Hold Me Closer, Necromancer

by Lish McBride

  “I’m hobbled here,” I said. “Basically, I am the proverbial lamb to the slaughter. What I need is a little help.”

  “What you need is a teacher, and I can’t see a way to do that. I can’t come up there. You can’t come down here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” she said, “you’re in another territory. I’d have to petition your Council if I was doing anything besides passing through. Which would alert Douglas and get us both in trouble. Same thing for down here. Besides, this area isn’t good for new necromancers right now.” She paused.

  “Too much new death. Katrina caused a lot of anguish, you know? You come down here right now, you don’t know how to shield?” She snorted. “I’d have to carry you around on a stretcher, probably. Too much for you. Shut you down.” June sighed. “And no one there will risk helping you.”

  “That keeps coming up,” I said.

  “And a necromancer without guidance is dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “Depending on the level of power, yes.”

  “Please,” I begged, “I just need a little help. Anything.”

  The line was silent for a long time.

  “I’ll see what I can do, Sam. In the meantime, I’ll send what I can your way.”

  She hung up without a good-bye. I placed the phone on my nightstand then let my body go limp, enjoying the comfort of my bed. What did she mean, she’d send what she could my way? A week ago, I’d have assumed she meant good wishes, but now I wasn’t so sure.

  Ramon and Brooke were watching the news when I came out. Frank sat at my kitchen table hunched over his laptop. I peeked over his shoulder. He was Googling “necromancy.”

  I clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Frank.”

  He flushed. “I’m not really doing anything,” he said.

  “You’re trying.” I grabbed my hoodie and slipped into it, zipping it up and stuffing my black knit watch cap in my back pocket. Best to be prepared for any weather.

  “Where you going?” Ramon asked.

  “I need to get out for a bit,” I said. “Clear my head.”

  Frank looked up nervously from his laptop. “Are you sure you should go out by yourself?”

  Ramon nodded. “Want company?”

  “No,” I said. “You guys hold down the fort. If they really want me, they can just as easily kill me in this apartment as they can out there.” I pointed at the screen, which was showing more news reports on Brooke’s death. “Let me know what they’ve found, okay?”

  “You got it, Sammy.”

  I grabbed my skateboard and left.

  I bumped into Mrs. W on my way out.

  “Face is healing nicely, my boy.” She opened her purse and pawed around for her keys. “What’s on the schedule for tonight? A little skullduggery, I hope.”

  I pushed the elevator button and laughed.

  “I don’t even know what that means, Mrs. W.”

  She tsked as she pulled out her keys. “What are they teaching the youth these days?”

  “Not enough, I guess.” The door dinged and opened. “Catch you later.”

  “Do me a favor, will you?”

  I put my board in front of the door, keeping the elevator open. “Sure.”

  “Meet a nice girl and do some not-so-nice things, okay?”

  I let the door go. “Sure thing, Mrs. W.”

  “Make me proud, son. That’s all I ask.”

  The streets were bone-dry, which made me happy. Too much water and all you have is a warped board and wet feet. I can’t skate like Ramon can. I can’t do any fancy tricks, but getting from point A to point B was enough tonight. There was nowhere I needed to be, not right then. Things I needed to do, sure, but what? In so many ways I literally had no direction. But with my board, I didn’t need one. The only goal was to clear my head. I walked out of the parking lot, let go of my board, and chose the hill to my left, more for its smoothness than the direction. I pushed off with my foot and headed down.

  I passed a few house parties as I went. Some were the mixed-CD type; a few were the band-in-the-basement type. I favored the latter. Music is a big thing in Seattle. We don’t get heavy rain, but we get it frequently, and there are some springs when you don’t see dry skies for weeks. You add the wet to the chill in the air, and it can get kind of unpleasant. So we have lots of indoor activities like watching a local band in somebody’s basement. Between the hot press of bodies and a couple of smuggled beers, it’s easy to forget about the weather. Tonight I wasn’t very tempted to crash, so I skated past even the promising-looking shindigs.

  Though spring had arrived on the calendar, the air still held a little of winter’s bite. I felt the cold nip at my face, and I focused on it. I heard the sound of cars and people. I watched as neon and lights slid by. I kept my focus on the city at night and let everything else go. I didn’t want to think about anything. I just wanted to feel.

  The last thing I felt was someone grabbing me as I slowed down at a crosswalk.

  18

  Don’t Rock the Boat, Baby

  The van door hissed as it slid open. Douglas watched, keeping his face a bland mask as Michael tossed Sam unceremoniously into the back seat. Michael jumped in and shut the door behind himself, plunging the interior into darkness. Douglas shifted the van into gear and pulled away from the curb.

  “Please remember to buckle him in. It wouldn’t do to kidnap him only to let him die in a random mishap,” he said. He heard a grunt from Michael and a thump as Michael pushed the boy’s inert body to the floor. “Or,” Douglas said, his voice flat, “I guess you could just do that.”

  “I’ve done this before, you know.”

  Douglas glanced into the rearview mirror, catching Michael’s unpleasant grin in the flash of the passing lights.

  “You really don’t like him, do you?”

  Michael frowned. “Do you?”

  Douglas changed lanes, keeping a wide berth between the van and the car in front of them. “My personal feelings toward people are not a component that I consider.” His gaze returned to the rearview mirror again. “It’s one of the many reasons I’m able to stomach you as an employee.”

  Douglas winced inwardly at the bark of laughter from the back seat. He supposed it was a good thing that Michael assumed he’d been making a joke. Douglas didn’t doubt his superiority over Michael even for a second; still, a fight with him would be inconvenient. Douglas found werewolves to be a mercurial bunch on the whole, as close to their beastly sides as they were. These days they either developed an iron control early or learned to enjoy rural life. Having Michael in Seattle was a bit like letting a cat loose in an aviary. It wasn’t so much a question of if he was going to cause trouble, but when. He was collateral damage waiting to happen.

  Still, he was a tool Douglas could use. Douglas wouldn’t have gotten this far if he’d been afraid of risk or potentially dangerous allies. In fact, one could say he’d become quite adept at using both.

  Back at the house, Douglas peeked under Sam’s eyelids, checking the pupils for reaction to light. Sam would be in pain, but Douglas didn’t see any permanent damage. He supervised as Michael put Sam into the cage with the girl, making sure to keep an eye on Bridin. She had a knack for pushing all of Michael’s buttons, and Douglas had an interest in keeping everyone intact. For now, at least.

  Michael tossed Sam at Bridin’s feet. The boy only warranted a cursory glance from her.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Lunch,” Michael said.

  Bridin made a face that was only slightly more mature than sticking out her tongue. Michael gave her the finger.

  “Children, please,” Douglas chided.

  The girl looked away. “I’m just saying, you guys keep up at this rate, I’m going to run out of sitting room.” She gazed sideways at Sam. “Who is he, anyway?”

  “Nobody,” Michael said. “That’s who.”

  Douglas thought she’d have to be dead
to not catch the tone that plainly said Michael didn’t care for Sam. Which, of course, would make the boy irresistible to Bridin. He’d just made her acquaintance, but Douglas felt he understood her much more than his lackey did. He watched as she eased over to Sam and smoothed his sandy hair.

  “I don’t know,” she said as she pushed back a tuft of hair, revealing a little of Sam’s face. “He’s kind of cute.” She gently touched a few of the healing scuffs on Sam’s cheek.

  Michael made a sound of revulsion. “You wouldn’t.” He looked Bridin up and down, his lip curling in disgust. “Then again, maybe you would. What’s a half-breed care, huh? Blood’s already watered down, why not thin it again?”

  Bridin continued to run her hand through Sam’s hair in speculation. “You know, Michael, it’s that kind of thinking that’s made your family so inbred.”

  Douglas reached out and put a hand on Michael’s chest, stopping him before he moved forward. Michael didn’t advance, but he continued to glare at Bridin. “My family,” he spat, “is not inbred.”

  Bridin ran a finger down Sam’s jawline, stopping at the point of his chin. “Oh, really?” she said. “Because before my father took over, there weren’t that many wolves in your pack. And you didn’t keep the best of records. You’d probably rut your own sister if she were in heat.”

  Douglas grabbed the back of Michael’s neck, exerting his will, letting it flow over Michael’s anger. He felt the rage getting ready to push the were closer to a change. Douglas smoothed it down, relaxing Michael as best he could.

  “That is quite enough,” Douglas said. Bridin had a good mask. She didn’t let much emotion get through that she didn’t choose to show. Still, Douglas could tell that she’d noticed his control over Michael. A control he shouldn’t have. Only a pack leader should’ve been able to do what he’d just done, necromancer or not. He left before she could ask any more questions, but he could feel her eyes on him as he walked up the stairs. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he pushed Michael through the door. Douglas could almost hear the whirring of her thoughts as she dealt with all the information she’d just gathered. He’d underestimated her and would have to be a little more careful in her presence. Finally, a bit of a challenge. The door clicked as he secured the locks.

  Douglas opened the window in his study so he could feel the breeze coming off Lake Washington. The gentle pat pat of James’s feet heralded his entrance. Douglas was wise enough to know that he only heard the sound because James wanted him to.

  “How is it coming with the girl?”

  “Slowly,” Douglas answered, “but I feel like I’m getting some good data.” He rested his hands on the windowpane and let his shoulders relax. James was the only one he could relax in front of. The only one he trusted. It was a rare feeling and he valued it.

  “And the boy?”

  “In the cage. Easier to keep an eye on him that way.” Douglas leaned back from the window. “The lazy part of me’s hoping she’ll eat him. Save me the hassle of training him.”

  “I’m sure Michael would volunteer.”

  “Yes, I’m sure he would.” They both stared out the window, James examining the grounds, Douglas looking at the stars. Not many were visible.

  “Perhaps,” James said, “it is time for a trip to one of your vacation homes. The San Juans, I think. Maybe take a sail around a few of the harbors.”

  Douglas grew still. “What makes you suggest the island house?”

  “You seem unsettled.”

  “I feel unsettled.”

  James leapt up onto the windowsill, his tail flicking back and forth in a lazy fashion. “But why? Little hiccups have happened, but nothing you can’t handle. Everything seems to be flowing in your direction.”

  Douglas made a noncommittal sound in his throat. “Does it?”

  James’s tail flicked again, this time more sharply. “The police have found the body of the girl, but they have nothing in the way of evidence.”

  Douglas scoffed. “The police.” He had never found them to be particularly threatening, and he currently saw no reason to believe otherwise. “What could the police possibly do?”

  James ignored his question and continued. “You have the boy. You have the tánaiste. And with your experiments, well.” He turned his head from the view of the water to Douglas, his eyes like liquid mercury in the moonlight. “Your power base grows every minute.”

  “You think I’m being foolish.”

  “It isn’t my place.”

  “When has that ever made you hold your tongue?”

  James arched his back and resettled. The twitching of his tail would have told Douglas how agitated he was if his tone hadn’t already told him the same thing.

  “You’re worried?” Douglas said.

  “Yes.”

  “You never worry,” Douglas said, amused despite himself.

  James kept his face pointed toward the lake. “You’re a powerful man, Douglas. But I’m afraid.”

  “That I’ll lose?” Douglas smiled. “Don’t fret, my friend; I’ve made arrangements for your upkeep.”

  “I don’t think you’ll lose.”

  “That I’ll win, then?”

  “I don’t think you’ve thought the repercussions through. Right now, the other Councils are happy to let you puppetmaster your people. But if you topple them completely, if you establish rule, they cannot let that go. It will be war, Douglas.” He paused, his tail flicking. “And if they find the cage, or your notebooks”—he turned and blinked those mercury eyes at him—“war will be the least of your worries.”

  Those precious little notebooks, all lined up neatly on their shelves, would hang him. They both knew that. What he’d done to get the information would be deemed criminal. But the information itself? That carefully hidden knowledge plied from the flesh? Well, they’d find ways to destroy him several times over. Most creatures didn’t like their sense of safety violated, their weak spots known outside their own tribe. And Douglas was coming damned close to knowing it all.

  “Yes, I know.” Douglas breathed in the scent of lake and pine all around him. A boat cut through the water, causing a wake that broke upon the shore. “If I stopped every time I did something risky, I wouldn’t have gotten this far.”

  “If you’re so sure,” James asked, “then why do you feel unsettled?”

  Douglas tapped the windowpane with his thumb. “Maybe I’m beginning to feel my age. Or perhaps I’m in need of a change of scenery.”

  “Perhaps.” James jumped down from the windowsill. His tail swished as he sauntered toward the door. “I’m going to make a sweep of the perimeter,” he said from the hallway. “There’s a strange smell on the breeze.”

  Douglas listened to him leave. The water swirled around the rocks until the wake died down. He settled into an old overstuffed chair in the corner of his study. Hands on the rich fabric, head back, eyes closed, Douglas listened to the night around him. All he needed was a little rest.

  19

  Kick-Start My Heart

  I didn’t want to open my eyes. My week so far had consisted of some pretty nasty awakenings. Between the cold floor against my cheek and the pain in my head, I didn’t think this one was going to go any better.

  I opened my eyes only to shut them immediately when it felt like the light was slicing into the back of my skull. This awakening sucked already.

  I hate it when I’m right.

  “Try putting your shirt over your head, and then open your eyes,” a female voice said. It was a nice voice, young and light. I held on to the slim chance that I might have been captured by friendly but possessive nymphets. I needed something to hope for, and that scenario seemed as likely as anything else pleasant.

  I moved to pull my T-shirt over my head.

  “Slowly,” she warned.

  Slowing down helped, and soon the shirt blocked some of the light. I enjoyed the relative darkness, trying to ignore that the inside of my mouth felt thick and cottony
. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.

  “Now open,” she said. “Once your eyes have adjusted to that, you can start to remove the shirt.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I lay there quietly for a moment and tried not to think how stupid I probably looked with my Batman T-shirt cocooning my head. I needed to figure out where I was and what was going on.

  “You smell odd.”

  “Again, thanks,” I said. “I’ll change deodorants.”

  “No,” she said, “the deodorant is fine. It’s something else.” I could hear the soft whoosh of breath as she breathed in and out. “Spices,” she said. I could hear the amusement in her voice. “Did they season you for me, or do you work in a kitchen?”

  I didn’t want to think about the fact that she could smell me, or that she’d just joked about eating me. At least I hoped she meant it as a joke. Maybe she was some new beastie that ate human flesh. The way things had been going, I really couldn’t be sure, so I just answered her question and saved my thoughts for later. “Both are fairly possible, but it’s probably the ointment on my back. Where am I?”

  “A basement.”

  “I don’t suppose it’s the kind of basement with a freezer full of Popsicles and an old Nintendo or something?”

  “No such luck. There’s a freezer, but knowing the owner, it’s probably not full of Popsicles,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Horrible. But compared to a few minutes ago, better.”

  “Try lifting up the shirt.”

  I tugged the shirt off. Too fast. The light stabbed, and I rolled to the side out of instinct, which was a mistake. I passed out before I could throw up. Lucky me.

  This time, when I woke up, my head was on something soft. Which was good because someone was smacking me.

  “Sorry,” she said, “but I think you have a concussion. You need to stay conscious.”

  I grunted and looked toward the voice. I saw a single dusky thigh, the color some fair-skinned people turn when they get sun. The lucky few who don’t burn. I came from fair stock, so I was well versed in sunburns. I tilted my head and looked up. Slim shoulders and a pointed chin.