The air was dead still, like an airtight tomb.

No.

That was a…bad…example.

It was like that, but the idea of comparing the entire town and its surrounding area to a tomb seemed too ominous for what we were doing.

I tried to think of anything happy, cheerful, and alive that would also include the eerie atmosphere of a twilight rotting into an early night where the air was too scared to move.

Then I decided maybe I didn’t need to have exactly the right poetic image for a time like this.

My grip tightened on the sledge handle, making the leather creak.

That tiny noise seemed loud to me, even though there was no breeze to carry it further.

Olivia had managed to rustle up some kind of a magical tool, and Noctis had paid an insane amount to have it shipped in pronto because “overnight” was absolutely, positively not good enough. When the thing arrived, I was not allowed to stand within five feet of it for fear I might feel compelled to touch it and ruin everything.

I would have felt insulted by that, but I was too busy wrestling with Kappa, who wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

He wasn’t even allowed to see it.

Olivia said it would stop the wind.

Conrad, the ghosts, and I had been approaching the edge of town when Noctis set it off. The choking stillness descended in an instant.

We had no proof that witchcraft could trump wendigo magic, but we had to try.

Twenty minutes had passed. That was more than enough time for me to learn to envy the children’s patience. They sat on the bed of the sledge, never moving, never speaking.

I had tried to talk Jacob and Jan into staying back where it was safe—Anna, alone, should have been enough to tempt the monster—but the boys insisted that they stayed together. Much to my frustration, Anna agreed with them, and when I had appealed to Jacky, he said that the wendigo would be more likely to take the bait if all three children were there, even if it suspected a trap.

“We have to make it worth it. We may not get another chance.”

The chance was already waning. A large-area spell doesn’t last for long. The witch who’d created the tool told us we could hope for a wind-free hour, but she could only guarantee us forty-five minutes. Under normal circumstances.

And now twenty-five minutes of it were gone.

My nervous anticipation had simmered down to a low-level tension, but my senses were still on high alert, so when Conrad twitched, I saw it out of the corner of my eye. My head whipped around to look at him.

He raised his nose.

I turned. The town was far enough away, all I could see were the shapes of light and shadow. A part of one of those shadows looked thicker than the rest. As I stared, the black figure moved. It was running toward us and coming fast.

I let out a panicked “Ulp!” that should have been a more articulate “Go!” but Conrad got the message. While Conrad heaved on the line, I tried to push from the back. The runners broke out from the snow and started moving. I ran behind the sledge, pushing for as long as I could, then, when it started to pull away, I jumped on the foot boards.

Our course was made of level or downhill runs, so we were able to keep ahead of the wendigo, in spite of its head start. That was no lucky accident. We had spent all of yesterday and most of that day going over every last detail of our plan, trying to manipulate everything to our best advantage.

The biggest debate had been about using the sledge. A car would have been faster, but we wanted the confrontation to happen away from the roads, and there was too much risk that the SUV might get caught in a drift somewhere. The sledge wouldn’t have that problem.

We raced away from the town—away from all those innocent people.

Every minute I would glance behind us to see if the wendigo was still there. It was catching up, but I didn’t bother telling Conrad to hurry. He was already running for all his worth. The sledge shuddered from the speed.

The next time I glanced back, the creature was gone. A cold sense of foreboding clenched around my stomach. I scanned the shadows of the trees around us, looking for any movement.

Come on, eyes, don’t let me down now!

When I saw the whip of darkness moving to my left, I yelled for Conrad to turn. He shifted our course to the right so fast that I had to lean so the sledge wouldn’t tip.

I should have had a year’s worth of experience before attempting that ride, but desperation made me brave things I never would have tried otherwise—dodging across the landscape, threading our way between the trees, taking jumps that made the sledge shake when it landed.

My eyes only faced forward one second at a time. The rest of the time, I was watching our sides, hoping to catch any hint of where the wendigo might be.

I glimpsed another flutter in the darkness and yelled for Conrad to go right, but he didn’t change course. That meant we were too close to our destination. We couldn’t let the wendigo drive us to where he wanted to go; we had to force him to follow us to where the others were waiting.

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Our straight-line path was decided. The last leg of the race would go only to the swift. Conrad’s wolf form verses the windless wendigo.

I looked behind me. It was there. The blur of forms surged toward us. It was close enough I could see the leak of its warm breath curl around its horns.

I faced forward, praying I might see the end of our run—an end that didn’t involve claws raking down my back.

There it was! The green shimmer of waiting magic. The circle was huge—easily fifteen feet across. Olivia and Iset stood on the other side of it, watching as we sped toward them.

The magic circle rippled like water as we sped into it, then past it. I hauled on the break as Conrad slowed.

Before the sledge had completely stopped moving, I jumped off and stumbled toward Conrad.

I had two jobs. Only two jobs. First, get Conrad free.

I bit both mittens and ripped my hands out so I could get the toggle out of his tug line as fast as possible.

Once he was loose, we turned and ran back to the circle. The ghosts were right behind us. The children and I stopped by Olivia. Conrad sprinted to where Darius was struggling with the wendigo.

My second job was to watch.

Had it smelled witchcraft? Or was it like me, and it could see the magic circle?

For whatever reason, it had stopped before charging into the trap. We had wondered if it would, so Darius had decided to be there, in case it needed encouragement.

The count’s encouragement was terrifying. He was using all his vampire strength to force the monster into the circle. The two brutes wrestled and pulled on each other with enough power to shift boulders.

The wendigo had kept its strength and speed even in its human body, but the longer it fought with Darius, the more I could see it was missing its claws and teeth. Its beast form tried to bite and slash, but the weapons made no mark.

When Darius wrapped his arms around the creature’s chest, pinning its arms to its side, I saw the wendigo start to lift away from the human husk.

“Darius, it’s trying to leave!”

Conrad rushed in, crunched his jaws around the man’s thigh, and jerked him toward the circle.

The pain of the bite robbed the wendigo of its power, and it was dragged past the glowing line.

The circle turned a vivid blue, and the spell smashed the wendigo to the ground. The force holding it there was so powerful that its chest couldn’t flex as it panted.

Conrad and Darius ran out of the circle. Olivia walked forward.

She didn’t speak. She only held out her hand and stared at the thing.

The human husk didn’t move, but the wendigo started thrashing.

Beside me, Iset said, “Is it working?”

“It’s doing something,” I said.

Iset took a step toward Olivia. “Keep going.”

Darius and Conrad stayed at the edge of the circle, watching for any hint of who was winning or losing the invisible struggle.

I could see nothing between Olivia and the monster, but a faint aura started to gather around her, and the creature’s thrashing, which had been scattered in all directions, became focused away from the witch, like it was yanking against a leash.

I ran forward. “I think it’s working!”

Iset removed the lid from the time capsule.

Olivia wasn’t even trembling. She was as rigid as a wire stretched to its breaking point. The wendigo had stopped thrashing, but it was still resisting. Its head and shoulders had been pulled free from its borrowed body, but the rest of it strained to stay where it was. Its claws dug through the body, into the ground below it.

Olivia whispered, “Come.”

The strain between them was strong enough that I thought the air might rip apart, but the wendigo didn’t move. Olivia’s face was pale. The sheen of sweat on her face shimmered in the blue light.

I moaned.

“What is it?” Iset said.

“I…don’t think she’s strong enough.”

Then, beside me, around me, like the fleeting spirits of three winter hares, the children dashed into the circle.

“No!” I screamed

Iset dropped the capsule and grabbed my arm as I lunged after them.

“You can’t,” she yelled in my ear. “They’re spirits! There’s nothing you can do!”

“My ghosts,” I cried.

The children danced around the creature. Their translucent forms looked like flashes of moonlight against the shadows. When the wendigo lifted its claws to swipe at Jan, it lurched further from the human body pinned to the ground.

It drove its claws back into the earth. Iset squeezed my arm when she saw the mounds of dirt and snow bubble up, seemingly from nowhere.

It couldn’t lift its claws.

With an abrupt laugh, the children rushed in. Jacob and Jan each grabbed one of its shoulders. When the thing tried to bite Anna, she grabbed its horns and pulled, forcing its long face into the ground.

Anna called the commands. They all heaved together.

“Emerra?” Olivia yelled.

“It’s coming!” I felt a breeze chill the tears on my cheeks. “We have to get it now—the wind’s waking up.”

Iset and I dropped to the ground to pick up the container. I passed her the lid. She walked to the edge of the circle and knelt down while I stood over her.

“Get ready,” I said.

The human husk was pulled so hard, it was bent like a longbow. The wendigo was holding on by nothing but the tips of its claws. Then it was suddenly free. The human body slammed back to the earth while the wendigo tumbled into the wind that rose to catch it.

“Now!” I yelled.

The children skipped out of reach, like they were playing—like it was nothing but one of our hopeless games of tag where I could never touch them. The wendigo’s claws and teeth found only air as it was dragged into the small time capsule, despite the storm-force wind rushing the other way.

Iset slammed the lid on. The wind died.

The light from the circle faded, and all I could hear was Iset chanting as she locked and sealed the container.

Darius, Olivia and I gathered around her. Olivia took out a hunk of clay from her coat pocket and handed to Iset. Iset pressed it over the lip and body of the capsule. The clay was thick enough to create a flat surface.

From the other pocket, Olivia took out a worn stone.

I recognized it from the library. The first time I saw it, I’d asked Iset what it was. She’d said it was her seal. Her voice had been casual, but when all the hairs on my arms stood up, I decided to put it back and never touch it again.

Olivia handed Iset the seal. The mummy pressed the stamp into the clay, and for a moment, the color of the world waned. The gray tone was gone before my brain had even registered it was there.

As I stared at the capsule, I thought I heard a whisper.

“Iset?” Darius said.

She looked up at me for confirmation. When I nodded, she said to the vampire, “It’s done.”

Olivia collapsed. No grace. No dignity. She went from standing to sitting on the ground in one flop.

“I’m tired,” she groaned.

I stood over her. “You’re amazing—that’s what you are, Olivia Oliversen. You’re more stubborn than a monster!”

She blushed.

“And thank god for it,” Darius said.

Darius and I turned. He walked over to the ruined figure still lying on the ground. I ran over to Anna, Jacob, and Jan.

“And you!” I cried.

I dropped to my knees and tried to gather them to me. It was as useless as trying to hug fog, but they came and sat down with me so we could at least be close.

“You guys scared me so bad!”

Jacob tried to sooth me. “But we did it, Emerra!” His voice was tight with repressed excitement.

My laugh sounded a bit like a sob. “Yes. You did it. You’re so brave. Now promise me you’ll never be brave again!”

Jan looked confused. “But—”

“Never ever!”

Anna promised they would never be brave again. Unless they had to.