by Sarina Dorie
My roommate never shared personal details like this. I didn’t dare speak and break the spell.
“Foreign language truly is the foundation for good spell work. I learned six languages from Mr. Reade. The rest I learned after I graduated. When I became a teacher, I thought I might … I don’t know … hang out with him now that I was his equal. But a year after I was hired on, he moved to Womby’s. I can’t understand why he took the job. It was a huge pay cut. He said it was because he cared about students. He wanted to ensure the teenagers here graduated with a good education. As if he could do that alone.”
“Is that why you took the job here?” I asked.
She abruptly turned away. “I don’t know. It was ten years ago. One can hardly expect me to remember the reasoning of my stupidity from that long ago.” She waved a hand at the blanket I carried under my arm. “Are you going to get this show on the road or what?”
I didn’t see Brogan’s body down here. That meant we would be questioning Sebastian Reade and no one else.
I spread the blanket on the floor and set out the candles. Vega lit them with her wand. I sat cross-legged, focusing on my affinity swelling in my core. I imagined the ball of energy growing and flowing into my veins. That was all I needed, maybe more than I needed, but I had to make a show of it. Already Vega suspected too much about my magic and affinity. I needed to misdirect her.
I gestured with my hands and tried to spell a few words in the sign language I could remember. I sprinkled the tea leaves on the ground. Through slit eyes I watched Vega watching me. Her arms were crossed, and she leaned casually against a wall, skepticism painted across her face.
I mumbled a few Harry Potter charms under my breath. I doubted she had read the books.
In a spark of inspiration, I said, “Abra-cadaver.” I rose and approached Sebastian Reade’s shelf. A moment of trepidation shivered through me. Necromancy was the kind of forbidden magic Alouette Loraline would have done. I didn’t want to be like her. I told myself I was doing this for good, not evil.
Vega shook her head, her expression more disgusted with me than usual. “That isn’t going to work. I’m glad I made you promise me your wardrobe.”
It was only the top of my wardrobe, but it didn’t matter. I knew I could talk to the dead. At least, I thought I could.
I reached into the cubbyhole. It was high enough to be awkward; I had to stand on tiptoe. I rolled back Sebastian Reade’s socks and placed my hands on his cold ankles. His skin didn’t feel like human flesh any longer. It was more like leather. I tried to think of happy, sensual thoughts; Derrick’s lips on mine, his thumb brushing across my knuckles, the way he looked into my eyes and made my stomach flip-flop.
“Abra-cadaver,” I repeated.
Vega’s cackle was cut short when the foreign language teacher sat up. He bonked his head on the stone ceiling and fell back down. Startled, I let go and jumped back.
Vega jumped back too. “You killed him!”
“He was already dead,” I said.
Even though I knew he would come back to life once I touched him, my insides trembled with nervousness as I took hold of his ankles again. Vega rushed forward, placing an arm over the deceased teacher’s chest. He opened his eyes.
“Careful,” she said. “We don’t want you sitting up too fast.” She helped ease him out of the nook so that he sat on the ledge. His feet dangled off the side. I crouched down so I could hold on to his ankles.
Sebastian Reade looked from me to Vega to the flickers of candlelight casting ominous shadows over nearby bodies. He flinched. “What are we doing down in the crypt? Did someone die?”
Vega cooed at him like he was a baby. “Aren’t you precious? This is exactly what I imagined talking to someone down here would be like.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Mr. Reade,” I said. “But you’re dead.”
“No, that can’t be right. I’m talking to you.” He felt his forehead. “I just hit my head. That’s all.”
Vega took his hand in hers. “No, Mr. Reade. Someone murdered you.”
“What? How can we be speaking? Miss Bloodmire, please don’t tell me you’re dabbling in necromancy. As one of my former pupils I should hope I instilled at least some moral values in you.” His hand gestured and fluttered fluidly as he spoke. He must have been past the rigor mortis stage.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t resurrect you,” Vega said with a pleased air. “Clarissa did.”
He crossed his arms. “Well, I suppose there’s no point in chiding her. I knew she’d turn out to be just as wicked as her mother.”
In death, one might think the guy would give me a break, but no. Even corpses judged me.
“Was it a nice service?” he asked Vega. “Did you tell any stories about the days when you were my student back at Lady of the Lake?”
She wet her lips. “You only just died earlier today. We haven’t had a service yet.”
“What? But my body is down here. Are they going to have a funeral without my body?” He wagged a finger at her. “They are going to have a funeral, right?”
“I’m sure they will. People have just been a little high strung with the Fae attacks and your recent death. I’ll make sure the principal organizes a nice service for you.”
He nodded approvingly. “Good. And I don’t want one of those wakes or memorials. People are too happy at those events. I’m dead. I expect people to cry and be sad.”
Vega nodded. “I completely agree.”
“I hate to interrupt your funeral plans,” I said. “Can we talk about your death? Do you know who killed you?”
“No. Was it a Fae?” he asked.
“Do you remember that one time when you were my teacher and—” Vega began, a wistful smile on her face.
“Excuse me.” I snapped my fingers at her. “Have you forgotten why we’re here? We need to interview Mr. Reade so that your name will be cleared of being the murderer.”
Vega gave me the evil eye as if I was some kind of party pooper.
“What’s this about them blaming you for my murder?” he asked.
“Nothing. No one has accused me … yet. They only blamed me for Thatch’s poisoning—which I didn’t do.”
“But they might think you killed someone if the bodies keep piling up,” I said. I gazed up at Sebastian Reade. “What’s the last thing you remember? Do you recall what you were doing in the stairwell?”
“Oh, bother.” He looked away and coughed, though I was certain he wasn’t breathing. “I may have experienced a … my discretion seemed to have … that is to say… .” He frowned at Vega apologetically. “I apologize. This may come as a bit of a surprise. Gertrude has fallen in love with me. She told me so herself. How is she taking my death? She must be heartbroken.”
She hadn’t sounded broken up about anything when we’d heard her laughing in Thatch’s room.
Vega eyed him skeptically. “You are telling us you were with Miss Periwinkle?”
“Yes. We were … ahem. I only intended to give her one kiss, but one turned into more. I was kissing her when I started to grow light-headed and felt my magic being wicked away.”
“Are you certain?” I asked.
“Oh yes. There’s no way I would forget that kiss. I lost consciousness and woke up dead.”
That was it! Miss Periwinkle drained Sebastian Reade. Vega was my witness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Putting the Romance Back into Necromancy
“So you’re saying Miss P killed you?” Vega said.
“No. My darling would never do such a thing,” Sebastian Reade said. “Someone must have snuck up behind me while we were kissing. Yes, the more I think about it, that’s the only rational scenario.”
Ugh, now he sounded like Thatch.
Vega patted his hand as though he were a particularly dense child she was fond of. “Mr. Reade, no. Gertrude is a backstabbing, soul-sucking siren. She was using you to
gain strength from your magic.”
He drew his hand away. “No, she wasn’t. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Gertrude is a Celestor now.”
“Hey, maybe this is a conversation we don’t need to have right now,” I said. This wasn’t the kind of news one just dumped on some poor guy who was dead.
Vega ignored me. “A double affinity. It’s rare, but not unheard of, though the siren magic seems to be overpowering her Celestor magic—and her common sense. Not only is she a powerful siren, but Clarissa told me she’s dating Thatch.”
I shook my head at her. I did not want to be the bad guy here.
He shifted, standing on both his feet so that I had to scoot back to give him room. “Gertrude and Mr. Thatch are simply friends. She told me she has a thing for older men. He’s too young for her.”
“That succubus has a thing for anyone with a dick.” Vega said. “She doesn’t deserve you.”
He wagged a finger at her. “Miss Bloodmire, you watch your mouth! I will not have you using that language in my presence.”
“Sorry, sir, but it’s true. You deserve to be with someone who won’t cheat on you.”
“I’m dead! It doesn’t matter what I deserve.” His chest shook, and he covered his eyes with his hands.
Vega stood there shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. The problem with Vega was she hadn’t even been trying to be a bitch for once. She seemed to admire Mr. Reade, and she probably liked him more in her morbid way now that he was dead. But she had to have the final word in everything, and that didn’t coincide with compassion.
Vega scowled at me. “Are you happy now? You just used necromancy to make a dead man cry.”
I shook my head at her. She so didn’t get people—especially herself.
“Mr. Reade,” I said in my nicest teacher tone. “Why don’t we help you back onto your shelf so that you can go back to sleep?”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I was dead. I don’t want to be dead. I want to see Gertrude.”
Vega glared at me as if this was all my fault. Sebastian Reade kicked past me, knocking me onto my butt. He staggered and lurched a few steps before falling flat on his face.
“Let’s get him back into his tomb,” I said.
Vega rolled him over. She grabbed him under the shoulders, and I lifted his legs, careful not to touch his skin. We heaved him into his shelf.
I set the candles aside and shook out the blanket. “Okay, now let’s tell Jeb and Khaba what Sebastian Reade told us.”
“No.”
I froze. “Please tell me you didn’t believe him about Miss Periwinkle being innocent after he explained she was the last person he was with. She probably sucked the magic right out of his face as she kissed him.”
“I don’t doubt it, but I’m not telling Khaba. Think about how bad this will look.” She waved a hand at the candles nonchalantly. “They’ll just say I’m trying to prove my own innocence—which they’ll be even more doubtful of than ever. If I don’t say you performed necromancy, they’ll think I did. If they assume I’ve used necromancy, they’ll insist I did other dark arts as well. Things I haven’t done, like poison Thatch, and things I have done, which will remain unnamed.”
A sneaky smile crossed her face at that. “Think about it. Am I a reliable witness?”
I gaped at her. “You made the oath. You can’t change it.”
“I’m not changing it.” She picked up the lit candles and placed them closer to Mr. Sleeping Beauty. “I said when I told Jeb and Khaba, I wouldn’t mention you. The fact of the matter is, I never intended to tell them.”
Craptacular. Once again, my scheming roommate had outwitted me.
“What was the point in coming down here and waking the dead in the first place? Why did you agree to the oath? Why bother to agree to question Sebastian Reade?”
She scooped up the remaining candles. “I was curious about who’s been killing everyone so I could be nicer to him or her. I don’t want to end up dead, after all. Now I know.”
“What?” I backed away from her, unable to believe her level of evil.
“Here’s what I’m thinking: if Gerty accidentally kills Thatch—or if she gets jealous enough about you stealing his attention from her she might do it on purpose—I wonder if I’ll become department head. I wouldn’t mind teaching potions and alchemy next year either.” Any compassion she might have had for the dead was buried under the malicious gleam in her eyes.
I backed away into the shadows where I thought I remembered the door was located. Hopefully it was unlocked.
“You aren’t leaving yet,” she said sternly. “I’m not done with you. I had a more important reason to bring you down here than to resurrect Sebastian Reade.”
A more important reason than to prove her innocence?
“To kill me?” That was typically what villains did after they told you their diabolical plans.
She cackled. “You’re going to put the romance back into necromancy.” She placed a hand on Dox Woodruff’s arm.
No way.
I continued backing away.
“Clarissa, get back here. I want a stiff with a stiffy.”
I may have puked in my mouth at that, and not just a little.
“Do the spell yourself,” I said. “You’re a Celestor. You saw me do it. You can figure it out.”
She tapped her nails against her chin as if considering it, shrugged and turned to Dox Woodruff. I stumbled through the darkness, collided into a wall, and accidentally groped a set of dusty bones. Behind me, Vega muttered, “Abra-cadaver. Abra-cadaver.”
A moment later I found the door. It was unlocked! I ran out, tripped into a set of stairs I’d forgotten were there, and crept through the underground labyrinth. I managed to avoid booby traps all the way up to Vega’s closet stairwell before exiting her classroom.
I didn’t know what Vega would do to me once she figured out she wasn’t going to be able to make the spell work. She probably wouldn’t kill me in my sleep. It was a school night after all. And of course, if she killed me, she wouldn’t be able to coerce me into bringing her past boyfriend back to life some other night.
Lucky me.
I managed to avoid my room and an encounter with Vega for a little while because I packed a bag and slept in Derrick’s room that night. I wanted to be there for him if he came back. He wasn’t well. He might have just wandered away or passed out somewhere in his invisibility clothes.
He didn’t return.
The next day after school, I walked into my dorm room, finding Vega bent over the desk studiously writing. Three open books floated in the air around her. I considered backing away slowly and quietly to sneak off before she caught me. After last night’s expedition, I could only imagine how well she’d take it to have failed at her necromancy goal after I’d ditched her.
On the other hand, this was my room too. I would have to face Vega’s wrath sooner or later. I stepped inside and went over to my wardrobe to select a warmer sweater.
Vega turned a page in a maroon book that looked as though it was made of vellum. It took me a moment to realize the floating tome was my book—the one I’d borrowed from the dead scribe in the secret library room. I was about to object, but then I saw the Old High German and Middle English dictionaries and another book that looked like it was some kind of German grammar book.
I understood what she was doing.
“You’re translating the spell!” I said. “I didn’t know you could speak Old High German.”
“I decided to teach myself last night.” She draped herself over the chair, managing to make slouching look sexy. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her eyelids drooped. “And for the record, it’s Middle High German.”
“Did you stay up all night working on this?”
“Not all night. Most of the night I spent with Dox.”
“Oh. How did that go?”
“You think you’re so clever.” Her eyes narrowed.
“You think I couldn’t get your stupid abra-cadaver spell to work, don’t you? I will have you know I am a Merlin-class Celestor. I can make any spell work.”
“I don’t doubt it. You’re the one I go to for the big magic.” And for assistance with morally questionable tasks.
She turned back to the dictionary, flipping the pages. “I did resurrect the dead last night, thank you very much.”
“Oh? Nice,” I said.
That spell had been made up. I didn’t know if she really had done necromancy or this was the equivalent of The Emperor’s New Clothes, and she was too embarrassed to admit she had failed. It was probably for the best to allow Vega to continue to act superior so she wouldn’t turn into another Periwinkle who wanted to kill me in earnest.
“Good job,” I said. “Did your former dead husband say anything interesting?”
“He’s my late future husband. And no, we didn’t do much talking.” She scribbled a few notes down.
Her words sank in. Ick. I sincerely hoped necrophilia hadn’t been on her to-do list last night.
“In any case, your spell was temporary and incomplete. Once I’m done with it and have collected all the ingredients, I’ll be able to permanently resurrect Dox.”
That’s how she thought I had revived Sebastian Reade? It was better than her knowing about my Red affinity. She was the last person in the Unseen Realm I trusted with that knowledge.
“I couldn’t acquire a dragon egg,” I said. “Thatch said it was too dangerous to collect.”
Vega pulled the grammar book closer. “For you, obviously.”
Maybe it wasn’t such a dreadful idea for her to be onboard with this spell. She wasn’t going to help me without a motive. If she thought it cured death, it didn’t hurt to let her think that. The more translating she did, the more it benefited me. It might be the solution to cure Derrick.
She held up what she had translated so far, obviously proud of herself. I had to admit, as wicked as Vega could be, she had an impressive mind.