Haunted (42 page)

I made it to the forest, then my legs tried to shut down. They’d had enough of this “running away” crap. It was time to turn around and fight. The idea of being prey, even of playing at it for a while, brought a wave of bile to my throat. But if I was going to outwit Dachev, I needed to give him what he wanted…for now.

If cornered, I’d fight, but I already had a hole in my hand, a chunk out of my shoulder, and whole hanks of hair missing. I wasn’t too worried about the hand and shoulder scarring, but I really hoped the hair would grow back. In the meantime, the less damage I took, the better.

There was a path through the forest. It might seem like the smart thing to do would be to veer off that path and cut through the woods, but my goal was speed, not stealth. If I’d had my blur spell, that would have made things much easier, but I was trying hard not to bemoan what I lacked.

If I needed to hide, witch spells were perfect. Plus, since my death I had learned a few nasty offensive ones, the sort even spell-hungry Paige might deem too dangerous. They took time to cast properly—time I hadn’t had back in that village. If I needed them, I’d make the time to do them properly.

As I raced along the path, I kept glancing over my shoulder. The first time I saw Dachev, he was less than fifty feet behind me, but within a quarter-mile he’d dropped to well over a hundred feet back. Not accustomed to chasing former track stars obviously.

To my right, I caught glimpses of houses as the path circled behind the village. When I hit the far side of the village, the path divided, one branch heading back to town, the other going deeper into the forest. I took the village route. At the midway point between the fork and the path’s end, I dove into the woods and cast a cover spell. Then I waited. A minute later, Dachev appeared at the fork. He looked both ways.

“Did you keep running?” he murmured. “Or are you trying for the prize already?”

A moment’s hesitation, then he walked past me, into the village, and vanished. I considered slipping out and finding a better vantage point, so I could see which house he chose, but that was too risky. When I’d first seen him, he’d been coming from the far end of the road, meaning one of the last two houses was probably his. I suspected I’d know which house he occupied the moment I peeked through its window. No sleeping mats on the floor for that ghost.

After about ten minutes he returned to the path, walking fast. Again, he passed me. This time, when he hit the fork, he headed back the same way he’d come. Strange, but I wasn’t about to question his sense of direction.

When his footfalls faded to silence, I slid from my hiding spot and crept closer to the village. As tempting as it was to race in and find the book, it wasn’t safe, not in daylight, when the others were almost certainly still watching for me. The sky was growing dark already.

When I was close enough to see the village, I found a suitable tree, climbed to a sturdy branch, cast a cover spell, and settled in to wait for dark.

For nearly an hour Dachev hunted for me, twice coming to the edge of the forest and scanning the village to be sure I hadn’t returned. The third time he left the forest, looked around, then hurried to the last house on the left.

“Thank you,” I thought. “One problem down; one to go.”

When he emerged from his house, he surveyed the village again, peering into the gathering night. Then he walked to a stand of bushes by the forest’s edge. After less than ten seconds of contemplation, he strode back toward the road. A man like Dachev fancies himself a purist—a predator who catches his prey by running it to the ground, not by skulking in bushes, hoping it’ll run past.

Down the street, two other residents stepped from their homes. When they made a move to come closer and see what he was doing, he snarled something, then stalked into the woods. One followed. The bird-man—darting back and forth, weaving his way there, sticking close to trees and bushes, ready to dodge behind one at the first sign of Dachev.

Dachev had disappeared into the darkening forest before bird-man even got to the edge. Bird-man stepped into the forest, hesitant, head high, body tense. He took a few steps, then strained forward, obviously unwilling to go in any deeper.

He dropped to his haunches at the edge of the path and crouched there. Dachev returned roughly a half-hour later, which must have been how long it took him to scour the small patch of woods. I hoped his return would scare off the bird-man, but he darted into a thicket and waited for him to pass, then peered out after him.

Dachev surveyed the village once, then headed back into the woods. Bird-man stayed where he was. Wonderful. It was almost dark now, and from the blackness of the village, I guessed these guys didn’t have candles. Although a full moon shone overhead, it barely pierced the forest. One more once-over and Dachev would have to return to his house and wait for me there. Time for a new plan.

I eased along my branch and grabbed a vine looped around the tree trunk. When I yanked hard, the vine snapped in two. I shimmied down a branch and found a thicker one, which held no matter how hard I whaled on it. I unwound it from the branch, then found a second piece for backup.

After coiling the vines into balls, I started to put one into my pocket, then felt the hellsbane potion vial and stopped, envisioning myself yanking out the vines and the bottle tumbling into the undergrowth and forgotten. Instead, I tied them around my calf. Next I took off a sock and stuffed it into my empty pocket.

I shimmied down the tree until I reached the lowest branch that would hold me. I inched out as far as I dared. The leafy cover of the lower branches hid me well enough. I broke off a twig and dropped it. It caught in the lowest branch. I pulled off another, reached out as far as I could, and dropped it. This one hit the dry undergrowth and sent up a crackle that seemed as loud as a gunshot. Bird-man popped up from his hiding place. He looked around, gaze on the ground, head jerking as he searched. I let loose another twig. He took a step my way. Then another. A third step, and I dropped onto him.

As I fell onto his back, I slammed my forearm into his mouth. He bit down, hard enough to make me wonder whether I was going to lose another chunk. It took some wrangling, but I managed to get my flesh out of his mouth, and replace it with my sock. Once I’d bound him, I lashed him to the tree trunk with the loose end of the vine. Eventually his moaning and thrashing would alert Dachev, but I’d have a few minutes.

I followed the forest as close to Dachev’s house as I could. With the full moon, I didn’t dare go around to the front door, so I crept up to the open side window. As I crawled through, I heard someone moving through the forest. I somersaulted inside, hitting the floor with a
boom,
then sprang to my feet. I was in the living room. Dachev said the crawl-space hatch was under his bed. I ran through the only doorway, and into the bedroom, grabbed the bed frame, and yanked. No rollers, of course. I dragged the bed aside, then grasped the edge of the hatch. Running footsteps thumped along the dirt road. I yanked open the hatch and jumped through.

43

TO CALL DACHEV’S BASEMENT A CRAWL SPACE WOULD
imply that it was big enough to crawl in. To even turn around, I had to scrunch down and duck my head.

Although the full moon had illuminated enough upstairs to see by, even with the open hatch, it was pitch black down here. I cast a light-ball spell. It lasted less than a second, just long enough to stamp an impression of dirt walls on my retinas before sputtering out. I cast it again. Same thing. I’d always thought of this as a child’s spell, and had used it so little that I hadn’t even bothered passing it on to Savannah. Since arriving in the nonelectrical ghost world, though, I’d used the spell regularly, so there must have been something about the conditions underground that were making the light go out. I tried it twice more, then gave up.

Dachev had said the book was on a shelf to the left, immediately under the hatch. The only thing I could feel there was a web of thin roots. As I ran my hands over them, the front door slammed. I wriggled around as fast as I could, and swept my hands across the right side, then the end wall. My fingers snagged on the roots and my nails filled with dirt, but I could feel nothing like a shelf or a book.

I cast the light-ball spell again. Then again. And again. Each time I cast, I got a split-second snapshot, all revealing the same thing—an unbroken expanse of dirt and roots.

Footsteps crossed the living room. I twisted around and scrambled to the other end, looking about wildly, hands running over the walls, knocking off clumps of dank earth, the stink of it filling my nostrils.

“Do you have the book?” Dachev’s voice reverberated through the room above.

I skimmed my hands over the roof. Splinters bit into my palms. It was a solid sheet of wooden planks.

“There is no book,” I said, teeth gritted.

Dachev’s laughter floated down.

“You said—” I began.

He lowered his head into the crawl space and peered around, then pulled back. “I said I would tell you the secret if you retrieved the book…which I would have, had there been a book to retrieve.”

I clenched my teeth and forced myself to be quiet. When I didn’t respond, he ducked his head back in, trying again, unsuccessfully, to see me.

“You might as well come out of there,” he said. “There’s no place to go.”

As he spoke, I crept forward, then stopped when he did. He sighed.

“Cowering in that hole does not become you. Or are you sulking?”

I made it halfway across this time. As he paused, I itched to creep another few steps, but didn’t dare. Even the whisper of my clothes as I moved was too loud. When he started talking, I started moving.

“I will count to five, and then I will come in there after you, and drag you out by that pretty, long hair.”

I waited, barely a foot from his face, holding myself as still as I could.

“Five…four—”

I hooked him around the neck and yanked. He tumbled into the hole. He scrambled onto me and tried to pin my arms. When he couldn’t get a grip on them, he seized my hair. I slammed my open palm into the bottom of his jaw. He grunted, and fell back.

I slid out from under him. He reached for me again, but I scrambled out of the way, and grabbed the edge of the hatch, hoisting myself up. When he came at me, I kicked him in the face. He stumbled back. I dropped into the hole and fell on him.

He bucked to throw me off, but I managed to flip him onto his stomach. I kneeled as best I could on his back. Then I grasped his hands and held them and, with my teeth, untied the extra piece of vine. He rocked and wriggled and cursed, but after a few tries, I got the vine tied around his wrists and ankles.

“You think you’re clever?” he snarled. “One scream from me and every one of those beasties up there will come running—”

“Whoops, almost forgot. Thanks.”

I stuffed my other sock into his mouth. Then I paid him the same honor he’d promised me: I grabbed him by the hair and hauled him out of the crawl space.

“So,” I said as I dumped him on the bedroom floor.

“Are you going to tell me how to catch the Nix?”

He only narrowed his eyes, a “fuck you” in any language.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll come back in a couple of days, see whether you’ve changed your mind.”

As I walked toward the living room, Dachev made a guttural sound behind his gag.

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not going to abandon you. You’ll have plenty of company…just as soon as I tell your comrades where you are.”

He let me get as far as the front door, then banged his shoulder against the floor to get my attention. I peeked around the bedroom doorway.

“Yes?”

He grunted and gnashed at his gag. I yanked the sock from his mouth.

“Ready to talk?” I said.

“Untie me first.”

I laughed.

“Then no deal. You’ll take what you want and leave me like this.”

“No, I won’t, but since you don’t know me well enough to trust my word, I’ll meet you halfway. I’ll untie your feet now. Then, if I do betray you, at least you can run.”

He let out a stream of obscenities, at least one of which lost something in the translation to English.

“Keep that up and I’ll stick the sock back in.” I cast the lie-detection spell. “Now start talking or I start walking.”

He snarled, but, after a moment, spat out his part of the incantation.

“How can the Nix be caught?” I asked.

Another hesitation, then, “By killing the host body.”

“I know
that.
But you did it without the sword. How?”

For at least a minute, the only sound was the grinding of his teeth, as he struggled to think of some other way out of this. Finally, he said, “By killing…and yet not killing.”

“I don’t do riddles.”

He leaned back to look up at me. “No? Why? Because they require you to use more than your fists and your feet? Not much in that pretty head of yours, is there?”

“No. Just enough to trick you.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Can we skip the insult toss?” I said. “The sooner I’m out of here, the sooner we’ll both be much happier.”

“She must be killed, but not allowed to die.”

“Deliver a mortal blow, you mean.” I paused, thinking it through. “If the host is still alive, she can jump free. If the host is dead, she can jump free…unless she’s skewered on the end of an angel sword first. But during that time between life and death, she’s stuck, isn’t she?”

Dachev glared at me.

“Yes or no,” I said. “Is she trapped in the host when it’s stuck between life and death?”

“Yes.”

“But how do you pull her out? A spell?”

“No.” He paused then, but I could tell he wanted this over with, so after a moment, he said, “Her spirit starts to separate as the host dies. You’ll see it. At that point, she’s powerless—she can’t transport herself and she doesn’t have her demonic strength.”

I remembered the community center, when the Nix had escaped from her partner’s body before Trsiel could deliver the life-ending blow. I’d seen her spirit oozing out from Lily. Only one problem with this scenario. The life-ending-blow part. For a split-second, I mentally panicked, certain I was right back where I’d started, and there was no way to catch the Nix except by killing Jaime, and if the Fates wouldn’t allow that, then how the hell—