Page 55 of Thunder Road

“Stay inside the circle, no matter what happens!” Simon was glad the boat captain had left and wasn’t at risk. “That’s the troll!”

Vic and Dan opened fire, hitting squarely, center mass. The troll staggered, then kept coming, barely seeming to register the shots.

He swatted away the next round of bullets—aimed for his head—like mosquitos.

The troll roared and ran at them, although he kept his distance from the lighthouse itself as if the bricks were still infused with a century of fading magic. He smelled like the wet leaves and rotting plants of the forest floor.

They fired again, and he staggered but did not fall. Inside the dome, their protections kept them safe from the troll’s psychic and physical attacks, but maintaining the scrim required constant attention and the addition of power. It couldn’t be kept going for long without siphoning away energy needed for the fight or without harming the one casting the magic.

“Salt infused with the protections of the guardian energy will help keep him away from the lighthouse,” Simon yelled above the tide.

“We’ll handle Mr. Fugly,” Vic said. “Do your magic stuff so we can go home and get dry.”

Vic and Dan had brought a varied arsenal with them, including bullets etched with runes, shotgun shells filled with iron and silver filings, and a net infused with silver strands and soaked in colloidal silver. They didn’t expect that any of the weapons would kill the troll; they just needed to weaken him long enough to do the binding.

“Time to rock and roll,” Vic shouted with a glance to Dan to ensure they were in sync.

Simon had no idea how near the troll needed to be to work his magic, but Vic and Dan kept up suppressing fire to keep the being from getting close. All around him, the witches prepared for their spellwork, lighting candles and combining dried plants and other materials needed for the casting.

“He’s in range,” Vic told Dan. “Fire!”

The net launcher sent out a weighted web of steel with a coating of iron and silver that hit the troll with enough force to knock him to the ground.

“He’s down!” Dan shouted.

The troll roared again, a near-deafening howl that rippled across the ground and was felt through the soles of their shoes. He flailed to free himself. The net was large enough that it folded around the creature, making it difficult to find the edges and getfree. He hissed and shrieked, angry and clearly uncomfortable from the net’s materials.

“Uh-oh.” As Vic spoke, the troll struggled to his feet and banged its huge fists against the earth. The metal net cut into the troll’s bronzed flesh, and the corrosive substances burned a lattice pattern, but the immortal entity kept moving. He punched at the net and then screamed as he hooked strong fingers through the weave trying to rip it apart.

“I don’t know how long that will hold,” Dan yelled.

Simon couldn’t pause his part in the incantation to shout instructions. Instead, he sent an urgent psychic plea to the ghosts.

“Please keep the troll back until we finish. If he gets through the dome, we’ll die.”

The temperature dropped, freezing the spray from the waves where it fell on the ground. The ghosts who had followed them and the spirits of the lighthouse slowly faded into view, shadowy at first and then more substantial. Sister Petroula rallied the revenants, and they rushed forward, surrounding the troll.

Disoriented by the ghostly reinforcements, the troll thrashed, striking out blindly at targets that could become insubstantial and then grow solid to land a blow.

“Thank you. Keep it up. We’ll be as quick as we can,” Simon sent to the ghosts.

Several spells wove a similar, invisible net of protection, and Simon hoped it was even stronger than the original. Fortunately, although witches of different traditions and abilities lent their skill and energy to this new foundational binding, maintaining the power of the incantation was a much simpler ritual for Hardin and his successors.

“Shit—he’s out of the net,” Vic yelled as the troll shredded the last strands. The creature bled where the metal had cut into his skin, and welts rose where the silver and iron touched him.

The ghosts surrounded the troll, harrying him and withdrawing, coming at him from all directions. That deterred him for a short time until he let out a rage-filled screech. Then he made a sweeping motion with his hands that made the ghosts vanish.

Shit. Did he destroy the ghosts or send them somewhere else? Or just drain them so they can’t attack anymore?Simon didn’t have time to think about the possibilities, but he hoped the ghosts had not been banished forever.

The troll shrieked again and barreled toward the dome.

“Incoming!” Dan warned.

Simon looked at the others inside the dome. The binding spells took energy and focus, as did maintaining the scrim that kept the troll at bay. Exhaustion numbed him, and his head pounded. From the expressions of pain and concentration on his companions’ faces, he suspected that the working was taking a toll, draining their energy and taxing both magic and life force.

We can’t stop before it’s finished. If the incomplete spells don’t kill us, the troll will.

The possibility of being seriously injured or dying loomed larger and more likely than before.

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