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“Therefore, tonight’s test will measure your Chthonic skills, or more precisely, your ability to control spirits.”
My stomach clenched. Naturally he’d chosen to test the one area I had the least experience with. Sure, I’d summoned some zombies a couple of times, but one of those instances was a mistake. “I’m ready,” I lied.
Tristan nodded. “Let’s begin.”
When Tristan said he wanted to test my Chthonic spirit-controlling skills, I figured he’d just make me summon a ghost and ask it some questions. I have never been more wrong about anything in my life.
After I announced I agreed to Tristan’s test and everyone had their reactions—some excited (Giguhl and Rhea), some far less enthusiastic (Horus and Calyx)—Tristan had ordered everyone out of the graveyard. Rhea, Nyx, and Adam had stayed but were ordered to stay outside of the graveyard at all times and to not interfere no matter what happened.
Once we were alone, my father turned to me. “Brace yourself.”
He threw his hands in the air and started chanting. The energy rose so quickly it left me disoriented. Black energy rolled into the graveyard like a tempest, swirling with frigid wind and overwhelming power. I put a hand to my head and tried to regain my equilibrium.
I couldn’t see anything. A thick black mist had settled over the graveyard. I waved my hands to clear it. “Tristan?”
No answer. I thought I heard Adam shout something, but he sounded far away. He was only about ten yards, though, so the distortion had to be part of Tristan’s spell.
I shook off every external sensation. Closed my eyes, swallowed the rising panic, and tried to center myself.
A loud cracking sound echoed, like the earth ripping apart. My eyes flew open. My heart thumped a warning. I spun around, desperately searching the mist for some clue about what was happening.
The clue arrived in the form of a skeletal hand. It exploded from the ground and grabbed my ankle like a vise. I fell to my ass on the grave.
“Godsdammit!”
I grabbed a knife from my boot and hacked at the wrist. The fingers tightened, cutting off blood supply to my foot. Because the hand was already rotted to the bone, it didn’t take long to cut through the desiccated ligaments connecting the wrist to the arm. The hand broke away still attached to my leg. I uncurled the bent phalanges and chucked the dead hand across the graveyard.
I scrambled back until my shoulders hit the gravemarker. Using the stone for leverage, I jumped up. Keeping my eyes on the grave, I waited for its resident to emerge from the soil.
That’s when I heard them. Low moans crawled through the mist. The dark energies permeating the air were filled with a mosaic of emotions. Malevolence, confusion, unbearable sadness. The scent of rot filled my nostrils. A cold chill scraped down my spine.
Revenants. Lots of them.
I’d summoned and controlled the reanimated dead before, but I’d never fought any that someone else had summoned. However, I knew from experience that taking their heads off would kill them. Or rather, rekill them.
I ducked low and took stock. Down there the mist was lighter and I could see several pairs of feet shambling my way. What I didn’t see was a weapon. Besides the small knife in my hand, I had a gun in my waistband, but it would only slow them down. I needed a sword or a scythe or some other large, sharp instrument.
The fog started to dissipate, revealing a slow but determined undead army. Each Revenant’s appearance was more horrific than the last. Rotted faces exposed grayed teeth in sinister smiles. Muscles hung from yellowed bone like beef jerky. Shriveled and blackened eyeballs rattled in sockets. But the worst were the skeletons. One lacked leg bones and dragged itself across the ground by its sharp, bony claws. Another wielded its own arm like a club.
And then there was the moaning—the terrible, soul-jarring moans.
The cloud had retreated until it was a black wall surrounding the graveyard. It blocked my view of Adam and the others—probably to protect them as much as to reinforce Tristan’s order not to interfere—but I could finally see Tristan standing by the entrance. He leaned with his arms crossed against the statue of the Virgin Mary.
“Tristan?” I shouted.
“Yes?” His tone too casual.
“I hate you so much right now.”
He chuckled. “Good to know. Focus, please.”
The circle tightened around me. I did a quick count. Dread was a frozen stone in my gut. One to three I could probably manage, but there was no way I could hack my way through twelve Revenants with nothing but a small blade and a gun.
“How in the hell—” I started to shout. But then a new thought occurred to me. Tristan had said that the purpose of this test was to see how I handled my Chthonic powers. That meant he expected me to use magic to win, not brute force.
So despite the tarry ball of fear in my gut, I blew out a long, calming breath.
Okay, Red, I said to myself. Think dammit!
I was in a graveyard, which meant my Chthonic powers would get a nice boost from the death energy. Graveyards were also liminal spaces, so that would help, too, since the goddess Hekate, patron goddess of magic and Chthonic energy, loved a good transitional space. And what was more transitional than the soil where mortal bodies returned to the earth?
I pulled out my gun just in case one of the Revenants lunged at me and closed my eyes. I could feel them closing in, but I focused on calling my powers. The ground beneath me trembled, but instead of signaling another animated corpse, it announced the arrival of the primal Chthonic energies that gave me my power.
Magic snaked up my legs in black tendrils. Wrapped around my torso, my arms. Rushed through my veins and filled my senses with the taste of blood and the overpowering scent of soil and iron.
My lids flew open. My vision was tinged red as if someone had dipped my pupils in blood. Power throbbed through me like a second pulse.
The Revenants stopped ten feet back. Whether they were confused or merely curious I didn’t know. But I didn’t intend to give them time to get over it and attack.
A woman in a tattered lace gown that had probably been white at one time but was now brown and yellow took a hesitant step forward. The zap of magic flew from my eyes like two black lasers.
She exploded in a fiery pyre. Her horrible screams cut through the night like shards of glass. The other Revenants shied away and hissed, like animals witnessing fire for the first time.
The scent of burning flesh filled my nostrils. I smiled. One down, eleven to go. From the corner of my eye, I saw Tristan stand straighter. But instead of looking impressed by my display, a furious frown turned down the corners of his mouth.
