Spirits and Spells by Bruce Coville

had fared little better. The whole episode had not taken more than ten seconds, but she, too, had been wounded by the rats’ fangs. Blood matted in her hair, and the back of her head ached where it had slammed against the floor.
    Charity’s bones were scattered in a wide circle.
    â€œFire should finish them off,” said Matt grimly, raising his hands.
    â€œNo!” cried Tansy. “Use your flames here, and you’re apt to set the whole house on fire. We’ll probably get caught and burn to death ourselves. I’ll have to use the frost. It’s not as bad this time—I didn’t get so tired.”
    Even as she spoke she swayed and almost fell to the floor.
    â€œThat’s from the bites,” she said quickly. “Not from using the spell.”
    The rats were eyeing them warily. Tansy raised her hands and aimed a blast of frost at the nearest. It squealed and sprang aside. An icy spot formed on the floor, but the rat was safe.
    â€œThey’ve gotten smarter, miss,” said Charity.
    Tansy tried again, targeting the same rat. But he leaped aside even as she aimed, and once more she missed. Furious now, she blasted out several shots of frost. Squealing with terror, the rats turned and fled into the darkness.
    â€œThat’s done it, miss!” cheered Charity. “Good for you!”
    Tansy staggered and leaned against Matt for support.
    â€œLet’s get out of here,” he said.
    â€œMy bones!” cried Charity. “You can’t leave my bones!”
    Tansy stopped.
    â€œTansy!” cried Matt. “For heaven’s sake, we can’t—”
    â€œWe can’t leave them, Matt,” she replied. Though her voice was weak, it was firm. She knelt and began to gather the scattered skeleton.
    â€œKeep watch, Charity,” snapped Matt. “If they start coming back, you tell Tansy. You understand me?”
    The ghost nodded meekly.
    Glancing about nervously, Matt knelt to help Tansy regather the bones.
    â€œNow my head,” said Charity, once they had them all.
    â€œWhat?” cried Tansy.
    â€œMy head. We’ll have to bury my head, too. You know where it is.”
    â€œWhat does she want now?” asked Matt anxiously.
    â€œI have to get another box on the way out,” said Tansy, deciding to skip the details.
    Muttering angrily, Matt hoisted the box of bones, and they started forward again. This time he was the one who stopped. “Did you hear that?” he whispered. “They’re coming back.”
    The rustling died.
    Matt and Tansy stood still, waiting for the rats to reappear.
    Nothing happened.
    They began to walk again.
    â€œBehind you, miss!” cried Charity.
    Tansy spun and spotted a rat slinking after them. She raised her hands. The rat dodged, but this time it was too slow. The blast of frost struck it in the hind-quarters. It crashed to the floor, its back legs frozen and useless.
    Though Tansy had no pity for it, the pained squeals it made as it used its front paws to drag itself across the floor turned her stomach.
    â€œNice work,” said Matt. “Three left.”
    â€œIf that first pack was all of them,” replied Tansy.
    They moved forward again. Tansy had a terrible urge to break and run. But she felt certain that if she did, the pack would leap out and catch them before they could use their spells. This slow, careful walking was excruciating, but seemed safer.
    They passed the nightstand, and Tansy picked up the box that held Charity’s severed head.
    They neither saw nor heard the rats again until they had nearly reached the door.
    Then the rustling started once more.
    â€œHere they come,” said Matt nervously.
    Tansy jumped when she saw a dark shape scurry over a pile of boxes. It was followed by another, and then two more.
    â€œWell, there’s more than three of them,” she said grimly.
    Matt nodded, and they continued forward.
    The rustling grew louder.