(Part Two of a bonus fiction story featuring Rae. You can read Part One here.)

“…and then it disappeared,” Rae finished, glaring at the small, red-haired Guard member staring at her with wide eyes. He’d better not tell me I’m crazy. I know what I saw.

“That,” Owen said, clapping, “was brilliant. Low-hanging fog. A voice that mysteriously changes places. A moving statue. And the ending had perfect dramatic timing.”

“That’s not the worst of it,” Rae said flatly, ignoring the applause. “Once I got out of the maze, I realized my dagger was gone.”

Owen’s eyes got even wider, something Rae had been sure was impossible. “The ghost has a weapon?”

“That’s not the point. The point is, I stole something from the armory, and it disappeared. And it’s your fault.”

“You’re the one that took the dare,” Owen retorted, shrugging.

Rae started to answer, then shut her mouth. He’s right about that. Sort of. “Well, anyway, you’d better not tell anyone about this.”

“Or what?”

“Do I need to list the number of ways I’ve learned to kill people over the past month?” The list would take a while. Rae was a favorite of the weapons training masters, though she had needed to work hard to prove herself in the early days of training. People might dismiss her once, but never twice.

Now Owen switched to begging. “Oh, come on, Rae! It’s the perfect dramatic story. People will know you were just making it up. I won’t even use your name.”

“I don’t know how to be dramatic,” Rae snapped. “That’s what really happened. I remember it perfectly. Especially what he said.” She squinted out at the gardens beyond the courtyard’s stone arches. “He had a beautiful voice….”

Instantly, Owen’s face was warped by a silly grin. “Rae’s in love with a ghost!”

“What? No!”

Now Owen batted his eyelashes dramatically and spoke in a high-pitched voice. “My heart flutters at the very sound of his melodious moaning.”

For some reason, even though what Owen was saying was ridiculous, Rae couldn’t help but be a little bit flustered. “I told you, he wasn’t moaning. He was singing.” She frowned. “And I don’t sound like that.”

“OWEN!” someone hollered. It was Lyra, another Youth Guard member, and one of Rae’s personal rivals, a square-shouldered girl with short blonde hair. Today she didn’t seem to be directing her well-known temper toward Rae, though. She stomped across the courtyard toward them.

Rae was almost glad for the interruption. I’ll kill you if you say anything to her, she thought, directing the message to Owen with a glare. Not that Lyra would believe it anyway. She didn’t seem like the type to put much stock in ghost stories.

As soon as Lyra reached Owen, she grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him like a dog playing with a toy. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?” Owen asked, the picture of innocence.

“My bone knife. It’s gone from my training locker, and you’re the one who took it.” She looked ready to slam him into the stone wall.

“Lyra, calm down,” Rae said. Not that Owen was her favorite person at the moment, but even he didn’t deserve a broken neck. “How do you know he did it? Did you see him?”

“Everyone knows he likes to start trouble. Well, this time he started it with the wrong person.” She redirected her fuming glare at Owen. “I need that knife, and I need it before we head out for the Festival tomorrow. You give it back now, and I’ll only maim you instead of killing you.”

“As much as I enjoy avoiding death, I really don’t have it Lyra,” Owen said smoothly. “Why would I risk making you angry the day before the Festival? If I was going to steal anything, I’d do it right before we left the camp tomorrow morning.”

“Besides,” Rae said, “I was with him after training yesterday until dinner.” Listening to ghost stories. She didn’t add that part. “That’s when it would be easiest to steal something from a locker. No one with half a brain is going to sneak out there after curfew and risk getting kicked out on the last day of training.”

Rae heard Owen give a strangled laugh at that one, but she just glared at him. I’m defending you. Don’t ruin it for yourself.

Rae could tell that Lyra was thinking over their arguments, because she frowned, then grunted. “Fine,” she said, releasing Owen. “But I’d better get it back.” She stormed off, probably to find more victims to interrogate.

“Well, she’s sure in a good mood,” Owen said, rubbing his shoulder where Lyra’s hand had gripped it.

“You’d better not have taken that bone knife,” Rae said.

“I was telling the truth,” Owen said. “For once. I hope she never finds the dumb thing. I think it’s creepy. Even though it’s probably not real bone. Or at least real human bone like she says….”

“I don’t have time for this,” Rae said, turning away.

Owen scrambled to catch up with her. “So, are you going back to meet your true undead love at midnight? In the gardens?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rae said, keeping an even pace. “I’m not going back. There is no way I’m going to risk losing my dream of being in the Youth Guard just to see some ghost that probably isn’t really a ghost.”

“You did once.”

“Because you dared me to!” Rae gritted her teeth. It was annoying how easily the boy could get a rise out of her. She sighed. “You know, it’s a good thing for you that the Festival is tomorrow and I won’t have to see you ever again.”

Owen laughed a little. “So, who isn’t going to survive the mission, you or me?”

It was supposed to be a joke, Rae knew. But that’s what she had meant. She wouldn’t see Owen again because he would die.

Or both of them would.