In that moment, it doesn’t matter that no weapon has ever managed to wound a wraith before. I’m a Lunar witch, facing death, and raising my knife is instinctual. A last ditch reaction.
The athame sparks as it passes through the wraith’s ghostly body and the spectre lets out an ear-piercing shriek before it...explodes.
A burst of energy shoots out of it, knocking me—and everyone else—back. When it passes, something chinks to the ground.
A lump of raw crystal.
My hand shakes as I grip the athame for dear life.
I’m not dead.
How am I not dead? I stare at the softly glowing dagger as Reva’s words from Sanctum echo back to me, unbidden.
“A weapon infused and bound with the spirit of a powerful witch who owed you a debt would be powerful.”
She did it.
Reva actually bound Glenna’s spirit to the blade.
That was why she took it from my room at Sanctum. She wasn’t asking my permission before I left. The sneaky enchantress had already done it.
“Witch. Give us that pretty knife and we’ll let you in,” a lanky shifter promises from behind the bars at my back. His eyes are massive in his half-starved face, flickering to the tawny colour of his beast and back even though the cuffs he wears force him to stay in his human form.
I glare at him. Just how stupid does he think I am? A second ago he was happy to watch me get ripped apart and eaten by a wraith.
“I’d rather take my chances with the wraiths,” I spit back.
Another wraith rushes me on the heels of my statement.
I raise the blade, ready to fend it off. But it dives before it reaches me, snatching the crystal with a harrowing cry before retreating. The rest of the wraiths flock to the one carrying the crystal, shrieking their heads off in a piercing chorus that makes my ears bleed.
“Shadow witch, follow us.”
I’ve never heard a wraith talk before. Shock roots me to the spot as my brain scrambles to process the words past the horrible, scratchy voice that spoke them.
They want me to follow them? That’s a death sentence.
“The witch killed a wraith!”
The yells of the inmates are loud. Loud enough that soon all of them are eyeing me and the ritual dagger in my hand like fresh meat.
A few are working at the bars of their cells, trying to open them so they can get to me first.
Some of the smart ones hang back, waiting to see if it was a fluke.
The wraiths don’t wait for my reply. They retreat down one of the tunnels, their mist following them in a cold rush.
“Inmates, remain in your cells. Witch, remain where you are and prepare to be retrieved.” The guard’s orders echo through the huge pit which is the Claw.
They’re using the same system that announced the wraith’s arrival, the sound metallic with mage-tech. It amplifies the chaos of guards rushing about up above, filtering it down into the mine below.
Killing the unkillable has gotten me their full attention and sent them into a panic. They can’t let the only person who’s ever ended a wraith die on their watch.
At least, not before I tell them how I did it… My fingers clench on the handle of the athame.
“Stay and die.”The wraiths’ eerie voices echo down the tunnel.
I know they’re right. If the inmates don’t kill me for the athame, the guards will. My battered body might hurt, but it takes a lot to kill an immortal. I don’t know if I can take more torture, and I have no doubt that’s what they’ll use to make me spill my secrets.
