Aye. It's not what you think, though, lass. Don't fear it.
'Believe me, it's rather low on my list of things to be afraid of.' Ayaan leaned forward, her chin resting on her steepled fingers. 'You, on the other hand...' She fought the urge to look at him.
I'm your friend. I'm your best friend, under these circumstances.
'Friends don't hypnotize each other. They don't leave little commands buried in each other's minds.' Semyon Iurevich, the mind-reading lich back in Asbury Park, had bound her with a spell. It had been his voice she heard telling her not to kill the green phantom. No, worse than that, his voice had wiped the very idea out of her mind. He hadn't merely revoked her freedom. He had made it so it never existed.
And he had done so, she was certain, at the ghost's behest.
Is that what's worrying you? That I wouldn't let you throw your life away?
'My life. Mine,' she said. 'Do you think I like being this... this thing, this monster?' she gestured at her leathers.
I know better than anyone, dearie. Don't you come all indignant with me, when I haven't even a body to speak of.His tone softened, grew soothing and low.Listen, there's a game here, a deeper game than you know. You haven't even met all the players yet.
Ayaan let that go for a while. The ghost had power over her. She wasn't going to talk him into relinquishing it'that never worked, never in the history of the human race had anyone given up power freely once they had it. You had to take it back yourself.
Something else worried her, though. 'You want the Tsarevich dead, yet you made sure I would survive long enough to see whatever's in that silo. You want us to find it, even if it means the Tsarevich gets it. What's your scheme? At least tell me that much, tell me what you hope to gain from''
He was gone, of course. She couldn't sense him anywhere.
She went for another handful of spiders. When she came back she got a shock'something was actually happening down in the valley. A light had come on in the farmhouse. It moved from window to window, then emerged from the door, and revealed itself to be a kerosene lantern. The man holding it glowed a brighter gold than the lamp in his hand. There was no question in her mind. This was the wizard, the magician, the wadad who had enchanted Erasmus.
He wore a baseball cap low on his brow with the nameJOHN DEERE on the front. Old bloodstains decorated a white t-shirt and faded blue jeans; more recent stains discolored his tan leather work boots. His face was ringed with a fringe of beard and hidden behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses, even though the sun had yet to rise.
His left arm was missing entirely. It had been replaced with a tree branch covered in rough gray bark. It ended in three thick twigs less like fingers than the tines of a pitchfork. Dark energy surged through the wooden arm and it twisted like a snake. The tines reached up and scratched the magician's chin. He studied Erasmus, moving around the werewolf, tapping his sternum and the back of his skull. With his human hand he plucked a hair from the paralyzed lich's cheek.