Betrayal - By Lee Nichols Page 0,67

of compelling force to crash into the wraiths, funneling them over his head to slam into the walls.

Simon’s bursts of dispelling energy weren’t much stronger than when I first met him—but he’d learned to aim them for maximum effect. He tore through a wraith in two seconds as summoning energy erupted from Natalie.

I dispelled the wraith trying to claw Lukas in the back, and Coby and the ghost jocks materialized and demolished the last one.

And that was that. Just seconds after they’d attacked, we won. But it was too easy. There had to be more than this.

“Tell Coby and his team to scout the area,” Simon told me. “We need to find Neos—and the siren.” He swallowed. “And any survivors from the Knell.”

You okay with scouting? I asked Coby.

No problem, he said, and led the jocks through a wall.

We swept the bottom floor, then went upstairs and checked the billiard room, the library, and a sitting room with views of a barren autumn garden. Then onto another set of stairs. Halfway up, I felt my anxiety ebb and I paused to smell a vase of roses on the landing.

We were going to win. This wasn’t even hard. We didn’t need to worry so much, or fight so hard. We didn’t really need anything. This was all going to work out.

“Um, guys?” Natalie said, eyeing me.

She nattered a few words I couldn’t quite make out above the humming in my head. And the guys got all concerned, for no reason in particular, with Simon inflating a bubble of dispelling magic and Lukas raking the walls with compelling force.

Then the siren appeared at the head of the stairs. She looked like that old silent-movie star with the bobbed hair, Louise somebody, except she wore a bright blue baby-doll dress, thigh-high black stockings, and faded black Converse All Stars.

Sweet Emma, my gemma, she said, her face shining with love and concern. You don’t need them. You don’t need anyone.

Simon loosed a burst of dispelling power that she didn’t seem to notice, then Lukas blasted compelling magic at her, and she faltered.

But I need you, she continued. I only want to talk and he’s trying to kill me. Please! Please help me.

“Stop that,” I told Lukas.

Lukas grunted and doubled his attack, and the siren fell to her knees, weeping in pain. Please, please, she begged, as Lukas stepped closer.

“I said stop,” I shouted, and slammed the heel of my hand into Lukas’s chest.

He staggered backward and tumbled down the stairs to the landing, where he lay in a moaning heap.

“Emma!” Natalie grabbed my arm. “Look at me. She’s in your mind, the siren’s controlling you—”

I head-butted her, and she dropped where she stood, her forehead already red and swelling. Then I turned toward Simon, who ignored me, focusing all his meager power on the siren. His eyeglasses flashed and he muttered under his breath, while I spun into one of the unarmed stances that the Rake taught me.

Then I stopped, as the song in my head faded. Instead of focusing her power on controlling me, the siren was focused on fending off Simon’s attack. I stood motionless, caught between her will and my own.

With the echoes of her lullaby ringing in my mind, I couldn’t fight her—but I knew what was happening now, and I kept myself from attacking Simon.

Instead, I stood there, completely useless. Rooting for him to beat her, but still unable to force the siren completely from my mind and help him.

Simon had never been powerful—and the siren shrugged off his blasts. I felt her lullaby grow louder and more persuasive as Simon uttered a few curses and threw everything into one last barrage. Her laughter was low and melodious, and she didn’t give an inch.

Until Coby and the ghost jocks returned.

They flashed through a wall of portraits and I said, Thank God! Stop her!

But Coby said, I’m sorry, Emma.

And with gleeful grins, the ghost jocks slammed into Simon as Coby dove at me. Still under the siren’s influence, I couldn’t defend myself as he grabbed my arms and clamped them behind my back.

I felt the tingle of ghostburn, but he managed to use my sleeves to pin me without singeing my skin. He shoved me toward the second floor, and I heard Simon behind me, calling for help as the ghost jocks kicked him.

I stumbled forward, unable to comprehend what was happening. I couldn’t reconcile my ideal of Coby—the guy I’d trusted completely—with what was happening. This wasn’t Coby; he’d