Ghost invisible

Twenty armed thugs kept striding forward, exuding the calm that comes only from professionals who are not hurrying, keeping their spacing smooth. They were all glaring at Molly.
Lea smirked, already fading out of sight. “It is good training, child.” She vanished Cheshire Cat style, only she left her voice behind instead of her smile. “Let us see what you have learned.”

Ghost Story Chapter 21, Page 240


If even one of them closed in on Molly, it was over.
I thought of what it might be like to watch my apprentice die with my Sight open, and almost started gibbering. If that happened, if I saw that horror with eyes that would make sure I could never, ever forget it or distance myself from it, there wouldn’t be anything left of me. Except guilt. And rage.
I shut away my Sight.
“It must be difficult,” said my godmother, standing suddenly beside me, “to watch something like this without being able to affect the outcome.”
“Glah!” I said, or something close to it, jumping a few inches to one side out of sheer nerves. “Stars and stones, Lea,” I said between my gritted teeth a moment later. “You can see me?”
“But of course, Sir Knight,” she replied, green eyes sparkling. “My duty to oversee my godson’s spiritual growth and development would be entirely futile could I not perceive and speak to a spirit such as thee.”
“You knew I was there a moment ago. Didn’t you?”
Her laugh was a bright, wicked sound. “Your grasp of the obvious remains substantial—even though you do not.”
A curtain of green-blue fire about seven feet high sprang up and swept rapidly across the width of the parking lot, between the position of the various Mollys and the turtlenecks. The flames emitted eerie shrieking sounds, and the faces of hideous beings danced about inside them.
I just blinked. Holy crap.
I hadn’t taught the kid that.
“Tsk,” Lea said, watching the scene. “She has an able mind, but she is filled with the passions of youth. She rushes to her finale without building anything like the tension required for something so . . . overt . . . to prove effective.”
I wasn’t sure what my godmother was talking about, but I didn’t have time to try to pry an explanation out of her. . . .
Except that I did.
I mean, what else was I going to do, right?

Chapter 22, Page 245-246