Holin didn’t move. His face was deathly pale, his mouth locked in what Ethan feared was a permanent grimace, his eyes squeezed shut as if he was in pain. Rain ran over his cheeks like tears. His hands were rigid and clawed. One might have thought that he was struggling to move, to break free of whatever spell the conjurer had placed on him. But Anna—the conjurer—had wanted Ethan to stay. She—he?—was using Holin as bait, to lure Ethan to the wraith so that she could use the full weight of her power to destroy him. It was the only hope Ethan had for the boy; Holin had to be alive. “You didn’t listen,” Anna said, walking toward him slowly. “You didn’t…” She cocked her head to the side and sniffed the air. A moment later, she laughed. “Mullein!” she said, sounding delighted. “You think that a few leaves of speller’s herb will help you stand against me?” She shook her head, her mirth vanishing as quickly as it had come. “You’re a fool, Kaille.” “Tegimen!”
