Edie suppressed a shudder. The thought that someone had already decided everything that was going to happen to her and the people around her … it wasn’t a good feeling. Had her whole life—including all the bad stuff and the mistakes she had made—really been completely out of her hands?
She felt heat rise up her neck. She wanted to scream and tell Astrid and Cal to leave her alone, that she wanted no part of this. But did she even have a choice?
“So I’m going to have to fight,” she mumbled.
Astrid bowed her head grimly. “Sooner rather than later, I fear. The others are already pursuing you. The Aurora, to put you down, and the Gloaming … well, I imagine to recruit you. Unless you disobey, in which case they’ll kill you as well.”
“I guess I’m part of the Reach, then,” Edie said, half-joking, crossing her legs at the ankles and tucking her hands under her butt.
Astrid’s expression cleared, and she smiled. “I was just about to say, the Reach is needed. Perhaps now more than ever. In that case, you’ll need training.”
Cal plucked the cigarette from his mouth and tapped it against his thigh, glowering.
Edie looked at Astrid. “Can you? Train me?”
“Not properly. My magic is very different from yours.” She turned and rolled her lips between her teeth thoughtfully for a moment. “I will put feelers out, see who I can find that might lend some aid. There must be someone in this city who has something to teach you.”
“Can’t wait,” Cal mumbled.
Astrid looked at him, raising a brow. “Unless you know someone who might serve us better?”
“Phff. No.” He crossed his arms. “I don’t hang out with necromancers. Not anymore.” And then, with a glance at Edie, he added, “Okay, not till now.”
“Very well, then. So, in the meantime, perhaps you can get started elsewhere. The Reach needs your help. There was a task I was about to start myself, but since I’ll be occupied….”
Astrid left the fireplace, going to where the desk had been. The window, cracked where Marius had struck it, frosted over as the valkyrie approached it. On the wall beside it, an ancient-looking shield and spear were mounted high on a wooden plaque. Astrid lifted them both down with ease and turned to Edie.
“My shieldmaiden, Satara, could use your aid in recruiting an old friend of mine. Someone who vowed to help the Reach many years ago. Bring these to them, as proof that I truly sent you, and they will speak with you.”
Cal eyed the spear. “How’ll they know we didn’t just kill you and steal your stuff?”
Astrid loosed a bark of laughter. “Satara would know if I was dead.” Then she focused on Edie again. “And, Edith?”
Edie looked up and stood.
“The unattuned are oblivious to our world for a reason. They ought to stay that way, even if they are your friends.” Her voice turned grimmer. “Now that you know the world for what it is, you’re likely to lose things you’ve held dear, things that can’t withstand this change. Keep your head down and tell no soul.”
Chapter Thirteen
As she and Cal exited the shop, Edie pulled her phone out of her bag to check the time. She clicked the home button, but the screen remained black.
Right. Dead. She sighed, wondering if she’d got any texts from—
“Oh, shit.” She froze with one hand on the passenger door as realization and dread filled her.
“What?” Cal slipped behind the wheel and started Ghost up.
Edie didn’t really want to talk about it, but she’d already outed herself. Miserable, she slid into the passenger seat. “Mercy and I were supposed to perform tonight. I missed it.”
He grunted, but didn’t seem concerned. “Your roommate? Tell her something came up.”
Edie sighed. “My phone is dead, remember? She’s gonna kill me … especially when she finds out about the fish.”
“What fish?” Cal frowned as he pulled away from the curb and made a U-turn in the middle of the empty street, heading back toward the highway.
“Mercy’s. I went to feed him and he’d just sort of … died.”
Now that she thought about it, she was pretty sure Hervey had died the same day. Maybe there had been some kind of accident … like a carbon monoxide leak or something.
Cal snorted, resting one hand on the wheel’s gear shift. “Fish don’t breathe air, stupid.”
She turned her head sharply to look at him. “You know that’s fucking creepy, right? Can you read my mind?”
A nonchalant shrug. “Not exactly, but I get the general idea. It gets clearer the harder you think, usually. You were pretty excited about your theory, weren’t you?”
She crossed her arms. “You’ve got five seconds to wipe that smirk off your face.” Then, after a pause: “You know, I don’t want you in my head all the time.”
“I can’t help it. But there are things you can do to keep me out. It just takes practice. You can’t hear my thoughts, now, can you?”
She said nothing, listening hard. No, she couldn’t.
They both fell silent as Cal turned onto the highway. He reached for the radio dials, but stopped just short and rested his hand on the shift again. Edie looked away, out the window at the trees and towns speeding past. This area was heavy with vegetation, almost completely devoid of billboards. The smell of ozone was strong in the air. It must have rained while they were inside. She glanced over her shoulder at the shield and spear resting in the back seat, both partially covered with tarp.
Finally, she sighed and looked at Cal, suspicious. “So how could her fish have died? I fed him every day.”
He chewed on the inside of his cheek and got that look like he’d rather be talking about anything else. But she had to push him; this was important. “Necromancy is … a bitch to master. There are a couple ways you can bring something back from the dead—either by leeching the life from something nearby, or hurting yourself and using up a ton of your own energy to do it. Leeching is easier, and faster, and you get a stronger thrall. For example, it’s the only way to make a revenant instead of a mindless husk.”
Edie thought about that for a second before looking away. She remembered … she remembered wishing Hervey was all right, wishing it so hard. She’d gotten so angry that she’d wished the fish was dead instead, hadn’t she? Oh, god…. But she’d had no idea it would actually kill it!
“You didn’t know,” Cal grumbled. After another moment of silence, he added, “I could sense you leeching across the country, y’know. When I got to your apartment, I was surprised not to find a body. Didn’t think to check the fuckin’ fish tank. I figured you were an evil murderer.”
“Not an evil murderer. Just a stupid one.” Edie sighed. “If my options are either taking someone else’s life or hurting myself, seems like a pretty crummy power.”
The revenant’s tone grew bitter as he took a nearby exit. “Yeah, but you’re not just a necromancer. You got other tricks up your sleeve besides raising shit from the dead.”
Edie wrinkled her nose. What had Astrid said? Blood, death … some other stuff? She wasn’t sure she even wanted to know, at this point. But if she was going to fight, she needed to be prepared.
After a second, she leaned forward and turned on the radio. She didn’t want to talk about this anymore, and she was sure Cal didn’t want to, either. She understood that he was bitter about everything that had happened to him, but she was still trying to process it all. Apparently, her father, whom she’d looked up to her entire life, had been not only an amoral necromancer but an asshole slaver.
She didn’t like it, but it wasn’t her fault. Why was Cal so intent on making her feel bad for it?
“I didn’t ask for this, you know,” she said, when she could no longer contain her own bitterness.
He glanced over at her, his brow furrowed, ruined mouth twisted in a grimace. “Yeah, I know that. Don’t take it so personally, kid.”
She crossed her arms, hugging herself. “You’re the one takin
g it personally. Like, you’re so put-upon by me, even though I never asked for your help.”
“Yeah, well, I’m here now, so too late. I saved your damn life, so a thank-you might be nice.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Cal’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, but he said nothing.
Edie dug her heels in, aggravated by his silence. She knew she shouldn’t say anything, that him saying nothing was his way of saying, Shut up now. But still, she mumbled, “You’re not being fair.”
“You’ll never know the things your father made me do.”
The tone of Cal’s voice finally shut her up. He was angry, yes, but his throat sounded … raw. His voice was close to cracking; torn knuckles turned white as he clutched the wheel even tighter.
He took a measured breath and turned up the radio.
It was nearing two in the morning when Cal and Edie finally reached her apartment. Cal pulled around the side and parked Ghost in the alley that led to the yard, despite clear signage that he definitely should not, under any circumstances, do that.
“I can’t believe you can’t drive,” he said as he pocketed the car keys.
Edie noticed he only had a few keys on his ring. Probably not a homeowner, then, but she could have guessed that.
“Maybe you can teach me some time.” She glanced at him in time to see him pull a face.
“Not likely.”
Edie didn’t need to show Cal the way to her apartment—he’d broken into it, after all—but he trailed behind her anyway, glancing around the scant hallway as she unlocked the door. She heard the lock turn, then looked back at him. “Mercy is probably sleeping, so just keep your voice down.”
He rolled a shoulder and gestured for her to hurry up.
Edie pushed the door open, Cal following. As she took a step into the living room and turned, she came face to face with Mercy’s unwavering glare.
“Where the hell were you?” She was sitting on their couch, turned so she was facing Edie and Cal as they entered. Her eyes flicked to Cal for a moment, and her brow furrowed as she turned to Edie again. “Who’s this?”
“I’m really, really sorry.” Best to start with that right out of the gate. “Just … something really important came up, and I lost track of time, and my phone died. I’m really sorry.” She paused. “The people weren’t mad, were they?”
Mercy spat out a laugh, her eyes going wide. “Are you kidding me?”
“Huh?” This conversation was already nerve-wracking. Edie pocketed her house keys and quickly moved to her bedroom door, scooping up her old patch-covered backpack as she passed the couch. She hadn’t used it since the last time she’d gone on vacation, which hadn’t been for a while.
Mercy stood and trailed behind her, leaving Cal alone in the living room. “You stood me up and left me to perform alone and you’re concerned what they thought? And then you come home with some … some”—she gestured wildly toward the living room with a manicured hand—“stranger?”
“I know, and I’m really sorry.” Edie grimaced as she wrenched open her dresser and started to throw things into her backpack—underwear, a couple pairs of pants, a flannel, socks. She wasn’t sure where they were going, or how long they’d end up staying there. A couple of outfits would have to do for now.
She felt pressure—stronger than she’d have expected—on her upper arms as Mercy grabbed her, turning her so they were face-to-face.
Mercy’s brown eyes searched Edie’s slate ones, narrowing. She pursed her matte purple lips and asked, lowering her voice, “Are you on pills?”
Edie yanked her arms away, annoyance boiling up inside of her. She didn’t need to be managed like a little kid. Why did Mercy think she was totally incompetent? “What? No, Mom, I’m not ‘on pills.’ ”
“Who is that creepy guy you brought home?” Mercy laid a hand in the middle of Edie’s chest, stopping her from side-stepping. “You look at him, and you try and tell me he’s not a drug dealer.”
Edie waved a hand, scrunching up her nose. “That’s just Cal.” It did make her wonder just what Cal’s glamour looked like. Apparently, a creepy drug dealer. She managed to bend herself enough to slip past Mercy.
“Edith.”
“Mercedes.” Edie trotted into the living room again and threw her backpack on the couch, passing the stalwart revenant to go collect toiletries from the apartment’s tiny bathroom. Mercy was right behind her, giving the stranger a wide berth.
“Edie, this, this— this isn’t cool.” She watched from the bathroom doorway as Edie threw her toothbrush, toothpaste, some hair bands, deodorant, and her makeup into a plastic bag.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have time to explain. I really need to go.”
Mercy didn’t try to catch her as she passed, and when Edie glanced back, she thought Mercy looked … almost scared?
Her shoulders sank at the sight. “Everything’s okay, I promise. My friend just has a … family emergency.” That was one way to put it.
Mercy crossed her arms, popped one hip. “Okay, let me see if I understand you. You sleep until five p.m., then you blow me off and leave me to perform alone, unprepared. Then you don’t answer my calls and texts for hours, and then when you do come home, you come with some meth-head, and suddenly you have to pack your things and flee in the middle of the night?”
Edie didn’t say anything. Mercy was angry, but most of all, she was scared, and that was what was really upsetting Edie. Being uncertain and scared herself was one thing; hurting her friends was another.
“And,” Mercy added, “when I came home, my fish was dead. You were supposed to feed him!”
“I did,” Edie returned weakly, gripping the strap of her backpack tighter. “It’s just….”
You should tell her, said her conscience. Mercy didn’t deserve to deal with all this shit, and she probably wouldn’t even believe it, but it wasn’t right to leave her so distressed.
Edie sighed hard and turned more fully toward her. “Look … it’s—”
A heavy hand fell on her arm, cutting her off. Behind her, Cal shifted so he was looking over Edie’s head at Mercy. “We need to go,” he said, in the same tone he’d had in the car earlier: Shut up now.
“But—” Edie looked at Mercy, who looked disgusted with them both. It was like a punch in the gut. Edie grimaced and pushed Cal’s hand off her shoulder. She couldn’t leave her only friend in the world flat like this.
But before she could blurt out the unbelievable truth, Mercy threw her hands up and let them fall loudly against her fishnetted thighs. “And I guess I’m going to have to pick Hervey up? And pay for the vet?”
Hervey.
She’d forgotten him. She’d forgotten her fucking zombie hamster at the vet.
Edie’s stomach turned, and from Cal’s shudder nearby, she knew he had felt it, too. They turned, and their eyes met.
“Fuck,” he rasped after a brief second of silence.
Edie threw her backpack over her shoulder, bolting from the kitchen to the front door, Astrid’s plea echoing in her mind:
Keep your head down and tell no soul.
Chapter Fourteen
Marius clutched his side as he climbed the stone steps of the Temple of the Rising Divine, his ethereal steed filtering back into sunlight as he left it behind. The valkyrie’s magic had cut deep; he could feel the chill in his soul almost as keenly as he had felt the impact to his ribs when she’d thrown him.
His father had warned him not to confront her on his own—that, even alone, she was more powerful than he could currently hope to be—but Marius hadn’t listened. He’d been foolish and acted too quickly, as usual. And he’d paid the price.
Father would say as much.
From where Marius was, between the Corinthian columns of the temple that had stood for over a century, the structure looked like any other municipal building: cool gray stone, with arched alcoves around the perimeter and a wide flight of steps; above him, supported by the columns, a g
able depicting some ancient battle scene.
The only things that might look out of place to the unattuned were the runes carved into the frieze; the winged statues on the cornices, posing with arms outstretched; and perhaps the size of the grounds on which it stood, much more extensive than any government building. The golden dome of the building caught the light just so as the sun rose, and it shone brilliantly.
The behemoth before him was the easternmost Auroran temple in the United States, the first to see the light of the sun as day broke.
As it was doing now. Had he really been dallying for that long?
Marius let go of his side with a wince, wrenching open the door to the empty vestibule and sliding inside. The heavy wooden door closed behind him with a thud that echoed in his equally empty chest.
The marble hall before him was far grander than the outside of the building suggested, flanked with stone tableaus featuring the great triumphs and sacrifices of the gods. At the end of the hall, just before the entrance to the inner sanctum, was a large, golden statue of Tyr leaning on his greatsword, face obscured by his beard and winged helmet.
“Vivid Marius? Are you all right?”
He tore his eyes away from the statue to look at the woman addressing him, one of the two guards stationed by the entrance of the inner sanctum. He stepped around the base of the statue and nodded to her, forcing himself to release his injured side. “I bring news of the valkyrie. Is the Radiant in?”
The woman nodded, stern as she regarded him. She was tall and wide, with a milky complexion and platinum hair braided in a halo around her head. Her eyes were lined with gold and carefully-painted streaks of white makeup—warpaint, decoration Marius rarely indulged in.
He thought he remembered that her name was Ynga, and she looked older than him, but glancing down, he saw she still had both of her hands. Not a vivid, then, though he would expect a vivid to be tending to something more pressing than guarding the sanctum anyway. So, even if she was older, she was technically his subordinate.
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