Isaac shook his head. “I don’t know that word. But there are those wolves.” The three wolves slunk from doorway to doorway. “Look at the kitchen. Willow, Lark, and those must be Leo, and Amelie.”

“I know a way down to the kitchen that’ll avoid running into the wolves. Come on.”

CHAPTER 49

The Wraith

The wraith is inside Rookskill for the first time. It licks what is left of its lips. It wants to find the bright, shiny thimble that sits inside the pocket of the girl Kat. The wraith’s mechanical creation will help.

The winds screech around the wraith, bringing leaves and debris inside, and it peers through the whirlwind.

Ah. There it is, sweet mechanical, the wraith’s creation. And there is one of the children, a small boy, and his dog. But the three are spelled, frozen and mute. Who? How?

The wraith squints and then sees who, how. The fae hovers over the bodies. The fae that appeared on his dragon. This fae has a wounded soul and a lovely white scar and large leathery wings.

Oh, what the wraith could do with those wings . . .

The wraith bows. The fae inclines his head, then vanishes down the passageway, a dire wolf at his side.

The wraith waves its hand and undoes the freezing spell, and its creature comes awake.

“Find her,” the wraith commands. “Find the girl. Take the boy with you.”

Yes, it thinks, find the girl. Find the shiny thimble. Find the soul of the wraith’s beloved. Find.

CHAPTER 50

Isaac

1942

Kat led the way down a narrow back stairwell. The farther down they went, the more they saw that vines and branches and brambles had invaded the castle. By the time they reached the bottom, it was almost like hacking their way through a forest. And the sounds were disturbing—cracking against the aging stone walls, grinding over wood doorframes, the occasional thudding as a portrait was yanked off a wall.

“The wards are gone,” Kat said, her voice a tremor.

When they reached the kitchen and thrust open the door, they came face-to-face with Lark. Her feet were planted wide beneath her huge orange petticoat, her bright pink hair standing up on end, her eyes wide as saucers. She brandished a pair of kitchen knives, one in each hand. Behind her, lying on the kitchen table, was Amelie with Willow floating above, flitting back and forth. Leo stood on the far side of the kitchen, and the ghost cat zipped from one corner to another.

“Thank the moonglow and starlight!” exclaimed Lark, lowering the knives. “It’s been all we can do to keep the forest from strangling us.”

Isaac went straight to Amelie, his heart in his throat.

“It’s such a strong spell,” said Lark. “Ghillies can reverse spells, but this one is terrible strong. Ghillies have lots of hidden powers,” she added with a snarky glance at Willow.

“We are not without,” Willow sniped.