Page 71 of Cold Sacrifice

I walked from the room to the outer office and straight to the exit doors, Richard at my side, Zach at my back. Trinity followed, with Clementina in her arms. “If you can’t get him through, I can draw a short passage using the remainder of the blood and dust. There’s a chance it can help.”

“Thanks,” I told her. “I’ll let you know.”

Max and Gracie left the desk to come and watch, though the only thing any of them could see was me. Except maybe Clementina. I’d caught her twice looking directly at the place where Richard stood. Maybe that was why Trinity had carried her to the exit doors. Maybe she could see through her familiar’s eyes.

Who knew with witches.

“Zach,” I said. “Will you hold open the door?”

Once the door was open, I walked through the doorway and turned to Richard. “Look at me,” I told him. “There’s nothing else.” I held out my hand. “Take my hand and walk through the thing that holds you.”

He strode to me with confidence, his eyes shining, his hand already reaching for mine. But then he arrived at the threshold and came to a dead stop.

His arm stretched as he tried to take my hand, but the rest of him simply wouldn’t follow. He grunted, the joy and belief in his eyes dimming. He got his hand through, then one foot, but immediately began to flicker as the office attempted to pull him back.

I could see his fear that it wouldn’t work, that no matter what we did, he would be stuck in the office forever. And forever was a damn long time.

“Richard,” I snapped, grabbing his hand. “Squeeze my fingers. You’re part of me. Focus on my face. Focus on the feel of me.”

He didn’t take his intense stare off my face as he managed finally to take my hand. He squeezed my fingers, and I felt it. I felt his strength.

“You can do this,” I told him. “Stop being afraid that the thing you want most in the world is going to work.” Because he wanted it, but he was afraid of it. I felt his fear.

Holding his hand wasn’t enough. When I’d carried the ancient little ghost out of Jared’s underground prison, I’d given him a piggyback ride. He’d hidden his face against my shoulder, held on for all he was worth, and I’d carried him to freedom.

I could do the same for Richard.

I went back through the doorway and gave him my back. “This is not going to be the most noble thing you’ve ever done, but you’re going to need to climb up on my back, hold on as tightly as you can, and shove your face against my neck. Feel only me. I’ll carry you through.”

“Disgraceful,” he muttered, but he did as I asked. I felt him there, and he was heavy. I was a strong wolf and he was a ghost, but honestly, I thought my legs might buckle beneath the weight.

And it wasn’t him, really. It was the thing that kept him inside in the first place. The rules of the afterlife? A curse? I didn’t know. It didn’t matter, not then.

He seemed to shrink in height—he was a spirit, after all, and could easily compact his own fleshless body—but not in mass. And each tiny step I took toward the outside seemed to make him heavier.

When I got to the doorway, I didn’t feel like I was carrying a ghost or even a fully grown man. I felt like I was carrying a bus.

“Kait,” Zach said, a spark of worry in his eyes. “Can I help?”

But I was afraid his help might interfere with the attempt, and I couldn’t risk it. I stepped through the doorway, and Richard’s groan of pain mirrored mine. Something really didn’t want him gaining the freedom he desperately wanted.

“You’re doing it, Kait,” Trinity encouraged. “One more step and you’re out.”

One more step seemed like an impossibility until I did it. The second I was on the sidewalk, I collapsed. “You’re out,” I told Richard. “Get off me.”

And just like that, the weight was gone. I was exhausted, though, and my muscles were weak and spasming. People walking down the sidewalk gave me a wide berth, averting their gazes when I looked up.

Zach stood in front of me and offered me a hand up, which I gladly took. I hoped my wolf would step in and give me back my strength, because I was as weak as a baby lamb.

Then I looked around, frowning. “Where the hell did he go already?”

Richard Slaymaker was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“He’ll want to explore,” Trinity said.

“Or he’ll want to do whatever pressing thing he couldn’t do while he was locked away from our world.” I shook my head. “I hope I didn’t make a mistake.”