were on a telepathic network with Death-talkers.
Interesting.
Before I could do much else but breathe in and out, the air shifted in the corner of my vision. I turned to watch empty nothing darken and twist, grey shadows of every shade from darkest metal to palest grey. A fluttering like feathers or fabric sounded as the grey mass of shadow coalesced into a more solid collection of swirling, dancing fabric.
The whirlwind settled to reveal a girl. She could have been anywhere between eighteen and twenty, but her silvery eyes gave away nothing.
"Greetings, J ess. Greetings, Logan." Then she turned to me. "And greetings to you, Niamh. I am honored to meet you."
My heart stuttered. I didn't want to be referred to as the Niamh. Talking about it was one thing, but people using it as my name? I didn't like it. Not one bit.
"Please, call me Kailin. I'd much prefer it." I couldn't help the slight edge to my voice, but if the girl noticed, she didn't react.
"Very well, Kailin. As you wish." She nodded, the silver in her eyes turning and twisting although her face remained neutral. "We can begin as soon as you are ready."
"Where would you feel most comfortable?" I asked, waving a hand at the apartment.
"The table is fine."
"Now, you have a personal item I can use to find her?" asked Nerina.
I withdrew the plastic pouch and placed it in her upturned palm. She opened the packet and dropped the strands onto her hand, her face remaining expressionless. That fight with Greer was certainly coming in handy .
Nerina closed her fist and sat against the backrest of the chair.
Silence blanketed the table.
An invisible breeze ruffled the Death-talker's hair, playing with the soft grey silk of her flowing dress. Everything about her was grey. Even the strands of her thick, lustrous hair was washed of all color.
She lifted her chin, her neck straightening until she looked at me. But she didn't see me at all. Her metallic eyes shifted color so smoothly, becoming a pearly grey, the change sending shivers up my spine.
Her fist tightened over Greer's hair and she opened her hand, splaying her fingers wide.
Nobody spoke.
I blinked as a grey-white mist rose from the strands of hair in her palm, swirling and twisting like an incandescent snake. It rose, curling toward Nerina's face as if she called it to her .
She probably had.
The smoke reached her and she breathed it in. It flowed smoothly toward her face, then twisted and broke apart into tiny little smoky dregs of grey, like torn bits of fabric. Then the sinuous shreds of grey disappeared into Nerina's nostrils as she continued to breathe in.
Nerina shuddered, her sightless eyes still staring in my direction. She let out a soft breath, more like a gasp. "I see her. A Panther Walker. She lives and yet she walks the Greylands." She spoke as if she was not surprised. Logan or Jess must have filled her in on Melisande's tracking results.
Jess leaned to her. "Is she in danger, Nerina?"
Nerina's gaze didn't waver. She just stared straight ahead, transfixed on whatever it was she was seeing, on wherever it was that Greer's hair had taken her. She puffed a soft breath again and whispered, "She is prey. She is hunted."
We'd known that was possible. A human in a dead land must be big-time demon fodder. But just having Nerina say it out loud made Greer's retrieval all the more urgent.
"So she is not safe," said Jess as she spoke to Nerina. "Is she hurt?"
"She was injured, yes." The Death-talker spoke slow and soft, as if she spoke in secret and didn't want to be overheard. "Old wounds. A few of them. They were inflicted when she entered the Greylands. But I can feel the wounds have healed."
"Are you able to communicate with her?" Jess asked.
Nerina shook her head. "She is blocked to me. Perhaps it is because she is still alive. When I perform the Calling, the soul I am normally trying to contact is no longer alive. There is an empty space within the soul I can fill, which allows me to
Interesting.
Before I could do much else but breathe in and out, the air shifted in the corner of my vision. I turned to watch empty nothing darken and twist, grey shadows of every shade from darkest metal to palest grey. A fluttering like feathers or fabric sounded as the grey mass of shadow coalesced into a more solid collection of swirling, dancing fabric.
The whirlwind settled to reveal a girl. She could have been anywhere between eighteen and twenty, but her silvery eyes gave away nothing.
"Greetings, J ess. Greetings, Logan." Then she turned to me. "And greetings to you, Niamh. I am honored to meet you."
My heart stuttered. I didn't want to be referred to as the Niamh. Talking about it was one thing, but people using it as my name? I didn't like it. Not one bit.
"Please, call me Kailin. I'd much prefer it." I couldn't help the slight edge to my voice, but if the girl noticed, she didn't react.
"Very well, Kailin. As you wish." She nodded, the silver in her eyes turning and twisting although her face remained neutral. "We can begin as soon as you are ready."
"Where would you feel most comfortable?" I asked, waving a hand at the apartment.
"The table is fine."
"Now, you have a personal item I can use to find her?" asked Nerina.
I withdrew the plastic pouch and placed it in her upturned palm. She opened the packet and dropped the strands onto her hand, her face remaining expressionless. That fight with Greer was certainly coming in handy .
Nerina closed her fist and sat against the backrest of the chair.
Silence blanketed the table.
An invisible breeze ruffled the Death-talker's hair, playing with the soft grey silk of her flowing dress. Everything about her was grey. Even the strands of her thick, lustrous hair was washed of all color.
She lifted her chin, her neck straightening until she looked at me. But she didn't see me at all. Her metallic eyes shifted color so smoothly, becoming a pearly grey, the change sending shivers up my spine.
Her fist tightened over Greer's hair and she opened her hand, splaying her fingers wide.
Nobody spoke.
I blinked as a grey-white mist rose from the strands of hair in her palm, swirling and twisting like an incandescent snake. It rose, curling toward Nerina's face as if she called it to her .
She probably had.
The smoke reached her and she breathed it in. It flowed smoothly toward her face, then twisted and broke apart into tiny little smoky dregs of grey, like torn bits of fabric. Then the sinuous shreds of grey disappeared into Nerina's nostrils as she continued to breathe in.
Nerina shuddered, her sightless eyes still staring in my direction. She let out a soft breath, more like a gasp. "I see her. A Panther Walker. She lives and yet she walks the Greylands." She spoke as if she was not surprised. Logan or Jess must have filled her in on Melisande's tracking results.
Jess leaned to her. "Is she in danger, Nerina?"
Nerina's gaze didn't waver. She just stared straight ahead, transfixed on whatever it was she was seeing, on wherever it was that Greer's hair had taken her. She puffed a soft breath again and whispered, "She is prey. She is hunted."
We'd known that was possible. A human in a dead land must be big-time demon fodder. But just having Nerina say it out loud made Greer's retrieval all the more urgent.
"So she is not safe," said Jess as she spoke to Nerina. "Is she hurt?"
"She was injured, yes." The Death-talker spoke slow and soft, as if she spoke in secret and didn't want to be overheard. "Old wounds. A few of them. They were inflicted when she entered the Greylands. But I can feel the wounds have healed."
"Are you able to communicate with her?" Jess asked.
Nerina shook her head. "She is blocked to me. Perhaps it is because she is still alive. When I perform the Calling, the soul I am normally trying to contact is no longer alive. There is an empty space within the soul I can fill, which allows me to
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