Ranth and Harold hadn’t moved. Why had the Olumie targeted me?
Either our bond was a beacon that Harold was shielding on Ranth, or Harold was driving them at me.
The ripples in the grass stopped. I sprinted toward Ranth. By the time I was close enough to see his face gleaming in the filtered moonlight, I wished I’d run the other way. His features were frozen. He couldn’t move at all.
I glowered at Harold. “What did you do to him?”
Harold’s voice sounded in my head. “Don’t worry, my dear, he’s well. I wanted to see what you could do with them on your own. Very nice work. You’re much stronger than I expected.”
“Explain. And while you’re at it, add how you even found us here.” I crossed my arms.
Harold’s voice sounded in my head. “I don’t have to explain anything, but I’ll humor you. As you are aware, it takes an inordinate amount of energy to travel. While I have a fair amount of power, my time in your world is exhausting, and that is limiting. Your split curse had my hand on it, so I know exactly where you are. By the way, he now owes me a boon for helping you with the Olumie. His death means a lot of death to others, which I expect you’d both like to avoid. But if you’d like another favor…”
I balled my fists. “I’m not making deals with you.”
His attention moved from my hands to my face. “If you change your mind, young witch, then you know where to find me.”
With that, and a splatter of blue fairy dust that looked surprisingly like fireflies in the movies, Harold disappeared, and Ranth crumpled to the grass.
I dragged Ranth into my lap with a strength I didn’t know I had left in me. He was unresponsive, but his skin was warm and alive. I trailed fingers across his forehead, willing him to wake up. He’d become important to me. His hair was inky silk against his smooth skin. When his eyelids fluttered, so did my heart.
His lush rose-colored lips parted, and I bent closer, listening for breath or words, and his eyes opened. He pushed himself up, and I toppled back, bursting with relief.
“What did you do?” he seethed.
He was blaming me? “Nothing. It was all Harold.” I snapped back.
His eyes searched mine. “What are you saying?” He pushed the longish hair out of his face.
I scrambled up. “Harold froze you. He said he asked for a favor. Did he take the bone?”
Ranth searched his jacket. “Yes. It’s gone.”
I was too busy staring at the new glowing, green script on his forearm to listen.
He pushed his jacket sleeve back with a hiss. “That mother of lizards has amended the curse.”
“Wait, what? How can he mess with the curse? And what doesamendedmean?”
“Because he split it, he now has limited power over us. We gave him permission. I am as addled as a drunk asp,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“You’d better explain in the car. It’s edging on ten, and Mrs. Finnegan will be wondering where we are.” I brushed grass off me and started across the cemetery with Ranth muttering something like “sashimi,” which I assumed was an Ahknim swear word.
I wasn’t even sure I wanted to hear what he had to say, but I needed to know.
On the way back to Mrs. Finnegan’s to return her car, I barraged Ranth with questions in between bites of a plant-based energy bar.
“What is a Collector, and why does Harold have some inside knowledge about what a collector is—and who you are?”
“I don’t have the answers you want. He’s apparently older than we think, or he has connections to the past on this world. Harold said he talked to the Serpent, but I believe that to be a lie. No mortal has ever spoken to the Serpent and lived. The Collector part is easy. The word doesn’t translate well, but the idea is the same. Collectors gather power and objects others can’t—my specialty is harvest and retrieval. The other two members in my group had specialized focuses as well. Kelis is what you might call a Feeler, and Rei is a—Constructor.”
“Like a builder?”
“Sort of. Rei can use spells to make constructs and assemble spells and components that can’t be gathered.”
“And a Feeler?”
He rubbed his fingers along his temples, like he had a headache. “Hard to explain. They can pull things from emotions and thoughts. It’s an ethereal kind of skill not easily described.”
