Miranda just smiled, and then, without warning, she opened her soul. All the power she’d been building poured out of her, and her mother’s smile faded as the house began to rock like a ship at sea. All around the room, things fell off the walls. The washstand toppled over, spilling water everywhere, and cracks sprouted along the ceiling as the mansion’s foundation groaned. But the foundation’s complaints were soon drowned out by the cracking sound coming from the wall behind them. The plaster wall bulged and groaned, and then broke completely as an enormous stone hand punched through, sending a bright shaft of daylight into the dreary room.
“Ready, mistress?” Durn’s voice boomed from everywhere.
“Past ready,” Miranda said, snatching the marriage crown out of her hair and throwing it at her shocked mother. The crown bouncing off her seemed to wake Alma from her shock, because her face went scarlet as her voice returned.
“Miranda!” she shouted. “What do you think you are doing?”
“What I should have done days ago,” Miranda said, lifting her skirts as she vaulted onto Durn’s outstretched hand. “The right thing.”
She waved one last time, and then Durn yanked her out of the house into the glorious sunshine. Miranda took a deep breath of freedom and pointed across the garden at the zoo. Durn obliged. The great stone hand, which had sprouted from the ground outside her room like a weed, grew farther still, reaching across the garden to crash through the roof of the zoo building. Miranda jumped down when they reached the floor, panting from the effort. This much power was far beyond Durn’s usual ability, and they were quickly nearing their limit, but there was one last thing she had to do. As planned, they had landed at the entrance to the ghosthound’s room. Gathering the last of their strength, Miranda marched across the room to the cage. Durn’s hand followed, and when Miranda gestured, he reached out and grabbed the heavy bars, wrenching them aside.
Through it all, the ghosthound had sat perfectly still. Miranda walked through the large hole as the last of Durn’s strength faded and the stone spirit fell back into her, collapsing with a happy sigh back into his ring.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” the hound asked as Miranda stopped just inside his cage. “I was wondering what all that power was. I see you’re a clever sort, Spiritualist. But your power is spent. Now is not the time to stand between me and my freedom.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Miranda said, planting her feet firmly to show she was serious and to keep herself from falling over as Durn’s exhaustion hit her. “I’ve come to make you an offer.”
The ghosthound flicked his tail. “An offer?”
“Yes,” Miranda said. “You told me you could not go home because you had been dishonored, that your pack would not have you, and that this was why you were willing to die. You felt you had nothing left. I say it doesn’t have to be that way.” She held out her hand, palm up, directly in front of the hound’s nose. “I offer a pledge,” she said. “Power for service, strength for obedience, and my own soul to replace the pack you lost. I swear mutual protection, my honor for yours. Come with me, and together we will do things that will make Hapter nothing but an insignificant memory.”
The ghosthound stared at her, his orange eyes unreadable, but Miranda could feel his hot breaths quicken on her palm. “You would offer yourself as my pack?” he said. “What would I do, Spiritualist? Your oath has no power over me. I have a body; I can’t leave it and live through your soul like the rock or the wind or the moss you’ve already tied to you. You cannot bind me.”
“I can’t,” Miranda admitted. “But that’s not what matters. My oath is more than magic, ghosthound. It is a promise between you and me.” She reached up, pulling off the tiny ring Hapter had slid on her finger. “This will be your ring, and though it holds no spirit, it will be dear to me as any other I take. I need no bond to make me honor my promises or give you my strength. From this moment forward, I will guard you as I guard myself. I swear by my Court and my soul that I will honor, defend, and support you. I will never abandon you, never betray you, and all I ask in return is that you swear in kind and agree to abide by my judgment.”
Miranda smiled then, reaching up to touch the ghosthound’s nose. It was warm and dry under her fingers, quivering as he took in her scent. “Let me be your Spiritualist,” she whispered. “Come with me, help me make a better world where things like what happened to you and me can’t happen anymore. A world where no abuse is tolerated, where no soul is forced against its will. Let that good work be your honor, ghosthound, and I promise I will take the life you were so willing to throw away and cherish it as I do my own.”
The hound stared at her a long time, and then he snorted against her hand. “And our loss will hurt Hapter, do you think?”
Miranda grinned. “It will kill him.”
The hound’s muzzle lifted in a toothy grin. “What’s your name, Spiritualist?”
“Miranda Lyonette,” Miranda said.
The ghosthound grinned wider still. “I’m Gin, and I accept your offer.”
“Good,” Miranda said. “Because we have a wedding to crash.”
The dog laughed at that, showing all his sharp, sharp teeth, and then he lay down so swiftly Miranda jumped.
“Get on, then,” he said. “Unless you’re scared?”
“What’s there for me to be scared of?” Miranda said, struggling up onto the spot between his shoulders. “We’re a team now, remember?”
Gin’s answer was to nudge her roughly into place with his nose, and then he jumped up so fast Miranda nearly snapped her neck. She couldn’t help a squeal as they flew through the hole Durn had left in the roof. She’d never expected a ghosthound to be able to jump like that, but Gin cleared the leap effortlessly, running along the roof before jumping into the garden. The wedding was spread across the front lawn, a great sea of colored tents and banquet tables. Hapter was standing at the front, talking hurriedly to a group of guards. He stopped the second Miranda and Gin came into view, his face going scarlet as he opened his mouth to shout.
He never got the chance. Gin moved faster than the wind. He jumped up on the longest banquet table, cracking it beneath his weight before leaping again to land right in the middle of Hapter’s guards. They scattered like thrown sticks, leaving Gin nose-to-nose with Hapter himself, who was now white as the tablecloths. From her perch on his back, Miranda leaned down between the ghosthound’s ears, resting her elbows on the dog’s head as she met Hapter’s terrified face with a wide smile.
“I told you,” she said. “I’m not the sort of woman you push around. Have a nice wedding.”
Gin growled as she finished, slamming his nose into Hapter’s chest so hard the man fell. For a moment, Miranda was afraid Gin would forget that killing Hapter wasn’t part of the deal, but the dog turned away and began running full tilt down the drive.
“Thank you for not killing him,” Miranda said.
Gin gave a loud snort that could have meant anything. “So, where to now?”
“Home,” Miranda said, pointing across the fields toward Zarin.
Gin picked up the pace, shooting across the fields so fast Miranda had to cling to his fur for dear life. After a few minutes, though, she got the hang of it. Finger by finger, she released her death grip, and then she lifted her hands out to her sides, throwing back her head with a laugh as Gin flew over the green hills toward the white towers of Zarin rising in the distance.
One month later
“How many pigs can you eat?” Miranda said, leaning on the fence that was the only thing separating the world at large from the slaughter currently going down in the Spirit Court’s butcher yard.