The Necromancer's Knives

by Jen Kirchner

  According to Death Radar, Norayr and Henri were just around a bend, on the other side of the cave wall. Voices rose and fell, but I couldn’t make out the words. It sounded like an argument. The air brushing off the walls sounded like voices sighing, and it masked a lot of the conversation. I needed to get closer.

  I set the flashlight on the ground, pointed down to block out the light, and tiptoed toward the edge, right where the tunnel made a sharp turn around the bend.

  As I neared, Norayr’s low, thickly accented voice became clearer. “—in great need of your services. We have not met before, but I know you, Scholar.”

  I raised Stubby so we could give each other a confused look. I’d never heard of anyone called the Scholar.

  Norayr continued, “I am—”

  A scratchy voice cut him off. “I know who you are. I would like to know how you were able to call upon me.”

  I didn’t recognize the voice. I knew Henri’s voice and this wasn’t it. Death Radar said no one else was near, so I guessed they were human. I couldn’t discern much. Their voice sounded like a chain-smoker’s. Like their throat was filled with razors.

  Norayr growled, “I have your token. It was stolen from Ruairí O’Bryne’s hideout and confiscated by a Principal Conservator, but I took it.”

  The conversation fell silent. The cave sighed in discordant harmony, sending a shiver up my spine.

  Norayr must have been nervous. The silence had him chattering again, his words spilling out twice as quickly as before. “I am in great need of your services. I believe there is a curse on my colleague, and I cannot remove it. He has detailed information about Eliana Rendon and her magic but cannot speak of her. Anything related to Eliana Rendon is obscured. The Immortal State is in its most desperate hour. We need the information in Henri to preserve our nation.”

  I pressed my hand over my mouth to keep quiet. My heart slammed inside my rib cage. Norayr had figured out the spell around Henri that prevented him from talking about me.

  “So?”

  The rough, toneless voice didn’t indicate sarcasm. It felt more like a cat toying with its victim.

  “You deal in obscure information,” Norayr pressed. “If anyone can remove the spell, it is you. I will pay anything.” He paused. “Anything.”

  He was beginning to sound earnest and desperate. Somehow, I didn’t like the combination. I inched closer to the edge of the bend.

  What are you doing? If they catch you, who knows what they’ll do? You won’t defend yourself, so…

  I waved the knife into silence. Eavesdropping was only stupid if I got caught. I just had to be careful. And quiet. With slow, small movements, I crept along the wall until I got to the very edge of the bend. I was so close that my nose was almost poking out.

  “Demonstrate,” the raspy voice said.

  “Very well. Henri, how does Eliana Rendon cast a spell?”

  Magic rose up and washed around me, barely grazing my skin. I peeked around the corner—just enough for my forehead and one eye to become visible.

  As I made a quick scan of the tunnel, I noticed that the tunnel walls had a strange sheen. They reflected the dim light in a soft glow. I still wasn’t sure where the light was coming from.

  Henri Boisseau stood less than ten feet away, facing me. Luckily, he was staring at the ground with his face pinched in deep concentration. I could tell he’d lost some of his heft while on house arrest; his clothes hung loosely on his body. Thin brown hair dangled long and flat around the sharp angles of his face.

  An enormous blue spell swirled around him. The tangled strands and swirls moved around him like a twisted cage. Within the layers of the spell, my grandfather’s magical fingerprint was clear to me. The symbol that powered the spell was unfamiliar, but I could clearly read the restriction applying to it, because it was my name—both of them.

  Norayr stood nearby with his back to me, studying Henri. The Scholar stood next to him, wearing baggy, dirt-smeared jeans and a hooded sweatshirt about five sizes too large. They must be human since I wasn’t able to see their magical fingerprint. Instead, a massive magic symbol encircled their torso, with countless smaller magic symbols behind it, almost as if they were wearing a hundred spells beneath the larger one. I couldn’t even determine their channel color because everything was so mashed together.

  I didn’t know what I was looking at, and it made me uncomfortable. Maybe if there was more light and I had more time to look at the symbols…

  Henri opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. His entire body jolted and his face turned ashen. Immediately, the blue spell coiling around him froze. It flashed brightly once, then twice. Henri made a pained noise. The cords of his neck bulged. His cheeks flushed almost black. And then—

  “Hippopotamus!”

  He gave an impatient toss of his head, and then his body sagged. The blue spell around him resumed its natural course, swirling around his person. He started to look up—

  I ducked back behind the wall.

  Norayr huffed. “He provides the same response to all questions involving Eliana Rendon.”

  “Yes,” the hooded figure rasped. “There is a spell.”

  Grandpa was old and powerful, so the spell he’d placed on Henri was likely ironclad. There was no way anyone except Grandpa could remove it… right?

  Henri Boisseau finally spoke, his high-pitched voice thick with a French accent and a nasal whine. “Name your price. I will pay anything.”

  The stranger’s voice grated across the rock walls. “If you know who I am, then you know I deal only in information. And that there are severe penalties for defaulting on the agreed payment.”

  There was a long pause. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I had a feeling Norayr and Henri understood the threat, but no one wanted to say the details aloud.

  “I understand,” Norayr said, “and I agree to your terms. What is your price for removing the spell?”

  I don’t like this. When this goes badly, I’m going to say I told you so.

  The wind whispered around us, muffling out the Scholar’s response.

  Death Radar caught my attention again. Ronel had reached Norayr, Henri, and the Scholar, but she wasn’t joining them. She was standing on the opposite side of the tunnel.

  Norayr growled in irritation. “I have no idea how to verify that information in the next few days. I need this spell removed from Henri now so I can learn how Eliana Rendon’s magic works—and control it. I would share that information with you as payment. Surely that is more interesting than Diaco Rendon?”

  Before the Scholar could respond, Ronel’s voice rang out across the tunnel. “Halt! Place your hands in the air!”

  “Ronel?” Henri sounded surprised. “How did you find us?”

  She gave a throaty, bitter laugh. “Obviously, I followed you. Norayr assured me that the boxes from Luucas Mikkelson’s house would be delivered to the nearest conservator station as evidence. Instead, he collected you, stole the boxes, and came here.”

  “Ronel,” Norayr hissed, “this isn’t what it looks like.”

  “I have heard enough to know that is a lie. Our assignment was to determine what was happening at the voodoo bunker, locate Eliana Rendon, and return to the Council with our findings. Everything else you have done is off the books. Your actions could bring us to the brink of war.”

  “The Immortal State is already on the brink of war. If human governments cast our people out, we’ll have nowhere to go. No food. No homes. Might makes right, Ronel. If we can secure Eliana Rendon and her power, no one will tell us what to do.”

  “That is not for you alone to decide, Norayr! You are making a deal with the Scholar, who is wanted for treason against the Immortal State. You cannot trust the person who connected Ruairí O’Bryne with some unknown benefactor.”

  I pressed my hand over my mouth again, struggling to keep in my shock.

  I take it back. Eavesdropping on this conversation is actually kind of f
un.

  “I won’t change my mind about this, Ronel.” Norayr was practically shouting. “If you’re not with me, you’re against me.”

  “All three of you,” Ronel said, “are under arrest.”

  “Wait,” Henri whined. “Why am I under arrest? I was not complicit. I’m an innocent bystander. Kidnapped—yes, kidnapped!”

  Apparently, no one was listening to Henri, because I heard the metal clicks of a gun being cocked. Were Ronel and Norayr carrying guns? Many Intelligence officers do. Conservators do not. Bleeding immortals are a danger to the human populace.

  I carefully peeked around the bend again. Ronel looked furious, pointing a big black gun at the group and still barking orders in the vain hope that they’d start listening to her. By the look in her eyes, she clearly didn’t want to shoot.

  Norayr had advanced a couple of steps and I saw he was holding a small silver gun. He looked like he planned to use it.

  The Scholar took a step back into a dark tunnel that I hadn’t seen before. It didn’t have the same glow and sheen that the rest of these tunnels had.

  I started to duck back around the corner, out of the way of impending gunfire, but my sneaker caught a crevice and I stumbled, bumping against the wall and knocking some stones loose. I froze. Henri’s head snapped in my direction.

  Our eyes met.

  Henri’s shocked whisper floated across the cavern. “Hippopotamus.”

  Hey, good job. Also, I told you so.

  The Scholar turned.

  I hesitated. I’m not sure why. Maybe the surprise of my appearance would stop Norayr from killing Ronel. Maybe I would finally get a look at the Scholar’s face.

  Sadly, I got neither. Norayr and Ronel weren’t paying attention to us, and the Scholar’s hood was so big it was like looking into a black hole.

  Henri’s voice strengthened. He pointed at me. “Hippopotamuuuuuuus!”

  He sounded like a French Oprah. I ducked back behind the wall and retreated to where I’d left the flashlight.

  Okay, here’s the plan. Run back to that weird room with the necromancer posts. We’ll wait for reinforcements.

  I couldn’t do that and leave Ronel to defend herself. It was three against one.

  I shook my head and grabbed the flashlight, still pointing it at the ground, then took a deep breath.

  Fine. You obviously aren’t listening to reason, and these people sound like jerks. Here’s the new plan. They’re bigger and stronger and smarter than you—but who isn’t? So just run into the middle and wave me around until you catch something fleshy. Knowing you, you’ll probably hit more people if you close your eyes and scream. Don’t try to aim. Your aim stinks.

  While I pondered those bleak options, Henri’s voice grew louder. He sounded like he was having a spasm. “Hip! Hip! Hip! Hippoooooooo…”

  “I do not accept being arrested, Ronel!” Norayr shouted. “If you won’t assist me, you will die.”

  My heart pounded in my chest. I didn’t want anyone to die. There was no way I could stand by and let it happen. If I didn’t try to help Ronel, it would be the same as killing her myself. I had to do something.

  I hid Stubby behind my back and ran around the bend to the edge of the group. Norayr was within three feet of Ronel, and in his other hand he held a small switchblade.

  “Freeze!” I shouted. “Citizen’s arrest!”

  Have you been watching our crime shows again?

  The argument stopped. Everyone turned to look at me.

  “Hippopotamus!” Henri shouted.

  “What are you doing here?” Ronel snapped.

  “I’m… helping?”

  Norayr waved me away and faced Ronel again. “I will deal with you soon, Eliana Rendon.”

  “Nobody’s hurting anyone,” I shouted. “Back off, Norayr.”

  Norayr sneered. “No harm to anyone? You must be the worst necromancer in history.”

  Tell me about it.

  “Hippo,” Henri quipped.

  The Scholar took a step toward me, drawing my attention. “It is you. You are the key.”

  The key? The one Luucas has been looking for? That doesn’t even make sense.

  “Um,” I said, at a loss for words.

  Norayr advanced on Ronel. Ronel took a few steps back.

  “Stop!” I ordered.

  Norayr glanced back at me over his shoulder, eyes narrowed, jaw set. That was my chance. I aimed the flashlight in everyone’s faces and waved the light around.

  Norayr screamed in agony and dropped his gun. Ronel yelped and doubled over. Henri continued calling me hippopotamus, although by his tone I could tell he meant far worse.

  The Scholar turned around and dashed past Ronel, knocking her aside. She hit the floor and her gun went off. I ducked. The sound was deafening in the cramped space. Henri clamped his hands over his sensitive ears and groaned in agony. Luckily, no one was hit.

  Norayr glanced up just as the Scholar disappeared into the dark tunnel. “Wait!” He climbed to his feet and followed them.

  “Stop!” Ronel shouted. “You are all under arrest!”

  Grabbing the gun, she scrambled onto her feet and raced into the tunnel after them.

  Henri didn’t even look at me. He turned and fled in the opposite direction.

  Now what?

  I ran after Henri.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I staggered through the cave with my breath ragged, my chest heaving, and my limbs barely in control. My necromancer intuition was the only thing that kept me clinging to Stubby as we followed Henri out of the tunnels.

  I had no idea where we were going. The network of tunnels twisted and turned, sloped up and back down, widened and narrowed, and occasionally branched off into other passageways. I kept Henri on Death Radar, and was lucky he’d been holed up under house arrest and lacked exercise. The couple of times that I managed to catch up, he’d angrily called me a hippopotamus and sprinted ahead, putting distance between us again.

  By the time I’d escaped into the warm night air, Henri was fifty feet ahead, out of the woods and halfway through a small glade.

  I didn’t want to injure or violate him, but I didn’t want him getting away, either. Luckily, I had the advantage here. Henri was technically dead, and I was queen of the realm of the dead. I stopped running and pinpointed Henri’s signal on Death Radar. I inhaled a slow, deep breath, reaching toward him with my necromancer senses. My awareness encircled his form.

  I seized control.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t used to taking control of someone who was moving, and it caused his limbs to lock up. His arms went rigid at his sides, his legs snapped together, and he plummeted face-first into the wet grass.

  As I walked toward him, I remembered to give him control of his mind. Then, I commanded Henri’s body to roll over onto his back.

  He spat grass and dirt up at me. “Hippopotamus!”

  “Yeah,” I said, wincing. “Sorry about the fall.”

  I’m not. That was the best thing you’ve done all night.

  I made a full circle, taking stock of my surroundings. I no longer had any idea how far I was from the bunker or how to get back there if I wanted. We had to be at least a mile away. Mikelis and my parents weren’t on Death Radar, and neither was Norayr. Ronel was just at the periphery, making another winding path through the tunnels.

  I looked around again. The moon was high overhead. The light was bright in this circle of grass, making the woods around us appear even blacker. I suppressed a shiver. I felt like I was being watched.

  Good thing you’re still wearing a protection spell.

  I glanced at Stubby. I didn’t think we’d have any more trouble tonight unless Norayr found us, but it did make me feel safer. “Yeah.”

  I was surprised that the protection spell had lasted so long. The delicate, tangled lines of the spell string encircled my chest like macabre lace, looking as vibrant and strong as when I’d first cast it. Of course, I hadn’t had the opportun
ity to really test it yet, and a lot had happened since I’d created it. I wondered if anything had changed.

  I set the flashlight on the ground. With one hand, I directed the spell string away from me and into the clearing. The outline of the protection spell vibrated with energy and seemed to bleed into the night. I stuck Stubby between my knees and raised my hands, pulling the layers of the spell apart.

  I pulled the exception panel forward and checked it. It seemed fine. It still had my name in it, and no expiration date. No changes.

  Henri’s eyes were wide. Haunted. Remembering what I did the night that I blew up Fast Food Row.

  What are you doing?

  I glanced around but still didn’t see anyone. Other than Henri, Death Radar was completely empty now.

  “Just checking to make sure it’s still working.”

  It is. Stop messing with it.

  I collapsed the layers back together.

  A female voice with a heavy Latin American accent cut across the clearing, her tone gushing with excitement. “That’s awesome.”

  Startled, I whirled around and came face-to-face with her: the necromancer who murdered my fans, killed Cody Springer, and stole Rambo.

  I was shocked by how young she was. If I guessed correctly, probably early to middle teens. Dark hair and large, dark eyes. She was pretty. When she was older, she’d be considered exotic and beautiful—if not for the wrongness in her eyes. Dirt smudged her face and coated her long, navy blue jacket.

  She held a knife in each hand. In her right hand was an identical copy of Longy, with a hilt a little too big for her to hold comfortably. Room to grow, I realized.

  The other knife was far too large for her; her fingers couldn’t even reach around the grip. It had an upswept blade, a row of jagged teeth, and a nasty-looking hook near the hilt. A shiver of terror ran through me as soon as I saw it, and yet tears sprung to my eyes at the same time.

  “Rambo.” My voice choked with tears. “Are you okay?”

  Sort of.

  Stubby’s worried tone buzzed my brain.