Light the Shadows (A Grimm Novel) by Michelle Clay Page B

and sometimes persuade you into doing things you normally wouldn’t. Things could go from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. The graveyard was the worst place she could have come.
    Another rose up from the ground as he sprinted past a crumbling headstone. Its hoary grey face twisted round to snarl at him. Its eyes were dismal depths of despair as it floated up and away. It disappeared through the wall of the mausoleum moments before he reached it.
    He could hear them through the stone walls.
    “Join us.” Their voices blended into one woeful moan. “Be one with us.”
    The cadence of their voices rumbled through Sully’s ribcage and vibrated the ground beneath his boots.
    “You were never meant to return,” the devious spirits wailed.
    Sully smacked his shoulder against the heavy wooden door. It was stuck , or perhaps Micah was blocking it.
    Glass shattered inside. These guys meant business.
    “Get away from the door!” Sully kicked it down. The old wood splintered and showered the small room.
    An unnatural whirlwind blew dirt and debris around the cramped chamber. A few of the urns had fallen and scattered chunks of pottery on the floor. Dust and ash peppered his skin as the wind whipped it around. He shielded his eyes and spotted Micah in the corner. She was crouched down, covering her head as another urn teetered on the shelf above her. The clay pot shattered and sent another fine dusting of human remains throughout the room.
    A particularly nasty spirit leaned forward, only inches from Micah’s face. Her eyes widened, and she flinched when the tattered flesh of its fingers touched her cheek. In a time-tortured voice it said, “He’s here to drag you to hell, girl. Don’t give the Reaper the satisfaction.”
    A chunk of glass scooted along the floor, moved by an unseen hand. It nearly gouged Micah’s thigh as its jagged edge tore the material of her pants.
    “Do it,” the shadowy figures coaxed as one. "Join us."
    There was a depraved energy permeating the room , and Sully didn’t like it one bit. There had to be at least five of them in here, and if he didn’t get Micah out quick, they just might overpower her thoughts.
    Micah picked up the sliver of glass. Her mismatched gaze slid in his direction as her fingers tightened around it. A bead of crimson ran down the side of her hand then splattered the concrete.
    “I’m not going to hurt you.” He inched forward and allowed the curved blade of the scythe to slide into his hand. “Put the glass down.”
    He tried to keep the weapon slightly behind his back. It was too late. Judging by the way Micah’s eyes widened, she’d already spotted it.
    The modified blade was curved and deadly sharp. Its handle was short and provided much better mobility. Death symbols were etched into the metal. The main difference between his blade and others was that his was a part of him, and he never went anywhere without it. He couldn’t, even if he tried.
    Micah’s gaze was trained on the blade, but she had little time to voice any concerns. The spirits were closing in on her again. They were no longer happy with just taunts. Now, they swirled around, whispered their morbid suggestions in her ear , and grabbed at her. The sleeve of her blouse ripped beneath one of the shadow’s pawing hands. Another tore at her hair.
    “He lies,” another murmured. “He will enjoy bringing harm to you.”
    It was only a matter of time before they figured out a way to get her to use the glass against him. Or worse, herself.
    His blade wouldn’t injure these unruly spirits. It wouldn’t even get rid of them permanently. But it would scatter them. He and Micah might escape while they regrouped.
    The blade slashed through the first then the next. Each time the scythe sliced through one, it evaporated into nothing. Micah turned her eyes up toward him, and he motioned to her with his free hand. She scrambled on hands and knees until she was at his feet. One of her hands gripped the leg