Everything stabilized. My fear drifted into the background and my brain stopped buzzing. Nature reached out her comforting hand for me, and I took it. Within one of my compartments, I felt a power stone beg to be taken out.

It was the rock Emery had sent me from Ethiopia, Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky. I was now pretty sure it was most pleased when around danger. Like Emery when certain moods struck him.

“There you go,” Reagan said, rising enough to step forward slowly. “There’s the power. Now, use me. Connect with me the way you did with those witches. And for the love of God, turn around so you can watch our six.”

Of course she hadn’t shoved me behind her so she could protect me. She was looking at me as an equal, not a damsel in distress.

I felt a little sheepish, and a lot empowered, as I about-faced.

I felt Reagan’s magic pulsing near me, a riptide of power, ready to suck me in and overcome me. The woman was packing large, and it still impressed and disconcerted me. I pulled it into the bubble I’d formed from my magic and Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky’s, letting her intense, spicy magic bolster ours.

“Did you do it?” she asked, taking another step forward.

“Yes. Can’t you feel it?”

“No. I don’t have that kind of magic. Okay, here’s the situation. She’s good at hide-and-seek, and we can’t just go crashing into her or she wins. Quite tricky, this one. A worthy adversary.” Reagan looked behind. “The ol’ broad is hiding from me, but she went after you. She clearly senses that vulnerable thing you do and wants easy prey. So we’re going to dangle the bait.”

My stomach twisted. “I’m the bait, aren’t I?”

“Yes.” Reagan took another step forward. “So. Off you go. And hurry. Those clowns are headed our way, trying to help trap her. They honestly have no clue. It’s embarrassing.”

“Aren’t you using me to trap her?”

“No. I’m using you to entice her out of her hiding place. It’s a game of cat-cat-mouse.”

“There are too many cats in that game.”

“Probably. Off you go. Oh yes, that hunching thing—do more of that.”

The hunching was a natural reaction to the fear and stress of the situation, and I didn’t need to be told to do more of it. That was a given.

My bubble wobbled, but my power stone got twice as excited, so I focused on that. Overtaking Reagan, I walked toward where the path dumped into the clearing, hoping I could reach that before the creature came after me. A quick glance behind showed Reagan drifting into the bushes, hiding from sight.

I wasn’t on my own, though. She was on scene. She’d be watching.

Steeling my courage, holding the power stone in a white-knuckled grip, I inched my way up the path and dunked back into the liquid, unnatural silence that had preceded the creature’s wails. Dark gaps laughed at me as I passed, possibly hiding evil within their depths. A cloud wafted across the moon overhead, seeping what little color there was from the world around me.

At the end of the path, nothing had happened. No sound had reached my ear. If she was waiting for me to be alone, she clearly wasn’t satisfied yet. She had to know Reagan waited just out of sight.

Fine. You want me by myself, let’s do this.

I started up a jog, past the bushes and out to the grass beyond, blessed space opening up around me. One of the massive trees stood sentry a hundred feet out, and I headed for that, stopping near its huge trunk. Branches bowed around me, some swooping low enough to kiss the grass.

Shouts and calls sounded in the distance, and I figured that was probably the other team getting into a position.

With a freaking plan.

After scanning the bushes back the way I’d come, I shifted my gaze all the way around me, stopping at the edge of the house. Nothing moved or even shook. All was quiet. Waiting.

Knowing that whatever vulnerability I exuded, magically or otherwise, was tied to my fear, I let the tremors come. The uncertainty. I was out here, on my own, without a magic sword, any experience, or the slightest clue of how to kill a banshee.

My bubble wavered and the buzz of terror crept back into my brain.

Before I could try and call back the bubble, I heard it. The soft song on the breeze. The longing for a comforting embrace.

The banshee was taking the bait, but I was no longer ready for it.

27

Reagan had said that if the banshee was in the world of the living, it would be in a solid form. But as the song grew louder, the pull of it tugging at my middle, I knew she’d been mistaken.

Magical wisps curled into the air in the center of the grass, nothing rooting them to the ground. A moment later, they were gone, disappearing into the night.

I blinked a few times, then opened my eyes wider, making sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks.

The song turned into a moan, winding toward me on a sweet-smelling gust of wind. Near my face, streams of magic twirled into the air, bright colored with busy patterns.

Comfort. Distract.

“Why is that?” I asked softly, stepping away from the tree and turning in a circle. “Why are you trying to distract me? To sneak up on me?”

A new thought struck me. Maybe it could cast its magic, like I did spells. It could be throwing distraction spells to keep me looking in another direction while it snuck up on me. And here I was, falling for it hook, line, and sinker.

“No, thank you, scary lady.” I wandered out a little farther, trying to look all around me at once. It essentially meant I turned in constant circles and my head swiveled in all directions.

But it wasn’t working. I wasn’t focusing long enough on any one thing to pick the banshee out of the darkness. If she wore a dark dress, robe, or bunch of sheets, she’d be all but invisible. And that was assuming she wasn’t invisible already!

I hefted my power stone and closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the push of nature. The throb of life. Lo and behold, there—woven into the song of life was one of death, weaving in and around in perfect harmony. Balance.

A new intent smacked into me. The feeling of forever. Of being sucked into the void and then carried forth to eternity. Death.

Coming for me.

Right now!

“Wally Wanker’s twinkle toes!” I snapped my eyes open and spun around, bringing up my claws for a bit of scare. A shape came at me in the night. Flowing and graceful, with a robe fluttering out behind it like a great silk cape, it didn’t sprint so much as glide very quickly. Very, very quickly.

I should’ve run at it, throwing my magic.

I should’ve stood my ground, throwing my magic.

I about-faced and sprinted, not at all graceful, but at least not standing still.

The banshee’s wail tore across the grass, ear-splitting and bone-chilling. It spoke of death, decay, and ever-lasting rest. She was forewarning a death, one that she planned to create herself.

“No you won’t, she-bitch.” Tall words for someone running away like a coward.

I ran past a tree, thought better of running in a straight line, given that I wasn’t the fastest person in the race, and turned quickly. I looped around the tree and caught sight of the old crone moving so fast that it was a wonder both hips didn’t give out and go skittering to the side.

Reagan’s magic had pulled away from my bubble when I’d left her, but that didn’t matter, because I could feel the pulsing power of the banshee. Dull and peaceful but throbbing, it didn’t at all speak of a villainous woman trying to steal someone’s life. It was calm and comforting and—

“Oh no you don’t! I’m onto you!” I took off running again—no idea why, just knowing it was too fast for me to stand still. Also, while my magic was urgently waiting for me to sculpt it, my brain buzzed with that freaking old woman tearing through the grass toward me, her face a mask of horror and her claw-like hands braced in the air.

“I knew clawed hands were scary,” I said as I pumped my arms as fast as I could, running toward a line of trees. “Very scary.”

Wait, why I was going away from Reagan? Salvation was toward her.

I cut right, throwing off the banshee, thankfully. She was a fast glider, but a slow turner. I’d wait a moment and cut right again, heading back toward Reagan’s last hiding place.