He ran a hand over the fat tangles of his hair.
“So when I go to the hull, you’d be wise to follow. We should all squeeze in there like happy sardines.”
The whooshing sound returned. Calev looked to me. Oron swore. Another wraith.
The whispering began. Hissing, sighing, moaning in my ears.
I covered my head with my hands and the remainder of the salt I’d used rained onto my face and hair.
Oron was already back in the cabin. Calev grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the tiny space. We’d never fit. Besides, someone had to make sure the lantern didn’t fall over or go out. If it did, the wraiths would swamp us and cover us in their whitewashed shadows—their way of possessing mind and body—and it’d all be over. We either had to be under the shadow of a solid roof in the hull or swamped in the Wraith Lantern’s light.
I snatched the lantern and crawled into the hull behind Calev. Turning, he pulled my back against his stomach and wrapped his arm around me to help me hold the lantern up. His fingers lay on mine, his hips pressing into me. Both of us were shaking against one another as the sounds increased. Oron had to be suffocating behind us. The air was hot and moist with our breath. Our feet stirred up the pungent scent of old lemons and last year’s barley, remnants of the shipments we’d made over our lifetimes.
We lifted the lantern as the wraith came screaming toward us. The light spun a web of colors over my forearms, but this creature was strong and some of its power crept under and over the flickering orange and silver. Emotions flooded my mind, rushing in like boiling waves, filling in every crack of my thoughts, my heart.
Fate of Dragons Page 22