Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(73)

I shoved aside pots, lanterns, and clothes until I reached Washington’s leather camp trunk. I swung it open. It was filled with multiple compartments and packed with his belongings.

The commotion from the animals thundered through the hall. I was running out of time.

I grabbed the tin plates, forks, lamps, and medicine bottles and threw them aside, coming at last to a small black velvet bag. A peek inside revealed folded yellow pages, and without another thought, I pushed the bag into my pocket.

The floor shuddered now. The beasts were approaching fast. I searched for some sort of defense, and my eyes lit on a long, thin blade. Washington’s sword. It was meant for thrusting, not hacking, but it was my only hope. I dove for it, and just in time. When I whirled around I was faced with a terrible wall of white. The polar bear.

Behind it came the oxen, the elk, and the slithering heap of a walrus, but it was the bear that consumed my attention.

I retreated, lifting the sword, but my feet tangled in an overturned chair. I toppled to the floor and scuttled backward, unable to stand but desperate to move away from the approaching bear. Its head was so close now that I could make out individual teeth gleaming in the sunlight. It swung a paw and hit the chair I’d fallen over, smashing it in two and sending wood splinters flying.

I crawled as fast as I could, my sword no weapon against such a beast. Faster, I had to crawl faster.

My back hit something. It was an American flag draped against a wall. I was trapped.

Panic filled my mind. No more thought, only action. I hoisted the sword, prepared to stab and claw with all the strength inside me, but then a new fear impaled my chest.

Frost climbed down the length of the sword, and frigid air blasted into me. All I could smell was grave dirt.

“No,” I whimpered. “No.” I swung the sword at the polar bear. The blade was dull. It stuck in the bear’s jaws.

The white beast rose, jerking to its hind legs. I flew up with it, clinging to the sword’s hilt. I used the momentum to jump to my feet. Before the bear could crush me, I darted around it—straight into the oxen’s wicked horns.

“No!” I shrieked. I searched for an escape. Then I realized the oxen weren’t moving. None of the animals were moving. I glanced back to the polar bear. It was stiff and upright. Yet something shimmered above it.

The spirit winked into existence. It hovered over the bear, a warped human shape, and pulled out the sword. Then winked back out.

“No, no, no,” I whispered.

The air had turned to ice. It was so cold it cut into my skin and instantly numbed my fingers.

I tugged the goggles out and pressed them to my eyes. They were frosted over, but I could see. The particles in the lenses writhed and clumped into a sinuous, long-limbed shadow that floated overhead.

It held one arm high, and I craned my neck to see what it clasped in its dark fist.

Washington’s sword.

At any moment it would flash from the spirit realm into mine and strike me down. The dull blade would smash through my skull. I stopped breathing. My heart stopped pounding. My mind went blank. The whole world waited.

“Siste!” A male voice echoed through the building. “Siste! Siste!”

The sword dropped.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The sword fell toward me.

I leaped forward between the oxen as the sword clattered to the floor. I glanced back. The spirit was gone. The particles in the lenses swirled apart like silt in a pond.

I fell to my knees, shaking and overcome with relief. I’m alive. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I tugged off the goggles and patted my pocket. The grimoire was still there. But who... who had called off the spirit? I’d heard an oddly familiar voice.

The beat of running footsteps hit my ears. I slid beneath the nearest ox. It sent dust flying from its fur. Between the legs I peered and waited. The footsteps galloped louder. The speaker wasn’t Joseph or Daniel. What if it was the necromancer? Who else could control a spirit? Was I safer now or were things even more deadly?

The steps slowed, and I stretched my neck to see who came. An imposing figure stepped into the aisle. The sun illuminated him from behind, so I could make out no features. All I saw were broad shoulders and hulking height. He faced me silently for several moments. He could see me. He was inspecting me.

And then he let out an exuberant whoop. “Eleanor! Eleanor!”

My heart fell like a brick into my stomach. I knew that voice. I knew that voice! I scrambled out from beneath the ox. The man barreled toward me, his auburn hair glowing. A sob of relief flew from my mouth. I stumbled toward this giant of a man I barely recognized but instantly knew.

“Elijah! Oh, Elijah!” I flung myself into his arms. “It’s you! You’re alive—oh God, Elijah!”

I forgot everything around me. He was here after all this time, and he was alive! I buried my face in his chest, and hot tears poured down my face.

“You’re so big,” I laughed through my sobs. “And so dirty! Mama would die if she saw you.”

“She would, wouldn’t she?” He laughed and clutched me tighter.

“I missed you so much,” I said, still weeping. “So much, Elijah. I was so worried.”

He pressed his lips to my hair. “I missed you too.” He squeezed me once more. “Come. We must go.”

“Why?” I tugged away from him. I patted my pocket—the pages were still there. “It’s dangerous out there.”