by Lish McBride
I grabbed my jeans and turned away, trying to pull them on. “Please,” she said, “like I haven’t already had the full tour.” She whistled when she noticed my back. I assume because of my injuries. I mean, my ass just isn’t that spectacular. “Who’s been kicking the crap out of you?”
“Everyone.” I zipped up my pants. I threw my Batman T-shirt at Brid along with my boxers when she made no move on her own to get them. She gave me an amused smile before slipping them on.
“Right,” the girl said, “business.” She whipped out a BlackBerry and began hitting buttons. “Please tell me one of you is Sam LaCroix.”
I raised my hand. “Present.”
“Finally.” She walked up to the bars, pointing an accusing finger in my face. “You are a rather troublesome young man to find.” She hit a few more buttons on the BlackBerry. “I freaking hate nicknames. I tell people, give me the whole name, it’s easier. But nooo.” Her brow furrowed, and she focused her attention back on me. “Usually Sam is easy though. Samuel, Samwise, there are only so many things a shortened Sam could be. So why were you so difficult?”
I poked my chest. “Samhain.”
The girl snorted. “I should have known. New-age Celtic-loving hippies, making my life hell.” She continued to type, her face brightening. “Right, there you are. Samhain LaCroix.” She looked back up at me. “You think you can get yourself out of that kinky love cage you’re in and talk to me? I’m on a tight schedule.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Little girl, do you think we want to be in here?”
“You seemed happy to be there when I showed up.”
“Touché,” Brid murmured.
I glared at her. “Hey, how ’bout you stop with the smart-ass remarks, and maybe we can get out of here?”
The girl studied the cage door, her gray eyes tight with concentration. “No can do,” she said.
“Of course not,” I said, resting my forehead against the cold bars. The symbols buzzed in my head, sharper and more in focus than they had been before. Nothing else had been easy lately, so why should this be?
“Why not?” said Brid.
The little girl pointed at the symbols. “These wards have been drawn by a necromancer,” she said.
“And?” Brid and I said in unison.
The girl rolled her eyes. “Duh, a necromancer’s power kind of handles all the death stuff, right? You know, power over souls and all that business.”
I rolled my hand, motioning her to continue. “Well, I’m a Harbinger. You can’t get more death and soul than me.” She flicked the bars with her finger. “So I can’t open this.”
“Death and soul?” Brid asked.
The girl tapped her foot, impatient. She pointed to herself. “Dead. As in a doornail. I took a dirt nap, pushed up some daisies, reached room temperature, pined for the fjords—”
“Pined for the fjords?” Brid said.
“Monty Python,” the girl and I both said at the same time.
“Oh.” Brid gave her a sympathetic look. “Sorry.”
She hit some more buttons on her BlackBerry. “Yeah, well, cancer’s a bitch.”
“Well said,” Brid responded solemnly.
The girl smiled. “Sorry if that came off snarky, but when you’ve been dead awhile, the self-pity thing gets old quick, the horror wears off, and you sort of get over yourself. At least, I did anyway.”
I banged my head once into the bars. “I have to ask. I don’t want to ask, but I have to. What’s a Harbinger?”
“I guide souls from this plane to, well, I can’t tell you where.”
“You’re Death,” I said, giving her the once-over. “In saddle shoes.” I don’t know why I was so surprised. It wasn’t any weirder than anything else I’d been dealing with.
“Kinda,” she said. She looked at Brid. “I like your shirt. Batman is my favorite.”
“Thank you.”
“Not to be rude,” I interrupted, “but can you maybe tell me why you’re here, since you can’t get us out of the cage?”
“June called in a favor. Wait, I better do this right.” She straightened her skirt and adjusted her blazer. Then she pulled herself up to her full height. “Hi, my name is Ashley, and I’ll be your Harbinger today. I will be acting as an interim instructor for all your necromancy needs.” She flashed her best stewardess smile and gave a little Vanna wave.
“Ashley, as delighted as I am to meet you, don’t you think it might be hard to teach me? I’m in a cage that you can’t get into. Oh, and—” I grabbed the bars with both hands, “I’m a little distracted right now by the fact that I’m being held by a psychotic killer.”
Ashley cocked a single eyebrow, a look of mild amusement on her face. “Geez,” she said, looking at Brid. “Is he always this big of a drama queen?”
Brid grinned at her but didn’t answer.
21
Make a Little Birdhouse in My Soul
Ashley hovered cross-legged in front of me, ignoring the empty air beneath her, rapt as I caught her up on the last few days. I had just finished with the bit about going to my mom’s and learning about being bound.
“Man, I really wish I had some popcorn for this.” She made a face. “That sounded a little insensitive, didn’t it? I just meant, you know, you’ve had a lot going on.”
Brid lolled on the floor next to me. “That’s okay,” she said, her chin in one hand. “He doesn’t mind.”
I looked at her.
Brid snorted. “If I don’t offend you, then I know she never will.”
“You’re not offensive.”
“I’m blunt, which bothers some people, and I slapped you in the face.”
I thought about that, but not for very long. “Personally, I’ve found your approach rather refreshing after the past few days.”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “Okay, moving on.”
I shrugged. “Anyway, then I talked to June—”
“Who then talked to me,” Ashley added.
“And then I got jumped.” I leaned back on my elbows.
Ashley chewed on her lip. “You said you got it from your father’s side?”
“Yeah, turns out my dad’s side is just lousy with it. I’ve got two half sisters who have it too.” I needed to concentrate on getting out of there, but I couldn’t pass up a chance to help out Lilly and Sara. If I didn’t do something, Lilly’s big, serious eyes would haunt me like those creepy kids you sometimes see in velvet paintings. “Ashley, do you think you could check in on them? Make sure they don’t…”
“End up like you?” she offered sympathetically.
“Yeah,” I said. “I would just feel better knowing someone was looking out for them.”
“No worries,” she said. “It’s part of my job.” She flipped open her BlackBerry and made a few notes. “Anything else? You didn’t get attacked by headhunters or fight a sea monster or anything, did you?” Her little glowing orb swam lazy circles around her head.
“Nope.”
“Good,” she said, “because you’re screwed enough as it is.”
“Thanks,” I said, “and I wish everyone would stop reminding me.” I sat cross-legged on the floor. “Let me ask you a question. Do I always have to kill things to use my gift? I mean, assuming I ever get to use it?”
“No,” she said. “Every necromancer has his own slant on things. Some parts of the ritual can’t, or shouldn’t, be skipped, though. For safety reasons, you should always do the circle. It doesn’t have to be invoked with your blood, but that does make for a very strong circle. Your will should be enough.” She scowled at the light ball, which had begun to do figure eights in the air. Chastened, the ball resumed its original circle.
I turned my head, trying to hide my smile.
Ashley cleared her throat. “Even spit works to strengthen a circle, just not as much as blood. To call spirits, again, sometimes a symbolic offering speeds things up. As for raising the dead, yeah, that kind of takes a big payment.” She scrat
ched her nose. “But that depends on the necromancer. A strong one can get by with very little blood. He won’t need as much of a power boost, but the offering should be there. The amount of blood also depends on the quality.”
I felt relieved that I wouldn’t have to start slaughtering bunnies to get things done, but the last thing she said worried me. “The quality?”
“It’s not just how powerful the necromancer is, but also how powerful the blood is. You’d get more, you know, oomph out of a goat than a chicken. It’s simply a bigger payment. That being said, a more powerful necromancer could do more with a smaller sacrifice than a less powerful one could. They run more efficiently,” she said. “Here, think of it this way: Douglas is a hybrid car, and you’re a clunky old truck.”
“Thank you for that.”
Ashley glared at me until I pantomimed shutting my mouth and throwing away the key.
“You both need gas to run, but the hybrid wouldn’t need as much because it can draw from its internal power source, the electric battery. It uses a small amount of fuel more efficiently. The truck lacks that internal power source. It can get to the same place the hybrid car can, but it takes tons more gas to do so.”
“I should trade you in,” Brid said.
“Don’t make me sic Ling Tsu on you,” I told her.
Ashley gave us the same look she had given the ball. Brid giggled, but I managed a straight face. Ashley ignored us.
“The truck,” she said loudly, “has to rely completely on whatever kind of fuel it has. Some need premium, some can take regular, et cetera.” She gave me a graceful shrug. “Not a perfect analogy, but…”
I nodded. A thought came to me. “Is there a way for me to get past the binding, you know, besides finding my uncle?” Finding Nick, even with Ashley’s help, might take too long. Kevin’s hairbrush was at home on my dresser, so a tracking spell was out. We’d need a witch for that anyway. I could try giving Ashley his name, but I didn’t know the whole thing. She’d gotten lost finding me because she’d only had Sam LaCroix to go on. I only had Nick Hatfield. I didn’t even know what Nick was short for. Nicholas? Nikolai? There were probably a lot of Nick Hatfields on this earth. We didn’t have time to sort through every one.
“Besides a bigger, badder necromancer?”
“Yeah. I’m a little short on those, and the one I do know…” The one I knew would probably love to eat my liver with a nice Chianti. “I don’t think I should ask him.”
Ashley squinted in thought. “I’m not really sure. I’ve never run into this.” She tapped her BlackBerry with her thumb. “It wouldn’t hurt to look.” She closed her eyes. “Now, open up and say ‘ah.’”
I did it, even though I thought she was joking, which made her smile. The smile quickly dissolved into a frown.
“Sam, did you say your mom tried to bind you first?”
“Yeah, but it didn’t work.”
“Why?” Brid asked.
“It’s hard to tell, and I’ve never really seen it before, but if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say that both bindings worked.” She opened her eyes.
Brid and I sat in stunned silence, hers more stunned than mine, I think. Maya had said there was something hinky about the binding. Even with that knowledge, I felt the impact of Ashley’s confirmation. “Come again?” Brid asked.
Ashley gave me a sympathetic look. “Both worked, Sam. Your uncle’s heavier binding almost blocks it, but I can see the trace of your mom’s there.” She shook her head in amazement. “Unbelievable. I’ve never seen someone whose power was bound, let alone more than once. It’s like they cut a piece of you off.”
No wonder I’d always felt lost. I actually was. The knowledge felt terrible, but in a strange way, it also felt good. Now I knew why I’d never connected to anything. Why I felt like I was outside the world around me, moving at a different speed from everyone else. That amputated piece of me explained everything, even why I’d failed at college. But that kind of blanket excuse can be dangerous. Crutches usually are.
“Once is practically unheard of, and you’ve had it done twice,” Brid murmured. “Unreal.”
Even among the anomalies, I was an anomaly. I took some pride in that. Or I would have, if my source of pride hadn’t also been my death sentence.
Ashley stood up and dusted herself off. “You’re going?” A surge of panic shot through me. Even if Ashley hadn’t been able to get me out of the cage, she had at least been able to answer some of my questions. How could I possibly figure out how to beat Douglas if I didn’t learn?
“I’ll come back,” she said. “I’m sorry, but it took some time to find you, and I do have a day job. I’m ten minutes late for Mrs. Jenkins as it is.”
“Wait,” I said. “I know you can’t get me out, but can you do something for me?”
Ashley raised an eyebrow, her small face lighting up. Looked like little Ashley loved a negotiation.
“Can you let someone know where we are?”
“Depends,” she said.
“On what?”
“On who the person is.”
I tried to think. Even if we could find him, Nick might not be willing to help because he was afraid of Douglas. My mom? The last thing I wanted was to have to buy a bowling bag for my mom’s head. Or Haley’s. Ramon? He knew what was going on, but I didn’t know who he could tell. He couldn’t just attack Douglas’s house with a skateboard. I yanked my thumb at Brid. “What about her pack?”
“Not unless they have a necromancer on staff.”
Brid shook her head.
“Why does that matter?” And why was everything so complicated lately?
Ashley pinched the bridge of her nose. “Let me see if I can explain this simply. I’m dead—do we all get that?”
We nodded.
“And we all understand that not everyone can see dead people?”
I said yes while Brid said, “But I can see you.”
Ashley sighed. “That’s because you’re with Sam.” She looked at us, but we returned blank stares, obviously not getting it. “As a Harbinger, I’m only visible if I am collecting, or if I am summoned into the presence of certain professionals.” She pointed at me with her whole hand. “Necromancer?”
I nodded, getting it. Brid could see Ashley because of me. Interesting. I stuck my thumb at my chest and looked at Brid. “Mayor of Zombieville.” I pointed at Ashley. “Citizen of Zombieville.”
“Ah,” Brid said. “You know, it’s not nice to point.”
“So my mother tells me.” I chewed on my lip. “What about June? She’s a necromancer. Can you get a message to her?” I asked. “Please let her know what’s going on. She doesn’t have to come herself, but I need you to ask her to contact Brid’s family or someone who is willing to help us.”
Brid grabbed my shoulder. “And Sam’s mom.”
I frowned at her. “I don’t want my mom getting hurt.”
“Of course not,” she said impatiently. “What I meant was to have Ashley talk to June and see if she can ask your mom to release her part of the binding from afar.”
I turned my head and blinked at her in surprise.
She gave my shoulder another squeeze. “You have two, Sam. Your mom did one binding ritual on you, then your uncle Nick finished you off with a second one. Some of your power is better than none, right?” Brid nudged my chin up with her finger until all I could see were her hazel eyes. “Worth a shot,” she said.
I pulled my gaze back to Ashley. “Is that possible? Can you ask June to contact my mom and Brid’s pack? Tell June I know she can’t act herself. And tell her thank you.”
“No problem,” Ashley said. “Now we just need to talk about price.”
“I don’t have anything right now,” I said, “and I can’t pay you if I don’t get out of here. Besides, I thought you said it was your job.”
Ashley waved my logic away with one tiny hand. “Guiding lost souls and keeping an eye on little baby necromancer sisters, that’s my job. Running
messages? Not my job.”
I chewed my lip. “Well, what did June offer you?”
“All transactions are confidential.”
“What would you like?” Brid asked, head tilted to the side.
“Waffles,” Ashley said promptly.
“What?” Whatever I’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that.
“And not the frozen kind, either. The good kind. With fresh strawberries, whipped cream, and real maple syrup. None of that compote garbage.”
“You want waffles?” I tried to keep the skepticism from my voice. “No firstborn or a pot of gold?”
“I’m not a leprechaun, Sam. And what would I do with a baby?” Her eyebrow shot back up, and she crossed her arms. “I want waffles. Take it or leave it.”
I glanced at Brid, who was staring at Ashley shrewdly.
“Let’s talk numbers,” she said. “Are we talking, like, twenty waffles all at once? Or a waffle a week for six months? What?”
“Every day for two years,” Ashley said.
“That’s outrageous,” Brid sputtered.
“I don’t care what we pay if it gets us out,” I said.
Brid glared at me. Clearly I was weakening her bargaining position. I thought she was forgetting the big picture, but I caved under her glare and held up my hands in surrender.
“Every week,” Brid countered.
Ashley’s eyes narrowed. “Every day, one year.”
“Six months,” Brid said.
Ashley pursed her mouth. Finally, she nodded.
“Done,” I said.
Ashley reached out her hand. I shook it. A grin split her face.
“Great,” she said. She whipped out her BlackBerry and hit a button. A small swirling vortex opened up above her. What looked like a stream of sparrows came out and grabbed onto her clothes. Ashley waved.
“You guys take care, okay?” The birds flew back into the vortex, pulling Ashley with them and plunging us into darkness once again.
“I guess that explains how she got in here,” Brid said.
“Just when I think things can’t get any weirder.” I wrapped an arm around Brid. “Now what?”