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“He seemed very interested in your mother.”
Derrick gave me a dimpling smirk. “Which is why you tried to use your body as a wall between them.”
So he’d not only been listening, he’d been watching too.
“It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
He gave me a grateful nod. “I’ll corner the man and see what else he has to say.”
He stopped suddenly and I halted too, tracking his gaze further along the path to where a strange, oblong light hovered midair. It was golden yellow, floating in an almost listless manner, and there was a distant sort of song emanating from it.
I took a step forward, not sure what I meant to do. “What is it?” I whispered.
“Witch Light. They frequent this path. That’s why they call this Witch’s Walk. Stay still and it shouldn’t hurt you.”
“Where does it come from?”
Derrick’s gaze was on me, and he was wearing that same curious frown he always got when I didn’t know things he thought I ought to. Trying not to squirm under his scrutiny, I looked back to the bobbing light before us. In the gathering dusk I could see that the glow was contained, it didn’t radiate light, but rather held it in a sphere roughly the size of a soccer ball.
“Witch Light are the souls of the sacrificed dead.” Derrick said at last.
A chill sped down my spine. “Sacrificed dead?”
“Allegany has always been a nexus of power. The Bright have often used this area for rituals.”
The light drifted closer, and I did my utmost not to step back. The song had not stopped, but I could hear something else under it, a kind of whisper akin to the rustle of leaves around us. Or maybe the leaves and the song were matching, and the forest itself was mourning the soul inside.
“That’s barbaric,” I whispered.
“The CEB was created for a reason, Nora,” Derrick said. “Those rituals are illegal now.”
“Maker help me, I would hope so.”
The light dipped suddenly, coming to rest above Janice’s forehead, and we all tensed. Derrick’s grip on the chair went tighter and I could see him trying to pull his mother away, but the light seemed to hold Janice in place. Its glow cast all the hollow spaces of Janice’s face into sharp view, and her blue eyes turned umber. Her hand snapped out like a snake, boney fingers wrapping around my wrist in a painful grip, and I gasped as the song exploded through me.
It was pain and beauty and longing, a single voice crying a dozen notes all at once, and it was so loud I feared my skull would crack. It reverberated through my chest, buzzed in my fingers and toes.
Staggering, I was distantly aware of Derrick calling my name again. In an instant he was there, holding me upright against his chest. His hand came to rest where his mother held me, and I felt more than heard his surprised grunt.
The tattoo on his arm flared green, glowing under his shirtsleeves. “Release them,” he commanded.
Janice’s mouth moved and the voice that came out didn’t so much break the song as join it, harmonize with it. “He comes in the mouth of the night.”
Derrick tensed. Still, his grip held firm and the tattoo along his forearm went from soft green to emerald. “I said release them, spirit. They mean you no harm.”
My skin buzzed with the song. It cascaded through me, around me, pulsing with power and grief. My legs were too fatigued to hold any longer and it was difficult to keep my eyes open. I slumped against Derrick, who had to shift his grip to keep me upright.
There was a straining all around us, magic pulled taut, ready for a final release.
Janice’s mouth didn’t move again, but the voice came, melodic and chilling; “He comes in the mouth of the night.”
Then the light pulled away, zipping deeper into the forest, and Janice released my wrist. Derrick kept his hold on me, his tattoos slowly fading to their normal glitter, and I struggled to find my breath. Dazed, I stared after the witch light, but it had disappeared between the trees, taking the song with it.
Exhaustion swelled in me, and I would have slipped to my knees were it not for Derrick.
“Derrick?” Janice said.
She blinked several times, and it was only after a moment that the clarity in her face was evident. She peered up at us, her brow furrowed in question.
