Page 47 of Spirit Storm

We all spread out around the room.

My first instinct is to go back to the rune circle carved into the wall, but Henrik seems drawn to it, so I let him feed his archeological passion and I check out the altar table.

Before I touch the smooth surface, I remember S’Nark sitting here and his objections. I pull my shield back into place, then turn to the others. “Oh, and you might want to raise your⁠—”

Henrik touches the carving and⁠—

The explosion is incredible.

A blast of magical energy explodes through the air, a searing white light enveloping the entire chamber. The force of the blast hits me, tearing my feet from the floor, and throws me backward into the air.

Before I hit the wall, Asher’s arms are around me and I’m standing in the hallway outside the chamber.

He sets me onto my feet and checks me over with a panicked gaze. “Are you okay? Another second and you were about to crack your head.”

I swallow, shaky but whole. “Thanks for the catch. Now, let’s get in there and check on the others.”

The two of us rush back inside, and my mind struggles to catch up. The temperature has plummeted. My breath mists in front of me, frost spreading in the air before me in rapid, crackling patterns.

I rush to help Rowan up.

Asher locks hands with Orion and pulls him to his feet.

But before we get a chance to check in with Freya and Henrik, the Gates of Hell open…

Spirits flood the cave.

Not the gentle, confused spirits I sometimes help to cross over to the After. These are emaciated abominations, their skeletal bodies twisted and contorted by rage and purpose.

"Defensive positions!" I don't know who I'm shouting at. No one. Everyone. Anyone.

The next few seconds are wild as everything happens all at once in every direction. The fight breaks out, and the chamber explodes into violent chaos.

“What the hell are these things?” Asher takes a swing and his fist goes straight through one.

“No idea. But they aren’t friendly.” Spirit fire blooms from my palm, and I see one going after Henrik.

Shit. He’s still down and not moving.

I pull back and throw, my fireball catching the angry spirit just as it’s about to pounce on Henrik. It screeches and explodes in a burst of light, but two more take its place.

“I’m hating this.” Rowan’s having the same problem as Asher, her shadows passing right through the spectral attackers with no effect. “What should I do?”

“Try to help Henrik. I think he’s unconscious.”

I duck the swinging grasp of a bony hand and deliver a fiery palm-thrust into the chest of my next attacker.

Freya staggers to my right, but she’s not in trouble. Her attack is a whip of focused spirit fire, and she’s crazy skilled with it.

Damn, girl.

My shield takes a hit from behind, and I spin. The spirit is practically on top of me and I grab it with both hands, releasing a rush of flame to consume it. It bursts apart, it’s screech so much worse up close.

I swear my eardrums are going to bleed.

When I turn to take on my next opponent, I’m relieved to see Henrik on his feet. He looks dazed and pale, but he’s in the game and he’s casting.

A spirit materializes in front of him, and he throws up his hands, but another appears behind him.