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by Kaje Harper

  Before Silas could begin whatever pronouncement of doom he was brewing up, Darien said to Pip, “So you’re my familiar. That’s so cool. I don’t know much about familiars.”

  “I learned about sorcerers in school.” The dog’s mouth opened in a canine grin. “I can teach you.”

  From his perch, Grim said, “The deaf leading the blind.”

  “I’m not deaf.” Pip glared up at him. “I have very sharp hearing.” He tilted his head one way, then the other. “Very sharp. Eyesight’s a bit wonky. Smell is excellent.” He turned as if to look at his tail, whirling in a couple of circles before tripping on the rucked-up comforter and falling over. “What kind of dog am I? I can’t tell.” He bounced back upright, tongue lolling.

  “You don’t know?” Darien was torn between laughter and bewilderment.

  Grim said, “In our homeworld we don’t have these forms. We’re… more fluid. When we end up here, we get fixed in one form. There’s a lot of debate if it’s random or determined.”

  “You mean, you might not have been a cat? You could change?” He couldn’t imagine Grim as something else.

  “Oh, no. Once a cat, always a cat. But that first time—”

  “My transmography teacher said it was our natures,” Pip spoke up. “He said the form fit the function. Of course he said I would probably be a monkey.” He pranced on the bed. “I like being a dog much better.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t turn out to be a parrot,” Grim grumbled. “Or an earthworm.”

  “Either way,” Silas said a bit ponderously, “he’s here and he’s clearly a dog—”

  “What kind, though?” Pip asked. “I’m not a collie. I’d like to be one but my hair’s too short.”

  “You’re a rat terrier,” Grim snapped. “One step up from a rat.”

  “You’re cute,” Darien felt compelled to protect the little guy. It wasn’t Pip’s fault Grim was clearly not a fan of small and perky. “Your size fits in here much better than a big dog.”

  “You like me.” Pip stared in his eyes, tail a blur. “I like you too.”

  Grim growled. “There’s clearly been a mistake. Darien hasn’t come close to finishing his training and he didn’t cast a seeking. You must be meant for someone else.”

  “I don’t think so.” Pip sniffed the air vigorously. “He smells perfect. My sibling was sent for someone else.”

  “Sibling?” Silas asked.

  “Older sib. Nico. He was done with school and he asked to be put on the list of seekers, and then we were out walking and he said there was a pull. He said goodbye but we were going to the park and it was too soon and I wanted one more snuggle and I snuggled him and didn’t let go and then wow, here I am.” His voice slowed. “I wonder where he is. I hope he met someone almost as nice as Darien.”

  “Almost?”

  “Well, no one can be as nice. And Nico’s stuffy sometimes. But I hope he’s happy.”

  “You don’t know where he went?” Darien hadn’t even thought about where familiars came from, or if they left family or friends behind. “Won’t he miss you?” How does that work? “Does he have to be close by, if you ended up here?”

  “Good questions.” Grim leaped from the bookcase to the bed and stalked toward Pip. “You snuggled a seeker when they were being summoned? Did you listen to anything your teachers told you?”

  The poor pup’s ears and tail drooped and he looked down. “I know. I was bad. But I didn’t want him to go. Nico’s the best. Everyone else wanted me to be quiet and leave them alone all the time.”

  “I don’t,” Darien said, unable to stand that pathetic look.

  Immediately those big ears pricked up. “You don’t? That’s great. We’ll have so much fun.”

  Silas asked Grim, “Can we get him sent back home somehow? If he wasn’t meant to be here?”

  “Hey!” Darien snatched Pip up in his arms, where the pup wriggled and licked his neck. “He’s my familiar and no one’s sending him anywhere he doesn’t want to go.” He kissed the dog’s sleek head and gave Silas a glare.

  “You don’t understand.” Silas turned that stern look on him. “If he’s too young, not properly educated, he might make mistakes or get hurt.”

  “I was too young and not properly educated too, and whose fault was that? Are you going to send me back for someone better? Maybe we should take our young and uneducated selves off somewhere else.” He felt his face heat and turned toward the door to hide it.

  “Wait, Darien, that’s not the same thing at all.” Darien felt a hot rush of satisfaction at Silas’s panicked tone. “You had too much power too young and yes, I screwed up your protection. It’s my fault you didn’t get taught right. I’m sorry. You do know that, right?”

  “You’ve said so.” Turning back, he lifted his chin from the dog’s head, and the anger he’d been suppressing all week fought to break free. It wasn’t fair. He’s not been sorry enough. He’d never quite dared let loose at Silas, but a red mist tinged his eyes. “Maybe you were too young with too much power and fucking screwed up too! Your spell hid me, then abandoned me. You let me get eaten alive by ghosts. You let them grab on to my soul and mark my skin and whisper in my head and turn me crazy—”

  He broke off because his chest was vibrating with the strength of Pip’s growls. “Hush, no, puppy.”

  “I’ll bite him,” Pip struggled to get out of his arms. “I’ll Fetch bees and put them in his shorts. I’ll pee on his shoes.”

  “It’s the wrong season for bees.” The hint of laughter in Silas’s voice made Darien’s anger rise hotter, so he didn’t protest as he felt the flash of power from the dog in his arms. A book flew off the bookcase and bopped Silas on the shoulder, making him stagger.

  “Hey!” That at least wiped the smile off Silas’s face. “I said I was sorry.”

  Grim’s growl rose, his green eyes fixed on Pip.

  “But did you mean it?” Darien focused on Silas. “Do you even realize what it did—” His throat closed, and he tightened his arms around the angry little dog, blinking hard and fighting for control.

  “Of course I meant it.” Silas took a long breath and stepped closer to him, his gaze meeting Darien’s, gray eyes suddenly shiny, ignoring Pip’s rising snarl. “Of course I realize what harm it did to you.” He reached out slowly and ran his finger down Darien’s neck, where that last tattoo had risen against his skin. Darien stilled Pip with a hand on his muzzle.

  “I remember the marks on your skin. I remember the voices, the ghosts I commanded to sleep, full of hate and anger and sadness and fear, in your head—” Silas suddenly stopped short. “That’s what was so odd.”

  “What?” Are we still talking about me? It felt like he’d lost Silas’s focus. Silas stood there, finger still on Darien’s neck, but his gaze turned inward looking at something else. Darien bit his lip to keep from shouting, Hey, I’m right here.

  Silas blinked, then seemed to come back to himself. “The ghosts at the asylum. They were all afraid. That was what was so odd. Ghosts are formed by strong emotions and often it’s anger, hate, frustration, revenge. They cling to unfinished business of all kinds. Fear, yes, but not every single one. At that hospital, every ghost I sent across the Veil was afraid— afraid when I caught them, afraid when I brought them to the River. No anger, no hate.”

  With an effort, Darien gave that some thought. “Louise seemed very angry.”

  “Yes. True. She was different. But the rest.” Silas frowned. “I wonder what it means.”

  “It means we need to do some research, Your Wizardliness,” Grim said. “It doesn’t solve the problem of what to do with this puppy.”

  “Or of what Darien needs from me.” Silas met his gaze again. “I am so sorry. If I could go back and undo it, not cast that spell—”

  Darien slumped, hit with a desolate echo of loneliness. What if he hadn’t? What if we’d never met again? He put a finger on Silas’s lips. “I guess it might’ve been worse. Like you said, I migh
t’ve attracted a demon when I was just a kid, before anyone knew what I was. I just… I needed to know you knew.” All those months of hell. Nightmares still. Jumping at sounds. But would I give up this man to never go through that? He wasn’t sure, and that said a lot for what those lips under his finger already meant to him.

  Silas moved his mouth against Darien’s fingertip silently. Something echoed between them, some shared resonance. There’s a lot of stuff I don’t know about Silas. But I can’t help trusting him.

  “Shall I bite him?” Pip asked. “If he was mean to you, I want to bite him.”

  Darien was glad to be able to chuckle and drop to sit on the bed, setting the dog beside him. “No, don’t do that. He was actually trying to help me.”

  “Oh. That’s good. I don’t think I like biting, really.”

  Grim stretched and came over to stare at Pip. “I don’t think we can send this one home. I’ve never heard of doing such a thing.”

  “Except when they’re dead.” Pip’s voice was small. “They come home then.”

  “I don’t want anyone dead.” Grim’s tone was rough, but less unkind. “You may be annoying and half-trained— How far did you get in school?”

  “Starting my third year.”

  “Arrgh. Barely half-trained. I’m surprised you didn’t hand out your real name.”

  “I know better than that.” Pip sounded offended. “I did learn things.”

  “Well, we’re probably stuck with you. You and Darien look bonded to me.”

  “Bonded?” Darien asked.

  “Linked. A sorcerer and their familiar share magic, to a degree. They work together better than apart. Already there’s a thread of power between you and this… puppy. He may have violated every rule of the profession—” Grim whapped the dog’s head with a claw-sheathed paw. “—and I’m no doubt going to be stuck with teaching, when I came out here again to avoid teaching, but we’re not being given a choice. You, puppy, you will listen to me and learn fast, and not put Darien in danger, you hear me?”

  “Yes. I will! I’ll learn very fast.” Pip’s tail gave a tentative wag. “I’ll be good. I don’t want Darien in danger.”

  “We’ll learn together,” Darien said comfortingly. “It’ll be fine.”

  “And all the gods help us,” Grim muttered. “All right. For now, pup, you lie close to your sorcerer and bond, while Darien tells us what else he found out at the library.”

  “Oh. Yes.” He’d almost forgotten his morning’s labors. “Well, in addition to Louise probably being murdered, there were fourteen deaths in the last twenty months, sixteen in the last twenty-four.” He fetched his notes out of his coat pocket. “Of the fourteen, four suicides, seven from infectious disease, mostly flu but one case listed as chronic malaria. One septic tooth abscess, one heart attack— that was a doctor. One fall down the stairs.”

  Silas had regained his equilibrium and had his thinking expression on. “Anything suspicious about the fall?”

  “Not from the newspaper story. A wet floor, the orderly carrying a big pile of linens, and bad luck with the staircase behind him. But if someone pushed him, I’m not sure they would know.” He paused. “Could the poltergeist do that? Louise, I mean?”

  “Not usually. They throw objects, they don’t touch people. Although if she tipped over a bucket of water or shoved the linens, maybe.”

  “So most deaths are probably natural.” Darien paused, dark memories swirling. “I guess a ghost could cause the suicides…”

  Silas reached over to touch his shoulder briefly. “Perhaps. But that’s only four. What’s so odd is that all of them became ghosts, fearful ghosts, instead of crossing over.”

  “Someone is going around scaring dying people so bad they become ghosts?”

  “Apparently. Or some thing.”

  “Would a demon do that?” He’d encountered enough demons recently, thank you.

  Pip said, “Demon? They’re bad.” Darien felt his little body quiver and laid a hand on him.

  “I don’t know why one would,” Silas said. “Other than out of amusement and troublemaking. There’s not much fear to be fed on from someone who immediately dies. No real power in that for a demon. Besides, there was no whiff of hellfire around that hospital.”

  “The necromancer?” Grim suggested. “To feed his power.”

  “Except he’s not taking them once he has them. The oldest ghosts were beginning to fade. That’s a waste. And I don’t think he leaves his wife’s side long enough.” Silas added to Darien, “He’s walking around like some kind of zombie, focused on his wife’s impending death. He thanked me for dealing with the ghosts, and I’d swear he meant it. If he was making or hoarding them for power, he’d have encouraged me to stop now and leave, not to keep clearing the rest. It doesn’t fit.”

  “His wife was in a medical bed with tubes in her body,” Grim agreed. “And not a whiff of brimstone in the house. It didn’t look like a hoax.”

  Darien settled more comfortably on the bed and scooped Pip into his lap. There was something very comforting about the light, firm weight of the dog on his knees. “So what’s next?”

  Silas tilted his head, considering for a moment. “Maybe a chat with our landlady. See what she can tell us about the local magic community.”

  Grim said, “You two go. Pup and I will have a little chat.”

  “Pip! I’m Pip.” The dog’s tail beat a staccato rhythm on Darien’s thigh. “I want to go with Darien and keep him safe.”

  “He’ll be a lot safer once you get some of the two years of school you skipped crammed into your little skull.” Grim loomed over the dog. “You’re going to wish you’d stayed home and done this the easy way.”

  “C’mon, Grim.” Darien wrapped an arm around Pip. “Don’t be too hard on him.”

  “He barged on up here, when you might’ve had a familiar with experience and power—” Grim sighed. “Ah, hells. No one knows why a particular sorcerer and familiar bond. You might’ve just waited two years and ended up with this mutt anyway.”

  “I’m not a mutt.” Pip twisted to look up at Darien. “Am I?”

  “You look like pure rat terrier to me,” Darien assured him. He lifted Pip off his lap and stood. “But as long as Grim isn’t mean to you—” He gave Grim a narrow stare which was met with supreme indifference in green cat eyes. “—I think he does know a lot about familiaring. It might come in handy.”

  “Okay. But you won’t go away, right? You’ll come back and get me? We’re together now, you and me?”

  “Promise.” Darien couldn’t help a smile. Being wanted as purely as this little dog seemed to want him kindled a warmth in his chest.

  Chapter 4

  Silas found Clarice in the kitchen, pulling a loaf of bread out of the oven. The smell was so good, he couldn’t help pausing to suck in a lungful of toasty, yeasty comfort.

  “Come on in and I’ll cut you a slice, soon as it’s cooler,” she said without turning, setting the pan on top of the stove and turning off the heat.

  “Thank you.” He hesitated, then took one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

  Darien slouched in the other one. “That smells amazing.”

  “I’m known for my baking.” She took off her oven mitts and turned, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

  Silas debated how to start. “I went out to the hospital last night.”

  “You saw how bad it is?”

  “Was. I sent fifteen across the Veil, one of them a poltergeist.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” She smiled slyly. “You must be topped up with power. Don’t suppose I could trade a power boost for a loaf of this bread?”

  “I’m not sure my hunt is over yet. In fact, I’d say it’s not.”

  “Ah.” The smile slipped off her face. “Jasper said it wasn’t just the asylum that was weird.”

  “You mentioned him before. He’s someone local?”

  “The only other real
talent, yeah. Pasternak and Jasper and me, that’s all the sorcerers we have.”

  “I’ll want to talk to him.” Silas leaned forward. “There are too many ghosts, as if every dying person in this town gets too scared to let go of the world. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

  She shook her head. “We’re a quiet place. Nothing scary, not even a local legends of a cursed house or headless horseman. Nothing stalks our streets except Mrs. Schubert’s mangy dog.”

  “What’s your talent? You’re not a necromancer.” Her shields were up, as expected with a strange sorcerer in her kitchen, but the taste of her power was soft and clean and untinged by death.

  For a moment, he thought she might not answer his question, but then she said, “Besides the matchmaking? Plants, mostly. Making them grow, curing diseases. I’ve a reputation for keeping the wilt from the elm, the blight off the vine, and the maggot fly out of the orchard.”

  Darien said, “Really? You can do that? That’s useful!”

  Her expression softened. “So it is. And what’s your talent, sir? You’re no necromancer.”

  “I’m still learning,” Darien said, before Silas could sidetrack her.

  “Still?” She raised her eyebrows. “I mean, learning is lifelong but you’re no apprentice, surely?”

  “He’s a lot younger than he looks,” Silas said, then winced at Darien’s glare. Damn, that was clumsy. I know he’s sensitive about how he looks. He deflected with, “Tell me about Jasper. He’s a sorcerer, not a necromancer?”

  That made her chuckle. “Oh no, he’s not interested in dead and demons at all. He’s a builder. Or tries to be.”

  “A crafter?” There were sorcerers whose interest was in creating new spellcraft, using power in different ways. Locke from his own Guild was deeply into crafting.

  “I suppose. But in a special way. He thinks we can turn power into… well, into things. Objects. Buildings.”

  “That’s not how it works.” Power was energy. It could act on matter, but not become it.

  “Tell him.” Her smile remained fond. “He’s a bit of a crackpot. But a good man for all that.”