Page 29 of Christmas Spirits

At the same time, Marc’s body that he’d been reconstructing folded into itself and crumbled, the magic holding it together suddenly gone.

Forgetting about the danger around us, I crawled over to Rhys as fast as I could. Laurence’s shouts echoed behind me, but I ignored him and looked Rhys over. Tugging his coat aside, I could see the blood right away. It had stained his sweater and was growing in size by the second.

I had to stop the bleeding or he was going to die.

Rhys grunted, his hands shaking as they pressed against his wound.

“You’re going to be okay,” I told him. I hoped what I was telling him was a lie.

He only stared at me, brows pinched as he tried to combat the pain.

Laurence and Arianna started hurling ice spells at the spirit in unison, working together to keep it away from me and Rhys. Not knowing what else to do, I placed my palms over his and glanced around for anything that could help. I found nothing. Only debris from the fight and winds.

Then I remembered my grandmother’s rosary. If there was ever a good time to call the guardian angel, this seemed like it was it.

Clutching the cross with bloody fingers, I said, “I’m praying to you, Elijah, Guardian. We really need you down here right now. P-Please, come help us.” Not sure if what I had said was enough, I added, “Amen,” and hoped my sad-excuse for a prayer would work.

Peering down at Rhys’s pained expression, I wished I hadn’t had to call him for this. Why hadn’t I just left those college kids alone and minded my business? Then, Rhys wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

No, but one of the kids might have. Or all of them.

But still…

It was just before Christmas, too. He’d said he had a wife back home, who was waiting on him to see family for the holiday. And a grandson named Paulie. I couldn’t let him die. I had to do something. But what?

“You have to finish the ritual,” Rhys’s strangled words were hard to hear over the commotion around us. “You have to finish it before it’s too late. It won’t stop. It’ll kill us all.”

I leaned in closer. “What do you mean?” I shook my head frantically. “I can’t—I’m not—I’m just a Medium. I don’t know anything about this stuff.”

Actually, I wanted to avoid it at all costs.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and I glanced at the door, hoping that at any minute, Elijah would come burst through to save us all.

Of course, he didn’t.

I must have said the prayer wrong.

I was about to reach up and try again, but Rhys’s bloody hands clamped around mine and held them tight. “Listen to me. You have to finish it. And you can. You may think you’re just a Medium, but you’re stronger than that. You’re like me.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. “No, I’m not. I’m really not—”

“I noticed it the moment I saw you,” he whispered, pain contorting his features. “It’s your aura. It gives it away.”

I paused. My aura?

I remember the strange glowing colors I’d seen after the spirit had grabbed me. Could they be auras? The energy every person or thing radiates? And mine… I had seen white wisps along my skin. Was that what he was talking about?

“You’ve seen it, too. Haven’t you?” he said. “You have to stop blocking it. It’s who you are.”

I didn’t know what to say. What he was proposing—it sounded ridiculous. Me, a necromancer? I could barely handle my Medium gifts. Raising the dead? No thank you. That wasn’t for me.

Blasts of icy air kept gusting overhead as Arianna and Laurence continued to throw spells the poltergeist’s way. When a black arm lashed out again, they jumped out of the way, and it collided with a stand of herbal teas, knocking them all off the table.

My heart skipped. That was way too close.

“You have to finish this,” Rhys said, his voice firmer. “My power won’t be able to manifest with me so weak.”

“I…”

---