“Not exactly. Souls, Gossamyr. Souls. Disembodied and searching.”
She turned to look over the place where Ulrich had battled. Souls? The revenants cannot commence the final twinclian without an essence. “Like…revenants?”
“I know not what a revenant is.”
“They are—”Skeletal flying beasts with wings. She clasped both elbows. Better to keep that information to herself. “Why could I not see them? Did you see them?”
“Not in a physical way. But believe me, I felt their icy, possessive bones everywhere. Had you not dragged me away I would have been trapped until dawn guiding those damned souls to Hades. So horribly the same!”
“Guiding them? I do not understand. Be this magic?”
“Far from it. Let’s walk, shall we?”
Ulrich stood. Bell-wavering forward a few steps, he turned and groped Fancy’s flanks to steady. Had she not known him sober Gossamyr would have guessed him soused. “Distance, my lady, we need to get Jean César Ulrich Villon III far from this horrific place. I can yet feel them leering at me, waiting for me to stumble back onto their domain.”
She squinted, yet sighted nothing but gray shadows upon darkness. A chirr of crickets resumed their night symphony, and a snort from Fancy drew her attention around.
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