The Necromancer's Knives

by Jen Kirchner

  “Luucas is trying to make me fight.” I pointed Stubby at Mikelis. A clot of black smoke obscured the air between us. “Something about an imaginary danger, and you’re a national treasure?”

  Luucas’s mouth turned down in a frown. “I’m teaching Kari self-defense. There are only three of you necromancers in the world. You’re all under my jurisdiction, and you’ve become way too lax. I’m in enough political trouble right now. If something happened to one of you, people would be furious. No one’s going to take you out on my watch.”

  Mikelis groaned, a deep, rumbling sound. “Not this again.”

  Luucas sprinted around the couch. I backed up toward the hall while cutting out another circle of the supernatural plane. I flipped it over.

  Unfortunately, Luucas had already figured out how to combat my stupid trick. He pivoted on one foot and leapt for the couch, neatly clearing the circle. He slammed down onto the couch and rolled off, just inches away from where I’d been standing.

  Go! Go! Go!

  I was already sprinting into the hall, my sneakers squeaking and slamming on my beautiful new wooden floors. According to Death Radar, Luucas was right behind me. I had no idea where Mikelis’s fine self was. I pointed over my shoulder and waved blindly at the floor. I couldn’t stop to look, so I used Death Radar to get the timing right.

  I heard Luucas spill out behind me with a loud thump and a curse.

  Use one of the bandages!

  Oh. Right.

  I’d tested this magic power a few times and it had never gone well. I didn’t have high hopes for it now, but I didn’t have another plan. If I got lucky, it would at least cause enough distraction for me to escape to my car and drive off. Eventually, I’d have to come home, but I could deal with that later.

  I already had a bandage in my hand as I tore through the kitchen and went straight to the dining area. Construction equipment and tools were everywhere. My attention went directly to the enormous wet/dry vacuum in the back corner. It was as high as my waist and wide like a barrel. It had four sturdy wheels. The label boasted a twenty gallon capacity. It was the mama jama of wet vacs.

  I was hesitating with the bandage until Luucas’s footsteps pounded into the kitchen. I clamped Stubby between my legs, ripped off one of the plastic tabs, and slapped the bandage onto the vacuum.

  Then I backed up. Fast.

  The spell script’s lines were getting bolder. Longer. Vibrating. The ebony ink seemed to scorch the air. The vacuum’s hose twitched. A sign of life.

  Luucas stopped in the kitchen archway. A small dark spot had formed on his forehead where he’d hit the floor. His gaze flickered from me, to the wet vac, then back to me. He couldn’t see the black spell string around the vacuum. I could tell he wasn’t sure what to do. He took a tentative step toward me.

  The vacuum whirled to life, its noise deafening. It lurched. Once. Twice. It charged across the room, weaving through the construction bits littered on the floor. Its black hose whipped through the air, moving about like an alien tentacle. The room erupted in pandemonium as Luucas and I forgot about fighting each other and focused on staying out of the vacuum’s path.

  This is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.

  “It was your idea!” I yelled, as I jumped over a toolbox and headed for another corner.

  Luucas made the unfortunate mistake of slapping the hose away with the back of his hand. The vacuum spun around and charged him. The machine chased him into the kitchen and halfway around the island, where it reached the end of its cord. Like the world’s worst snake charmer, Luucas grabbed the hose, bent down, and laughed at the vacuum.

  I was still in the kitchen, so I had full visibility of the cord and the electrical socket. I froze, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. Was the plug twitching in the socket?

  “Luucas,” I warned, “don’t taunt the vacuum.”

  “Why? It’s just a—”

  The cord came free. The vacuum charged at Luucas and seemed to actually run him over. Luucas went down in a heap with a strangled cry, disappearing behind the kitchen island. Mikelis doubled over in laughter.

  I ran over to the kitchen just as Luucas was back on his feet, screaming. The cord was wrapped around his waist, the hose was jabbing him, and he was kicking the vacuum to keep some distance.

  Red spell script started forming in the air over Luucas’s head. I wasn’t sure what Luucas’s intentions were, but I could see from the spell string that it was aimed at the wet vac.

  “Hey.” Mikelis tried to stand upright. His words came between breathless laughs. “If you destroy my vacuum, you’re buying me another one.”

  Immortals are famously cheap. Nearly everything they do is motivated by money and the saving thereof. Humans budget for an estimated end date, but immortals have to budget for eternity.

  Luucas’s mouth stopped moving. The red runes dissipated. His dilemma was all over his face: use his third-channel fire magic and owe Mikelis a few hundred bucks, or find another way to stop this fight and risk the humiliation of getting his butt kicked by a vacuum cleaner?

  Choices, choices.

  He twirled around, unwinding himself from the cord, then took off into the dining area again. The vacuum followed, hose and cord waving.

  “Kari,” Luucas shouted, “get the spell off of it.”

  “Are you going to stop attacking me?”

  “I’m not—” He tore past me into the kitchen again. “Yes. Whatever. Just make it stop.”

  I didn’t believe him, but we didn’t have much of a choice. I didn’t build a timer into that spell. I’d have to remove the spell from the vacuum or it would run forever.

  I reached out with my free hand and tried grabbing the ethereal spell string. The vacuum moved too fast, zig-zagging around the room after Luucas, and I missed. I tried again. And again.

  Grab the bandage!

  Good idea, but how would I even approach it without getting whipped?

  Luucas passed me in a brisk jog, circling around the island for the millionth time, with the wet vac close behind him. I saw the bandage. It was a little lower down on the vacuum than I thought I’d placed it. Half of it still had its plastic tab on, and the loose end was flapping in the air with the vacuum’s movement. I’d have to be quick.

  I ran up behind the wet vac. I had to keep pace while not tripping over anything. Neither was my forte.

  I still had Stubby clenched in my fist. Balancing that fist on top of the vacuum, I reached over, fingers extended—

  The hose slammed against the back of my legs. I tripped, falling onto the wet vac. Before I could roll off, the hose snaked around me and started slapping my butt.

  “Kari,” Luucas hollered. “Stop screwing around. Get. The. Bandage!”

  I flailed inside my plastic prison and swiped Stubby at the hose. The blade sliced through the heavy-duty plastic like it was butter, severing the tip.

  What are you doing? I am not a common utensil! I was born to lead my necromancer to glory and power while sacrificing powerful people. Or, at the very least, their powerful fingers and occasionally a toe, just to mix things up. My purpose is to watch over you and guide you to greatness. To protect you from doom, which you seem to run into headfirst, no matter what I say. Hey! Are you even listening to me?

  “What?”

  I barely heard Stubby’s rant while I was twisting and turning in the angry hose’s grasp. I reached for the bandage. My fingertips caught the loose end, and I tugged, tugged, tugged it free. The vacuum slowed down.

  I waved the bandage in the air. “I got it! I got—”

  The vacuum lurched and spun around. The hose smacked me on the head.

  “Ow!”

  The vacuum didn’t stop. The spell script had transferred to it. Removing the bandage only seemed to make it angry. I was going to have to remove the spell string manually.

  Luucas ran past Mikelis and retreated into the hall. The wet vac—with me as its unwanted passenger—chased him.
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  I clamped my legs around the vacuum and reached out for the spell script. The cord slapped at my hand and I missed. I tried again. Luucas started throwing books at the vacuum, but it would not be deterred. I got hit by a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. It was a paperback, luckily, but it still hurt. That book is really thick.

  I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t grab the spell string. It was right below me, but there was too much spinning. The hose kept knocking my hands around, and the string kept slipping from my grasp.

  I closed my eyes. Took a deep breath. I began to push away all nearby active spells, but just then the vacuum lurched, spun 360 degrees, and slammed into the bookcase.

  Pain lanced through me, and I pushed too hard. I felt every spell around my house and the neighbors’ houses snap apart and die—including my access spell, which shattered like magical shards of glass, leaving my house completely unprotected.

  Oh, good. I was worried you couldn’t make the situation worse.

  “Oh no,” I chanted. “No no nononono…”

  The wet vac, completely untouched, raced back down the hall toward Luucas, carrying me with it.

  “Okay,” I heard Mikelis say, “I think that’s enough self-defense for one day.”

  I twisted my neck and saw him place his heavy boot against the vacuum, pinning it to the couch. He grabbed the hose and unwound me, being very careful not to touch Stubby. He scooped me up around my waist and set me on my feet as he kicked the wet/dry vac away, sending it at top speed in Luucas’s direction.

  “Give me a break!” Luucas shouted. He turned and went running back down the hall toward the kitchen. The vacuum zoomed after him.

  Mikelis pulled me into the back corner, near the secret door. He propped his sunglasses atop his head and looked into my eyes.

  “I can’t believe I killed my access spell,” I complained. “I don’t have the coordinates to the power, so I can’t make a new spell, and Marcus is defending me at my trial to the Immortal State, so he can’t, either. What am I going to—”

  Before I could finish, Mikelis’s hand went to the back of my head and he pulled me in. Our lips met. His tongue brushed against mine. The universe stopped.

  I slid one arm around Mikelis’s neck, and the other held Stubby far away. I considered dropping Stubby on the floor and pretending that it was an accident, but no one would believe it.

  No necromancer can drop one of their knives unless it’s intentional. Our affinity to our weapons is too powerful. They’re like extensions of ourselves. Sadly, I’d have to settle for groping Mikelis one-handed.

  A series of smashing sounds and curses erupted from the kitchen.

  “I could use some help here,” Luucas yelled.

  I pulled away from Mikelis’s mouth long enough to say, “Busy.”

  Mikelis pulled my mouth back against his.

  You two are really killing the vibe.

  Right before I passed out from lack of air, Mikelis pulled away and cupped my face with both hands. My smile felt a mile wide.

  “We’ll figure out the access spell. I wanted to call you while you were away, but my phone’s being tapped.” He had a thick Baltic accent. I liked it. “I really missed you.”

  Warm tingles fluttered in my belly. “I missed you, too.”

  Someone get me a barf bag.

  Spells went off in rapid succession in the living room, like popcorn popping against my left side. Luucas’s signal was still running in circles. He was alive, though, so he was probably fine.

  “My kitchen looks amazing,” I said.

  He smiled. “I was hoping you’d like it. I enjoyed the process more than I thought I would. The whole idea of creating something really spoke to me. Maybe I’ll start a construction business.”

  Somehow, my smile grew wider. I knew exactly how Mikelis felt. As necromancers, we were primarily thought of as agents of destruction. That’s why I liked making music. I imagine the idea of building something appealed to him in the same way.

  A rhythmic thumping floated down the hall. Luucas let out a string of Finnish that I could only assume was cursing.

  “The flooring is my favorite,” I admitted.

  “That’s good. I should have called and asked first, but I didn’t think I could keep the conversation neutral. I asked Marcus to sign for everything. He seems to have power of attorney over everything in your life.”

  “Yeah, I…”

  My words died on my lips and I felt heat creep up my neck. I realized I was about to say that my family tackled most of the big decisions in my life.

  Facing the proverbial music wasn’t something I did often. Ignoring problems until they went away was more my speed. That’s the reason my family said I should go on tour until the Eliana Rendon “situation” was under control. They knew I was going to shut my eyes and pretend that the mess I’d made didn’t exist. Looking up into Mikelis’s eyes, I realized this about my life. And telling him would feel really embarrassing.

  Why did it feel like Stubby was glaring at me?

  Mikelis tightened his arm around my waist and kissed me again. Closed lips. Soft. “May I see you tonight?”

  His formality made me nuts in all the best ways.

  “Yes.”

  Magic flared against us, and a snapping sound split the air, followed by a loud bang.

  Mikelis and I released each other and walked to the hall. A thick cloud of smoke and dirt obscured the air. Fragments of the wet vac were everywhere. Luucas was covered head to toe in debris.

  “You’re going to replace that,” Mikelis said.

  Luucas opened his mouth to retort, but the doorbell rang, saving us from another lecture.

  Out of habit, I checked Death Radar. Brad’s dad.

  “Uncle Rick,” I said, surprised.

  Weird.

  Chapter Seven

  I hadn’t seen Uncle Rick much before we’d left for our tour. We’d been busy with our travel preparations, and he’d been busy acclimating to his new life as an immortal. Mostly, I’d avoided Uncle Rick because every time I had to look at him I was reminded that his mutation was my fault.

  I opened the front door and found myself face-to-face with a younger version of Brad: tall, blond, and built like a Viking warrior—a modern one who was prepared to raid a pool party full of buxom bikini models. He wore the conservator uniform of jeans and a blazer, so he must have just come from work. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of black goggles, similar to swimming goggles, only larger and with lenses so dark I couldn’t see through them.

  The eyewear was mandatory since he’d been immortal for less than three months. When someone becomes immortal, most of their body takes only hours to roll back the years, but their sensitive eyes continue to develop for much longer. Uncle Rick would need protection against bright lights for the next nine months.

  I found myself blinking at him, my mind racing with questions that didn’t make it to my mouth: How’s your new life since you were forcibly made immortal and almost killed because of me? Or since you found out I’m a necromancer, secretly raised by Immortals, and your only son was my secret guardian? Sorry for keeping all of that from you, by the way.

  “Hey, kiddo.”

  Hmm. He sounded calm. Looked calm. In fact, he looked like he was going to hug me.

  I let him pull me into one of his familial hugs, then stepped aside to let him through the front door. “Is everything okay? Are you here to see Luucas?”

  Uncle Rick was a new conservator, which made Luucas his boss.

  “Actually, I came to see you.”

  “Oh.” Uh oh. I shut the front door behind him.

  “When was the last time you talked to Brad?”

  “At the airport,” I said. “We split up after customs.”

  Uncle Rick glanced over my shoulder as Luucas and Mikelis came down the hall toward us. He waited for them to join us before continuing.

  “Brad was jumped at the airport.”

  “What?”

 
; Uncle Rick held up a hand to calm me. “He’s okay. He was at the edge of the taxi area. It was shaded. Not a lot of people at that end.”

  “Okay,” I said, nodding to show that I was following the story. My movement felt very mechanical.

  “A girl came outside and attacked him with some kind of shiv.”

  I sucked in a huge breath. “Oh no, oh no. Is he okay? Sometimes this happens—a fan gets too close and they go mental. Sometimes they want a piece of his clothes.”

  Although this was the first time someone had tried cutting them off to get them.

  Uncle Rick’s voice was cool as he pulled his phone from his back pocket. “He’s fine. His defense training was more advanced than I thought.”

  I felt myself flinch. I didn’t expect Uncle Rick to easily forgive me or my family for keeping secrets, and certainly not for dragging a very young Brad into my problems. But he hadn’t disowned me. Uncle Rick believed in family above all else. So, I hoped we’d work through this. Somehow.

  Uncle Rick unlocked his phone. He tapped away for a second, then held it up, showing us a photo. The image was low quality. Everything was blurry. The camera flash had washed out the foreground, and everything in the distance was grainy fuzz in various shades of gray. Brad was standing off-center, legs planted apart, one hand in the air.

  I stiffened. I knew that pose. It was Brad’s casting pose. He was casting a spell, probably at the gray blob hanging in midair on the other side of the picture…

  I looked up at Uncle Rick, who was watching me. I couldn’t see his eyes behind the goggles, but I could feel his knowing look. It was the look that said Uncle Rick had discovered something Brad and I had done. I had received this look a few times in my life, and it never ended without a healthy amount of yelling.

  “This is the only photo of the event,” Uncle Rick said. “I’m sure the security cameras caught the whole thing, but I’d need someone higher up to get access.” He glanced at Luucas. “But that’s not why I’m here. Witnesses said the girl rushed at Brad with a knife. Then Brad shouted ‘Let’s rock!’ while waving his hand in the air.”