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I come to a stop, dust flying around me, watching in horror, my weapon gone.
“Did you know I forged this sword?” Death says, staring down at it in his hand. “One of my many talents. My hands might be deadly, but I assure you they are especially skilled where it counts.” His voice gets huskier over those last words, dragging them out in such a way that I can’t help but think he’s being sexually suggestive.
“It’s not magic though,” he goes on, casually sliding the sword into a sheath on his thigh. “Just the power of magnets and a little starstone.”
Death looks to the guy on his right. “What do you say, Kalma? How should we round the fairy up? Chase her onto the plains where the Liekkiö will get her? Take her by force? Perhaps torture her boyfriend a little more until she gives herself up? She seems the type to doing something as stupid as self-sacrifice.”
“A chase is always entertaining,” Kalma says good-naturedly.
“I prefer the torture,” the guy on the other side of Death says in a ragged, squeaky voice, raising his skeleton hand, strips of skin hanging off.
I look at Rasmus. I want to save him, but at this point I have no idea how. I have no sword, I have nothing.
But there’s something in Rasmus’ gaze that burns. A fire that says he’s not giving up, that he’s going to fight.
“Hanna,” Rasmus says in an even tone. “Remember I said I’d tell you what I did to Eero and Noora at the resort? What if I showed you instead?”
My brain quickly scrolls back. The real world feels like ages ago. Maybe it was. I remember running through the hotel and seeing a wall of ice behind me and that was it.
But Rasmus wasn’t really asking me a question. He was telling me to start running.
I nod at him and then turn on my heel and start running into the forest. I hear this loud cracking sound, followed by a whoosh, which sounds like breaking ice and blasting snow, and when I look over my shoulder, I see a wall of ice where Death and his henchmen were, and Rasmus is running free. The iron shackles are around his wrists, but the iron chain has snapped in two where the ice sliced into it.
“What did you do?” I yell at him as he’s quickly gaining speed at an alarming rate. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?!”
He doesn’t say anything. In fact, he doesn’t even look at me. His focus is on the backpack I left behind in the dust. He runs right to it, picks it up, and then keeps running until he catches up and then passes me, booking it through the forest, leaping over fallen logs, ducking under branches as if he just powered up like Super Mario.
And just like that, I don’t see him anymore.
He’s gone.
And he has the backpack.
“Rasmus!” I yell, trying to run faster, not understanding what just happened. Rasmus could have used that Iceman thing during the swan attack, or The Devouress attack, and he could have already escaped from the chains. Maybe his magic had to warm up or something, or he was waiting for the right circumstances, or—
The ground drops beneath me.
I’m falling.
I scream for a moment and then I stop, as if caught in mid-air.
Then I realize I am in mid-air, suspended.
I just ran off a cliff, right into a giant spiderweb that must stretch thirty feet across a rocky chasm. I’m on my stomach, the sticky webs strung across my face, staring at a babbling brook forty feet down that’s half hidden by ferns.
Oh god. This isn’t good. This really isn’t good.
I groan and try to push myself up onto my back but it’s impossible. I can barely lift my head off the web, the silky threads sticking to my face until they finally snap back into place.
Okay, don’t panic. Don’t panic. Just because you’re in a giant spider’s web, doesn’t mean there’s going to be a giant spider. I mean the web might be huge but the spider could be small. Or maybe it’s like a family of small spiders. Oh god, no, that’s worse. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about anything, just calmly get up, and climb out onto the cliff.
I take in a deep breath and try to push myself up. It’s like doing pushups while being attached to the ground. Every single muscle in my arms and back are straining to the max, causing me to shake, the threads refusing to yield.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a rich low voice says from above me, now horrifically familiar.
I pause, still shaking, trying to swallow.
“And why not?” I manage to say.
“Because,” Death says smoothly, “you’re trembling. I must admit I’m impressed by your strength. You may have the face of an angelic fairy but you’re built like a warrior, and even I can admire that. But you’re also painfully stupid.”
