Chapter B4C67 - Kill the Dead
A flicker of light shifted in the corner of Feolin Brightshield’s vision. She cursed and brought her staff to bear, words of power rolling from her tongue as she turned the magick that flowed within her into scorching flames. A ghost emerged from the building to her right, its mouth agape, screaming with silent rage. Near-invisible hands reached for her, tipped in claws. Already, she could feel the chill of its presence shock her flesh.
But only for a moment. Flames roared, and the ghost fell away, a piercing shrill, not of pain, but of fury as the spirit’s tenuous form was burned, its magick consumed by her fire.
“I hate ghosts,” she cursed, eyes flicking from building to building as she waited for the next one to emerge.
“How do you think I feel about them?” MacRielly groused. The northman gripped his sword tight in his hands as he took position behind her and to the left. “My weapons go right through them!”
“Your sword’s enchanted,” Feolin scoffed. ”At a good price, I might add.”
“Two days back in the fucking city and this happens,” MacRielly cursed. “I just wanted to visit me mam.”
“I thought your mother was dead?”
“The Magisters don’t know that.”
“They do now,” a cold voice stated from behind the two of them. “Shut your mouths and keep moving. We have three more streets to cover.”