“Why, thanks to you, of course, little Raven,” the wraith says with a wide grin.

I recoil, exchanging confused looks with Anna. “What?”

“You led us straight here.”

“You’re lying. That’s not possible; he’s warded.” Anna’s voice shakes, and she looks to Rose, whose freckled face is nearly white. But the wraith only laughs a high, howling sound, her whole body shaking with it.

“Colin,” Rose says. “Your knives.”

“I…I can’t summon them,” I say apologetically. “Something’s wrong with my connection to the journal.”

Anna’s face pales, and the wraith laughs again. “Having trouble, little Raven?”

I round on her. “Tell us who you work for!”

The wraith’s black eyes grow wide as gaping maws. “You’re all dead,” she hisses, and lunges for Anna.

Max leaps from Anna’s shoulder with a roar, transforming midair. His translucent body passes through the wraith, who screams, but the sound is swallowed up as Max absorbs the spirit. The woman’s body crumples to the floor.

Max changes back and I scoop him up, knowing he’ll need the connection to me to recover. He clambers onto my shoulders and settles there.

Something moves in the shadows of the back door and we all whirl, but it’s just an exhausted man leaning in the door frame, his hands bound and his wispy beard full of dust from lying on the floor.

“Oh, thank God,” he says, adjusting his glasses best he can with his shoulder. “Now could you please untie me?”

After freeing who I surmise is Seamus the shopkeeper, Anna goes to retrieve her costume pieces. She returns with a black and silver mask and a strange look on her face, as if finding something somewhere other than where she’d left it.

“Well, that was certainly fun.” Seamus brushes a layer of dust off his clothing. “Now, would someone please explain why there was a wraith in my shop?”

“Because you didn’t ward it,” Anna replies, holding the mask up to her face as if expecting to see something on the other side. Rose watches her with a curious tilt of her head.

Seamus looks unimpressed. “You brought a war inside.”

“Technically the wraith brought it here,” Anna replies, looping the mask around her uninjured wrist. Her injury appears to have stopped bleeding, the cloth wrapped tight, but I can see her wincing with each movement.

“Forget technicalities!” Seamus snaps, color beginning to build in his pale face. Max holds up a single paw, claws extended, and rakes it through the air, making a very distinct feisty meow sound.

I turn away to hide a smile, then grimace at the movement. With my fading adrenaline, the wound on my chest from the werewolf’s claws has started to ache.

Anna sees it and winces, looking momentarily guilty. But what would she have to feel guilty about?