years of happy memories flooded my mind, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t forgive them. I backed away slowly with my palms raised as Clement advanced, unable to rip my eyes from the scene.
“Fine,” I snapped.
He grabbed my hand and spun me around, dragging me down the central street. The shops blurred as we ran, their windows dark, signs blank and flapping in the wind. My feet were leaden, the fear barely outweighing the guilt at abandoning them.
“They’re your Collectors, aren’t they?” He kept my hand gripped within his, my only anchor in the rising panic.
