Page 11 of Hateful Prince

“How can you be so sure? We don’t know what my limits are, remember? What if I’m a dud?”

“Just try, Dahlia. Now!”

It was the sharpest her voice had ever been with me, and like any good pupil, I obeyed.

Katarina’s childlike laughter filled the room as she rushed in circles, sending wind blowing my hair in my face, and fear gripped my heart. Until I saw it—the faint glow in the specter’s chest. The center of her essence, what we might call her soul.

Gathering all of my will, I sent it outward. Tendrils, not unlike Cain’s shadows, wrapped around the ghost, binding her.

She fought, her voice a scream of protest so shrill I was sure my ears were going to bleed, but I used every bit of strength I had to hold her.

“Give me the bottle,” I gritted out.

Masterson held the jar out to me, but as I attempted to take it, the glass slipped and shattered on the floor.

“Fuck!”

“We need another vessel,” Masterson muttered, eyes sweeping around the room frantically.

“Don’t you have another jar?”

“No? Why would I? But I know where one might be. Hold her there. I’ll be right back.” Masterson rushed from the room, leaving me holding an angry, petulant ghost child.

Her laughter swelled, joining the tickle of energy along my skin. Shit.

I wasn’t sure how long I could hold on to her. It was already too much. Like the build of a lightning strike. Or the threat of a sneeze.

Wait.

Oh no. Not now.

Pressure built behind my eyes, the tip of my nose tingling.

It was a fucking sneeze.

The ghost laughed.

I couldn’t hold back. I sneezed, eyes closing, body jerking, focus vanishing.

When I opened my eyes again, Katarina was nowhere to be found.

Oh fuck.

Masterson’s office was eerily quiet. I didn’t trust it.

“Hello?” I called, my voice betraying my nerves.

Silence.

Masterson rushed back into the room, hair a frizzy mess around her flushed face. “Where is she?”

“I, uh, don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“She got away.”

“This isn’t good. We have to find her.”

---