Page 69 of Spirit Storm

“Uh-huh. I know you do.” Not.

He’s still eerily pale, sleeps too much, and moves like his insides are breakable. I’m trying not to worry, but I wouldn’t be a card-carrying girlfriend if I weren’t secretly freaking out on the sly.

I brush crumbs off my fingers and lean closer to the laptop screen. I’ve been writing a draft email for what feels like an hour, and it still doesn’t sound right.

"What about this part? While the urgency of ensuring the lockstones remain intact is the Order’s priority, I believe the knowledge of how to repair them has been handed down within the families of The Nine. If you or anyone in your family knows about this, or have any ideas about how to find the information, contact me as soon as possible. Does that sound bossy?"

He tilts his head, considering. "Maybe. Depends on how they read it. If world-ending demon invasion is a hot-button for them, they’ll understand your urgency."

"That's helpful."

"Do you want honesty or encouragement?"

"Both simultaneously. Is that too much to ask?"

His mouth quirks. "For you? Never."

I read the last line again. My fingers hover over the keys, then pull back. "We need them to understand it’s serious, and that we need the information quickly. This trumps their everyday troubles.”

"So, drop everything and help you figure this out."

"Exactly."

Wylder reaches past me and scrolls up to the salutation. "Start here. 'Dear' sounds too formal. You're asking them to trust you with their family secrets, not applying for a position."

"What then? 'Hey there, fellow descendant'?"

He laughs. “Yeah, go with that.”

I backspace over ‘Dear,’ and think. “‘Hello' is neutral, right?"

"Neutral isn't going to get them to open up to you."

"Then what will?"

He grabs another cookie and leans back in his chair, thinking. The morning light catches the green of his eyes, but they aren’t nearly as vibrant and bright as they should be. The physical healing may have finished days ago, but I see the shadow of exhaustion around his mouth when he thinks I'm not looking.

"Start with what we do know," he says finally. "Show them we've done our homework. That we're not fishing blindly."

I nod slowly and turn back to the laptop.

Hello,

My name is Poppy Hallowind. I'm writing to you as a fellow Descendant of the Nine—the spirit witches who performed the binding ritual centuries ago—about a matter of urgency.

Tharuzel the Soul Thresher has broken free of purgatory and is systematically breaking the lockstones our ancestors risked everything to put in place.

I recently travelled to the lockstone site in Ireland with Freya O'Malley, historian for the Ireland chapter of the Order of the Arcane, and a fellow descendant. While there, I witnessed spirit echoes of the original ritual.

There was a mention of repairing the lockstones should they ever be damaged, and they said that information needed to be remembered and passed to the generations of descendants to come.

I'm not asking you to get involved in anything you're uncomfortable with. I'm only hoping to compare notes—anything your family preserved about the lockstones, the ritual itself, what was bound, or anything relating to them. Even the smallest detail could help.

If you're willing to talk, I'd be grateful for your time.

Best,

Poppy Hallowind