Page 64 of Alpha Exile

She shrieks in anger, lashing out and throwing us away with her magic. By the time I get back up and shake myself off, Delilah has stalked to face Delphine, the dagger in one hand and a flame curling in her other. The hybrid gets up and launches her black, oozing magic in an attack that Delilah burns through with a shield of flame.

I swing my eyes away from that battle and towards the other pressing fight. Kieran and Finn have gotten Roarke—for the moment at least. They're struggling to keep him down, Kieran standing on him in wolf form, Finn grabbing his hands and trying in vain to keep him still.

"I could use a little help here!" Finn shouts as Roarke drags his claws across his neck and leaves three jagged slashes behind. "More than a little actually."

I race towards them, shifting into my human form and sliding to a stop. Pulling the pack off my back, I search through the camping and scouting supplies I brought with me. There isn't much—we can only carry a handful of items back and forth between our wolf and human forms—but once Lance joins me and does the same, we're able to put together enough rope that we can tie both Roarke's hands and ankles together.

Which makes him a very dangerous, very angry, possessed werewolf bucking and straining against his restraints.

I turn to Jason, who's hovering nearby and clucking his tongue. "Is there anything that can be done for him? Since, y'know, spirits and the dead were your forte when you were alive."

"He's been possessed by a very powerful spirit," Jason says, floating closer to Roarke and staring down at him. "Maybe if that spirit were driven out because there was no more room for it. But I have no idea how... unless..."

While the ghost is thinking, my attention is drawn back to Delilah. She's ferociously fighting Delphine, throwing everything she has on the hybrid, who's giving just as much back. Delilah throws fireballs; Delphine tears them apart with black magic. Delphine sends volleys of pure magic back; Delilah throws up shields to block them. Then Delphine tears apart those shields, her fingers crooking in the air menacingly.

All the while, Delphine is driven further and further back. The look on her face is far from defeat, though. She's still cunning, calculating, and I can't help but think that she has a dozen more aces up her sleeve.

I'm tempted to go to Delilah, to help her out, but this is a battle only she can fight. She told us to get Roarke to safety for her, and that's exactly what I plan on doing—which means ridding him of the menacing spirit within once and for all.

"I think it's possible that it might work," Jason says excitedly, drawing my attention back to him. "It just might do the trick."

"What might do the trick?"

"This."

The spirit raises his arms over his head, his eyes going black as the darkest night. I stumble back from him, feeling a stirring in the air. The hair on the back of my neck lifts, and not just because of the wind.

I feel a sudden presence that overwhelms my senses.

Looking over my shoulders, I find myself staring into hundreds of dark eyes. The spirits from within the caverns are here, now, menacing looks on their faces. My skin crawls at the sight of them, each one focusing on a single figure: Jason.

"What are you doing?" I shout, raising my voice above the gathering wind, which whips around faster and faster. "Did you summon them?"

"Yes," Jason says, his voice deep and flat. Suddenly he's no longer the strange, goofy spirit I met in the caverns, but a true necromancer, through and through. "We're going to possess your friend's body, and force the spirit out of him."

"I don't like the sound of that," I shout, alarmed as the spirits begin to gather in close. "It sounds dangerous."

"It is." Turning towards me, Jason cocks his head slightly, every inch of him dark and menacing. "But it's the only thing that might work, so I suggest you hold your friend down and make this easier for all of us."

My eyes whip back to Roarke, who is now bucking and fighting even harder than before. Lance is at his shoulders, holding him down and struggling. Finn is at his feet, trying to tie his ankles together and failing. Kieran has laid down on top of him with his full body weight, but when Roarke frees his hands and reaches up, he throws him off without even trying.

Rushing over, I throw myself on top of Roarke. He howls and snarls, his clawed hands scratching at my face, my chest, my arms—everywhere. It's all I can do to hold him down until Kieran is able to stalk back over and lay down on him again, at which point I grab Roarke's hands and hold them tightly together, gritting my teeth as he fights me with everything he's got.

Lance shouts, "I'm trying to make him swallow more of the water, but he won't let me. He's too out of control!"

I think I know why. The spirit within him is resisting the attack on its presence. Delilah went inside him and nearly ended the possession for good. Now dozens of other spirits are about to try exactly the same thing—and if Roarke's body keeps fighting like this, his spirit may not have anything to come back to.

"Hold onto his arms," I tell Lance. "I've got an idea."

Lance and I trade places, and I put my hand on Roarke's forehead, grabbing the bottle of cavern water. At the same time, the spirits float near us, close enough to brush against my skin. I shiver at the sudden drop of temperature—something even Roarke must feel, because he strains and bucks so hard that I hear one of his bones pop and break.

Someone has to calm him down. So I close my eyes, center myself in the earth beneath me, and begin to murmur the magic-laced lullaby that my mother used when I was a restless child who refused to go to bed.

"The dark of night closes in, and all is well that rests within. Go to sleep, restless one, and wake when it's time to see the sun."

He relaxes imperceptibly beneath me, and I quickly force a swallow of the water into his mouth. The magic slides down his throat, opening him back up to being possessed.

"Go now," I tell Jason and the spirits, raising my head to look at their assembled mass, and trying hard not to focus on the individual faces of the mangled, distraught, and restless dead. "And once you've helped him, rest as well."

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