And I did, too. The dark-haired boy stood in a pentacle of his own, smaller, filled with different runes, three feet away from the main one.
He was pale as a corpse, shaking like a dead leaf in a high wind. His teeth rattled in his shivering jaw.
Beads of sweat dripped from his brow, turning to ice as they fell through the air.
They tinkled with the sound of hailstones on the floor.
All well and good, but so what? I mean, he looked about twelve years old.
Wide-eyed, hollow-cheeked. There’s not that much satisfaction to be had from scaring the pants off a scrawny kid.
So I floated and waited, hoping he wasn’t going to take too long to get round to the dismissing spell.
To keep myself occupied, I made blue flames lick up around the inner edges of the pentacle, as if they were seeking a way to get out and nab him.
All hokum, of course. I’d already checked and the seal was drawn well enough. No spelling mistakes anywhere, unfortunately.
All well and good, but so what? I mean, he looked about twelve years old.
Wide-eyed, hollow-cheeked. There’s not that much satisfaction to be had from scaring the pants off a scrawny kid.
