Girl on a Tombstone

by Mia Strange

  Silence.

  Eli and Traveler stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. They held their intense gaze. Neither one blinked.

  The creepy spider stopped rolling.

  The air became colder by degrees.

  And I swear; my heart missed a beat. Maybe two.

  Eli blinked first.

  Well damn. I wasn’t gonna win this one, was I?

  As Eli reached for me, I threaded my arms around The Bone Man’s neck. “Don’t want to do this,” I whispered. I’m not sure, but I think I may have even pouted like a little kid. Embarrassing, I know. Where was the girl that had chopped off a zombie’s hand? The one that had kicked some serious Shade butt tonight and brought down a building? A big—ass building.

  “I know,” Eli said as he gently pulled my arms from The Bone Man’s neck. “It will be quick. I promise.”

  “Skye,” Traveler said. “I don’t want to alarm you—”

  “You always alarm me when you come knocking on my railcar at midnight.”

  “To be fair, it’s not always midnight.”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

  “It concerns a tombstone. At least what I think is a tombstone.”

  “Explain.” The Bone Man nearly shouted the demand before I could.

  “I can’t. Not until the Raise.”

  I saw his fingers playing on the hilt of his knife. A shiver passed over my body like a sudden, unwanted cold breeze.

  “I’ll do it,” I whispered. “I have to.”

  “Skye, don’t…” The Bone Man’s words trailed off into the night. He knew what I did. How could I not?

  The Bone Man frowned. He raised a white brow at Traveler Hale in question. “Will it be worth it?”

  Traveler nodded. “When is more knowledge not?”

  Eli sighed, and nodded. He motioned to The Bone Man. “I’ll take her myself. The moment I slid into Eli’s arms, our magic geared up and hummed between us. Like the heat in a solar blanket, the warmth was immediate. Intense. We both felt it. We both ignored it.

  And that was it. No more excuses. If Elijah Dark trusted Hale, we would too.

  “I’ll collect Phil,” The Bone Man said.

  “Take Dagger?” Eli motioned to the dog that leaned firmly against his leg. Dagger was still growling. “He’ll only hinder us.”

  The Bone Man reached for the dog’s collar.

  “Wait.” Eli knelt, and propping me on a knee, he ran his hand over the dog’s sleek coat. When his fingers reached the shaved form of a dagger, he paused. A soft light radiated from his palm. The knife became real, all hammered iron and steel, with a long, wicked blade that gleamed under the full moon. I managed a half smile. The blade, so deadly and badass, had silver glitter all over it.

  “Not necessary,” Hale said.

  “Always necessary.” Eli shoved the knife into his belt, pulled me into his arms, and stood. Hale shrugged.

  I watched as The Bone Man walked off into the night with a reluctant Dagger following. I waited for him to turn around and look over his shoulder at me. He did.

  Traveler approached. “Again. I’m truly sorry this cannot wait.”

  “Me too.” I whispered. “Me too.”

  The fading moonlight cast strange shadows on Traveler’s features. His glossy, straight hair hung to the middle of his back. It was perfectly cut in a blunt line that never changed in length. Not one inch. His hair, a deep chestnut, had possibly more red in it than brown. But honestly? I wouldn’t know. I had never seen him in the daylight. None of us had.

  Traveler Hale was a good—looking guy, no doubt about it. And he did have an appeal, an underlying pull that kept your attention. At twenty—two, he seemed worlds older, and his life experience seemed to surpass all of ours. Perhaps even Eli’s.

  At times the two of them, though friends, seemed to be in competition. At the very least, they learned from each other. And through their love of knowledge, they shared a strange, albeit strained, bond.

  I looked at Hale’s smooth face, all sharp angles and shadows. With strong, dramatic bone structure and a full sensuous mouth, he radiated power and mystery and danger. It was the danger that kept me at bay.

  No one in their right mind could say Traveler Hale wasn’t appealing in a magnetic kind of way. He was. But he was just, well, Traveler Hale. And that kept him off limits. At least for me.

  Threaded through a thick lock of his hair was a single row of brass and copper beads. One was made of pure gold. It was a blatant, dangerous show of wealth. And Traveler Hale didn’t care. He wasn’t the kind of guy to feel threatened about anything. Or anyone. Not even Dr. Dark. Another strand was tied off at the end with longer ornate tube beads. The beads were inscribed with passages from THE BOOK OF THE DEAD. No glitter adorned his hair.

  Trust me.

  Traveler Hale was not a glitter kinda guy.

  “This way,” he started to walk, motioning toward the furthest most corner of the station, just yards from the wolves’ large railcars. “Over by the Dumpsters.”

  “Nice. A scenic tour,” I said unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. Or maybe I just didn’t want to. Traveler Hale did not always bring out the best in me.

  Okay. You got me. Traveler Hale never brought out the best in me.

  Traveler cast a glance over his shoulder. He met my eyes, unblinking. His dark gaze ran over my body and focused in on my belly wound, a wound he couldn’t possibly see or much less know about. I gasped as a stabbing burn ran through my stomach. Traveler quickly looked away.

  “You okay?” Eli’s concerned gaze met mine. The sharp pain subsided. I nodded. But really? I glared at Hale’s back. What the fuck was that?

  Eli held me like I weighed nothing. His strides were long and fast. His arms solid and strong. Gone was the feeble Dr. Elijah Dark. In his place was Eli, young, powerful, pure male. His tug of sexuality radiated through my body, and I felt a need I couldn’t put into words. I couldn’t deny it.

  I wanted Elijah Dark. In ways a woman wants a man, in secret, hidden places. But I had never acted on it. How could I? I was broken, a mess. I was nothing more than Emma’s dysfunctional big sister. Didn’t I just prove that tonight? What did I have to offer a man like Eli?

  Nothing. That’s what.

  I shoved my hair from my eyes. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to see this, this, whatever it was. And I sure as hell didn’t want to be any part of what was to come. The ritual sickened me. I would never get used to it.

  I didn’t have the stomach for yet another body. For another life lost. For more spilled blood. And yet, if there was a clue about a tombstone, about Emma…

  As we approached the dark corner that reeked of mildew and rot and death, Traveler gently lifted the spider to his shoulder where it clung to his coat, hanging onto the leather like it still had legs. I wondered if the spider’s wheels came equipped with tiny little brakes. Then I wondered why the hell I was wondering about that. Residual morphine. Had to be.

  I could clearly see the outline of the body now, and I shrunk back into Eli’s arms. He stopped.

  “Can you stand?”

  I nodded yes. I didn’t know if I would crumple to the ground. I didn’t know if I would turn and run away. I only knew that I desperately wanted the old Skye back, the strong, stubborn one. The one who controlled her own life. Her own destiny. The one who didn’t have to stand trembling in dark, dank corners, viewing dead bodies.

  The unmistaken smell of the dead assaulted my nostrils. My stomach clenched as it always did. This was not a smell one got used to. And if you did? It was time you joined the other side of humanity. The side we were working so hard to put an end to.

  I leaned against Eli while the three of us looked at the crumpled body. A man, in his twenties lay at our feet, his broken legs were twisted, bending at impossible angles. His longish blonde hair was caked with blood, and didn’t I just know what that was like. But he did not die from broken bones. Someone had done th
at just for fun.

  The large pool of blood surrounding his head came from his slit throat. This is what sealed his death. I could only hope that it had been quick.

  His head had been tipped back to access a better angle for the killer. The ragged, fatal wound yawned open. It looked like a smile on a demented clown whose face paint had melted and smeared. I fought hard not to be sick.

  My legs felt weak, and I leaned hard into Eli. He shook his head. “Traveler is right, I’m afraid,” he said in a hushed tone. “This should not wait.”

  Eli passed the scarab over the pavement. Wings parted and a small circle of light was cast around the body. I watched his intense gaze settle on markings smeared across the pavement, merely fingertips away from the dead man. Releasing me to stand on my own, he squatted on the hard ground and ran his finger over what looked like a crude drawing.

  There was no doubt. It was a crude but accurate outline of a tombstone.

  Traveler knelt beside him. “It looks like a grave marker.”

  Eli nodded. “A tombstone. Definitely. Drawn with his own blood.”

  “He was determined. I’ll give him that,” Traveler said in a hushed tone.

  This poor guy had used his own blood to leave a message. My heart squeezed. The least I could do was give a few drops to read it.

  Hale sat back on his haunches. “This man suffers from the ignorance that plagues our world.”

  “And that would be?” Eli asked.

  “He can’t draw.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Arrogant much?”

  Traveler quirked a smile. “Just stating the obvious.”

  I leaned over them, placing my hands on their shoulders for a better look. The dead man’s blank eyes stared glassy and lifeless, up into the night sky. The smell of death radiated off the body. I couldn’t help it. I stood and pulled my blanket over my nose.

  “Shit,” I heard Eli whisper under his breath. “What is this?” He pointed to a line of gravel and rocks that had been fashioned into a word. “What does this mean?” He looked at Hale, and frowned. Traveler ignored him, lost in a puzzle of his own.

  “Emma,” whispered Eli. “I think he’s spelled out Emma.”

  I sucked in a breath and dropped my blanket. Eli shot a distressed look over his shoulder and met my eyes. The realization hit me hard and I fell to my knees, crumbling to the ground, a tangled mess of camp blanket and platform boots.

  They had found me. They had lured me out tonight with a promise of a tombstone. A tombstone with my sister’s name on it. They knew where I was.

  The fucking Gov had found me.

  19

  Eight long years of memories from Gov incarceration slammed into me. I remembered every beating, every injection, every drug, every humiliating word, every damned cruel act.

  I remembered every prod and poke and test . . .

  I remembered.

  I remembered it all.

  Not again. They could not have me.

  Rage bubbled up from my core. I would not be a victim again. They would never get their hands on me, not a second time. I would die first.

  Rolling over, I fought to get into a sitting position. Holding my head between my hands, I gasped for breath. I willed my pulse to slow the hell down. I had to think. Think.

  I felt like I was in a never—ending horror show, one that I had just brought the entire Academy into.

  The loud caw of a raven rang through the night. I looked to see the bird’s shadow pass along the ground. Clarity seeped into my mind. I knew what was coming. And I knew my role in it. As sure as my cursed blood ran through my veins, this was a role I was born to play.

  The long shadow of Traveler Hale passed over me. He loomed on one side, Eli on the other.

  “We don’t know what this means, Skye. Not really,” Eli said in soft measured words. “And you know—”

  “How it goes,” I finished for him.

  I reached up to grasp his hand. I let Traveler Hale grab the other. They got me to my feet. The blanket stayed on the ground.

  “Left, or right?” I held out my wrists as though I was waiting for handcuffs to be slapped on.

  Eli circled my waist, tucking me next to him. I wanted to cling to him. I wanted to hold on to him and not let go. But I wouldn’t. After all, this was not just about me anymore. It was about all of us. It was about Emma.

  Traveler walked over to the other side of the body and held out his gloved hand. A raven, the biggest I had ever seen, landed on his outstretched arm. The bird’s intricate mechanical wings creaked to a close as they folded around his very real body.

  The raven cocked his head at the dead man. First left, then right. He hopped off Traveler’s arm and landed on the body’s chest. The bird’s red eyes glowed through the dark and zeroed in on the dead man. A lens made of many small layers of precision glass was built into the bird’s left eye. The raven, named Poe, was another one of Traveler’s rescues. However, this animal was also enhanced with the help of the alchemist side of Dr. Elijah Dark. The bird, therefore, belonged to them both.

  The whirl of gears and cogs moving against each other whispered through the night. The bird’s lens lengthened, and like a scope it examined one dead staring eye, and then the other. The bird chose the dead man’s left eye. Eyeball that is.

  Eli held me close. “Look away,” he said softly as he folded his arms around me. This part is never pleasant.”

  “Like any of it is?” I shivered and Eli reached down for the blanket. He wrapped it around me and I instinctively buried my head into his shoulder. I didn’t want to look. I had seen this play out too many times.

  “Better now than after the Raise,” Eli countered. Yeah, I thought. Like any part of this could be ‘better.’

  It wasn’t until I saw the shadow of the raven pass once again over the ground that I looked up. I avoided looking at the gaping, gouged—out eye socket of the body. I knew the bird had picked the eye with the most residual images. Images that just might tell us who this man was, what he wanted, and most importantly, show the face of his killer.

  The eye was safely on the way to Eli’s railcar, the one that housed his lab. A lab rumored to turn any mad scientist absinthe green with envy.

  “Guess I’m up next.” Once again, I shed the blanket and walked around where Traveler stood. Eli walked alongside me, pausing to glance down to check out the raven’s work. Glad he had the stomach for it. Because I sure as hell didn’t.

  Supporting me, Eli once again slipped his arm around my waist and began to examine my wrists. “I think the left,” Eli said, in a matter of fact tone. It sounded like he was ordering off a lunch menu. “Need us afterwards?”

  Traveler shook his head no, and pulled out his blade.

  Not just any blade.

  An Athame.

  Traveler’s ritual dagger, forged from iron and infused with his powerful black magic, was used for one thing and one thing only.

  Bloodletting.

  And who’s blood?

  That would be mine. Lucky girl, that’s me. I couldn’t help but wonder after tonight, did I really have a drop to spare? But there was nothing to be done about it. Traveler needed blood, and guess what? His own?

  Did. Not. Work.

  Convenient as hell didn’t begin to cover it.

  Two years ago, when the need arose, we all tried taking turns. Even Dark. Keeping to our code, we did all Raisings ‘in house.’ Traveler Hale could raise anything or anyone. And for his kind of talents? The Gov wouldn’t care how much blood they spilled, or how many bodies they stacked up. They wouldn’t care how many tears were shed, or how many lives were forever crushed.

  They would do anything to get to him.

  Anything.

  Yeah. Good, “get—the—job—done—right—the—first—time” necromancers? Hard to find. No wait. Impossible to find. That was more like it.

  When it was my turn, my blood ran to his magic, mingling with it, embracing it, craving it even. The result? The
two of us raised the dead faster and more efficiently than ever before. And? This was the rub. The one that had me raising my hand. My blood raised the dead more humanely. The deceased rose with less pain, fewer screams, and with more of their sanity intact.

  It was then I decided that my own blood must be cursed. Why else would any part of me be compatible with Traveler Hale?

  I looked once more at his knife, a knife I had come to dread.

  Double—edged, with a curved blade, the hilt of Traveler Hale’s Athame was carved from wicked, gleaming black obsidian. Obsidian as black as the magic that was to be called to use it.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s get this party started.”

  Eli nodded at Hale. “Ready?”

  Traveler walked over to me and took my wrist. He held it up to his lips and brushed a kiss across the delicate inside skin. Eli frowned, but didn’t say a word. Traveler drew the Athame closer.

  “Watch the tattoo,” I said. I looked down at my classy Academy shield tat. “You mess it up, I mess you up.”

  “Ah. Our Skye is back. Charming. No?” He smiled at Eli. Eli did not smile back.

  “Three drops,” I said. “Three.” I flashed three fingers in front of his nose.

  Traveler gently pulled me from Eli’s arms. Eli reluctantly let go and pulled Dagger’s knife from his pocket. Silver glitter floated down to the corpse below. The sight was surreal. Disturbing. Wrong.

  He bounced the blade in his hand, feeling the weight for balance. Elijah Dark may be the geeky mad scientist sort, but he was also a, really—good—with—a—blade, kind of geeky mad scientist sort.

  When a corpse is raised, as long as there is blood present, it could easily be contained. Strong wards could be used, a ring of salt, dirt from Traveler’s homeland. In the hands of a skilled necromancer, little could go wrong. And even though I didn’t know much about Hale, I did know one thing. He was skilled beyond belief.

  But sometimes? Even with all of Traveler’s talent, the Raise as we called it, could go horribly wrong. And Eli always felt better armed. Hell. I felt better he was armed. I only wish I was.