“I . . . don’t think I totally committed,” Billy said, looking as spooked as I was.
“What does that mean?”
“I think it means we’re sort of . . . on the fringes,” he said. “Like what Lizzie did to you. You’re not at the party, but you’ve got your nose pressed to a window.”
I didn’t answer. I was busy watching a familiar-looking Pythia stalk me through the brush. One with big dark eyes and long, dark curls and cheap little tinsel earrings—and a power signature that almost knocked me down, because she was unbelievably strong.
Or had a hell of a lot of acolytes with her, I thought grimly, as she walked right through me.
And paused.
Eudoxia, my brain supplied as she whirled, her usually pleasant face vicious.
“Billy—”
“We’re skimming along the surface of time,” he told me quickly. “She can’t see us, but she can probably feel us—”
“Then take us farther out!”
“I can’t take us farther out, or we’re gonna be ghost fodder! Plus, I only have so much power. Every time I transition, I get weaker, and that little demon bastard’s not here to top me up!”
“So what would you suggest?”
“Athenais! Lydia! Gwenore!” the woman called.
“Run!” Billy said.
“Over here!”
We ran.
It was surreal, not bothering to dodge the trees, just pelting straight through them. And straight through the three hazy figures suddenly appearing out of nowhere, right in my path. One of them, Gertie’s mentor, Lydia, stopped in her tracks and spun around as I passed, her black, witchy garments flowing about her.
And slashed her walking stick through my X-ray body.
I swear, for a second, I felt it—or felt something, like a rush of wind.
One that packed a punch great enough to send me staggering.
“Here!” she called. “She’s phasing!”
“So much for that idea,” Billy said as I recovered, which would have been easier if I hadn’t tripped over a tree root.
A tree root that was suddenly normal colored, and solid. Like the patch of ground all around it. Like my foot—
For a second, until Billy jerked me back—physically and into nontime—just as Lydia’s stick jabbed down where I’d been standing.
“Cass! Be careful! If they touch you—”
“Got it,” I gasped, ducking as that damn stick slashed through the air again, just over my head.
And then I was tearing toward the tree line.
“Options!” I breathed, because the river was coming up. “Good options,” I clarified, which didn’t seem to help.
And then I saw—
“What are you doing?” Billy asked as I broke out of the trees onto a rocky beach—and kept on going.