Free Ghostland by Jory Strong Page A

toss, Elena’s brother threw the hawk figurine onto the ground. A hint of cruelty settled in his eyes. “Time to pay up.”

Four
    AISLING knelt on the ground. Zurael could feel the wild beating of her heart, but her hand was steady as she picked up the raven and stood it on the dirt. The spider came next, to the right and down, just as she’d positioned it earlier, east to the raven’s north. South was marked by the serpent, west by the bear.
    He rode the wave of her thoughts and knew whatever debt she owed would now be paid at a higher cost. And though he couldn’t touch the names of the ones she offered her blood in payment to, he could sense she didn’t fear the spirits represented by the fetishes.
    Her heart thundered because she was afraid of what they might reveal to her. She feared what they might ask of her, what they might demand.
    A tendril of guilt uncurled deep in Zurael’s chest. He regretted his part in this. He’d acted without thought when he’d pinned her to the ground and kept her from making this offering of blood in the shaman’s ceremony room.
    Aisling leaned forward to pick up the hawk fetish. Unlike before, this time it didn’t yield its position in the center of the other four.
    Elena’s brother clicked his tongue. Zurael’s coils tightened involuntarily when she picked up the athame. He felt the streak of fiery pain shoot through her arm and forced himself to loosen his grip on her.
    Aisling placed the tip of the blade to the right of the raven and drew an arc to the spider. She placed the tip of the blade to the right of the spider and drew an arc to the serpent, and then an arc from the serpent to the bear and back to the raven so they were all connected in a circle.
    “Take my blood as you will,” she whispered in a soft, melodic voice. “It is freely offered in payment for the aid you have given me.”
    A quick slash across her palm severed the lifeline in a symbolic gesture. Blood poured from it in an unnatural, steady river of red, despite the shallowness of the cut.
    It splashed on the hawk, then spread outward, long fingers reaching for the other fetishes. But even when it reached them, the blood continued to flow from her palm, to deepen and pool until the hawk disappeared and nothing could be seen but a perfect circle of red and the four carved sentinels.
    Elena’s brother crouched down so his face was even with Aisling’s. When his gaze traveled over her body and his hand went to his crotch, rage whipped through Zurael. With a hiss he lifted his head and opened his mouth, exposing the glistening, deadly fangs.
    John laughed. He stroked his cock through the fabric of his jeans. “Your pet’s jealous, beautiful. He might be long and thick, but I can please you better. What do you say, ang—” His words ended in a gurgle as the metal cable pulled taut, snapping his head back. A scream followed, a sound of such torment that Zurael’s heart raced in sync with Aisling’s.
    The noise ended as quickly as it began. Elena’s brother toppled forward with his knees underneath him and his forehead touching the red earth as though he were praying, begging for mercy. His panting sobs replaced the tortured agony of his scream.
    He shuddered and cowered and finally calmed. In a subdued voice he said, “The one I serve sends you a glimpse of the future and a chance to change it. The choice is yours but the decision must be made before you leave here.”
    Dread vibrated through Aisling as she looked down at the pool of blood. The surface was slick and shiny, a screen for horrible images to play out on.
    The breath caught in her throat as an orchard of trees rippled into existence. Her chest grew tight as the outline of a familiar house shimmered into place. The old barn and paddocks for the livestock followed. And despite the bloody medium the images were captured on, for one precious second the scene was beautiful.
    Then came the bodies.
    Spiderweb-thin lines provided just enough