Betrayal - By Lee Nichols Page 0,62

as I passed the block of brick buildings and little cafés and ran into the alley that opened onto the square. When I stopped at the other end, I heard a scream behind me.

“Natalie!”

I heard scuffling, then the thud of a body hitting the ground. I raced back through the alley, my power blazing, and tripped over Simon’s limp form. I went sprawling across him and smacked into a trash can.

I stood in a crouch, my dagger in one hand and a blazing ball of dispelling lightning in the other, but there was nothing. No ghosts that I could sense, no waiting wraiths.

“Simon,” I hissed. “Are you okay? Natalie?”

“Here,” she said. “I’m good. He’s okay—that thing came outta nowhere, smacked Simon into the wall, and knocked Lukas on his butt.”

Simon groaned. “Did you feel his power?”

“I felt his right hook,” Lukas said, cupping his bloody nose in his hand.

“I don’t know what that was,” Simon said, “but it was powerful.”

“Stay here,” I told Natalie. “Keep them safe.”

“Me? I’m a summoner—what can I do?”

“I don’t know,” I said, trotting away. “But you’re the only one still standing.”

Across from the alley, I found the Cambridge Memorial Church, just like in my vision—and now I felt a hard swirl of power inside.

I didn’t stop running until I reached the front doors. They were grand and imposing, made of ancient oak with iron latches. I paused and caught my breath and drew my energy close.

Maybe I should’ve waited for the team, but my spine tingled with warning as ghostly energy radiated down my arms to my fingertips. Something very powerful was inside the church.

I opened the door and the fog billowed around me through the doorway, then dissipated in the church. Stained-glass windows lined the walls, and rows of pale wooden pews led to an intricately designed dais.

I slunk to one side of the room and crept forward, the rubber soles on my boots completely silent. I passed a little niche with candles and considered lighting one for strength. I had no idea what I was facing. By the time I reached the podium in front, my hand throbbed from gripping my dagger, and my breath sounded harsh in the enormous empty room.

Three steps later, a dark shape launched at me from behind a curtain.

I slashed with my dagger as his fist came flying at my face before stopping an inch away. I didn’t wonder at his hesitation, because I was already pivoting and sweeping his feet from beneath him.

He slammed to the ground and said, “Emma!”

I looked down and was shocked at my discovery. “Oh my God. Bennett! What are you doing here?”

“Getting my butt kicked.” He stood with a grunt. “How about you?”

“Chasing some new kind of wraith or something. There’s this spectral fog … we don’t know what’s behind it.”

“I know. I got lost in it outside. Something was following me. I couldn’t see what I was doing, couldn’t dispel, so I knocked them down and took refuge here.”

“Wait,” I said. “That was you? That was us, Bennett. Didn’t you recognize Natalie?”

His face darkened. “Was that her?”

I frowned. “How could you not—”

“This isn’t really how I imagined our reunion.” He half smiled.

“Yeah.” I couldn’t believe he was here. That he had been the figure in my vision. He’d seemed so villainous. I’d thought he must be Neos.

“Is that my sister’s jacket?” he asked.

“Oh. Yeah, sorry. Natalie said I should get a new one, but—”

“That’s okay,” he said, his gaze intent on my face, like he was trying to memorize me. “She’d want you to have it.”

He looked like he’d lost weight, his cheekbones more defined and dark circles under his eyes. Still, those cobalt blue eyes—I could lose myself in them forever. Okay, so maybe I didn’t completely trust him; that didn’t mean I didn’t still need him. I stepped closer, wanting to throw my arms around him, bury my face in his neck, and smell his boy scent that was so familiar and foreign at the same time.

I managed to restrain myself, and he brushed my hair back with his hand. I felt my heart hammering again—but no longer from fear.

“That looks dangerous.” He nodded toward my dagger.

I sheathed it. “It was Emma’s.”

“Oh, right.” He nodded. “From the battle of the ghasts.”

“Who reports to you?” I asked. “The Knell, or Natalie?”

“Are they telling me anything you don’t want me to know?” His tone was teasing and unrepentant about spying on me.

“No.” But I wasn’t telling the whole truth. I couldn’t