Colin vaguely noted the figure standing in the door watching the scene. He could not take the time to process it; he was too busy fighting his way to Sibyl. And the beings, whatever the hell they were, were unnaturally strong.
The blade was at her throat and any second it would tear across it and he would lose her.
He knew it.
He felt it.
The agony of the thought shot through him, searing to his very soul.
He opened his mouth, just like he did in the dream, to roar his denial.
Then, in that moment, the strangest thing happened.
* * * * *
Old Lady Griffin dashed into the clearing, wielding her cane like a battle axe and screaming like a banshee.
Everyone, even the figure standing and watching, even Royce himself, stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at her in stupefaction.
With an almighty swoop of her arms that was borne half out of fury, half out of terror, she crashed the cane against the face of one of Royce’s attackers.
Instantly smashing his jaw and his cheekbone, sending shards of bone into his brain.
Instantly breaking the dark soul’s dark spell.
From the other side of the clearing, the town’s midwife and resident witch, Esmeralda Crane bounded forward and moved her arm before her in a downward slash. With a flash of green-white light, the watching figure flew across the clearing and slammed against the trunk of a tree. There it stayed frozen, invisibly pinned.
Royce broke out of his stunned freeze and dispatched two more attackers, one with a blade to the heart then he whirled expertly and took out the other one with a slice across the throat.
Then Beatrice surged into the clearing with what could have been credited as a pretty decent war cry (if Royce hadn’t been so infuriated by her very presence) and she jumped on the back of the last of the attackers. She pulled at his hair as he blundered about in vicious circles, trying to dislodge her.
Royce, with immense patience and controlled anger, strolled up behind them. He grasped Beatrice by hooking an arm about her waist and pulled her from the man, calmly setting her down behind him.
He then buried his blade in the man’s gut and yanked it savagely upward.
Before the attacker had fully fallen to the ground, Royce whipped around to Beatrice. “I thought I told you to go to the witch’s cottage!” he barked.
“I couldn’t leave you out here by yourself!” she flashed back, her eyes, even in the darkened, rainy evening, he could see were emerald green.
He looked to the heavens, praying to the good Lord above for patience.
* * * * *
The wraith slashed the blade against Sibyl’s throat and Colin let out a ferocious roar as Sibyl emitted a blood-chilling scream.
But instead of penetrating, the blade glanced off her throat in a magical shower of green-white sparks, leaving Sibyl untouched and alive.
Then Bran flew from the curtain rod, a low, frightening, continuous growl rolling from his feline throat. He landed on the spectre that held Sibyl. The phantom gave a start at this turn of events, its hold loosened on Sibyl and she tore free.
Hissing and spitting, Bran slashed at the spectre with his claws and the ghost struggled to fight back against this strange, unexpected aggressor.
Then, the figure that Sibyl had seen watching from the doorway all of a sudden, with a flash of green-white light, flew across the room. It slammed against the opposite wall and was pinned there, frozen and held captive by invisible shackles. Marian, her arm lifted and pointing at the figure, calmly walked in the room.
Then, all of a sudden, the bedroom was flooded with people.
First came Rick, roaring in like a bull and, without even noticing he was battling a corporeal ghost, he simply started to beat the living (or not-so-living) daylights out of it.
Then came Kyle, who jogged in and took a look around, his brows lifting momentarily, he then swooped down on one of the two wraiths with whom Colin was still struggling and pulled him away.