Hell's Bell (Lizzie Grace 2)

I hoped it was the former.

I suspected it was the latter.

Urgency beat through me and I quickened my steps. Up ahead, the vague outline of a building appeared through the gloom. I knew by its position it was the recently renovated rotunda, but it certainly didn’t look anything like that right now.

But there was one thing I was sure of: whatever was happening—whatever it was that I was sensing—it was waiting for us in that building.

How do you want to play this? Belle asked.

I hesitated. While I really don’t want to go anywhere near that building alone, it makes far more tactical sense if I go in and you hang back to keep an eye on things out here.

She nodded. Just don’t get dead or anything like that.

I’ll certainly try not to.

Good. She paused. The spirits inform me there’s something on the move ahead.

My gaze jumped back to the rotunda. Nothing stirred the heavy fog; if someone was moving, then they weren’t coming toward us. Seriously, can they be a little less enigmatic on this one occasion?

They would if they could. They can see movement. They just can’t see what lies behind it.

I frowned. It’s hiding its presence? Because I’m still not sensing any magic.

They’re not sure if it’s magic, or simply an ability to use the fog as concealment. There are spirits who can do that, apparently. She paused. It’s now running, so it’s obviously sensed either them or us.

I swore, swung the pack off, and pulled out the silver knife. Anything that could hide from the eyes of spirits was not something I wanted to confront unarmed. And while I did have the beginning of a repelling spell threaded around my fingers, it would still take time to complete—and time was something I might not have if the unknown entity decided to attack.

I’ll chase the spirit or whatever the hell it is. You go check the rotunda. But use the warding potions around that building, and be damned careful.

I handed her the pack, and then bolted after the spirit. Even though I hadn’t yet gone that far, my heart was racing so fast it felt like it was going to tear out of my chest. Fear, not exertion.

The closer I got to the rotunda, the deeper the fog became, and the more certain I was that death and violation waited within its shrouded walls.

But that was not my discovery to make.

I took a wide path around the building, but my boots sank into the soft soil near the lake’s edge, momentarily robbing me of speed. I swore and lunged back up the bank in an effort to reach more solid ground, but thick ropes of ethereal dampness swirled around me, pushing me back, impeding my progress. It was only when the charm sitting around my neck flared to life that I realized it was also attempting to bind me.

Even though neither the spirits nor I could feel the presence of magic, it was certainly here. I finished the repelling incantation and, with a flick of my fingers, thrust it out into the night. The fog immediately retreated. I ran on, every sense I had—both psychic and magical—searching the night, trying to find some hint of a creature who seemed as ethereal as the fog.

But there was absolutely nothing out there. Nothing except the thick gray blanket that crept ever closer again, and the vague hint of wrongness.

I began another repelling incantation, but before I could finish, insubstantial matter twined around one leg and yanked it out from underneath me.

I twisted as I fell, landing on my back rather than my stomach in an effort to avoid skewering myself with the knife. My breath escaped in a short, sharp wheeze of pain and, for a moment, stars danced in front of my eyes. I wasted more breath cursing, and then slashed at the fog with the knife. It instantly recoiled from the silver blade, and I was free again.

But as I pushed upright, something splashed in the lake. Something large. I spun around, my grip on the knife so fierce my knuckles were white. With the dark water free from the fog, it was easy enough to see the ripples rolling away from a spot at least twenty feet out from the shoreline. But there was nothing else to see, and certainly no indication that anyone—or anything—might be hiding beneath the lake’s surface.

Had it been a fish? Did they even jump at night?

I really had no idea, although that splash had sounded a whole lot larger than the type of fish generally caught in this lake.

I stood and watched for several seconds longer, but there was no further movement. Uneasy of the water—or perhaps of what might now be in it—I spun around and continued following that faint wisp of wrongness. But I?

?d barely taken a couple of steps when my tenuous hold on it snapped and died.

Whoever—whatever—it was, it was no longer within the range of my senses. Had it used the water to escape? My gaze swept across the lake’s dark surface, but there was nothing to indicate movement. Nothing to suggest anything untoward had happened within its boundaries.

I cursed again, then spun and stalked back to the rotunda. The fog was already beginning to lift, all but confirming my suspicions that it was linked with whatever had been in this park. Up ahead, the simple wooden structure reappeared; its sides were open and its tin roof shone dull silver in the night. Belle stood unmoving on the far edge of it, but I could feel her horror as strongly as if it were my own. And part of me really didn’t want to confront whatever might be causing it.