The Necromancer's Knives

by Jen Kirchner

  The door opened with the squeal of metal on metal. The bunker was pitch dark. I waved my flashlight through the open door, being careful not to shine it in Mikelis’s eyes, and saw concrete floor and the back of a television. A folded fabric screen was propped against the wall.

  If I remembered correctly, a few floor lamps were scattered throughout. I found the first lamp by the wall, just to the left of the door. The bulb’s soft, warm glow filled the corner of the room, leaving the back half in hazy shadow. The light level was comfortable for immortal eyes and almost too dark for mine. As my eyes adjusted and the objects in the room became clear, my heart started to pound.

  The scene was almost as I remembered it, just darker: a vast, rectangular room made of concrete, with stark walls draped in green chiffon. Cozy and homey, decorated with a dash of crazy. A range of emotions flashed through me, taking me through everything I’d felt the last time I was here. When I’d killed—

  Stop doing that!

  I blinked and realized I was already moving toward the back of the room. I had been poking Stubby’s razor-sharp tip into every surface I passed: The sofa. A side table. The gauzy curtains that lined the room. Another room divider. All three stools in the kitchenette.

  I tried mumbling an apology, but my mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. I sucked in a mouthful of air, but it was stale and hot, like it had been recycled through a filter that was way past its prime.

  I turned around and realized where I was standing—

  On the spot. The exact place where I’d stood with Grandpa, Moons, and Luucas, on the phone with the entire Immortal State, who had been largely unaware of what I needed to do. The spot was enclosed by four protective posts that Dad had created the last time I was here. I remembered every detail of this spot, including the weird stain on the area rug. I’d been standing on it when I set off the magic that killed so many innocent people.

  What is wrong with you? You’re jittery, and it’s making me dizzy.

  Stubby was right, but trying to calm down was making it worse. I was stuck in my head and couldn’t get out.

  Stop it.

  Mikelis’s signal appeared on Death Radar, winking in from the corner of the small field created by the protective posts. It came closer.

  “Hey.”

  His voice was soft and deep in my ear. His hand reached around me and slid a featherlight touch down my forearm. He wrapped his thumb and forefinger around my wrist, bringing a gentle stop to my arm—and to Stubby.

  He didn’t touch Stubby. He just held my wrist, keeping his contact soft. Soothing. He pressed his lips against the crook of my neck. “Are you okay?”

  I sucked in a breath and nodded. Just as I started to twist around to face him, a loud slam echoed down the stairwell.

  The front door of the laundromat. Someone else was in here.

  Mikelis’s head snapped up toward the door. Whether the intruder was human or immortal, I didn’t know; we were still inside the protective posts.

  I heard a male voice trickle down to us. The words were hard to discern, but I caught a complaint about leaving the lights on. The voice was very familiar. Deep and heavily accented.

  A youthful-looking couple came through the bunker door hand in hand. They appeared to be in their late twenties. The man entered first. He wore crisp jeans, a dress shirt with blue stripes that was neatly tucked in, and shiny leather shoes. His dark hair curled around his face, framing his tanned skin and dark eyes. His companion clutched his hand tightly and looked disoriented as she glanced around the room. She was equally beautiful, with olive skin, light brown eyes, and straight brown hair slicked back into a low ponytail. She wore dark slacks with kitten heels, and a pink sweater that fell off one shoulder. I didn’t have to touch the sweater to know it was as soft as a cloud. I knew firsthand. I’d given her the sweater last Christmas.

  “Mom?” My voice sounded like I was choking. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

  And how did they get in? The access spell was still working when we came inside, and I watched Mikelis lock the door behind us.

  Dad’s head snapped in our direction and his steps faltered, tripping over one of the throw rugs on the floor. Mom was following behind and not paying attention—in fact, her eyes had a vacant look—and she crashed into Dad’s back.

  Mom shook her head and blinked her eyes rapidly. The vacant look disappeared, and she beamed a smile at me. Dad’s lips pinched together for a second and his eyes widened. Before I could register the expression, it was gone and he was smiling.

  “Eliana!”

  They walked toward us, hands still clasped. It almost seemed like Mom was pulling Dad toward us, and for some reason, Dad was dragging his feet. I wrapped Stubby loosely with underwear and towels and set the bundle on a nearby table.

  When my parents stepped inside the black posts, their signals appeared on Death Radar: Diaco Rendon, fourth channel, age 1,904, death by blood disease. Isadora Rendon, no channel listed, age 2,018, death by blood disease.

  While Mom crushed me in a hug, Dad politely greeted Mikelis. Not in the weird, formal way Immortals usually do where they stare into each other’s eyes, but a quick nod. He seemed distracted and unsure of whether he was happy to see us. Why wouldn’t he look directly at me?

  Mom took my hand and stepped back so Dad could hug me, too.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked again. “I’ve been wearing my end of the telepath spell since I got home, but I haven’t been able to catch you.”

  Dad glanced down at his wrist. He seemed surprised. “Oh. I carry it with me but have not been wearing it. I must have left it in the car.”

  He looked like he was going to ask a question, but Mikelis cut him off with his usual level of tact.

  “How did you get in here?”

  Dad’s brow creased. “I was going to ask you the same question.”

  Mikelis held up the silver key as his response. His gaze held Dad’s.

  Dad shifted on his feet. “I…” He cleared his throat, straightened his spine, and started again. “I purchased the building over the bunker.”

  Mikelis didn’t flinch. His face was like stone.

  I exhibited none of his restraint. These two idiots were my parents, and I didn’t have to pretend at politeness. When you’re with family, you let it all hang out, and they have to love you anyway.

  “You what?” My screech filled the bunker, making Mikelis and both of my parents wince.

  Geez.

  Dad’s eyes narrowed into irritated slits, but he still wouldn’t meet my eyes. His gaze slid over my shoulder, then bounced around. “The building is a wise investment, Eliana. While it cost more than a reasonable price, the ticket sales will make up for it. Now that I am no longer a member of the Council, I need to replace that income. This new historic site is a tremendous opportunity.”

  Dad kept talking, but my brain went elsewhere, thinking about Dad’s investment into a place that represented death. And not just any death—Ruairí O’Bryne had spent five centuries murdering necromancers like me. Like Mikelis. Like Dad.

  This felt like a mockery of those who died beneath the voodoo master’s sacrificial blade.

  I wanted to say that none of this made sense, but I knew my dad very well. Unfortunately, this all made sense.

  Mom seemed oblivious to the whole conversation. She was still holding my hand, but had turned away from us and started to poke one of the necromancer posts with her finger. Repeatedly. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  I wondered if Dad had even tried discussing his expensive purchase with her. Probably not. How much had this building cost them, anyway?

  “So, what are you doing here?” Dad asked, looking between Mikelis and me, but mostly at Mikelis.

  I snapped back to the conversation as Mikelis said, “We’re looking for the key.”

  Dad’s brows furrowed. I could tell he was wracking his brain to figure out what Mikelis was referring to. Then he shook his head. “What key?”

&
nbsp; I said, “The key that Mom told Luucas about.”

  His brows deepened into a sharp V. I caught a flash of panic in his eyes. “I have no idea what you are referring to.”

  Mikelis crossed his arms over his chest. Mom poked at the necromancer post. Tap. Tappity-tap.

  “Mom told Luucas that the key to Ruairí O’Bryne is somewhere in this bunker. Luucas thinks there was a mastermind behind him.”

  “Oh.” Dad rolled his eyes. “There was no one behind Ruairí. He worked alone.”

  I released Mom so I could throw both of my hands into the air. “Then why were you helping Luucas with his investigation?”

  Dad’s hesitation before answering was so slight that I was sure Mikelis didn’t notice it.

  But I did.

  It was accompanied by a subtle tick in his cheek. His gaze darted left and then came back.

  He was scrambling for another answer.

  “Obviously,” he said, his voice smooth despite the heavy Iberian accent, “the sooner I can assist Luucas in finishing his investigation, the sooner the historic site will open for business and I can begin a return on our investment.”

  “And while you were at it,” I said, “you could get a private look at Rambo.”

  He winced. “Yes. I should have asked, but you were not easy to reach, as you had not been wearing your end of the telepath spell. I did not touch your knife. I simply want to make certain that you are safe.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting to see if he was going to break. Dad’s chin lifted a fraction. Defiant. Challenging. His expression said, “Don’t mess with me. I used to change your diapers.”

  We stared so hard at each other that Mikelis shifted on his feet and actually took a step back from us. Mom hugged the necromancer post like it was an old friend.

  “Dad.” I put my hands on my hips. “That is complete and utter crap!”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Yeah, excuse you. I know you better than that, Dad. You knew Luucas was investigating the Council, and you’re still pissed that they fired you. The Council was pissed and embarrassed that they were under investigation by the most influential Principal Conservator. Helping Luucas was part of your petty revenge—it was your way of poking your finger into the Council’s eye.”

  Dad’s jaw dropped so far I could see his molars. “I would never—”

  “Oh yes, you would! Where do you think I learned it from?” I jammed a thumb over my shoulder at Mikelis. “Toilet-papering his car? Covering it with cotton balls right before a snowstorm? I got my petty revenge streak from you.”

  Dad clasped his hand over his chest and reared back. He grabbed Mom’s hand. She blinked a few times and looked around, as if trying to get her bearings.

  Family fights aren’t pretty and they’re very involved. They take everything a person has inside and leave scorched earth.

  “Buying the laundromat was the same thing,” I shouted. “You probably had to outbid most of the Council—and I’ll bet you only did it to spite them. How much did you pay, anyway?”

  I waved my hand as if dismissing that thought. I was scared to know. “The worst part of it is, you were so distracted by your personal feelings and petty revenge that you neglected to see Luucas cornering Mom and pumping her for Seer information.”

  “That is not—”

  “It is true, Dad. I’ve been gone for three months, and it’s clear that Mom’s gotten worse. Hasn’t it occurred to you that Mom’s worse? Look at her. She’s got no idea where or when she is. In fact, everything is worse. I’m wanted by every first-world country. There’s another necromancer. Cody Springer is dead. Rambo’s been stolen! Luucas is in jail.”

  I paused to catch a breath. My voice was hoarse from screaming. Tears leaked at the corners of my eyes. Dad’s eyes were wide in horror. But it was his fault. Had Mom been okay, she would have clued him into all this. But she wasn’t, and everything that had happened was all his fault.

  I took a deep breath. “When I went on tour three months ago, you promised you’d handle things for me, but you’ve made everything worse.”

  Anger flashed across Dad’s features, and he took a step forward. Although I was now an adult and able to see my parents’ flaws, he was still my dad. I knew this look. His tone was low and even, and his upper lip curled in a snarl.

  “If you do not like the way I am handling things, perhaps it is time for you to grow up and face your problems like an adult instead of running away and leaving your messes for everyone else to clean up. As you have been doing your entire life.”

  His words hit me like a bucket of cold water. My mouth fell open, but no sound came out. Dad’s lips pinched together. The dark flush in his cheeks spread to his neck and deepened to an angry shade of smoke gray. The ensuing silence was long and awkward.

  Mikelis cleared his throat. His hand felt firm on the small of my back. “Why don’t we regroup in a few minutes?”

  Dad gave us a curt nod.

  As I let Mikelis walk me toward the back of the bunker, I replayed the argument in my head.

  “Grow up and face your problems,” he’d said.

  What hurt the most wasn’t that I had been right about Dad.

  It was knowing he was right about me.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The door was open, pushed outward, and hanging over a rickety metal staircase. I stood in the doorway with Stubby in one hand and the flashlight in the other. I detected nothing that would indicate what we’d find below. The air was stale and smelled of rot.

  My gut said we shouldn’t be here searching for Luucas’s stupid key. Not that I agreed with this decision. Damned if we do, damned if we don’t.

  How much longer are we going to stand here?

  I blinked and slid my gaze down to Stubby.

  Mikelis squeezed my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  I wasn’t sure if he was speaking generally or about the argument I’d just had with my dad. Either way, the answer was no.

  “Sure,” I lied. I pointed Stubby down the stairs. “I’ve never actually been downstairs. When we were here, Grandpa and Moons said I wouldn’t like it.”

  Damned if I do…

  I shined the flashlight on the stairs and went down.

  At the bottom, I stepped onto packed earth, and I waved the light around.

  I stood in a small vestibule made of steel beams and old brick that was patched with dirty cement. A single tunnel led out.

  The air was heavy with dust and the smell of earth and feces. Mikelis and Stubby didn’t have to worry about running out of air, but I certainly did. I’d have to be careful. I pulled my sweatshirt’s hood over my head and the collar of my T-shirt over my mouth and nose to dampen the stench, but it wasn’t especially effective.

  Two cardboard boxes sat beneath the staircase. Not enough room in Luucas’s car, I guessed. When Mikelis joined me, I rested Stubby on one of the stairs and started searching through a box for anything that could be Mom’s “key.”

  The first box contained a lot of rusty old knives with wood, bone, and metal handles. Strange, swirly symbols had been crudely carved on their blades and into their handles. I assumed they were voodoo runes, since I couldn’t read them. Nothing that resembled a key.

  “What do you think this key looks like?” Mikelis asked. “Not an actual key, right?”

  “I hope it’s not an actual key.”

  “Yeah, if Isadora was talking about an actual key, that would be bad. She’s supposed to just give clues.”

  The casual tone of our conversation started to settle my nerves. I realized Mikelis was just talking to keep me calm, and not because he needed help finding things. It was helping, and I appreciated it.

  I sighed. “I hate to say it, but I’m starting to think the key may be an actual key.”

  “Wonderful.” He gestured to the dark hall. “Come on.”

  I shined the light into the tunnel and saw that it sloped down. There was more of the old brick and a variety of
archways reinforcing the aging structure.

  Mikelis rolled his eyes. “This looks safe.”

  We explored rooms and short hallways, some that looped around and joined other halls, and even some that were dead ends. Most of the rooms had been picked clean by Luucas’s investigation. We even found the holding cells where necromancer captives were kept. Some rooms looked like tool sheds and still contained a few pointy, rusty tools, and others had large metal contraptions stained with dried blood.

  Mikelis hustled me past those rooms without comment.

  After almost a half hour of searching, it was obvious that the deeper areas of the structure were older. We weren’t sure if it was safe to continue much further. The dust in the air was getting heavy, and the main tunnel was still descending. The rooms were somehow even more dilapidated. Mikelis even declined to investigate a few in case they collapsed.

  Our exploration led us to a T. To the right was a new tunnel lined with a mixture of gray and off-white concrete blocks—a material we hadn’t yet seen down here. The tunnel that continued straight had a set of rusted and scorched metal doors; they sat open, showing blackened brick and charred beams beyond. It was clear there had been a fire in that section of the tunnel.

  I glanced back over my shoulder and shined the light around, catching the newish looking blocks, then faced the black brick again.

  “What do you make of this?” I asked, using Stubby to gesture at the blackened walls.

  There’s voodoo carved into the walls.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of Stubby’s tone. The knife was either worried or impressed. Maybe both?

  Mikelis and I leaned through the doors for a better look, and Stubby was right. Strange, looping symbols had been carved into the bricks.

  Mikelis straightened. “I think this tunnel leads to Ruairí’s original home, from when he first followed me here two centuries ago. Over time, he couldn’t live in this section anymore, so he had to keep digging. All of this had to be burned.”

  “Why?”