Necromancing the Stone

by Lish McBride

  I walked calmly up to Eric, who had backed away, and punched him in the gut. The move surprised him, or I wouldn’t have gotten away with it. While he was still gasping, I grabbed him by the throat. Then I whispered her words into his ear. I mimicked her grim smile as I did it, too.

  “Now, I admit I don’t know the lady as well as you, but even I know she wouldn’t have showed up if she damn well didn’t want to.” I shoved him away. He cowered, unmoving. I hadn’t made a friend there. Oh, well. You can’t be friends with everyone. “Now, shut the hell up and let me do my damn job.”

  And I walked away. No one moved. The enveloping silence was a little unnerving. If I’d felt like a pariah before, it was nothing to how I felt now. The she-wolf padded after me.

  Too much, wasn’t it?

  With some people, you just can’t be subtle.

  I sighed. Thank you for everything, Mrs. Blackthorn.

  You’re welcome.

  I returned to my warm rock and sat down. The animals went back to their respective roles, sniffing out the clearing and trying to figure out what had happened. Someone walked up behind me, and I turned to see Dunaway, a little half smile on his face.

  He sat in the grass next to me and watched the animals. “That’s pretty impressive,” he said.

  “Mmm.” Now that I was calming down, I was starting to feel the drain of it all.

  “Can you explain what you did that pissed off everyone so badly?”

  “Are you going to charge me with assault?”

  Before he could reply, Bran said, “He had the temerity to do what we asked him to do, just not in the way they expected. Next time we ask him to call the dead, we’ll be more specific.” He smiled as he said it. If I’d had the energy to rise, I would have hugged Bran right then and given him a big ol’ kiss on the cheek.

  Dunaway shook his head. “Has to be more than that. No way I was the only one here that knew what he could do.”

  “No, but they hadn’t really seen Sam at his impressive best.” He tilted his head to the side in thought. “You shouldn’t be able to do that, you know. We burn our dead. But you did it all the same.” He looked over at his pack. “They haven’t thought of that yet, but when they do…” He shook his head as if to clear it, returning his full attention to Dunaway. “And a few of them objected to the specific wolves he chose to raise.”

  I kept my eyes out over the clearing. “But you’re not mad.”

  “I know my mother. No way anyone could make her do anything she didn’t want to do, even from the grave.”

  Dunaway chuckled softly. They chatted behind me, but I tuned them out, listening to what the animals had to tell me.

  Both Bran and Dunaway seemed perfectly happy to wait for me. After a little while, the she-wolf came back over.

  You’re not going to like what I have to tell you, she said.

  I stared at her derisively. Brannoc has been murdered, your daughter dumped me, lawn gnomes are pissing on my sheets, and the pack is about to tear me limb from freaking limb. Exactly what kind of outcome were you expecting that could possibly be construed as even partially happy?

  She cocked her head to the side.

  What?

  Are you done wallowing in self-pity yet?

  Not even close.

  Her ear twitched. I can wait all day, you know, but I don’t think you can.

  I sighed. You’re right, my apologies. What did you find?

  Whatever killed my husband had no scent.

  That’s what they’ve said, but everything has a scent, right? Or can it be masked or something?

  If it was being masked, then we’d smell what was masking it, but there is nothing.

  I frowned. Nothing? How can that be?

  Exactly. Between that and the traces of magic, we have come to a conclusion. The only way it could be is if it wasn’t.

  Run that by me again?

  Whatever it is, it’s not alive, and it’s not dead, which means—

  Which means that it has something to do with someone like me.

  Most likely.

  But a necromancer would leave a scent trail, and I doubt a ghost could do this.…

  I said you wouldn’t like it.

  I leaned back and sighed again. And yet, I still didn’t think it would be as bad as it has turned out to be. I’ll talk to the rest of the Council, see if we can figure this out.

  Dunaway’s gaze moved from me to the wolf and back to me again. “What is it?”

  The detective had his arms crossed and a concerned look on his face. I felt strangely grateful for him all of a sudden. He was probably one of a handful of people here who wouldn’t want to exterminate me on the spot after I told them what I’d found.

  “I thank you for your help, Detective, but I’m not sure what you can do. It seems our suspect pool is … well, I’m not sure what it is.”

  “Then it seems like you most certainly do need my help. How did you put it? ‘Shut the hell up and let me do my damn job’?”

  I couldn’t help but grin at him. “Rightly so. It seems whoever or whatever killed Brannoc had something to do with a necromancer. Which brings the suspect pool down to a dead man and myself, since we’re the only ones in the state of Washington. The only other necromancer I know is in Mississippi, which probably alibis her out. Oh, and I have an uncle about someplace.”

  “You know where I can find him?”

  “Haven’t the foggiest.”

  “And this other one, you’re sure he’s dead?”

  “As sure as if I’d killed him myself.”

  Bran choked a little on that.

  Dunaway’s eyebrows rose. “You’re including yourself on the list?”

  “I would be remiss if I didn’t.”

  He nodded. “You’re in quite a pickle, then.”

  Bran cocked his head to the side.

  I answered his unasked question. “If there are four necromancers, and one is dead, one is on walkabout, and one is out of state…”

  He straightened, understanding. “Then right now you’re the most likely suspect.”

  “Sometimes I hate my life.” I had James bring the rest of the Council over so we could share our findings. Ramon, still in bear form, joined us. It was kind of funny to see a bear sit down and listen, a curious look on his face. If I hadn’t been so screwed, I’d have laughed.

  I filled the group in on what the wolves had told me.

  Ariana spoke first. “Could a spirit have done this?”

  I thought on that a moment. Ghosts had injured me before. Douglas had sicced a whole pack of them on me in his basement. But even under his expert hand, with many of them, the most they’d done was scratch and terrify me. Sure, it had hurt, but Brannoc was bigger, stronger, and there was no way they could have killed him.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, looking at Ashley.

  She shook her head. “There’s no way.”

  “Whatever it was, it happened fast,” Pello said.

  “Why do you say that?” Kell asked with a twirl of his parasol.

  “I spoke to the tree spirits. Their concept of time is different from ours, but still, they felt Brannoc’s death—him being fey and all, they’re a little more sensitive to him. They said it was like one moment he was fine and then, suddenly, anguish.”

  “We knew it had to be fast,” Ariana said. “Brannoc was a warrior. To have him go without a fight…” She crossed her arms, scowling.

  There was silence as we all mulled this over. Dessa cleared her throat and looked at me questioningly.

  “What is it, Dessa?”

  “I tried to see what had happened here, but the magical interference is so heavy—remember when you first came to my mother and Brooke was causing too much static for her to get a good reading?” I nodded. “Well, it’s the same here. Too much death magic. But, if I had a focus maybe, something of Brannoc’s, and your witch would help me?” She looked at Ione hopefully.

  “Of course,” the witch murmur
ed, already reaching into the kit she’d brought with her in case I’d gone off into the land of the soul-drunk again. “What may I help you with?”

  Dessa had us scoot back, creating a half circle around her and Ione. Then she made some of the more upset wolves leave. Her tone made it clear that she expected to be obeyed. Dessa was a little scary sometimes. A few hesitated, but Brid backed her up, ordering the wolves away. I had my undead friends fall back to the tree line, getting them as far back as I could.

  Ione lit a bundle of sage then, walking slowly in a wide circle around Dessa who stood, eyes closed, body relaxed. The witch sang softly to herself as she walked. When she was done, she handed the smoldering bundle to Pello. He walked it back over to us, and the smoke made Ramon give a bear sneeze.

  Brid offered herself as a focus. The three girls held hands as they walked through the area again, covering all the ground inside the circle, Dessa slowly putting one foot in front of the other until she jerked to a stop, her head snapping up.

  “It happened here.” Her voice was eerie, and her eyes looked faraway. “There was only one—the fey—and then suddenly there were two. He came from nothing.… He is … nothing. Just power. So much power.”

  “But it was a he?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Did he leave the same way?” Ashley asked.

  “No.” Dessa pointed out toward the woods. “He left that way. I can taste his joy. His … excitement.” She shook her head and dropped Brid’s and Ione’s hands before she ran to the bushes and got sick. I went after her, Ramon shuffling behind me.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  She held her hair back in one hand, her hands shaking. “Yeah, I think so. It was just … awful, Sam. It was so awful. He enjoyed it. Killing Brannoc made him so happy—I…” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

  Ramon nudged her with his nose, and she gave him a sickly smile. “I’ll be all right,” she said. “It’s just going to take a minute.”

  I left her with Ramon and headed back to the group.

  “She okay?” Ione asked.

  “Yeah, she just needs a break. I guess we all do. So, what did we figure out?”

  “Whatever killed Brannoc has to do with death magic, but there was no necromancer present, or we would have found some trace.”

  “So you’re off the hook, Sam,” Brooke said with a smile.

  “Not necessarily,” Dunaway added softly. “If I understand correctly, you have more than ghosts at your disposal.” He eyed Ashley inquiringly.

  Inky little eyebrows raised, Ashley looked at him in surprise. “You think I did this? No way, José. I may transport spirits, but I do not kill people. So, yeah, I could have appeared and talked to Brannoc, but I couldn’t have stabbed him. My boss would have my ass—that’s not something that gets by him. And even if I could have, then why would I run off into the woods? Why not just call another portal and disappear again? And anyway, Dessa said it was a guy.” She gestured to her skirt.

  “She’s got a point,” Kell said.

  “So we’re no closer to figuring out what happened than we were when we got here,” I said, defeated.

  Dunaway shook his head. “Not so. We’ve ruled some things out. Sometimes, Sam, canceling out a theory is the best we can do. Now we know that you didn’t do it, and the other necromancers seem just as unlikely. So, what else has this death magic besides you guys?”

  Everyone turned to look at me. “Hell if I know, people,” I said, throwing my hands up in frustration. Once again, I just didn’t have the knowledge people needed. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I did have access to knowledge that might help. “But you might be able to find out,” I said to Dunaway. “I can give June a call—she’s the necromancer in Mississippi. And my predecessor left all kinds of notes. I guess I need to hand you over to Frank, see if you can’t find something.”

  He nodded, putting his notebook away. “I think we’re done here, then,” he said.

  We all thanked him, and our group started to break up and head to their respective vehicles.

  Bran patted me on the shoulder. “Good work.”

  “Thanks. You think it will make the pack back off a bit?”

  He scratched his chin. “A few of them, but many don’t trust you, and this might be a little nebulous for them. Until something concrete happens…” He shrugged.

  “Great.” I was exhausted and sore, and it kind of felt like I’d done it for nothing.

  Bran shifted on his feet. “Before you send them back, do you think you could let her come over and say hi?”

  “That’s up to her, but I’ll keep it up a few more minutes. After that, I’m going to have to put them back.” It was either that, or I’d pass out soon.

  Bran nodded gratefully and led the she-wolf over to her pack. I started returning the others, making sure to let them know how happy I was with their performance and how thankful we all were. I wasn’t sure if they’d remember that in a few seconds, but it was important to be respectful nonetheless.

  Soon it was just the she-wolf and Stanley left over. He came up and gave me a nudge. Apparently, I’d made a friend. The big bull elk wanted to come home with us. His nose felt soft under my fingers as I patted it. “Sure, buddy, but you might have to wait until later, lest we scare the normies.”

  He seemed to accept that, as he sauntered off into the forest. I watched him go from my spot on my rock. Warm as it was, I couldn’t help but notice that I sat by myself, while everyone else had formed into knots of people. Family surrounded Brid. The rest of the Council had vamoosed. But not a single person was over by the spooky kid. I kicked myself for the self-pity. It wouldn’t help. Besides, I’d been the loner before. I knew what it was like to sit by myself at a lunch table, trying to pretend that I’d planned it that way. That I was alone on purpose.

  James joined me. “You need sleep,” he said. “And food. You’ve been spreading yourself thin.”

  “I need a lot of things,” I said.

  Ashley came over with Brooke. “Look,” she said, “I have to go—I’m late for an appointment, but I’ll return when I can.” A portal opened up behind her, a kind of swirling mist. Sparrows flew out of it and picked her up. Tiny wings making no noise, they took off and the vortex blipped out of existence.

  “Man, she totally knows how to make an exit,” Brooke said.

  I pulled on James’s sleeve. “If I don’t go home and sleep soon, I’m going to keel over.” James nodded and took care of it. Sometimes, I didn’t know what I’d do without him. Other times, I wanted to shake him. Good thing this time it was the former. I just didn’t have the energy to shake anyone right now.

  18

  MR. SANDMAN, BRING ME A DREAM

  Douglas had never spent much time in dreamland. In his childhood, sure, but as he’d gotten older, it seemed like his ticket to the place had been revoked. Sleep was a dark and static time when nothing happened. Since he’d died, though, his pass had suddenly become valid again and the conductor was making up for lost time. So once again he found himself dreaming of the past.…

  *

  “You’re sure you want to do this, then?” James looked on anxiously from the chair. Though the aging process was certainly slower in James than human children, it had still seemed like he’d only gotten the boy yesterday and now he was teetering into adulthood.

  Douglas pushed back his hat with his wrist, avoiding the parts of his hand that were covered with chalk. James handed him his handkerchief, and Douglas used it to swipe at the sweat beading on his forehead. He passed it back and stared at his work. He’d drawn and redrawn the symbols until he was positive that they were exactly right.

  “You have doubts?”

  James pulled up a chair and sat carefully, trying to not disturb his duster folded over the back of it. The jacket was new, a gift from Douglas, and James was very protective of it. He crossed his legs, his hands folded neatly in his lap. “
You know full well that I do.”

  “The theory is sound.”

  “Theory. The notes you looked at belonged to a man who died trying. As did almost every other reference you found.”

  Douglas sat back on his heels. “Almost every being the important part of that sentence. They made mistakes—mistakes that I most certainly will not make.”

  James studied his nails. “Do you know what hubris means, Master?”

  “Seeing as how I’ve handled most of your education, it is a safe bet to assume that I am familiar with most of the words in your lexicon.”

  “You are purposefully misunderstanding me.”

  “Yes, I am.” Douglas stood, wiping his chalky hands on a rag. “Life is a series of calculated risks, James. I happen to think that this one is worth it.”

  The pukis sighed, his posture straight and even, despite his despondency. “You could at least choose an item that was less … I don’t know. Obvious?”

  Douglas took the jade egg off the shelf. He had very few items from his past. This egg and his aunt’s knife were probably the only remnants he still had, if you didn’t count his books. He folded the cool piece of jade into his palm. His heart still squeezed a little when he looked at it. For that feeling alone—something that was becoming more and more rare—he would have kept the egg.

  James continued the argument they’d already had several times. “Anyone familiar with fairy tales will figure it out.” He shook his head. “While you’re at it, why don’t you start yelling fe, fi, fo, fum and climbing beanstalks?”

  “That’s the wrong giant in the wrong fairy tale.”

  James threw him a look that said he was missing the point.

  Douglas sighed. “Even if they are familiar with it, they would still have to guess that I did it in the first place, and few will fathom that. For most it will be … unthinkable.” The egg remained cold in his hand. “And no other object will do.”

  Defeat sagged James’s shoulders. “You’ve made up your mind, then,” he said softly.

  “I have,” replied Douglas. “I really have.”