Chapter 12 · The Price of a Memory

"Don't move another inch or I'll bury you in the same dirt as the rest of these failures."

I froze. The muzzle of a rusted iron crossbow was pressed hard against the bridge of my nose. The woman holding it looked like she’d been carved from a graveyard—grey skin, sunken eyes, and a smell like wet earth and old formaldehyde.

"We're not here to fight," I said. My voice was tight. "We need the third anchor. The one Milo mentioned."

"Milo?" She sneered, her finger twitching on the trigger. "That little rat doesn't mention me unless he's begging for a way out. Now, hands up. Slow. If I see a spark of that unstable magic, I'll put a bolt through your eye socket."

Beside me, Kane shifted. He was still bleeding from the fight with Valerius, his breathing ragged. He tried to step forward, hand instinctively reaching for his hilt.

"Stay still, Rook," I hissed. "She'll kill us both."

"I'm not fond of being threatened by a corpse in a dress," Kane muttered. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble.

"Corpse?" The woman stepped out of the gloom, eyes flashing. "I'm the Keeper.