Unholy Spirit (The Necromancer's Daughter Book 3)

by Genevra Black

  "Not only are the Blood Eagles rabid dogs," he went on, "they have little tactical value. No power. One Auroran vivid could cut a swath through them. My own warriors, too, would make short work of them."

  “Oh, for the love of the gods. I'm not trying to raise an army against you, if that's what you think. The Watchers are still out there; I'm still looking for the hellerune. It's just ... a personal project of Daschla's." Indriði finished her drink and spread her hands. "What, you never had a rainy day craft box as a kid?"

  Sárr turned more fully toward her, brow wrinkled furiously. "We agreed that personal projects would not obstruct the path of twilight. You lied to me, weaver, both of you. I was never asked permission."

  "Ugh!" The Norn threw up her hands and collapsed on her sectional again. Typical. "May I remind you, honey, that I'm not the only one who's been lying?" She pointed to the window with a perfectly manicured finger. "You never told me the snow would come so soon. That would have been kind of good to know, don’tcha think? You didn't consider that that might put a kink in some of my plans?"

  "Plans," Sárr scoffed. "If the winter is going to ruin your plans, you may want to rethink them." He took a few steps closer and looked at Ilphas, who was still practically prostrate on the floor. "Watchman's teeth, elf, you shame yourself."

  With a mumbled apology, Ilphas rose to his feet, though he kept his gaze down.

  The Wounded looked back at Indriði. "Enlighten me. What is the purpose of an army that cannot fight?"

  After a moment of silence, she rose from her seat, smoothing her dress out. "That's just the thing: they're not an army. Not exactly. Not yet."

  She could see the bewilderment and frustration on his face. Little as she liked interacting with him, his confusion wasn't unprecedented; their plan wasn’t immediately obvious.

  It only took a little farm wisdom for the pieces to slide into place.

  "Let me tell you a story about chickens."

  Marius had insisted on being the one to fetch Basile and had left as soon as possible. Armed with a MetroCard and Cal's smartphone, the group had agreed he would probably be okay for a quick round trip—thankfully, he'd paid painstaking attention to Edie's lecture on how to navigate the subway. Still, she couldn't help but worry about him. Everywhere they went, it seemed, they attracted dangerous attention.

  Then again, maybe she should worry more about herself than the highly trained warrior with solar energy weapons.

  With him on his way, it was time for the rest to face whatever they would find in Adam's refrigerator. More accurately, it was time for Edie and Cal to face it; Satara had noticed a signed The Crow poster and had expertly lured Adam into the living room to ask questions about it.

  "Ya know," Cal said, pulling a face as he took the cigarette from his mouth, "these things aren't nearly as satisfying when you can't light ’em."

  "I'm sure Adam wouldn't care if you took a smoke break out back."

  The revenant huffed. "I'm gonna need one after this."

  He tucked the cig behind a torn ear and reached to pull open the fridge. Edie held her breath.

  There were some things she’d seen in the past couple months that she would never forget. No matter how hard she tried, the images were burned into her brain as crisply as if they were still in front of her: the carnage of battle, the grasping void of a brush with death.

  Somehow, the sight of Elle's body rivaled them both. She was a big girl, curvy, but she seemed so incredibly small curled up. She leaned against one wall, knees to her chest and head bowed, looking more like she was sleeping than dead. Her skin was the color of the fridge around her, bleached white, and a chin-length mane of honey-blond waves obscured her face.

  Beside Edie, Cal's breath caught. He was frozen for a moment, then reached out to scoop the body up, careful not to disturb the pink sheet she was wrapped in.

  "Damn," he mumbled. "She's like a fucking statue. Can you get her other end?"

  His words shook Edie to the core, but there was no time for squeamishness. Rigor mortis had set in, clenching the body up tight like a ball; all she could do was heft her back end up and avert her eyes as they transferred her to her bedroom.

  Once they deposited Elle on her bed, Edie glanced around the room. The majority of it was decorated in shades of pink, ranging from soft to eye-burning. Fairy lights hung along the walls, casting a soft glow over the room; a laptop and a heap of shimmery cosmetics sat on a desk shaped like a cloud; the twin daybed against the far wall was filled with stuffed animals and fluffy pillows. Mercy liked pastels, but she was still goth and edgy—it seemed Elle was the girliest girl there ever was.

  Edie looked back at Cal, who had brushed the dead girl's hair from her face and was trying fruitlessly to get her muscles to relax. "Are you good here or do you want me to stay?"

  "Nah, I'm fine." He tossed his head back. "Better get back to Frankenstein there. Seems like comforting him is gonna be a two-person job."

  "I dunno ... I think he's doing all right. Considering in the past twenty-four hours he's witnessed his daughter fall down the stairs and die, sucked her soul into a guitar, been told magic exists, and found out he's part of a dying breed of mages with innate death magic." She shrugged. "But maybe that's just me."

  “I guess. When he’s not busy flinching every time I move.”

  “Yeah. What’s with that?”

  “Fucked if I know.” Cal abandoned his effort to loosen up Elle's limbs. He pulled her computer chair forward and took her hand, squeezing his eyes shut to concentrate.

  Edie waited for a moment before slipping back into the hall. Best to let him focus on the preservation spells. She didn't even want to know what would happen if he screwed them up.

  When she walked back into the kitchen, Adam and Satara were still sitting together in the living room, chatting. Adam seemed to be wrapped up in whatever he was saying, so she took the opportunity to properly examine the posters she'd been eyeing earlier.

  There were only a few having to do with Death Benefits, though. The rest affirmed Adam's other loves: Akira, Sandman, Eraserhead, Half-Life. She slipped past the living room couch and noted the amount of gaming consoles, old and new, stored under and around the TV. On nearby bookshelves, she found figurines and action figures, game manuals, manga, and what must be every World of Warcraft novel ever written. Dungeons & Dragons books, maps, and minis dominated the remaining space.

  Edie crouched in front of one of the bookcases and thumbed through his collection of graphic novels. It only took her a moment to find the one Adam himself had published last year, an omnibus of his long-running webcomic. She hadn't read it beyond a few pages here and there, but she knew the gist of the series: a saga following High Prince Argon, who used shadows to warp through worlds. She thought she remembered there being some element of his birthright being stolen but couldn't quite remember. Now that she was looking at the cover, she couldn't help but notice how eerily alike Argon and Adam looked.

  Jesus Christ.

  She looked over her shoulder just in time to catch Adam's eye. He was sitting on the couch next to Satara, turned pointedly away from the kitchen. The guitar was still strapped to his back, and though he was making polite conversation, his muscles were almost as tense as Elle's.

  He anxiously ran his fingers over one tattooed forearm as he asked, "Did everything go all right? Is she ... okay?"

  "She looks fine," Edie said, putting the Argon comic back where she'd found it, right next to something called Legion of Superheroes. "I left Cal alone to do his thing."

  Something changed in Adam's energy suddenly. She didn't know if it was because their powers connected them somehow or if he was always such an open book, but she could feel his mood shift. And had the living room always been so dark? "Maybe— maybe I should go watch after her."

  Satara frowned. "I don't know if that's a good idea. You said you didn't want to see."

  "There are some things you can't unsee," Edie agreed, standing. "Her b
ody isn't gross or anything, but it's … listen, she's in good hands."

  "I just—" He lowered his voice. "I don't want to ... leave her all alone, you know?"

  "You didn't mind a second ago when I was helping Cal move—" And it finally clicked. "You don't want her to be alone with Cal."

  Adam rubbed his arm again, tone becoming a bit defensive. "He's a stranger, and he's all alone in there with her."

  "She's dead," Edie returned, sounding pretty defensive herself. "And he's doing you a favor, so maybe you could try giving him the benefit of the doubt."

  "It's my job to keep her safe. I don’t want to fail her again."

  "I know, but seriously, it’s fine.”

  She couldn't quite figure out what she could say to put him at ease. He was casting aspersions on Cal, not her, but it felt like a personal attack. What a specific concern—and aimed solely at Cal, a man whom he'd never met before in his life.

  At least Elle seemed to agree with her, groaning loudly from the Genesis.

  Satara glanced at her, then turned toward Adam on the couch. "It's all right. Cal has a bit of a gruff exterior, but he's a good man. He wouldn't do anything to hurt her."

  Adam didn't look completely convinced, but he seemed to have warmed up to Satara a bit. "I'm sorry. I probably sound like an idiot."

  "It's all right," she repeated, standing. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll go supervise. Hopefully me being there won't break his concentration."

  "You'll probably be fine," Edie mumbled. "When I left, he was really focused. He might not even notice you coming in."

  The shieldmaiden left without another word, and silence fell. Edie had mostly managed to calm herself, though she couldn't deny the little twinge of irritation still left. It helped that Adam seemed to have forgiven her already; he smiled weakly at her as she sat down next to him.

  There were so many questions she wanted to ask. She had been a fan since her childhood, and now they had something crazy in common—they were two of the last hellerunan left in the world. Chances were they shared a distant ancestral past. His powers seemed so much stronger than hers had; had he always known there was something different about him? Or had he been completely unaware, like she had? Was there something otherworldly about his music that had attracted her and her dad, or had it just been chance?

  Were these even questions he could answer?

  Her window of opportunity closed, however, as the back door opened and Marius entered with Basile in tow. The priest wore a hat and overcoat, which he quickly discarded to reveal the cassock he'd been wearing earlier.

  He scanned the apartment, and when his gaze landed on Adam, he adjusted his tortoiseshell glasses. "Ahh, there you are, kiddo. I always wondered when you and I would finally meet face to face!"

  Adam looked perplexed as he rose from the couch. "I'm sorry, what?"

  Edie stood up after him. "He’s part of the, um, group that we mentioned earlier. He's sort of the ... leader of this area."

  "Don't lie to him," the priest scoffed. "We're less of a group and more like a scatter of stubborn, slightly unhinged people."

  She sighed. "Anyway, he's been watching after you for..." She waited for Basile to fill the gaps in her knowledge, but he said nothing. "For a long time, hiding you from the Gloaming."

  "The Gloaming. Right." Adam adjusted the strap across his chest. "Satara gave me a little bit of a rundown on the ... nomenclature. Those are the bad guys, right?"

  Basile chuckled. "That's right. And let me tell ya, keeping your power hidden to throw them off your trail was a hell of a job. You really pack a punch, you know that? Anyway, you're welcome."

  "Keeping my power—"

  The priest cut him off with a loud clap that made him flinch. "All right, where's the stiff?"

  The surge of magic around Adam was palpable. "Elle is in her room. First door on the left." He was already stalking forward as Basile started down the hall, and came abreast of him before he reached the bedroom door. "What do you mean, you were keeping my power hidden?"

  Shadowy energy clouded around him like a swarm of flies, knocking out the hall lights. Holy moly. Well, there could be no doubt as to what his preferred type of magic was. All that time spent with it bottled up seemed to make it even more volatile than it already was.

  Indriði had been right about some things—the pressure of built-up magic was immense. But at least Adam wasn't exploding. Yet. Unlike Edie, he must have had some sort of outlet, even if he hadn't realized it.

  Basile turned and frowned at Adam like the question he’d asked was out of line. "We'll get to that later. Did you want me to handle this situation or not, Adam?"

  The hellerune seethed but gestured stiffly for Basile to enter the room.

  He opened the door, and Edie peered in to see Cal sitting right where she'd left him, almost in a state of meditation. He was holding Elle's hand in one of his, the other on her paper-white shoulder. A thin sheen of pale orange light enveloped the young woman's body, which was still mostly covered by the sheet they'd found her in.

  Satara leaned against the wall near the foot of the bed and looked up when the door opened. When she spoke the revenant's name softly, he came out of his trance at once, dazed.

  With a quick glance over his shoulder, he stood. "Took ya long enough. Whew. It's been a while since I had to do anythin' other than maintenance on my own decomp wards."

  He looked like he needed some air. Sure enough, without another word, he slipped past the people in the cramped hallway and made a beeline for the back door.

  "Probably just taking a smoke break," Edie mumbled when she noticed everyone looking at her for an explanation.

  Well, everyone except Adam. He had drifted into the room like a spirit himself, eyes glued to Elle's body. Except for a little crusted blood around her nostrils and the awful color of her skin, she was pristine. From Adam's back, the guitar cooed softly; a misty light emerged from the pickups and crawled down the neck to touch Adam's arm. After a tiny jolt, he relaxed a little.

  Basile scooted past him, rolling up his sleeves. "All right, if you're gonna insist on being in the room while I do this, I'm going to need space. And absolute silence." He glanced at everyone but Adam. "And any energy you can spare would help."

  Edie leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. "If you can figure out how to take it from me, go ahead, I guess."

  "Try not to kill anyone," Marius mumbled from just behind her.

  Satara traded places with Adam and cleared the computer chair from Basile's path. Once she had joined the others near the doorway, the priest began to prepare himself with long, deep breaths.

  Eventually, he held a hand out toward Adam. "Give me the guitar."

  The Genesis responded with a grinding screech, then several plucks that somehow got across the bitchy tone of whatever Elle was trying to say.

  Adam pulled the guitar to his front and awkwardly patted the body. A minute ago, he had been ready to wreck Basile's shit; now, he was nervous again. "She's not sure about it. Do you actually know what you're doing?"

  The priest sighed. "Do you know how many exorcisms I've performed?"

  "No," Adam snapped, "I don't. I clearly don't know you as well as you seem to know me, man. I don't even know your name."

  "It's Basile. Basile Bolet." He sighed. "I assume you'll thank me for keeping you alive for years once all this is smoothed over, so we'll just move on for now, shall we?"

  Adam said nothing, simply looked down at the guitar. It trilled once more, and he nodded, seemingly in response. With a sigh, he lifted the strap over his head and handed the instrument to Basile.

  Chapter Ten

  With the guitar in hand, Basile stepped closer to Elle's curled-up body. "Well, at least she's in pretty good shape. That'll be a plus."

  "What will happen exactly?" Adam asked, sitting on the end of the bed, close to Elle's feet but not touching her. "If you can put her back in there, will she be ... alive again? Normal...?"
>
  The priest hummed. "I can’t say. A little resurrection before the soul leaves the body is possible, but that's not the case here. Still, we’ve got her soul with us … so … well, I guess we’ll see."

  "So she'll be a ... revenant?" Edie tried.

  "I can’t be sure. I don’t think so. Revenants are made to be controlled by the ones who raise them. You leech the life from someone else, and they spring up, ready to obey your whims or whatever." Basile waved a hand. "Whether she's technically undead or not, does it matter?"

  The guitar screeched.

  "No," Adam translated quickly. "This is what she wants."

  "Then let's get to it." The priest lifted the guitar strap over his head, letting the instrument hang against his chest as he stretched and flexed his hands. "So, here's what's gonna happen. First of all, I'm going to carefully, er, separate her soul from the guitar. It's not as easy as just tearing her out of there, which is usually my preferred method—it’s more surgical. Then, I'm going to lead her back into her body. While trying my best not to absorb her completely," he added quickly.

  Adam looked horrified, and the guitar protested, vibrating slightly against Basile's chest. "Absorb her? What are you talking about?!"

  "Well … my kind are sort of in the business of eating souls, you know, since we haven’t got any ourselves." Before Adam could go off on him again, he continued, "But I've been doing this for a long time! I've exorcised plenty of souls without consuming them. I just need to concentrate. And like I said, a little extra energy wouldn't go amiss."

  "Take whatever you need. Just fix her."

  Wordlessly, Basile looked down at Elle's body. Silence stretched on as he stared. Then, with both hands cradling the guitar, he began to mutter something.