by M. R. Forbes
“I’ll do it,” Yellow said. “I’m sending Cecil with you, too.”
“What?” Cecil said. “Mr. Y, I-”
“When did this House become a democracy, Cecil?”
He closed his mouth.
Yellow turned his attention back to me. “If this turns out to be a dead end as you suspect, Cecil knows how to reach me.”
“Got it,” I said.
“Good luck, necromancer.”
He waved his hands at us. I could feel the surge of magic surrounding me, and then I was standing in the middle of the street halfway across the world, watching a car go by on the wrong side of the road.
18
Heroism sucks.
“Fucking bloody hell,” Amos said.
“What are you doing here?” Frank asked.
“The son of a bitch wizard,” Amos said. “He yanked me over here against my will. What happened to his ‘we all have a choice’ bullshit?”
“I guess by all, he meant people with a conscience,” I said.
“Says the guy who left his wife and daughter and lets them think he’s dead to this day.”
I felt that one slam into my chest. I clenched my teeth, feeling the sudden urge to cough.
“Amos,” Dannie said. “Too far.”
“What the fuck do you expect, Dannie?” he said. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to watch you die again.”
He clamped his mouth closed and turned away.
So that was his deal.
Dannie walked over to him, putting a hand on his back. “Amos.”
He turned around. He had tears in his eyes. “Damn it. I think I got some dust in my eye or something.”
“Come on, big man,” Frank said. “It’s okay to have feelings. We’re all friends here.”
“No, we ain’t. I ain’t your friend, Frank. I tried to kill you.”
“It was a misunderstanding,” Frank insisted.
Amos looked at him like he was crazy.
“How is running away going to help me?” Dannie said. “If you don’t want me to die, then protect me.”
“Fat load of good it did the last time,” Amos said. “I wasn’t even there.”
“You’re here now.”
He stared at her for a few seconds. “This whole thing is nuts.”
“Yes,” Dannie agreed.
“Okay,” Amos said. “I’m in. For you. Not for him.” He thrust a finger at me. “He’s going to get us all killed.”
“This isn’t my fault,” I said.
“No? If you had just died like you were supposed to, none of this would be happening.”
His voice was venom. I fell silent again. He was right. Maybe I had caused this indirectly, but I had still caused it.
“Can we all just focus on the task at hand?” Ashiira said. “Listen.”
We fell silent for a few seconds.
“I don’t hear anything,” Frank said.
“Exactly,” Ashiira replied. “We’re standing in the middle of a city.”
Now that we were done arguing, I finally took a few seconds to look around at where Yellow had dropped us. Judging by the cars that were crashed and abandoned, the number of blood stains on the street, and the complete lack of people to claim that blood, I felt safe guessing we were ground zero to the so-called viral outbreak.
Meaning, we probably shouldn’t have been making so much fucking noise.
“See, Conor,” Frank said. “This is the definition of creepy. You’re kind of pathetic in comparison.”
“Thanks, Frank,” I replied. He had a point.
“Well, we’re here,” Amos said. “Which way do we go?”
“Find the zombies; I guess,” I said. “Follow the street.”
We did, staying tightly packed as we walked along the street. It was hard to ignore the destruction, the blood, and the lack of bodies. Not that bodies would have made it any better. It was a mess.
We were passing a standard flat when we started hearing pounding above us. I looked up. Someone was desperately banging on a dirty window. My instinct was to ignore it and keep moving, but Frank made a beeline for the lobby.
“Where are you going?” Amos asked.
“They need help,” Frank said.
“I don’t think going in there’s a good idea,” Amos said. “What if there’s a bunch of deadies in there?”
“Deadies?” I said.
“What else are you gonna call them?”
Frank vanished through a sliding door and into the apartments.
“Damn it,” I said. “Wait here.”
“Conor,” Dannie said. “I think Frank can take care of himself.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. This is supposed to be my element.”
I followed Frank, keeping my senses attuned to the magical fields. They were moderately strong here, and the discordant hum of death magic was ringing in the back of my ears. It faded away as soon as I stopped listening for it, my mind accustomed to the chaos, and I returned my attention to the world around me.
I entered the apartment building. The building wasn’t super fancy, but it was clean. Or at least, had been clean at one point. Like the scene outside, the tables and chairs that used to line the lead-up to the building’s elevators had been thrown aside or broken, and blood stains ran along the carpets. The smell was pretty awful, too, even to my dulled senses.
I paused to cough, hacking into my forearm, pulling my head away and looking down at a small spray of blood. I was getting sicker and sicker without the meds. I never thought that would be a good thing.
“Frank,” I said, calling out to him.
He was nowhere to be seen. Had he taken the stairs or the elevators? He was probably too big for the elevators. The building predated the reversal and hadn’t been retrofitted for the larger contingent of new humans.
I found the stairwell, opening the door and peering in. “Frank,” I called out again.
I could hear his heavy feet on the stairs, but he didn’t answer me. The hand on the glass had been on what floor? I tried to remember. Fifteen or sixteen maybe.
I started to climb.
I made it about six floors before I doubled over, hacking up my fucking lungs and trying to recover my breath. I decided if I caught up to Frank without dying I was going to kill him for making me do this climb. I should have made Amos come along and carry me.
The thought gave me another idea. I stopped moving, falling to my knees and putting my hand on the steps. I closed my eyes, reaching out with my magic, stretching it across the building. When I was relatively healthy, I couldn’t reach out to the dead without being in contact with their corpse. I was anything but healthy now, and I could feel my tendrils seeking out the nearest dead thing. Why should I kill myself going up the steps when I could have something else do it for me?
I touched it with my magic, picking at its consciousness. A woman, middle-aged, fairly recently deceased. I closed my eyes, slipping my senses through the link and into her undead mind. A moment later I was seeing through her eyes.
A group of other deadies were walking ahead of her, six in all, moving like they had a real purpose. She followed behind them, dancing to the same tune as part of the pack. They were headed for a doorway down the hall, which was another scene of violent chaos. Two deadies leaned over a fresh corpse, staring at it until it regained itself and got to its feet. I could sense the pulse in the dark magic when it did, and it nearly caused me to lose my grip on my host. It was powerful. Too powerful. I could swear I heard Samedi’s laughter in it; the rippling waves of dark mirth that had once promised me the power of a soul for the power of a soul.
I reminded myself that it didn’t mean he was here in the building, or even here in London. Wherever he had gone, Mr. Yellow had made it clear the lich could affect the entire world, reaching out along the dark magic frequency like a satellite network covering the Earth.
Yeah. That was it, wasn’t it? That’s why I could hear him when he brought the late
st corpse back to fight in his growing army. He had a tap on the magic fields across the world.
The idea of it gave me chills.
My zombie reached the door behind the others. They all pounded on it, hitting it over and over again. I could hear movement behind it, stuff being tossed in front of the door like a barricade. I could hear someone banging, too, like they were hitting a window.
Had I gotten that lucky?
I wanted to try to seize the woman, to take control of her limbs and start directing her. I didn’t. I was afraid to. Samedi’s magic was in her. It had gotten her up and moving. He hadn’t noticed me, not with so many to control, not when I was nothing but a passenger. If I tried to drive? There was no way that wouldn’t draw his attention.
I needed to make a decision. Stay with the woman and watch, or drop her and start climbing again. I retreated from her, opening my eyes. My heart and lungs hurt from the effort. My body was trembling. How sick could I get before I wouldn’t be able to fight? How long did I have to put Samedi through the portal before death made that not an option? Would that asshole bring me back and use me in his army?
I was willing to bet he would. I was sure he would enjoy it.
I should have taken the fucking elevator.
I pushed out again, regaining the woman’s vision. I had screwed up by asking Amos and Dannie to stay behind. I had screwed up by trying to take the stairs. Was I screwing up now? Some hero I was. The world was fucked, and I knew it. Did the others?
I heard a door slam open behind the woman. She turned around in unison with the other deadies, now at the head of the line. There was Frank, storming through the hallway toward us, a rage in his eye I hadn’t seen before.
He had one of his guns in his hand, and he fired off rounds. One. Two. Three. His augmented vision and its connection to the weapon gave him perfect aim, and three heads exploded from the force.
I wanted to tell him I was in the undead ahead of him, but I didn’t. I watched him approach, his huge hand drawing back and swinging forward, slamming my ride hard in the jaw. It broke, as did the woman’s neck, and she crumpled beside him. Her neck was sideways so I could still see him as he approached the larger group, barrelling into them and knocking them away like straw men. My host started to get up again, adjusting for the weird head position.
Frank ignored her, grabbing the door and pulling it from its hinges. I saw past him to an intact flat, where a man was trying to barricade the door while a woman was banging on the window. Most apartments had gone to impact resistant after the reversal, to keep the new creatures of the night from finding their way inside. Too bad these creatures were already inside.
They screamed when they saw him. It wasn’t surprising. He was huge and greenish and ugly. His smile didn’t help. It only seemed to make them more afraid.
“Wait,” he said. “My name’s Frank. I’m trying to help you.”
The man shrank back, while the woman picked up a knife on the table beside her. The deadies were recovering, getting up at Frank’s back. He noticed one of them, grabbing its head in a big hand and slamming it into the wall a second time.
“See,” he said. “I’m helping. Let’s get you out of here.”
The action did seem to convince the residents. They came forward, starting to move their crap out of his way. He grabbed a chair at the front of the pile, swinging it into a deadie behind him, breaking it over its shoulder. It flinched but didn’t give, swinging its arm into his side and hitting him with supernatural strength.
“Oomf,” he said, knocked back a step. His lip twisted, and he used the end of the broken chair to stab the corpse, lifting it and throwing it back into the others. He looked back at the couple. “Let’s move a little faster.”
They kept trying to pull their furniture away from the door. My host was coming at him from the side, out of the corner. Her head tilted, noticing a piece of a broken chair with a nice edge on it. She bent down awkwardly, scooping it up and ambling toward him. It was sharp enough to pierce his tough skin, long enough to reach deep to his innards, and she was strong enough to deliver it there. Fuck.
He turned back to the flat, not seeing my deadie. “Move aside,” he shouted.
The couple did as he said, and he kicked out with a tree-trunk leg, hitting the stacked collection and sending it across the room, clearing the way out.
“Follow me,” he said. “Stay close.”
My host was right beside him, ready to strike. She drew back her arm, and I could feel my pulse racing all the way back to my body. I had to do something, or he was going to be skewered. Damn it, Frank.
I reached out with my magic, sinking further into the corpse’s mind. I sensed the dark magic already there. Samedi’s magic. The woman’s arm started to swing. I attacked his magic with my own, shoving it aside, taking it off-guard.
“Frank,” the woman said in a lilting voice, loud enough to get his attention.
He spun in time to see the spear headed for his chest, and he angled himself so it glanced off his skin, cutting him open but not causing lasting damage. He countered with a heavy punch that turned the woman’s head completely backward and sent the corpse tumbling to the floor again.
“There you are, necromancer.”
19
Leave me breathless.
Samedi’s voice rippled through my link to the deadie, reaching out to my mind. I recognized it instantly. I had heard it so many times before, laughing and making promises, helping me to stay alive and waiting for the day that I would set him free.
“I was wondering where he took you off to,” he continued. “I was wondering when you would turn up.”
His magic reached out for mine, and I tried to draw it back, to return to my body. It gripped onto me like a vice, holding me in the woman’s tortured soul.
“Not so fast, Conor,” he said. “How are you feeling?” He laughed, the cacophonic dementia of it piercing me again.
“Fuck you,” I replied. Not the smartest response, but I was terrified. I couldn’t get out of the zombie. I couldn’t get away from him.
“Please, Conor. Have some dignity. Are we having fun yet, necromancer? I gave you a chance to stay out of this, but you had to side with him. You had to turn against me after I spared your life.”
“You want to end the world. That’s kind of a hard thing to ignore.”
“This world should have ended centuries ago,” he said. “The living don’t belong here anymore.”
“I don’t know what happened to you that gave you that fucked up worldview, but I don’t think you’ll find too many who agree with it.”
He kept laughing, the power of it making me weaker and weaker. I could feel him reaching across the magic, through my link to the corpse. If he made it to my body, he could kill me.
Or worse.
“I don’t care. I never did. This world has always been mine, just waiting for me to come back to claim it. I know what you’re after, Conor. I know what he sent you to do. He can’t do it for himself.” He laughed harder. “And you aren’t nearly strong enough to do it for him. You weren’t even close.”
I felt the pressure of his power against mine. I struggled to fight it. “Maybe I’ll surprise you.”
“I doubt it. You aren’t even going to make it out of London.”
His magic continued to run along mine, twisting around it and holding tight.
“Conor.”
I heard Frank’s voice. It sounded like it was coming from a thousand miles away. “Conor, wake up.”
“The power of a soul,” Samedi said. “For the power.” He stopped and laughed. “No. Fuck you. Your soul is mine.”
I suddenly felt cold. Very cold. His magic overpowered mine in an instant, reaching out for me. I felt it at the base of my gut, tearing away at me and leaving me in internal agony.
“Conor,” Frank said again. “Come on. Wake up.”
He sounded concerned. Did he really care?
I could hear the magic swirl
ing around me and within me. I could feel Samedi using it to wrench away my soul. I wasn’t ready to go yet. I wasn’t ready to have this asshole devour me and stop me from going wherever it was that souls went. I could reluctantly maybe accept possible death. This was worse than that. Much worse. But how could I stop it?
“Frank,” I said, managing to squeak the word out through my mouth. “Stab me.”
“What?” I heard him say.
“Stab me,” I repeated, barely holding on.
“I-”
He was hesitating. Great.
“I can’t,” he said a moment later.
“I can.”
I heard Dannie’s voice only an instant before she shoved a knife into my gut. The sudden shock and pain forced out the grip of the magic, pulling it away from me.
“No,” I heard Samedi curse. Then the pain in my soul subsided, the tearing feeling diminishing. “Damn you, necromancer. You’ll fail one way or another.”
The sight returned to my eyes. Dannie was leaning over me, her face close to mine. I could feel the pain of the wound, and the warmth of the blood spilling out around it.
“You stabbed me,” I said.
“You told me to,” she replied.
“Frank hesitated. You didn’t.”
She smirked but didn’t speak.
“Geez, Baldie,” Amos said. “What the fuck were you two doing in here? And what’s with the Cleavers here?”
“Cleavers?” Frank said.
“Yeah. You know, Leave it to Beaver? It’s an old TV show. Ah, fuck it. Nevermind.”
“Can one of you make a bandage or something?” I said. “Dannie, you can pull the knife out now.”
She yanked it out. I was grateful she didn’t twist it as she did. Frank tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and handed it to me, and I pressed it more tightly against the wound.
“What the fuck was that all about?” she asked.
“I couldn’t leave them in there,” Frank said.
“Seriously? I think we have more important business.”
“They’re innocent people. They didn’t ask to be caught up in this.”