Betrayal - By Lee Nichols Page 0,39

palm—then pushed the power into the blade.

A spectral edge of dispelling energy coursed from the hilt to the tip of the dagger, and I buried it in the back of the wraith’s neck and twisted. A horrible death-cry tore through the graveyard, and the other two wraiths paused.

I didn’t.

A ribbon of compelling power unfurled from my left hand into a noose that closed around the larger wraith and drew it toward me. It struggled and writhed, hands clawing at the path and the graves. It wasn’t strong enough. I yanked close, like a fisherman reeling in a catch, and plunged my dagger into its heart. Its mouth opened in a wordless scream, and I snapped its neck with my elbow.

The final wraith screeched and sprang for Natalie—I spun the dagger in my hand and threw.

Sparks wheeled in the air as the blade cut through the falling light and plunged hilt-deep into the wraith’s empty eye socket. The wraith melted to the ground, hollow screams echoing in the evening.

“Tell your master he’s next,” I said.

Then I pulled my dagger from its eye, broke its neck, and fainted.

I didn’t remember the car ride home, except for one odd flash of conversation.

“I’ve never seen her like that,” Natalie said.

“No one’s ever seen anyone like that,” Simon said, his voice hard.

I woke in my own bed in the middle of the night, and gasped in panic. Then I groped around in the dark, and found the dagger under the extra pillow on the bed.

My hand closed on the hilt and I fell back to sleep.

11

Nicholas woke me the next morning by stoking the embers in my little fireplace.

I watched him messing around until the fire started blazing, and let the events of last night filter through my mind. Our failed mission to find Neos’s final resting spot. The arrival of the wraiths, as if they’d been waiting for us. How I’d frozen when my friends needed me most, and how I’d finally unfrozen into a frenzy of destruction.

I groaned and lay back in bed.

Are you all right, mum? Nicholas asked.

I burrowed deeper under the covers. I’m fine. I just don’t want to go to school—and stop calling me “mum.”

Didn’t mean no offense, mum, he said, with a cheeky grin. I don’t think you’ll be going to school today, though.

My heart clenched in panic. Was someone hurt worse than I’d thought? Had the whole team not made it back? Why? What happened?

It snowed.

I glanced toward the window and saw little mounds of snow on the sills outside, and lines of sunlight glistening from the eaves. Omigod. Are those … icicles?

You never saw them before? Nicholas laughed in excitement. I heard there’s no snow in California. I can’t imagine what that’s like.

He tugged a grubby mitten onto one hand, opened the window, and broke off an icicle. He crossed toward me, the icicle clutched in his fist like a sword. His sweet, childish face shone with pleasure as he lifted the jagged shard of ice. Then, in a flash, something changed in the air, and I felt threatened, like he was going to stab me. I grabbed my dagger and scissored my legs to pivot from the bed, slashing the blade toward him.

I saw the fear in his eyes, and stopped an inch from his chest.

He stopped, too, the icicle almost touching his lips. That’s why he’d been lifting it—not to stab me, but to lick the ice like a Popsicle.

Oh, Nicholas. I’m so sorry. I—I’d never hurt you. I didn’t—I’m still messed up from last night. I’m so sorry.

That’s okay, he said in a small voice, and tossed the icicle into the fire, where it sizzled and melted.

It’s not okay. I slipped the dagger back under my pillow. It’s not even close to okay. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I wouldn’t hurt you, not ever.

I know. You’re not like the others. You care about us ghosts.

They care, too, I said.

Not like you. You’re better than them.

But I remembered the feel of the dagger hilt in my palm; I remembered the jolt of pleasure when I’d snapped the wraith’s neck. I’m not as good you think.

After Nicholas rose through the ceiling into the attic on some errand for Celeste, I pulled my laptop into bed, but didn’t turn it on. I just sat there, lost in thought, until Natalie knocked on my door and shoved inside.

“Finally conscious again?” she said.

“Barely,” I told her. “Are you okay?”

She sat beside me. “My neck hurts.” She moved