Unholy Spirit (The Necromancer's Daughter Book 3)

by Genevra Black

  Edie winced as a familiar flash of pale light flooded the room. When it faded, Basile had changed: instead of an older man, a skeleton now stood in his place, bones a bleached white, eye sockets empty and dark. Adam balked but didn't move from his place by Elle's side, simply looking on in awe.

  The skeleton priest almost seemed to emit a sigh—a low, tired sound that wove through the room, making Edie shiver. It was the sigh of someone who'd been alive far too long, had seen far too much, and had done this far too many times. His fleshless fingers stroked the surface of the guitar in an odd repeating pattern, and she wondered if he was tracing some sort of sigil to help him focus the spell.

  After a moment, a few whispered words left his unmoving mouth. His posture changed. He clenched the fist that had been stroking the guitar and planted his feet, like he was trying to pull something particularly heavy. The faint sound of grinding teeth caught Edie's ear. Was he in pain or was he really concentrating that hard?

  Finally, subtly, she began to see it—a faint periwinkle shimmer around the guitar, the same shimmer she'd seen around the Watchers' bodies as he’d flayed their souls. The luminous energy trembled and jerked as it was pried away from the guitar. And as it emerged more fully, Edie could see that Elle's soul had not taken the shape of the Genesis—it still looked like her, the faint outline of her face contorted in horror and agony.

  It was taking an achingly long time to drag her soul out, and if Elle's hazy expression and the distant wails filling the room were any indication, it was a painful process.

  Adam jumped to his feet, eyes wide and shiny. "Wait, no. You're hurting her!"

  "Shh!" Basile hissed, teeth grinding louder. His shoulders were trembling, chest heaving with the effort it took not to tear her soul out and swallow it whole.

  A ghostly shriek of panic filled the room, and Edie could see Adam struggling to hold himself back. He crossed his arms tightly against his chest, worrying the ridges of his tattoos.

  "Dammit," the priest breathed. "She's losing focus. She's fighting me."

  Satara took a step forward. "Why?"

  "She's upset that it hurts. But there's ... not ... a lot I can ... do!"

  The shieldmaiden turned her head and motioned for Edie and Marius to enter the room. Once Edie was by her side, she took her hand. "He's going to need some of our energy to carry on, I think. Just take deep breaths, relax, and open yourself up."

  Edie was still uncertain of how exactly to give someone her energy, but she tried to do as Satara said. She let her shoulders slump, closing her eyes and relaxing her whole body.

  At first, she wasn't sure anything was actually happening—then she began to notice the weakness in her knees. Her biceps began to burn slightly, like she'd just finished an exhausting workout. Eventually, she wasn't sure she could lift her shoulders even if she wanted to. It was like a weight held her down.

  She opened her eyes. Adam seemed to be in a similar state, sitting on the end of the bed once more, head in his shaking hands. Satara's grip was weak in Edie's, and beside her, Marius looked deflated.

  Try not to kill anyone, he’d said before Basile had started the ritual. Was that possible?

  "Basile," she croaked, "we're, uh, running kind of low."

  "Dammit," he cursed again, inhaling sharply. "I'm trying not to— take her, but she's— I can't hold—"

  Basile's knees buckled, and he cried out. He tried to steady himself, but faltered, his arm jerking. In an instant, bright periwinkle light exploded out of him—and by the time it faded, he was humanlike again, on his knees with the Genesis hanging from his neck like an albatross.

  "Dammit!"

  His usually neatly combed hair hung in his face as he pulled himself up to his feet, panting. Adam stood, too, eyes locked on Elle.

  "Did it work? She's not movi—"

  "No! No, dammit, it didn't work." The priest's voice was gruff. "I was just a second away. If I'd had a little more time—"

  "What happened?" Edie asked, coming closer. "What was that explosion?"

  "I was going slow, but she put up a fight. It made it tremendously hard not to consume her." He straightened out his clothes and hair as he spoke. "At ... at the end there, I nearly tore her soul out, and my body would have absorbed it. I had to stop. But then I couldn't hold on to her. Dammit..."

  Adam's breath was uneven. "Couldn't— Where is she? Back in the guitar?"

  The priest shook his head. "I managed to pull her out, but I stopped the ritual at the last second." He gestured to the bed. "And she's not in her body, so ... her soul must have crossed the veil."

  Edie's heart sank. Behind her, she heard the back door close and shuffling as Cal entered. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw him lingering in the doorway, a dour expression on his face. "Uh ... how'd it go?"

  "You let my kid's soul just fly off into the ether?" Adam managed, squaring up to Basile and yanking the Genesis away from him. One by one, the fairy lights on the wall flickered out. When the priest didn't answer right away, he became frantic: "Are you telling me she's gone? She's fucking gone, passed on into the afterlife or something—is that what you're saying?"

  "Calm down!" Basile snapped. "Odin's ravens, you lunatic, pull yourself together.”

  "Hey, hey, hey!" Cal entered the room, coming to stand just behind Edie and Marius. "You both need to cool your jets for a hot sec so we can figure out what the fuck is going on. Got it?"

  They seemed to, at least a little. Adam continued to fume silently, and Basile turned to the others, arms crossed.

  "Tell us what this means, Basile," Marius said grimly. "Has she passed into one of the gods' halls?"

  "No. Considering the circumstances, she's more than likely a lost soul. So she's crossed the veil, but we won't find her on the way to Hel or anywhere else." The priest sighed. "She's probably in the Wending."

  Cal wrinkled his nose. "She died and went to Wendy's?"

  "I've heard that name," Satara said softly, face drawn from having her energy siphoned. "I can't remember where, though."

  "It's the plane of lost souls. The people there are sometimes like Elle. Sometimes they're those who weren't buried or honored properly when they died—if they don't turn into a ghost or a draugr, they're stuck in the Wending. But most of them are people who got lost trying to travel to their afterlife. I understand the plane is a never-ending journey; the spirits can never rest, never linger. Always moving forward but never going anywhere. Never getting home."

  Adam's distress only grew. He shuddered all over. "Oh my fuckin’ god. No … Elle...”

  "Hey," Basile said, fixing the hellerune with his intense gaze, "it's better than the alternative. If I'd eaten her, she would be gone. Forever. As in, no existing energy in any universe. Oblivion."

  Adam sat on the bed again, his skin almost as white as the corpse lying nearby. He looked like he might pass out. If Edie was honest, after giving up all her energy, she wasn't that far off herself. Wordlessly, she released Satara's clammy hand and sat on the floor, taking deep breaths to try and keep conscious.

  "Please," Adam whispered, looking up at Basile. "Please … I need to help her. She's— she's all I have, I can’t lose her. I … if she's not gone forever, we can get her back, right? We can still bring her back?"

  The priest took off his glasses, rubbing his forehead and the bridge of his nose. "I'm not really sure of any way to get living people into the Wending. Your kind aren't really supposed to be able to exist in the realms of the dead.”

  “But you said people have brought loved ones back before. There must be a way.”

  “That was a long time ago. But … I suppose I can look into it." He replaced his glasses and glanced around the room at the others. "I won't be able to do it myself, though. I have a lot of material to research and only two eyes."

  "I'll help," Satara said. "I'll need food and water and somewhere to sit, but I can do it."

  Marius nodded. "I can, too."

  "I'll park here an
d keep working on the decomp spells," Cal mumbled as he approached the bed. "I'm gonna need some space to concentrate."

  Edie rose shakily. "If you end up needing more people to research, I guess I could try, but I might be more of a hindrance than anything."

  “Eh, someone’s gotta watch Frankenstein.”

  Adam shook his head. "No, I should do something. I need to do something. I … I need to actually make myself useful for once in my life and help."

  "What you need to do," Satara said, "is rest and keep sane."

  "Yeah. Let Edie keep an eye on you, big cat." Cal reached over his head and examined the blown-out fairy lights. "And, uh ... if she can teach you a thing or two about controlling your magic, all the better."

  Chapter Eleven

  Basile and his two volunteer researchers left in short order, and Cal pulled the computer chair up again to work on his decomposition spells. It was a bit easier than before to convince Adam to leave Elle's body, considering how drained he was. With the Genesis still at his back, he went to his room to decompress. Edie wasn't too far behind.

  His bedroom was a continuation of the living room in many ways. His various collections had found home on a bookshelf near the door as well as the top of the dresser. Not as many posters hung here, but there was an impressive selection of guitars against one wall, some hung up and some sitting below on stands. She recognized a stippled JEM7D, a black-and-white Reverse Flying V, and an ultra violet Hellraiser Hybrid C-1 among them. In one corner, there was a custom gaming PC set up with a chair that looked like it should be at the helm of a spaceship. The keyboard had been moved aside to make room for a huge, shiny drawing monitor.

  Adam went to the bed and sank down, slumping with his forearms resting on his knees. Edie took the room in for a moment before sitting down next to him. She instinctively reached out to pat his back.

  "I don't know how I let this happen," he murmured miserably. "If I had been able to save her ... if I had forced her to go to the doctor sooner—"

  Edie sighed. "It's not your fault. I get that you want someone to blame, but there isn't anyone. You wouldn't have done anything differently, ’cause how could you have known?"

  He simply shivered in response.

  He wanted to help, and that was understandable, but Satara was right—he’d had a rough twenty-four hours, and he needed to take a breather before he lost his mind completely and blanketed Brooklyn in darkness or something. "Why don't we get out of here? Get some fresh air. You could use it."

  "I don't know. I really ... really should stay here. In case I need to do something."

  "Yeah, but all the bases are covered for right now. The only thing you can do is wait for the, uh ... professionals to figure out our next step."

  Adam worried his bottom lip. "I guess, but I just ... I don't know. No one else is here with..."

  He trailed off, but Edie got the gist—he was still nervous about leaving Elle alone with Cal. She took a breath, determined not to get upset this time. This guy had had the shittiest couple days she could imagine, and she got the sense he was pretty neurotic even when things weren't going to hell.

  "Adam." She managed to catch his gaze and hold it. "You have to believe me when I say that Cal would literally rather die than hurt her. She's in safe hands. Like, I can't think of any way she could be safer, actually. I swear on ... on—" She frowned. "I guess I don't have much to swear on."

  "Beats me. I always said if I ever had to swear an oath, it would be over Xanathar's Guide to Everything." He scrubbed his face and finally conceded, "I probably should get out of here for a couple hours."

  Minutes later, he was ready to go and following Edie out the back door, leaving the Genesis behind. The two of them could be siblings with their dark hair and leather jackets.

  It had finally stopped raining, and a lot of the snow had melted away, but still, she was surprised when she turned and saw two helmets under his arms, one standard black and one glossy pink with cat ears.

  Dread settled in her gut. "Please tell me that one's yours."

  "Sorry." He tossed it to her. "Be careful on the stairs."

  As she crept down, she turned the pink abomination over in her hands. It wasn't ... ugly, per se. It just really wasn't her style, to say the least. "Do you have anything else?”

  "Sorry," he said again, wincing this time. "But it'll keep you from cracking your skull open, so that's a plus."

  He led her to a small, double-padlocked shed in the corner of the yard. Once the truly excessive amount of locks and chains were removed, he rolled out a compact urban motorcycle.

  “Cool,” Edie said. “A Yamaha?”

  “Yeah, an MT-07. You can’t ride until you suit up, though.”

  With a sigh, she pulled on the horrific pink helmet, hissing. “It burns us.”

  Adam put his own on, flipping the visor down and glancing at the sky. "The rain’s let up, and I’m a careful driver, so we should be okay.” He sighed. “I got it all ready for summer, but it doesn't look like summer’s coming."

  Edie followed his gaze, gnawing on her lip. The weather had been weird for a while now—but a blizzard in July in New York City? It was starting to feel like whatever was going on was beyond climate change or anything easily explainable.

  They walked the bike down the alley, and at the curb, she climbed behind Adam. Navigating the streets of Brooklyn was a silent affair. Edie assumed Adam was just as lost in thought as she was, and she couldn't blame him, considering the circumstances. It wasn't until they were parking on Flatbush Ave that he spoke.

  "So, you're a fan of Death Benefits, huh?" he asked as he took off his helmet.

  She followed suit. "My dad was a big fan. He got me into you guys. That was one of the reasons I started wanting to do music, actually."

  He looked over at her earnestly. "Fuck, I'm sorry. You guys showed up to help me and I didn't even think to ask you anything about your lives."

  "It's fine. I mean, you have some stuff going on.”

  "So you're a musician? What do you play? Are you in a band?"

  Edie had to admit, she felt a surge of excitement when he started asking her questions. And he was listening attentively, like he was actually interested in the answers. "Yeah, I'm a bassist. Mostly. My friend Mercy and I have a band, DYSMANTLE. Or, well, we did ... before all this."

  His expression sobered a little, but he didn't press that particular subject. He switched the alarm on his bike, and they continued along the sidewalk, bracing against the cold wind as they entered Prospect Park. "So are you a Schecter girl, or what?"

  "Fender. It's a Jaguar. JAB-90EQ."

  "A Jag, nice. My friend Brian"—she tried not to freak out when she realized he was talking about DB's own bassist—"usually plays a Hellraiser. He swears by it."

  Edie couldn't help but snort. "Yeah, if I have an extra thousand bucks, maybe I'll look into it." It took a second for her to remember she did have an extra thousand bucks—many times over. But she wasn't looking to spend it on guitars. Besides... "My dad bought me the Jag, actually. Right before he died."

  Adam was silent for a moment before nodding slowly. "That's rough. I can see why you're still playing it." After another pause, he added, "You talk about your dad a lot. He must have been an amazing guy."

  She wasn't sure what to say. Frankly, she was used to people knowing her father's situation without her even having to say a word. A selfish part of her almost wanted to let Adam continue to think Richard Holloway had been a good person. It'd been a long time since she'd heard a nice word about her father.

  But her rational brain overruled that urge a beat later. "Ah ... not really."

  As they entered the park and slowed their walk to a stroll, Adam quirked a brow at her. "Oh?"

  "Yeah, he … I'm not sure if you were able to sense it or peek through his glamour or whatever, but Cal isn't ... human. He's not even alive."

  Adam looked at his feet. "I thought something weird was up with him. You guys ke
pt calling him a revenant."

  "Yeah. It's like a zombie, except that's considered a rude word. It's a kind of undead necromancers can raise, one that's sort of ... connected to your brain and has human-level intelligence, unlike husks, which are basically mindless. Revenants can follow orders and carry out tasks and stuff, but they can also devise their own plans, do magic ... they're pretty much just like you and me."

  "Okay." Adam tilted his head. "But what does this have to do with your dad?"

  She heaved a long, deep sigh. "My dad was a hellerune like us, and he raised Cal as his revenant. But the thing about revenants is that, even though they're basically humans, they're bound to the person who raises them ... and to their bloodline. So, basically, my dad told him what to do and he had to do it. And when he died, that passed on to me."

  Adam looked ahead of them, brow furrowed as he digested this. Eventually, he said, "So your dad kept him like … an indentured servant?”

  “More like a slave, to be honest.”

  “And you…”

  "To force him to do something, I have to order him magically. I'm not clear on the specifics. I only ever did it once, on accident, and I never want to again." It was her turn to look at her feet. "But yeah. My dad was a horrible person ... for a bunch of different reasons."

  Adam peered at her. "If Cal's staying with you willingly, then he doesn't need to be bound to you, right?"

  "Well, being connected gives us access to each other's brains ... so that's useful in a pinch. But we don't use it for anything besides that. I don't think."

  "Have you thought about trying to find a way to release him?" His tone was serious, like he thought he might have to argue with her about it. "Seems like there's more downsides than there are upsides. And even if you're not planning on controlling him ever, sometimes it's the principle of the thing, you know? I'm sure being trapped doesn't feel good."

  Edie wasn't sure where his sudden empathy for Cal had come from, but she wasn't opposed to it. She considered his words for a moment. "We haven't really talked about it before. I don't think he likes to acknowledge it. But..." She shrugged. "If we could find a way to break the bonds without hurting him, I would. I'd just have to talk to him about it."