The Necromancer's Knives

by Jen Kirchner

  I gasped so loudly that Mom clapped her hand over my mouth and we ducked back down, out of sight, in case someone in the room had heard me. I doubted it, though. The room was erupting with questions and commentary about what they’d just seen.

  What is it?

  What do you see?

  “There’s a magical tether of some kind,” I whispered. “Whatever’s on the other end of that tether is answering Norayr’s questions about how to work my magic. And we need to find it.”

  Preferably before he set off the Sneeze power and infected humans everywhere with a strange and deadly disease.

  I checked Death Radar again. Luucas and Lumi were still in hiding, and the conservator SWAT team was staying put. Norayr had to be getting ready for his grand finale. It seemed like Luucas was going to wait until it was too late.

  I needed to act.

  I took Mom’s face in my hands. She looked directly at me, but her gaze seemed so spacey that it was hard to know if she was registering any of this.

  “Mom,” I whispered. “Stay here.”

  She nodded, and I scurried back down the hall. I started opening the hallway doors and found empty offices, a file room, a bathroom, and, jackpot, the janitor’s closet. It was stocked wall-to-wall with cleansers and toiletries.

  And there was a wet vac in the corner. It wasn’t as big as Mikelis’s, but it looked durable and had sturdy wheels. A red sticker on its body advertised a fifteen-foot-long hose.

  I checked the inside pocket of my bag, just to make sure this was going to work. I found my wallet, a tube of lipstick, lip balm, two black markers, a small compact mirror, and a hot pink glow-in-the-dark bandage with one Midas Touch spell swirling around it.

  I pushed the vacuum out and back down to where Mom was kneeling and tapping the pool cue. She didn’t even blink when I rolled it past her. I reached into the pocket of my purse and grabbed the bandage. Then I turned the vacuum so that the hose was pointing toward the door.

  I peeled off one plastic tab.

  Slowly, carefully, I cracked open the door.

  I pushed the wet vac halfway through.

  I peeked through the window. Norayr looked confused. His eyes met mine, and then they narrowed.

  “No!” he shouted.

  Before anyone could turn in my direction, I slapped the bandage onto the wet vac and backed away.

  The thing whirred to life. Its motor and suction were so loud that it drowned out everything else going on. The tangled black spell string expanded around its tank. The hose uncoiled. The wet vac charged into the room.

  Screams of panic could barely be heard over the roaring of the vacuum, which was pretty impressive given that Death Radar showed chaos. The energy of multiple spells filled the air.

  I grabbed Mom’s hand and pulled her down the side hall just as the Intelligence patrols outside started running in. The conservator SWAT team was right behind them.

  Ronel was still just standing in place, doing nothing. What a weirdo.

  The hallway broke into a T, and we sprinted left down a corridor of vacant offices. We ran past Luucas and Lumi, who were stationed outside another door that led to the reception area. They did a double take as we went past them toward the exit. Lumi was on a walkie-talkie, probably commanding the SWAT team.

  “Kari,” Luucas shouted, “what the hell?”

  “No time to explain!”

  I pulled Mom through the rear exit and we stumbled out into the light. The thin, gray tether popped out of the back wall and stretched across the parking lot toward a small row of warehouses.

  We followed the tether to one of the warehouses and ran around to the back. There were a few parked trailers and a wide road that separated the office park from a row of markets and shops and trees. I didn’t see Ronel, but I knew she was hiding behind a nearby trailer.

  The warehouse had a large loading dock. All of its roll-up doors were closed. There was an entry door nearby, but it had a brand new steel chain and sturdy padlock securing it.

  I was surprised that the building wasn’t covered in protective spells or an access spell, but then again, Norayr was working alone at this point, and third-channelers can’t cast access spells. He should be able to cast spells protecting against physical and magical damage, but I didn’t see any. Maybe they interfered with his magical tether.

  I was panting and my lungs were burning when I set my bag on the ground in front of the door. Mom turned to me, patting her hair back like we were making an entrance at a party.

  “How do I look?” she asked.

  I swiped at my forehead with the back of my hand, pulling sweat, dirt, and my nest of hair away from my skin. “Great,” I wheezed.

  My hands were shaking from adrenaline when I lifted them up, recalling the commands to make a hole in the wall. The corrugated metal and brick sizzled, and boiling blood dripped to the asphalt like gory acid. A red pool started to form at my feet. I was too exhausted to really control the shape or size, so I made a much bigger hole—and pool of blood—than I’d meant to. The smell of rot and sulfur filled the air.

  I put my will into the blood, drawing it up into a large, faceless, liquid minion. Blood dripped from its fingertips and spattered onto the ground, where it gathered back into its toes.

  I commanded it to go inside. It went willingly, and, it seemed, eagerly. Its feet slapped against the concrete floor and peeled off. The sticky sounds were sickening.

  I didn’t know whether the minion was supposed to give me any indication of danger, but it didn’t, so I ducked inside and pulled Mom in behind me.

  The warehouse was surprisingly small inside. It smelled like old produce on the cusp of rotting. Pallets and crates were stacked up against a wall, and a large yellow forklift was parked nearby. The tether stretched across the space and disappeared into a large stack of crates.

  I pulled Mom to the crates and dropped her hand. Mom started humming to herself as the blood minion and I started dragging out the junk—well, I dragged, and the blood minion tossed it over its shoulder—clearing a path to whatever lay at the end of the tether. There was a lot, but between the two of us, we made quick work of it.

  My arms were like noodles when we reached the back wall and uncovered an enormous plastic crate on wheels.

  A wave of nausea rolled over me, and I stumbled backward, trying to keep the contents of my stomach down. Kneeling on my hands and knees, I breathed through my nose and waited for my stomach to feel better.

  It didn’t.

  I glanced back up at what I’d discovered.

  The crate looked like something you’d use if you were taking a St. Bernard on a plane. It had a metal gate on one of the smaller sides. The wheels were crusted in dirt. Inside, there was a tiny form curled into a tight ball, totally passed out.

  The necromancer girl.

  The tether went directly into the crate, attaching itself to the girl.

  I counted seven random items tied to the corners of the crate, and the walls pulsed with swirly gray spell strings that I couldn’t read.

  Voodoo.

  The smell of urine and feces was overwhelming. Norayr had completely incapacitated the girl with voodoo and hadn’t even bothered to care for her basic needs.

  My hands clenched into fists. Red filled my vision. It was no wonder the girl had turned to a life of violence, even at such a young age. For most necromancers, it was kill or be killed.

  Norayr was going to pay for this if it was the last thing I did.

  “Mom?” I called.

  No answer.

  I looked over my shoulder. “Mom?”

  She was humming and waltzing with the pool cue and likely didn’t even realize I was there. Sadly, Mom would be no help. I’d just have to keep her out of the way for her own safety.

  I glanced around for another way to deal with the voodoo charms. My eyes kept tracking to the hole I’d made in the wall.

  I crawled a safe distance from the voodoo and climbed to my feet. The tether
pulsed again, providing more answers for Norayr. I needed to hurry. No doubt he was close to his big finale: the Sneeze spell.

  I sent the minion toward the crate. It went eagerly. But when it got within two feet, the minion’s dark surface rippled like a bug skittering across a syrupy pond, and it came to a complete stop.

  Something was wrong, I just didn’t know what. Mentally, I commanded it forward. It took two more steps toward the crate. Its hands reached for the first voodoo charm.

  As soon as it made contact, its hands began to sizzle and disintegrate like they were being burned by acid. Flakes of dark, dried blood and drips of sticky brown goop fell to the floor.

  I tried to reform the minion, but the blood on the floor wouldn’t rejoin the rest of it. I had to improvise. New hands sprouted at the elbows. Its fingers were tiny and malformed.

  The minion ripped the first charm off of the crate and flung it toward the loading dock. Its stubby elbow-hands tore off the next charm.

  The minion’s legs started to melt. A pool of blood spread out on the ground toward me. I focused my will into the blood blanketing the concrete, trying to rebuild my minion, but the tainted blood wasn’t responding. The voodoo had somehow inactivated it.

  I grabbed Mom’s elbow, and my bag with the knives, and pulled them both out of the way of the blood.

  The minion kept ripping off the charms and melting away. The pool of blood on the ground got larger and larger. My minion got smaller and smaller. Its legs were gone. Its hands were attached to its shoulders. I commanded it to pull out the crate and spin it around so it could reach the final two charms.

  My minion was now just a head and shoulders and a pool of blood that coated most of the floor. No hands. I started to feel its distress at not being able to satisfy my desire.

  I waved away the blood and the minion, putting it out of its misery. There were only two voodoo charms left and I didn’t want to waste more time making a new blood minion. I took a deep breath and charged the dog crate.

  The voodoo magic hit me. I started to sneeze and gasp for breath. I tried pushing the magic away, but my ability to do that had been significantly weakened.

  The voodoo seemed angry that I’d even tried and reinforced its assault. My stomach heaved. I gasped for breath. Tears blurred my vision. My stomach rolled and tried to empty itself all over the floor, but there was nothing in it except a little water, coffee, and stomach acid. The smell, combined with the blood minion’s remnants, was overpowering, and I dry-heaved again.

  I fumbled at the latch. The door swung open. I grabbed the girl’s ankle. Her jeans were soaked with urine. I pulled with whatever strength I had left, my stomach still heaving as I dragged her out of the crate and onto the floor.

  I pulled her away from the two remaining charms. My stomach calmed down, but my head was pounding. The gray tether from Norayr ended inside the girl’s chest. It throbbed again with a sickly light. The girl stirred.

  I upended my bag, scattering its contents across the floor. I couldn’t tell which knife was inside which bundle, so I grabbed the nearest one and unwrapped it. Miss Sparkles.

  My necromancer!

  I grabbed the other one. Rambo. My fingers hesitated ever so slightly before I grabbed the soft, thick handle.

  Nothing happened. I guess Rambo had already told the girl and me everything we needed to know.

  I lifted my shirt and cut another symbol into my skin, next to the one I’d already received; a harrowing copy. A flash of pain went through me, but I bit my lip to keep myself from crying out, and I kept going. One triangle. A squiggly line. And then I pierced a dot with Rambo’s tip.

  I crawled to the girl and lifted her shirt. She’d drawn the symbol on her stomach, large and proud.

  I hesitated. Her face showed just how young she was. I didn’t even know her name. Was she even allowed to drive? Where were her parents? I didn’t want to hurt this girl, but I knew I had no choice.

  Switching our magic back was a mercy—not just for us, but for the entire world.

  A torrent of energy gushed over me, large and powerful, and not mine. Even with my dulled necromancer senses, I could tell it was Norayr. He was starting the grand finale of his demonstration.

  The girl stirred, starting to wake. If I was going to do this, it had to be now. I wasn’t going to get another chance.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. And then I sliced the symbol, small, into her skin.

  She moaned. Her eyelids fluttered open. I smeared my fingers into the blood seeping onto my skin, then reached down and mixed my blood with hers.

  The fourth channel shuddered. The gray tether protruding from her chest convulsed.

  Agony.

  The necromancer powers I’d received from the girl started to drain out of the fourth channel, fast, starting with the smallest.

  They ran through me faster than I’d received them, searing me and whisking my breath away. The girl’s body spasmed and writhed as the magic drained from me and funneled through her, back into the fourth channel.

  I lay on the dirty floor for a minute, panting. My magical consciousness inside the fourth channel felt small and insignificant, the way it should—but even more empty than it was before. Even the power that I’d tripped and fell on was gone. It had been transferred over to the girl, too.

  My skin burned hot from the energy transferred through me. The girl had passed out again. Mom was hopping around the room, oblivious, tapping that damn pool cue on the ground.

  Tap… tap tap.

  Tap… tap tap.

  BOOM!

  The metal entry door was ripped off of its hinges and flew outward and slammed into one of the parked trailers. A hulking silhouette filled the doorway.

  Norayr Hakobyan.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Norayr stalked into the room, his dark gaze fixed on me, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as if he’d like nothing more than to wrap them around my neck and squeeze.

  He’d put on a suit for this meeting. Navy blue. White shirt. Shiny leather shoes. He even took time for a haircut. The effort was all for naught; he was totally disheveled now. His clothes were shredded in spots, showing cuts beneath, and there were splotches of dirt, water, and blood all over him. He looked like he’d been through some kind of disaster.

  Or, I realized, like his tethered magic had been switched on him, and it backfired when he tried to work one of my useful tricks.

  The tether wafted between him and the necromancer girl, who was still completely unconscious nearby. Mom clearly hadn’t noticed the newcomer; she was still hopping around with the pool cue.

  Tap… tap tap…

  “You have ruined everything,” he hissed.

  I scrambled to my feet and started backing up. I held up my hands defensively. “Just listen. You don’t have to do this.”

  His hands twitched with a familiar motion. He wasn’t capable of dismissing a spell, though; I wasn’t sure what it would do with the other necromancer’s magic. Energy swelled around him, and a tangled string of black filled the air above his head.

  I took another step back and ripped the spell string out of the air. The energy abruptly died.

  “Listen,” I pleaded, my voice hoarse. “This isn’t necessary. What if…”

  I had my magic back, safe and sound, but the Immortal State was still in danger of expulsion and starvation. I wouldn’t be the cause of their mass extinction, either. I had to make Norayr believe that.

  “What if I agree to disappear? No one will ever find me. Once I’m out of the picture, the Immortal State will be safe again. You can tell people whatever you want—tell them you killed me. I don’t care.”

  He continued to creep toward me, forcing me back. I always stunk at playing chicken.

  “I will absolutely tell people that I killed you, for that is exactly what I’m about to do.”

  His hands twitched again, and another spell formed. I ripped it out of the air and killed it, throwing the d
ead spell string against one of the roll-up doors. Mom was within grabbing distance, so I took her arm and hauled her away from Norayr.

  Norayr’s face and neck flushed to an almost charcoal color. He raised his hands again, as if to cast another spell.

  Then his gaze caught the scene on the floor. The girl sprawled out. The contents of my purse everywhere. He saw Miss Sparkles near him and moved to pick up the knife.

  Then he spotted Rambo.

  As an expert on sacrificial knives, I was sure it didn’t matter which knife he used to kill me. However, if I were feeling murderous, I’d probably go for the nastiest looking instrument, too. And that was definitely Rambo.

  I just didn’t like the idea of anyone touching Rambo.

  I reached out and put my will into Norayr’s body like I’d done earlier with Henri and with the blood minion. Just before I could fling him away from the knife, the gray tether flared.

  A spike of pain in my mind forced me to release him. I stumbled and fell to my knees.

  Wincing, I looked up and saw Norayr wrap his hand around Rambo’s soft, kidskin-like handle. He jolted at the contact like he’d been given a shot of static electricity. His eyes blinked a few times, then he shook out his head. A slow smile spread across his face.

  Mom helped me struggle to my feet.

  “Rambo,” I said, “what are you doing? He’s not even a necromancer! What did you tell him?”

  He’s sort of a necromancer right now, and I told you already—I can’t help it. Also, some fun trivia: it would be really easy to transfer your magic to Norayr now because you have no powers to exchange. He would have exploded before, but now it’s perfectly safe for him.

  Norayr smiled. “Oh yes, it will be very easy.”

  He can hear my knives, too?

  I pulled Mom away from Norayr, but we ended up in a corner. I was looking for another avenue of escape when a wave of sickness came over me. I whipped around just as a cloth doll with button eyes slid across the floor to my feet.

  The voodoo charms. The minion hadn’t been able to destroy them, so their magic was still active. I kicked the first one back just as Norayr threw another one at me.