No Humans Involved

by Kelley Armstrong

  "You really can talk to the dead, can't you, Jaime?"

  I jumped, startled, and looked at May. Her face was impassive, but her eyes were fever-bright. The eyes of a fanatic spotting proof of the divine.

  The other woman harrumphed. "She's a good actress, that's all. Just like the rest of them."

  "I don't think so. Someone--or something--led her to those bodies."

  In her voice was the longing I'd heard so often from the bereaved, those desperate to believe. In May, it was magnified a hundredfold.

  "I can," I said. "I see them, hear them, speak to them."

  "May, don't let her--"

  "You don't believe me? There's a ghost right next to you. A seventeen-year-old named Brendan, though you may not have bothered asking his name before you dowsed him with gas and set him on fire. May, you picked him up at--" I glanced at Brendan, who told me the place and I relayed it. "You tricked him into your car, you and Don--" Another look at Brendan, who pointed to a tall balding man with a cleft chin. I nodded to him. "Over there."

  Expressions ranged from May's exultation to incredulity to grudging acceptance.

  May smiled. "You and I have a lot to talk about, Jaime."

  In other words, I'd just bought myself a temporary pass. I tried not to let my relief show.

  "First, though..." May continued.

  She waved to Don, who held the gas. He uncapped it and stepped over Hope's body.

  "No!"

  I leapt forward, but May grabbed my arm.

  "Please don't make us restrain you, Jaime. You know we can't let her live. She knows--"

  "But she's one of us. Magical."

  May shook her head. "Don't--"

  "She's a half-demon. That's what we call them. Demons take human form and impregnate women. The children look human, but they have special powers. The ability to control an element, or improved senses or--"

  "The X-Men." The other woman rolled her eyes. "I may be a bit old for that sort of thing, but I have teenage boys, Miss Vegas. Try something a little more original, please."

  "It's not just elements and senses. Like Hope. She can pick up chaos, senses it and sees--"

  May cut me off with a look. "So you're telling me that sweet Hope Adams is really...a chaos demon?"

  "Half-demon."

  "And your companion the other day? The one Eric Botnick swore had superhuman strength? I suppose he's one of these half-demons."

  "No. Werewolf."

  May cast a look at the group. I couldn't see it, but everyone laughed. Then she turned back to me, her hand still on my arm, squeezing gently.

  "I understand why you're doing this, Jaime. You want to protect your friends. But--" The squeeze tightened. "Please don't insult our intelligence."

  I opened my mouth to protest, but knew I'd overplayed my hand...and I hadn't even been bluffing.

  A smell filled the air. The slosh of liquid hitting concrete. I turned to see Don trickling gas over Hope.

  I wrenched from May's grasp. May lifted a handful of gray powder and started to cast. I stopped.

  "I'm sorry. I just--I just want to talk."

  "Tell more tales of demons and werewolves?" the other woman scoffed.

  "Why not? Couldn't there be--?"

  A quick look around told me I was losing my audience. I glanced down at Hope, her small form, her faded jeans freckled with splashed gasoline, more dripping from her fingers, into the drain...

  "Why kill her like that? It's a horrible way to die."

  "The suffering enhances the potency," May said, voice as cool as her eyes.

  "No, it doesn't."

  Her face hardened, but she hid it behind a condescending smile. "You may be able to talk to ghosts, but that doesn't make you an expert on magic."

  "Maybe, but I know people who can cast spells that make yours look like parlor tricks. Even for the rituals that need human sacrifice, it doesn't matter how you kill the person. It's the fact of death that counts."

  I could see this wasn't getting me anywhere. "Never mind. I know you don't believe me about Hope, but if you gave her time to wake up, she could demonstrate--"

  "Not interested," said the other woman--Tina, as Murray called her.

  May shot Tina a look. Then she swung that look around the group. Judging their willingness to let Hope live a little longer, just to be sure there wasn't some truth to my preposterous tale. But their faces were hard. If she made the wrong decision, they'd see it as weakness--her hunger for magic overriding common sense. An unacceptable flaw to this bunch.

  "No, Jaime," she said finally. "I know she's your friend--"

  "She is. And if you kill my friend in front of me, exactly how willing do you think I'll be to teach you what I know? Show you how to contact the dead?"

  "Don't threaten--"

  "Tie her up and put her outside this room, as a show of faith. Then, in a return show of faith, I'll show you how to communicate with Brendan's ghost. When we're done, Hope will be awake. She'll show you her powers and, if she doesn't, you can..." I swallowed for dramatic effect, "finish with her."

  Another look around the gathered faces. Tina's expression stayed resolute--gaze fixed on Hope as she toyed with the matches.

  "Don?" May said.

  "It sounds reasonable."

  The other men agreed. At a motion from May, they bound Hope's hands and feet, gagged her and carried her into the room beyond.

  MIRACULOUS

  WHEN THE MEN RETURNED a few minutes later, they closed the door all but a crack--presumably leaving it open so they could hear if Hope woke up.

  Phase one accomplished.

  On to phase two.

  "What you were saying earlier," I began, "about needing to kill them horribly. That really isn't necessary. But I suppose slipping a lethal drug in someone's drink wouldn't have the same effect for the group, would it?"

  "What--?" May began.

  "You're all in this together, right? You watch them die. You each play your part. Share the murder, share the horror and the guilt. A bond that's probably very hard to break. Must have made it really tough to convince them that Murray broke it, huh?"

  May's gaze swung to mine.

  "You remember Murray, don't you?" I continued. "He's right here."

  I described Murray. Several of the group members paled, but May's face remained impassive.

  "You don't believe me?" I said. "Ask him something. He can hear you."

  "Remind her of the time--" Murray began.

  "If Murray says I tricked the others into killing him, he's lying." She turned to Don. "You found that--"

  "Realtor's card," I cut in.

  "Card?" Murray sputtered. "What card?"

  "Or so you told the group, Don," I said. "But there wasn't one, was there? It was May's idea. She convinced you that Murray really was planning to leave the group, but that you needed some solid evidence to convict him."

  Don's expression answered.

  "They lied?" Murray said. "I was killed for a lie?"

  He continued raging, but I focused on Don. "May lied to you too. She wasn't convinced Murray was leaving. She thought he might, but it was only that--a possibility. What she saw, though, was the opportunity to cement your allegiance by making you an accomplice in Murray's murder. And, in killing Murray, she'd prove to the group that the pact was more than idle words. If they didn't believe the group would kill them, now they knew better."

  "She'll say anything to save her friend," May said.

  She lifted her hand to blow the ash at me. Don caught her wrist.

  "Don't bother," I said. "You don't need that to cast magic. Or, should I say, May doesn't. Not that she was going to tell you that anytime soon. Better to keep you working for her, digging for better magic, killing for the group..."

  They had all turned toward May. I searched for something else to say, to give that extra shove, then reconsidered before I overplayed my hand again.

  So I waited as they moved toward May, blocking her in, que
stions rising, sharp with accusation. Then I began inching toward the door. Get out and lock it behind me.

  One more step--

  "Where do you think you're going?"

  Tina swung into my path. I threw myself at her, fingers hooked, aiming for her eyes, but she moved at the last second and my nails scratched her cheek instead. She howled and doubled over. My knee flew up, aiming for her stomach--

  Hands grabbed me and yanked me back. I twisted and struggled, but Don held me by the shoulders. He kicked my feet out from under me. As I fell, I saw May, pinned by the other men.

  "Looks like we'll have a triple dose of new material," Tina said, wiping blood from her face as she bent over me. "Your parlor tricks don't interest me, Jaime Vegas. But if you and that girl are what you claim to be, that will add an extra boost to your remains, won't it? Truly magical ash."

  I twisted in Don's grip, but he held me tight. Behind me, the men were taking turns casting the weakening spell on May. After the third, she slumped to the floor. And there, with her, went my chance to escape. I'd turned them against the only person in this room who valued my powers. The only one willing to let me live.

  I looked about wildly, searching the room. My gaze went up to the light. If I had a spell, I could break it, plunge us into darkness and escape. If I was a werewolf, I could fight my way out. If I'd worn the damned heels, I could at least stab Don in the knees. If wishes were horses...

  Damn it, Jaime. Focus on what you do have, on what you can do!

  I looked across the room to see Brendan and Murray frozen in helpless horror, watching as Don pinned me to the floor and gave orders to the others to douse May with gasoline.

  "Brendan! Murray!" I shouted. "The door!"

  Don frowned at me.

  Murray's look said he didn't understand my plea any better than Don. "But the spell. We can't get out."

  Brendan was already racing across the room. When he reached the door, he stopped short, as if hitting a physical barrier. Then he poked his fingers into the inch-wide gap. They passed through. He grinned.

  "Good," I said. "Get out there and look for a ghost. A woman. My age. Long dark hair. Her name's Eve. Show her where I am."

  As I spoke, Brendan shoved his shoulder against the crack, but it stopped, as if the breach in the spell was only as wide as that gap. He kept pushing. Murray strode over to help.

  "She's stalling," Tina said. "Cast the spell, Don. At least it'll shut her up."

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag of ash.

  Again, my gaze rose to the light. Then it shifted to that high shelf and stopped on a stuffed bat perched beside a legless dog. In my mind, I saw an image of the bird I'd accidentally raised in the garden.

  But I couldn't. Not without tools. Not without time to prepare. Not without--

  Don lifted his hand to his mouth, ash on his outstretched palm. He inhaled.

  "Wait!" I said. "You want magic? I can give you the most powerful magic of all."

  "She'll say anything--" Tina began.

  "The power to raise the dead. I can do that."

  "Really?" Tina's overplucked brows arched. "That'll come in handy in a few minutes...assuming you can do it to yourself."

  She motioned for Don to continue with the spell, but he'd lowered his hand. The other men watched me. Seeing their expressions, I bit back a burst of hysterical laughter.

  Communicating with the dead wasn't enough to sway their intentions. But to raise the dead? To play God? No matter how strongly logic told them it couldn't be done, they couldn't help hoping.

  "It's a trick," Tina snapped. "Can't you see that? Now she'll tell us she needs a body, so we'll need to take her outside--"

  "No, you won't." I waved at the ceiling. "Plenty of bodies here."

  "And I suppose you want us to take one down, meaning we have to find a ladder, bring it back, give your friend time to recover--"

  "I'll raise the bat. It has wings, right?" I flashed my best showbiz smile. "No need to be carried down when you can fly."

  Even before the men agreed, I knew they would. Why not? In return for a few minutes' forbearance, I offered the possibility of a miracle. Who could refuse that?

  Are you nuts? my brain screamed. Have you forgotten the minor fact that you can't do this without your equipment?

  But I could try. At the very least, I'd stall them for a while. Maybe Hope would wake. Or Jeremy would find my trail.

  And if that's all I hoped to do, that's all I'd accomplish. Forget stalling. My only option--the only one I'd accept--was success.

  Just yesterday, raising Rachel Skye, I'd theorized that the power lay not with the instruments, but within me. If I truly believed that, then it was time to put it to the test. Under the worst possible circumstances, but maybe that was just what I needed. Last year, in Toronto with the werewolves, I'd controlled zombies raised by someone else--a feat I'd said was impossible. But when I saw Elena's life at stake, I'd found the will and the power to do it.

  Now there was another life at stake. Mine. And, for once, I was going to be the one to save it.

  I closed my eyes and recited the incantation to call the dead back to their nearby bodies. In my mind, I pictured the ritual setup, envisioned myself kneeling before the symbols.

  When the chant was finished, I didn't open my eyes to see whether it worked. Didn't even take a breath. Just repeated it. Then repeated it. Then--

  "Oh, my God."

  The reaction I'd been waiting for. I looked up to see the bat still perched there, motionless. But on an adjacent shelf, the crow's wing twitched.

  "It's a trick," Tina sneered. "Even I can do that--like making a pencil levitate."

  "Rawr!"

  The crow had managed to push itself upright. Its head wobbled, as if its neck was broken. It threw back its head and let out another strangled caw.

  "Mother of God," one of the men breathed.

  Even Tina stared. Then she wheeled on me. "It's a trick. Somehow--"

  A dog yipped. The terrier. Its head whipped from side to side, ears flapping, eyes wild as it tried to stand on legs it no longer had. I fought the urge to release it, sent up a silent apology, and started the invocation again.

  The dog convulsed and twisted, its cries turned shrill with panic. On the adjoining shelf, the crow flapped its wings, its head still lolling, beak snapping.

  A shriek. Four sets of eyes turned to see a raccoon dragging itself toward the edge...

  "Oh, God, no," someone said. "Not that. It isn't--"

  The raccoon toppled from the shelf as one of the men dove out of the way. It hit with a bone-crunching thud. For a moment, I blinked, certain I'd misidentified the creature. It was too small to be a--

  The beast pulled itself onto its front legs, and I realized it was indeed a raccoon. Half of one. The rear quarters had been removed and a plastic shield had been affixed to the severed end, like an anatomy display.

  The raccoon gnashed its teeth and rolled back onto its torso, claws waving as it struggled to get up. Above it, the dog twisted, snapping and snarling, frenzied now.

  "Oh, God, what have you done?" one of the men breathed.

  "Why, I've brought the dead back to life. I've performed a miracle."

  The raccoon fell forward and started pulling itself along on its front legs. It snarled at Tina. When she fell back with a scream, it advanced on Don. He backpedaled out of the way.

  "M-miracle?" Don said. "Th-this is an abomination. Stop it right now."

  "Stop?" I smiled. "I'm just getting started."

  I looked across their faces. In their terror, I saw my true power. The darkest power. The greatest power.

  I closed my eyes and shouted the invocation, calling the dead back to their bodies. Someone yelled for Don to cast the weakening spell. Fingers wrapped around my arm. As I yanked away, my attacker reeled backward, grip loosening.

  A black blur flashed over his head. The crow, swooping. Then another blur and a high-pitched shriek a
s the bat flew into Tina. She screamed, arms flailing.

  "Kill it! Someone kill it! Kill all of them!"

  "Oh, you've already done that," I said. "Once they pass over, they're mine, and you can't do a damn thing about it. Go ahead. Swat that bat. Throw it into the wall if you'd like. You can't kill it. It's already dead."

  Another scream, this time from one of the men as the raccoon's teeth sank into his leg. As he shook it, the plastic plate flew off and the raccoon's preserved innards slid out. The man screamed louder, gaze riveted on the mangled beast.

  "You wanted magic!" I said. "You killed for it. Well, here's magic. The most powerful kind there is."

  The crow swooped past me and flew into Don, who let out a shriek.

  "Isn't it everything you imagined?" I yelled to be heard over the din. "And just think. When you die, I can do this to you. Bring your mangled, rotting corpse back to life, with you in it, stuck there for eternity."

  I shouted the incantation again. A body tumbled from the shelf. Then another, the air rent with yowls and screeches and screams. I ran for the door. It was half-open now, as if someone had tried to make a break for it. A quick head count as I wheeled proved no one had escaped.

  I yanked open the door, spun around and slammed it shut. A body hit the other side. I threw myself against the door, fingers flying to the lock. One twist and it was closed.

  My gaze snagged on the light switch for the room. I flicked it off.

  JUDGMENT

  I LOOKED AROUND FOR HOPE, but she was nowhere to be seen. I ran through the TV room. Still no sign of her. How far could they have taken her?

  As I raced into the hall, legs appeared on the stairway. I froze, fanatically searching for a weapon or another escape route.

  "Jaime?"

  A second set of legs passed the first and I recognized Jeremy's shoes, moving swiftly and soundlessly down the stairs. As soon as he was low enough, he ducked, saw me and nodded. There was no expression on his face, but I could see the relief in his eyes.

  He swung around the bottom step and caught my arm, ready to whisk me upstairs without a word, but Karl stepped into our path.

  "Where's Hope?" he demanded.

  I opened my mouth to answer, but wasn't fast enough for him and he took those last few steps in a stride, looming over me, eyes blazing. I instinctively stepped back, but Jeremy's arm around my back stopped me.