out her hip and planted her hand on it.
“Please do,” Aunt Dorothy said.
“Why are we fighting fog? I mean, it smells awful and it’s obviously made of something . . . evil , I guess. But so what? Couldn’t we just let the wind blow it away and not worry about it?”
“It is not simply fog,” Aunt Dorothy said. “It is a sort of elemental material from which malevolence takes form, if it is left alone.”
“What kind of form?” Mason asked.
Aunt Dorothy hesitated and glanced at Mr. Sykes, and a silent agreement seemed to pass between them. “Human form,” she said.
A cold shudder raised goose bumps up my arms and neck. No one spoke for several seconds.
“It can take on human form, yes.” Mr. Sykes broke the silence. “But that requires considerable time and inattention on our part. Most likely, we would detect it and stop it before that ever happened. The larger concern is an entirely different scenario. The fog’s essence also can infect people. It may infect their bodies, their minds, or both. Those who are weak—either in body or in mind—are most vulnerable.”
Aunt Dorothy took in our tense faces. “As Harold said, we won’t let that happen. Let’s try the drill again, shall we?”
Mason pulled me up, and I stood for a second, testing my balance and strength. I flexed my hands and shook out my arms, surprised to find my muscles so renewed.
Aunt Dorothy once again lit a match under the grooved chunk of wood, and we all assumed our positions around the meadow.
My heart pounded as I waited for the fog to appear among the Ponderosa pines, but I stood determined, with my feet planted wide.
As soon as you see it, go ahead with the funnel, I said to the two Guardians through our link. I’ll try to keep the influences aimed down the middle, because I’m not sure what will happen if I bump the sides too hard.
Ang and Sophie nodded in unison, but didn’t reply. I wondered if they were already communicating with each other through their private link.
A low groan like a distant foghorn drifted from the forest, and the first tendrils of fog crept into view. It built on itself, like waves from an unseen sea, and began rushing toward us much more rapidly than last time. Blue sparks flew from my left, where Mason stood, but I kept my focus ahead.
The gossamer funnel shimmered into place, and I probed for the heart of the cloud billowing over the meadow.
Rotate it to the right. Aim at the tallest tree, I said to Ang and Sophie.
I drew a slow breath and turned my focus inward, gathering a swirl of pyxis influences much smaller than the previous one I’d used, resisting the urge to build as much as I could hold.
The leading tendrils of fog reached toward the Guardians, mere feet away from their legs, and my heart pounded harder. The funnel moved into place, and as soon as it stopped, I let loose with the influences. A barely visible shimmer passed over the inner surface of the funnel, curling toward the narrow tip. Sophie and Ang both teetered as if the ground shook beneath them, but the funnel stayed still and intact.
A whoosh of air followed the influences into the funnel, pulling my hair around my face. I hastily brushed my bangs from my eyes and watched as the fog shrank in on itself and disappeared, and the funnel winked out.
“Ha! We did it!” Mason crowed. He picked me up, his arms around my waist, and spun me around. The hot scent of vanilla and cedar overwhelmed me, and the heat of his skin on mine was almost too much to bear. I grinned up at him and straightened my shirt self-consciously when he set me back on the ground.
Ang and Sophie joined us, and I gave Ang a sideways hug. Sophie folded her arms and looked toward the water.
“How did it feel? It didn’t hurt, did it?” I asked them.
Ang shook her head. “It just felt like everything tipped for a second, but it didn’t hurt.”
“That was amazing,” I said. “The two of you did that perfectly.”
Ang beamed, but
“Please do,” Aunt Dorothy said.
“Why are we fighting fog? I mean, it smells awful and it’s obviously made of something . . . evil , I guess. But so what? Couldn’t we just let the wind blow it away and not worry about it?”
“It is not simply fog,” Aunt Dorothy said. “It is a sort of elemental material from which malevolence takes form, if it is left alone.”
“What kind of form?” Mason asked.
Aunt Dorothy hesitated and glanced at Mr. Sykes, and a silent agreement seemed to pass between them. “Human form,” she said.
A cold shudder raised goose bumps up my arms and neck. No one spoke for several seconds.
“It can take on human form, yes.” Mr. Sykes broke the silence. “But that requires considerable time and inattention on our part. Most likely, we would detect it and stop it before that ever happened. The larger concern is an entirely different scenario. The fog’s essence also can infect people. It may infect their bodies, their minds, or both. Those who are weak—either in body or in mind—are most vulnerable.”
Aunt Dorothy took in our tense faces. “As Harold said, we won’t let that happen. Let’s try the drill again, shall we?”
Mason pulled me up, and I stood for a second, testing my balance and strength. I flexed my hands and shook out my arms, surprised to find my muscles so renewed.
Aunt Dorothy once again lit a match under the grooved chunk of wood, and we all assumed our positions around the meadow.
My heart pounded as I waited for the fog to appear among the Ponderosa pines, but I stood determined, with my feet planted wide.
As soon as you see it, go ahead with the funnel, I said to the two Guardians through our link. I’ll try to keep the influences aimed down the middle, because I’m not sure what will happen if I bump the sides too hard.
Ang and Sophie nodded in unison, but didn’t reply. I wondered if they were already communicating with each other through their private link.
A low groan like a distant foghorn drifted from the forest, and the first tendrils of fog crept into view. It built on itself, like waves from an unseen sea, and began rushing toward us much more rapidly than last time. Blue sparks flew from my left, where Mason stood, but I kept my focus ahead.
The gossamer funnel shimmered into place, and I probed for the heart of the cloud billowing over the meadow.
Rotate it to the right. Aim at the tallest tree, I said to Ang and Sophie.
I drew a slow breath and turned my focus inward, gathering a swirl of pyxis influences much smaller than the previous one I’d used, resisting the urge to build as much as I could hold.
The leading tendrils of fog reached toward the Guardians, mere feet away from their legs, and my heart pounded harder. The funnel moved into place, and as soon as it stopped, I let loose with the influences. A barely visible shimmer passed over the inner surface of the funnel, curling toward the narrow tip. Sophie and Ang both teetered as if the ground shook beneath them, but the funnel stayed still and intact.
A whoosh of air followed the influences into the funnel, pulling my hair around my face. I hastily brushed my bangs from my eyes and watched as the fog shrank in on itself and disappeared, and the funnel winked out.
“Ha! We did it!” Mason crowed. He picked me up, his arms around my waist, and spun me around. The hot scent of vanilla and cedar overwhelmed me, and the heat of his skin on mine was almost too much to bear. I grinned up at him and straightened my shirt self-consciously when he set me back on the ground.
Ang and Sophie joined us, and I gave Ang a sideways hug. Sophie folded her arms and looked toward the water.
“How did it feel? It didn’t hurt, did it?” I asked them.
Ang shook her head. “It just felt like everything tipped for a second, but it didn’t hurt.”
“That was amazing,” I said. “The two of you did that perfectly.”
Ang beamed, but
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