Strong arms grab me around the waist and pull both my feet off the ground. The graveyard, the ground, the trees fly by in a dizzying blur of colors, and then I’m released. The world goes hazy, dark…

“Datgelaf, dadrithiaf… datgelaf, dadrithiaf…”

The ground beneath my face comes into focus. My stomach feels like it’s somewhere up near my lungs. My fingers curl in the dirt—the red mage flame is gone. “Ughh…,” I moan, rising to my knees. I couldn’t have been out for more than a minute.

“You’re welcome,” Sel grumbles, before returning to his chant. “Datgelaf, dadrithiaf…” He stands beside me, his fingers and hands contorting in the air over the massive roots of an oak tree. I look up to find that we’re on McCorkle Place, the northernmost quad. Maybe a ten-minute walk from the graveyard. “Datgelaf—”

A hellfox scream rends the night air.

“Oh God.” I use the tree to stand. “They’re coming.”

“I’m aware.”

Another scream, louder this time. “They’re getting closer!”

“I have ears!”

“We’ve got to run.” I take a halting step, but the world is still adjusting itself after Sel’s snatch-and-grab.

“No,” he says, “we’ve got to hide.” There’s a whoosh of air, and low, translucent double doors appear over the tree’s roots. Sel yanks his hand backward, and one of the doors opens, revealing a dark bottomless pit below. “Get in.”

“I’m not going down there!”

Without a word, he wraps an arm around my middle and lifts me up, tossing me down into the gloom. I land ass-first, pain shooting up my spine. At least the dirt floor is six or seven feet below ground level instead of the unfathomable descent into nothingness I’d imagined. Sel drops down beside me and lands like a cat—silent and light. He yanks down again, and the door slams shut, plunging us into darkness.

30

“WHAT THE F—”

“Shut up.”

“Why—”

One of Sel’s hands shoves me back against a dirt wall and the other claps down over my mouth. Hard. When I make a muffled noise, that hand presses even harder. “Shh!”