CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The sword sang past my ear. Knowing CeCe’s aim, Seymour wasn’t long for this world.
“Lich girl!” Seymour cried.
He caught the sword with his palms just before it entered his chest.
“Now that’s a good aim,” he said, grinning.
“This isn’t the way to pass Halgeron’s test,” CeCe said.
“Why not?” Seymour asked. “Why not use some sizzle to get his attention? You and I might be comrades.”
He grabbed the sword by the hilt, aimed it at me, and motioned for us to get him.
CeCe looked like a mix between a zombie and a stroke victim. One of her eyes looked as if were melting. She stared at Seymour angrily. Lich regeneration was never pretty.
I heard someone whistling a tune below.
The wet smell of gasoline assaulted me. I almost gagged.
Bo was standing in the foyer with a
