The Curse of the Blessed

Chapter Nine

The walk felt shorter than I expected it to. We strolled forward through a meadow, on an empty dirt path that looked like it had been used for years. The sun fell lower and lower as we walked, and by the time we'd reached the farmhouse where Elder Brona said the ghosts would appear, treetops had begun to brush its lower edge.

A movement caught my eye, and I turned just in time to see a young girl's face peeking at us through one of the windows. Her eyes met mine. They widened as she realized she'd been spotted, and with a flick of the curtains, she disappeared.

Elder Brona led us to a field slightly beyond the farmhouse. At first glance, it looked empty, but when we came closer, the dead, twisted husks of plant life became visible. Lark wrinkled her nose, and I noticed the rotting smell that hung about.

"What happened?" Reed asked.

"We don't know." A slight shiver seemed to run up Elder Brona's spine. "The ghosts came, and the local family hid inside their house as soon as they saw them. When they came out, the entire field had been flattened to the ground."

"Did they say how many ghosts they'd seen?"

"Two or three, but more may have come after they'd gone inside."

Reed turned around, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the field. Lark knelt to take a closer look at the dead plants.

"Do you need anything else?" Elder Brona asked.

Reed shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Then I'd better be on my way," she said, nervously eyeing the position of the sun. "Night's coming fast, and these days, it's not safe to walk about in the dark."

"You'll come back tomorrow morning?" Lark asked.

Elder Brona nodded. She cast one last glance at the field, then began to walk quickly back the way we'd come.

"So," said Reed, "how should we begin? Do we want to make a plan to capture them? Do we want to find a place to hide and figure it out from there?"

"I'd vote for the latter," I said. "We have no idea what these things are. They might really be ghosts."

Bran shook his head. "Ghosts aren't real."

A light laugh bubbled out of me. "You can give power, Reed can make his drawings come to life, Lark can do basically everything with her music, I can make deathbirds do things—and you think there's no way ghosts are real?"

"Exactly," said Bran. "I'm glad you understand."

"But why?"

"Don't you think it's a bit of a large jump to go from believing in magical people with magical talents, to believing that people's souls are left behind to haunt the earth?"

I considered, then slowly shook my head. "Actually, no. I don't."

"We—the Blesseds—are right here. But I don't see any ghosts."

"Which is beyond the point," said Reed. "We know there's something that comes at night, and whatever it is, it's our job to get rid of it." He turned to me. "Fyra, you said you thought the hide-and-observe idea was best?"

"Yeah."

"I agree," Lark said. "It'll be better if we can safely figure out what we're dealing with before we try anything."

"Next we need a safe place to hide." Reed spun on his heel, and his eyes lit on a patch of bushes, which he pointed to. "Think that'll do?"

"Wait a minute," said Bran, "aren't you going to ask what I think?"

Reed shrugged. "The majority of the group agreed to the idea. Even if you don't agree, you're outvoted."

Bran harrumphed. Lark smothered a chuckle, and he turned to glare at her, although a dimple at the corner of his mouth hinted at a held-back smile.

"Didn't you use to be nice?" he asked.

"I had to adapt."

"To what?"

"You."

At that, he paused. "Fair point."

"Hey," said Reed, "can we stay on topic? We're quickly losing light."

"Right," Bran said. "We need to hide in the bushes."

"Preferably now."

"Okay."

Reed smugly led the way, and he carefully inspected the bushes before motioning for us to squeeze in.

"What were you looking for?" Bran asked.

Reed shrugged; Bran looked annoyed. Now I was curious, too.

"Aren't you going to tell us?" I said.

Reed glanced at me and seemed to deflate a little. "Thorns. I didn't want us to sit down in the middle of something that would fill us with holes."

"Ah," said Bran. "And here I was thinking it was something fancy."

Reed shot him a glare. "You liked Lark better when she was kind, huh? Well, I liked you better when you just sat there, doing nothing and quietly brooding over your life's many misfortunes."

"Being stuck on a quest with you is misfortune enough, nevermind having to consider the other things that have gone wrong in my life."

"Such as your birth, you mean?"

"And yours."

Lark, sitting beside me, tugged gently on my sleeve. She pointed to the horizon in front of us.

"Look at the sunset."

"Whoa," I breathed.

It was beautiful. Feathery streaks of purple and pink were laid across a deep river of amber, and the sun had dipped behind the black silhouettes of the trees, barely visible at all, save for a bright slice here and there. Above it all, the sky was a dark navy blue that quickly faded to black. As I watched, the light receded, taking the burst of colors with it. The stars appeared. Bran and Reed's bickering faded to silence.

A stick cracked.

Immediately, we all turned to look in the direction the sound had come from. There was no moon, so barely anything was visible but the stars and the dark emptiness of the horizon.

Reed whispered, "Can anyone see it?"

No one answered. The dark silence pressed in around us. My eyes strained as I tried to make out a dark figure, a floating spirit—anything.

"Maybe it was just a deer," said Lark.

"Probably," Reed agreed. "Or some other night creature."

"We should take turns keeping watch," I said. "Otherwise we'll all be too tired."

I could hear the slight rustle of Reed's nod.

"Sounds smart," he said. "I'll go first."

Lark moved around for a moment, getting out her violin and bow so she could cradle them in her lap, ready for anything. Then all was silence.

I closed my eyes and tried to fall into sleep's gentle embrace, but my heart was still racing. Adrenaline galloped through my veins. My ears were attuned to every little sound: Lark and Bran's quiet breathing, the wind through the grass, the trickling of a nearby brook. I shivered as the temperature began to drop, growing colder and colder, and... not stopping.

Reed's swift intake of breath seemed loud, compared to all the other noises.

"What is it?" I instantly asked, nerves taut. "Do you see something?"

He pointed to the field. It was no longer empty. A grey smudge moved silently across it, like a dust bunny, or a cloud. My eyes darted around as I became aware of another, and another, and another, all floating slowly, menacingly, toward us.

I nudged Bran and Lark. "Wake up. They're here."

Uh oh. The ghosts are here. Better hit that vote button quick, before they start haunting you. XD