Book Seven: Chapter 83

“If there’s anything left of him, leave him to me,” she declared. Balls of fire now hovered around them like tiny moons, incinerating anyone who came close.

“You’ll have to fight me for it,” Quetzalli declared, her voice now far deeper than Ingrid had ever heard it. “I’ll tear him apart.”

Ingrid held up her wand, keeping it pointed at the trees in case something came out. She only used it on one occasion, when a night marcher tackled a skeleton into their path. With a burst of light, she dispersed the night marcher, then destroyed the skeleton’s skull. The bones rattled on the ground for several moments, then finally went still. The action felt small compared to the sheer magic pouring off the women nearby, but she needed to contribute somehow.

“Wait.” Ratu held up a hand for them to stop, then moved to the nearest tree. She held one of her fireballs nearby and scowled at a bloody handprint. “I think this is his.”

Quetzalli swore in an unknown language, then