Orion’s eyes widened as he looked at Grandfather’s prone body. He looked down at the water now lapping around his ankles.
He fled down the hallway in a quick, limping gait.
“Great.” Not that I could blame him, I supposed. But that left me to save Grandfather.
I really didn’t want to save him. But I couldn’t just leave him to drown.
Well, I could, but it would probably haunt me, and I’d relived enough bad memories for a lifetime.
I grabbed him under his arms and dragged him down the hall. The frigid water was up to my knees, which made it harder to walk but easier to drag Grandfather to the catwalk stairs. I took several deep breaths and then descended the stairs backward until I was swimming, holding Grandfather’s head above water.
The freezing water sucked away my breath. The weight of Grayson’s body dragged at me, made it hard to kick my legs freely. And I couldn’t swim in a straight line. The water cascading down made that impossible. I had to swim around the perimeter of the room. I watched the water rising as I went, watched the exit doorway slowly disappear.
Water completely covered the doorway when I finally reached it. I dove, and tried to drag Grandfather with me.
He jerked and began to thrash, making the world a confusion of up, down, or sideways, of darkness, bubbles, concrete, and steel. I hit my head on the door frame, and air burst out of my lungs. I lost my hold on Grandfather and kicked hard, trying to propel myself free of his thrashing. My foot hit something soft and yielding, and I was through the door into water littered with rats and rat parts.
I swam up and managed to suck in a gasping lungful of air before water and something slimy splashed over my face and I nearly choked again. Water enveloped my fingers pressed to the ceiling. There was no more air to breathe. My feet found the wall beside the door, and I pushed off, swam down the hall for the room with the killer diving suits and the exit. I felt nauseated, dizzy, my hands and feet numb, my boots made of lead. I realized as I swam that I couldn’t see Heather anywhere in the shifting green of the water, but I didn’t have the time or energy to search for her. I fought the urge to cough away my air and pushed it out instead in small bursts, hoping to delay the need to breathe back in as long as possible. Everything began to feel surreal.
The strain on my lungs became an ache, and then agony. The world began to go dark, and I couldn’t tell if it was my mind or the lights in the hall that dimmed. I saw the doorway, scrambled at its edges with numb fingers. Spots danced on the edges of my vision.
A memory of lips soft and warm and melting flickered across my mind like a firefly.
I sucked in water.
I drowned.
Epilogue
Consciousness slammed into me like a punk rock tyrannosaurus. I coughed out water, and air rushed into my lungs, harsh as sand.
My chest felt bruised, sharp spikes of pain lanced through my sides whenever I moved, and my muscles ached. All of them. But my head ached the worst, both inside and out. It felt abused and not quite right, as though my brain had been featured as the bad girl in a David Lynch movie.
I was alive.
Yay?
I coughed some more and blinked. I lay on the icy floor of the Marine Science Center, with the fake rock wall of an indoor tide pool near my head. Dawn’s face came into focus, leaning over me, her tears falling warm on my cheek.
“Finn! Damn you! Don’t ever scare me like that again.” She wiped at her face.
More people pressed in around me. Pete, Vee, Sammy, Mort, Mattie, even Father.
But not Zeke.
I cried then for Zeke’s sacrifice, and for the love of the people around me as they all made sounds of happiness and concern and thanks—or at least lukewarm relief in the case of Mort.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Uncle Finn,” Mattie said.
“How’d I get here?” I rasped. “How long was I out?”
Sammy replied, “You were dead for a minute or so.”
“Dead?” I asked.
Flashes of memory. The desperate gasping of drowning, each attempt to draw in breath only bringing in more water, more darkness.
“Pete dove in and saved you,” Vee said.
Pete blushed. “I just pulled you out. Dawn saved you with a kiss.”
“CPR,” Dawn corrected. “Here, drink up.” Dawn held a metal bottle to my mouth and coaxed something sweet down my throat—our last healing potion. Warmth spread out from my chest, dissolving the worst aches, followed by several unpleasant and sharp pops in my chest and ribs that took my breath away. When I sucked in my next breath, it felt more like a dull burning than blazing agony. Weariness crashed into me anew. I yawned long and hard.
“What about Orion?” I asked when I could speak again. “And Heather, and Grand—Grayson?” For some reason, I just wasn’t ready to share the truth about Grandfather. It’s almost as though my being framed for murder and then fighting for my life for three days had made me a bit paranoid or something.
“I didn’t find nobody but you down there,” Petey said.
“Orion’s graciously decided to confess,” Reggie said, appearing between Vee and Sammy. He wiped his hands across his pants. Was that blood covering them? “That should pretty well clear you and Zeke. In fact, Zeke might receive a hero’s internment rights for helping to prevent a war. I’m sure we’ll need to ask you more questions though, once you’ve recovered.”
“And Heather?”
Dawn’s face became a neutral mask. Pete shook his head. “We didn’t see her anywhere. Do you think she’s … dead?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think she got out, but … she was injured.”
Reggie grunted. “If she’s out there, we’ll find her. And the Króls as well, especially if you share with us how you found them the first time.”
“Happy to,” I said and tried to stand, but dizziness and gravity teamed up on me and I fell back on my butt.
“Easy, lover boy,” Dawn said. “Your friend there called for some kind of healer. Just rest ’til they get here.”
“Yeah,” Mattie said. “Take a moment and enjoy the yayness. We’re all free, and safe, and together. We won!”
Not all of us, I thought, and met Vee’s eyes.
“Indeed,” Mort said. “I guess this means you’ll be sticking around for a while. You’ll have to really figure out what you’re going to do with yourself now.”
Dawn looked away.
“First,” I said, “I want to figure out what exactly I’ve forgotten.”
Vee cleared her throat. “I’ll do what I can to help.”
“Thanks. And I want to help Father.” I smiled up at him.
“Oh, good,” Father said. “Do you think one of these fishes grants wishes?” He wandered off toward one of the aquariums, and Mattie went after him.
I glanced at Mort. “And I have an idea about what I want to do for work. Or at least, as a side job to our family business.” Mort crossed his arms, his expression saying he expected the worst. I looked between Pete and Vee, standing shoulder to shoulder. “Father’s modification to the Kin Finder put the idea in my head, but Pete, Vee, you’re the ones who really inspired me.”
“Us?” Pete said, beaming.
“Yep, you. I’ve decided I’m going to help arcana and feybloods find their true love.”
“Wait,” Mort said. “You want to start an arcana dating service? In a necrotorium?”
“Makes sense to me,” Sammy said drily.
“We have a reputation!” Mort said.
I sighed. “I’m not asking you to join me, Mort.”
“Well,” Sammy said, “you came into a den of evil evilness to save me; I suppose I could at least build you a website or something. With hearts and lovey crap on it.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I thought you wanted to get free of magic and the family business, and make games?”
I shrugged. “I just wanted to control my own life. And I can do that with my magic, just not using i
t the way everyone else wanted me to.”
*Lady preserve me,* a voice whispered in my head. *If he’d stayed dead I’d at least be free of this nonsense.*
“What the—” Oh gods. Was Grandfather’s spirit taking me over? I didn’t sense any will opposing mine.
*Wait, you can hear me?* the voice asked, surprise and excitement so strong it screamed like feedback in my head.
“Yes!” I said. “And stop turning it up to eleven! Who are you? What do you want?”
Sammy frowned. “Finn? Who are you talking to?”
*It’s about bloody time. I guess your dying had some use after all.*
Mort snorted. “Maybe that blow to his head knocked a screw loose.”
I shook my head. Nothing rattled. “I don’t have a screw loose. I have a voice in my head. And before you ask, no, it isn’t telling me to redrum anyone. Yet.” I concentrated on the voice. I asked, who are you?
*You, sir, are talking to Alynon Infedriel, knight of the Silver Court. Your changeling.*
I closed my eyes.
“Ah, bat’s breath.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
RANDY HENDERSON is the grand prize winner of the Writers of the Future Award for 2014, a Clarion West graduate, and a member of SFWA and Codex. His fiction has appeared in Penumbra, Escape Pod, and Realms of Fantasy, and has been included in anthologies. Find him online at www.randy-henderson.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
FINN FANCY NECROMANCY
Copyright © 2015 by Randall Scott Henderson
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Veer.com
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
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The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7653-7808-8 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-5913-5 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781466859135
First Edition: February 2015
Finn Fancy Necromancy Page 36