Page 75 of Time's Fool

“You aren’t in any danger,” I reminded her.

“Not from the mages,” she agreed.

I didn’t like the sound of that. “What other dangers could there be for ones such as us?”

“Any number of them. A great many . . . things . . . are attracted to battles.”

“Things?”

She glanced at me, as if unsure whether to answer. But then sighed and did so, albeit with the air of someone used to lecturing the dim-witted about things they should already know. “There are ghosts who cannibalize the dead for power, to extend their own lives—”

“As you did for me?”

“Yes, but I gave of myself willingly. Whereas some ghosts prey on others, taking what they want in savage attacks, as do necromancers who like to make servants out of the shades of the dead. Those are spirits who have yet to transition to the Beyond, or to feed on another’s life energy and become ghosts. They have little agency, and can be made to do their master’s unholy bidding—”

“I see.”

“—being powerless to refuse. And then there are demonic forces who hunt all sorts of disembodied spirits. The Rakshasas, for instance, who rip the soul to shreds like the scavengers they are, like wild animals savaging a carcass—”

“I think I’ve heard enough,” I said sickly.

“—and such forces are particularly drawn to magical battles, which kick up a great fuss in the Netherworld. There are those who can feel the ripples, like a spider detects the desperate struggles of its victim in the web. They’ll be coming—”

“Are you trying to frighten me?” I asked, my throat feeling like it might tighten up again, although from a different cause this time. I didn’t know how to fight this way!

“No, to warn you,” she said earnestly. “You are in a vulnerable state, being neither one thing nor the other. Yet, as faded as you may feel, you are a prize compared to many spirits, who scarcely have any energy at all. They haunt graveyards, barely clinging to life, absorbing what scant bits of power are shed by the mourners who occasionally visit. They make a poor meal—”

“And I am a banquet?”

“Tasty morsel. But definitely worth pursuing to a hungry spirit of whatever kind. And those who roam these streets are savage, with many of the strongest having long since forfeited whatever humanity they had left. I have seen them hover over sick babies’ cribs, hoping—”

“Be silent!” I told her, my former gratitude fast melting away.

She shot me a look. “My apologies. But you must understand the risks, and there is no time to be kind. You are in a different sort of battleground now, whether you will it or no. Would you rather go in unprepared?”

“What preparation can I make?” I demanded. “With no weapons to fight with, not even my fists?”

“Stay close to me,” she said. “I know a few tricks. And most importantly of all, keep an eye out for your body. Once back inside it, you will at least be in a battle you know.”

I would have asked about these tricks of hers, no matter how little I wished to, because no one in their right minds goes into a fight unprepared. But there was no time. Rhea had reached the end of the street, and we were there.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The street with the little ale house was much as I had left it, and yet completely changed. The houses, formerly dark and closed up, had wide open windows and doors, and lights blazing everywhere. And the cobbles, once so deserted, were awash with activity, as mages searched the houses in between attempting to corral the locals.

Some of those had come from the surrounding area, braving the storm in fear that lightning had set some of the nearby houses on fire. That was always a danger in a city mainly built out of wood, where a spark could cause a conflagration. But they were intercepted by mages stationed at the peripheries and soon sent off again, their foreheads smoothed out and their eyes unworried, as pretty little lies wormed their way into their brains.

Those who lived on the street, on the other hand, weren’t being dealt with so kindly.

Possibly because, while they didn’t appear to be magical themselves, they obviously knew someone who was. And as the Circle had demonstrated ever since their arrival, magic could be stored up in all sorts of ways, and somebody had stored a good deal of it. It looked like this attack wasn’t completely unexpected, because the residents had magical weapons, and they weren’t afraid to use them.

“Down!” I yelled at Rhea, jerking on my tether, and causing her to hit the cobbles again.

An ear-splitting crack was followed by a dust cloud, and when I looked again, the building behind us had a bite taken out of it, as if a passing giant had gotten hungry. Rhea stared at the smoking remains, her eyes huge, and didn’t say thank you. Although that could have been because she was busy scurrying to the building on the opposite corner.

It had a dark shadow to help hide us, which was basically the only option. I found myself wishing for some of the many choices the bridge had afforded for cover, only these streets had none. Anything not nailed down around here soon went missing.

“The alehouse is on the other end of the street,” I told her. “I’m pretty sure that’s where Morgan was headed.”

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