27
Beside me, Hermes backpedals, the little wings on his feet pumping furiously. I grab his wrist, yanking him back. “Oh no, pal. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Wraiths are the worst,” he says, twisting his arm and trying to escape my grip. “They make you wish you were dead. But you’re not. You just keep going, forever and ever, and nothing will ever bring you pleasure or make you smile again. I can’t live like that, Mavis.”
“I’m not asking you to,” I tell him, just as Dart and the herd gather around us, their noses high in the air. “I’m asking you to fight with us.”
Hermes gulps audibly as the villagers head for their homes, pulling doors and windows shut. Dart nuzzles my arm. He is so white he nearly glows, and an aura of light follows all of the unicorns as they move through the rapid
