Page 118 of The Bone Season

I had rarely seen revenants outside burial grounds. They were similar to ghosts, but specifically haunted their own remains.

‘Thanks for coming.’ I held the lighter out to it. ‘I was hoping to see the edge of these woods. Any chance you could lead me through the minefield?’

The spirit rang in negative.

‘It’s okay. I knew it was a long shot,’ I said. ‘Can anyone else help me?’

The same vibration, more insistent.

‘All right. I won’t risk it.’ I breathed out. ‘Would you help me find the city, then?’

It started to drift the way I had come. Sensing this was the spirit of the dead pink-jacket, I followed. It had no reason to mislead me.

It was a bitter pill to swallow – just like the one I took every night – but north was my only choice. A minefield was too dangerous to risk.

The shelter came back into sight. The wind blew out my lighter, but the spirit clung fast. I took a moment to catch my breath, then set off into the other trees, torch in hand, my guide darting just ahead.

I had lost time venturing south, so I followed my new friend at a brisk clip. Merope was an unapologetic tyrant, but at least her drilling had forced me back into shape. I could hold a jog with relative ease.

The spirit pressed on. My ears and nose smarted with cold, which set my jaw to rattling. I could barely feel my toes. After an eternity, a dreamscape twinged at the edge of my perception. The farther I walked, the more I could feel. I released my breath in a cloud.

‘Thank you,’ I said to the spirit. ‘I can find my own way from here.’

To my surprise, it stuck to my aura, quivering.

‘Really, it’s okay.’

It stayed exactly where it was. It might be lonely, after all these years.

Just then, an eerie light caught my eye. It was cool and pale, like moonlight, but that couldn’t be it. The moon was in its last quarter, not full enough to shine that bright. I strayed towards it, drawn by the æther.

What I found was a perfect circle of ice. White and smooth, it formed a beacon in the dark, surrounded by mist. I took another step, my breath forming thicker clouds. My spirit guide circled me, frantic.

Avoid the ice.

I had an overpowering urge to disobey. I wanted to step on that ice, to hear it splinter and cave in. I wanted it to swallow me into whatever lay beneath. I saw myself sinking into black waters, deep enough to drown.

Come, it seemed to breathe.Come into the beyond.

A seam had burst in the æther, opening a door. I rested the toe of my boot on the ice. My sixth sense heightened, but nothing else happened. The ice was both an invitation and a locked door, unyielding.

A gust of wind ruffled my hair, breaking my trance. It carried a smell that tapped into some primal instinct – something physical, animal. It pulled my attention from the æther. My nape tingled. I turned, shining my torch ahead.

It must have been a fox. Now it was tufts of fur on bone, matted with blood, eye sockets brimful of maggots. I buried my nose and mouth in my sleeve.

A cold spot formed near the old willow. Liss picking nettles, watching the wood.I can’t risk it.

The ice had to be a cold spot. And whatever had killed the fox was out here in the woods with me.

I had just started to leave when a twig snapped.

It must be a guard, a red-jacket on night patrol – except there were no dreamscapes nearby. I heard footsteps, too heavy to be human. I retreated into the hollow of an oak and switched off the torch.

Gallows Wood fell dark again.

The silence pressed against my ears. I could still hear those footsteps, moving closer – and then a wet chewing, the sound of teeth working at a carcass. Something had found the fox. Or come back for it.

Behind me, the spirit trembled. My eardrums were straining to the point that I could hear my watch, the hands chiselling away at my time limit. Even if there was a Buzzer here – and it had to be a Buzzer – I needed to keep heading back. Staying low and quiet, I continued towards the city, each step threatening to expose my position.

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