Unholy Spirit (The Necromancer's Daughter Book 3)

by Genevra Black

  If she was so glad Scarlet was here, why hadn't she asked her to come to the meeting? Regardless, Scarlet sat on Indriði's other side, refusing to acknowledge Daschla. "News?"

  "Big news. But first—Daschla, anything to report?"

  "Things are progressing like we wanted. I know you said you thought the snow might hold things up, but I think I've found a way to spin it in our favor. I guess we'll see. We should see results within the next month."

  "Good. And, Scarlet, your Watchers?"

  The vampire smiled. "My plan is ready to go. Everything could be settled within a matter of days if we start now."

  "Hold off," Indriði said. "There are some things we should finish up first. Then we'll set you loose."

  If Scarlet had blood pressure, it would be spiking, but she schooled her expression and smoothed out her skirt. "Very well."

  "So, what's your news?" Daschla prompted, taking the drink Ilphas offered her.

  Indriði did the same, apparently unable to keep from smirking as she sipped the pink cocktail. "You'll never be able to guess. It's just too good."

  Scarlet didn't take her eyes off the Norn, even when handed her own glass. "What is it?"

  "The Reach. They all followed me here, just as I thought they would.” Her smirk grew wider. "It's too bloody good. I thought they might, but I never imagined how funny it would be. What are they planning on doing? Hunting me down and making me apologize or something? Good lord."

  Daschla crossed her legs. "Is this good or bad for us?"

  "Ah, well ... there's good news and bad news. Good news is, their fumbling led me right to the hellerune. Some guy living in Brooklyn." She took a long sip. "Bad news is, they've already found him, and they're hanging around him like vultures. But," she added, "with Astrid dead, they're significantly weakened. They're probably having to rely on whatever pitiful Reach presence there is in the city to help them."

  "And that's ... what?" Daschla deadpanned. "Two, three people?"

  "Enough to cause an issue." Indriði stood. "But the powers that be are adamant we recruit all the hellerunan we can find. So we'll have to figure out something. Blackmail, perhaps."

  Scarlet set her drink aside. "With all due respect, I doubt we'll even have to go that far. The Gloaming has infinitely more power than the Reach to begin with. If we appeal to the hellerune, we may still be able to bring him to our side willingly. We'd just need to know more about him. What's his name?"

  "Adam Einan. He's some washed-up punk singer—"

  "Of Death Benefits?" Scarlet squinted. She wasn't a fan, but Nocturnem's DJs had played their more popular songs with semi-regularity.

  To her surprise, Daschla perked up with recognition. "Death Benefits. That's the name of the band he was in?"

  Scarlet didn't answer, but when the blonde reached into her purse and took out her smartphone, curiosity got the best of her. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm going to place a call. I think I know someone who can help."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Adam woke slowly, as if the deathlike sleep that had consumed him last night was reluctant to release him from its clutches. His first groggy thoughts as he turned over and buried his face in the pillow were standard—he had work to do today, Elle was home from school, he had to get up but he wished it wasn't so cold in here...

  It wasn't until his mind cleared that all the memories came rushing back. Elle. The Genesis. The Reach. The priest. The Wending.

  The force of it all pressed him into the mattress like a demon sitting on his back, making it hard for him to breathe. In an instant, despite having slept deeply, he felt tiredness seep back into his bones. He struggled to lift himself into a sitting position.

  Why did he have to wake up?

  He wanted to wonder if he had dreamed it all. But he couldn't, not even for a moment. Things felt different. His body, his brain, the apartment. There was no denying that he had woken in a new reality, one he was dangerously unequipped to handle.

  At least banging in the kitchen—which startled him for a moment—reminded him that he wasn't completely alone. He couldn't help but feel embarrassed that one of his guests was up and moving around before he was, even if the situation was a little ... unorthodox.

  As much as he wanted to lie in bed forever, he had to get up. There was shit to do.

  With a groan, Adam dragged himself out of bed and started toward the door. But just before he left, he paused and looked over one shoulder, brows drawn. The Genesis was sitting in its stand a few feet from his bed, as still and silent as any normal guitar. He hadn't liked the idea of Elle's soul being trapped in there, but he liked the idea of her out there somewhere, wandering and lost, even less.

  He had to keep going for now. He had to make things right. Maybe he could lie down and die soon, but not now.

  As he stepped out into the hall, the smell of burning food invaded his nostrils. In the kitchen, Edie was juggling two plates, a frying pan, and a spatula. She wore the same clothes she'd had on yesterday and didn't look much better than he felt, pale and obviously tired.

  "Hey," he said as he approached, peering at the frying pan. "Are you, uh, okay?"

  "I'm fine!" she replied, shuffling things around on his small counter. "How are you? Did you sleep well?"

  Adam shrugged in response. That pretty much summed it up without going into morbid detail.

  "Satara texted me this morning," she continued, trying to plate their breakfast. It had to be eggs, but the color was a little concerning. "She and Marius just arrived back at Basile's to do some more research, but they haven't found anything yet. He apparently has an assload of books and scrolls to search through, though, so..."

  Adam nodded and glanced around the apartment. "Is anyone here with us?"

  Apparently, the question was not very subtle, since she answered straight up: "Cal's been up all night working on Elle."

  "All night?"

  "You know, in between smoke breaks. He doesn't really need to sleep."

  "Oh. Right." Adam shuffled, crossing his arms as he looked her over again. "Where did ... you sleep?"

  "Oh, uh, just on the couch. Is that okay?"

  "Well … yeah." He suddenly felt terrible for not offering her better clothes to sleep in. She'd been kind enough to stay here with him even though she had a luxury apartment waiting for her in Manhattan. It was the least he could do. "I'm, uh, sorry for keeping you away from your friends and everything. You're really not obligated to care for me. I'd get over being here alone with Cal. I get nervous, but I'm still an adult man."

  Edie smiled tiredly and swept a loose hair back into her bun. "It's not a big deal. And like I said, I'd just get in their way, anyway."

  That didn't seem likely. From what he'd seen, she was a bright enough person, and her friends clearly liked having her around. Even if she didn't research, he assumed having her near wouldn't be a problem. And there was no way she preferred to be here, babysitting a neurotic forty-two-year-old man she'd only met a day ago.

  She seemed so ... insecure. Was this how he came off to other people?

  Plates in hand, Edie motioned him toward the dining table. Once they both sat down, he picked up his fork and prodded her creation. Definitely eggs, but they looked dry as a desert and were a weird, burnt-orange color. Despite this, he could feel his mouth watering. It had been a couple days since he'd eaten.

  "So," she said, also tentatively digging into her food, "I thought while we were waiting, we could talk about your powers a little bit. You know, try and teach you a few things. I'm not exactly a scholar in magical theory, but I can answer some questions, at least."

  Adam was considering this when his phone vibrated in his sweatpants pocket, making him jump a little. He took it out to set it on the table. Normally, he'd put it aside and get to it later, but one glance at the screen stopped him in his tracks. Setting his fork down, he hastily unlocked it.

  Edie must have noticed a change in his posture or something. She tilted
her head. "What's up?"

  Sitting in his unread messages was a contact he hadn't heard from in a while. He had to stare for a moment to make sure he was actually reading it correctly.

  [Brian Morison]: hey frankie, long time no see bitch. why the fuck havent we hung out since like your divorce? we live in the same city man. I wanna see your stupid face again. get back at me mothafuckaaaaa

  "Um, Brian just messaged me and asked if I wanted to hang out."

  "Brian … as in Brain Damage?" Edie was clearly trying to rein herself in. "Like, your bassist?"

  "Well, he's not my bassist anymore," Adam said with a chuckle. "But yeah. Weird."

  "Why's it weird?"

  "We just..." He shrugged. "We haven't met up in a long time. Life just got in the way and stuff, and we've been busy with our own shit, I guess."

  Brian had been one of the only reasons he'd gotten through Karen leaving him. But he'd also been one of the biggest critics when Adam had stepped up to support her through her breast cancer treatments and double mastectomy, after her second husband had filed for divorce. Brian had thrown a pretty stupid tantrum when it had all gone down, and Adam was sure they'd drifted for good, but this ... this was a really pleasant surprise. He couldn't fight the grin that spread across his face.

  Edie was smiling slightly, too. "You should totally go hang out.”

  "I dunno. Now's not really the time, with everything going on..."

  "Yeah, but there's nothing we can do for now, remember? Getting out of the house and seeing friends would take your mind off it." She gave an exaggerated shrug. "That’s always what helps me.”

  "I don’t know if it’ll help," he mumbled, looking at his phone uncertainly, “but maybe...”

  "And while you're gone, I guess I could go to Basile's. Maybe I can help with something that's not research. Getting them food and drinks and stuff. I dunno." As she chewed, she reached into her back pocket for her own phone. "I'll add you to our group chat. That way you'll know to come back if there's any change?"

  He nodded wordlessly. He had to admit, he wanted to see Brian. Even if he couldn't tell him about all the weird shit happening, Adam could at least be around someone familiar, talk about familiar things. Normal things. Maybe, for just a few hours, he could forget everything was falling apart.

  As he finished his sad breakfast, he texted back:

  [Adam Einan]: That sounds great, man. Meet at Sophie’s? :)

  He was surprised when Brian replied almost immediately:

  [Brian Morison]: nah bro Sophies is closed. the blizzard fucked up the power or something. just come over to my place, I got beers and a 65 inch

  [Brian Morison]: TV

  [Adam Einan]: Sure. I'm sure we'll find something to watch. lol

  [Adam Einan]: When should I come over?

  [Brian Morison]: asap. if thats good for ya

  [Brian Morison]: if your busy just clear your schedule lol hahaha

  The notification that he’d been added to Edie's group chat dropped down on his screen, and she stood up across from him a second later, taking her empty plate to the sink. "I'm gonna tell Cal what's going on, then head out." Turning to him, "Is that okay?"

  He sighed. "Edie, I'm really fine. I'm not gonna jump off a building or anything. I just ... what if they do need me for something?”

  "There's nothing you can do. Trust me. Just go hang out with Brian for a few hours, take your mind off things. Once they figure out how to get us into the Wending, you're gonna need to be ready, so ... rest."

  "Marius and Satara aren't resting," he said quietly.

  "That's true. But the thing is..." Edie turned and approached, standing before him with her arms crossed. "Your life is never going to go back to the way it was. You'll probably have to leave your apartment, maybe even the city depending on how this pans out. Who knows what's going to happen to your comic or your art? For Christ’s sake, your daughter died." She shook her head. "Just rest. For one day."

  "Okay ... okay." Reluctantly, he rose from his seat, trying not to think too hard about what she’d just said. He'd been taking everything one step at a time, trying to focus on the crisis at hand. He hadn't considered what would happen after all this. If he started now, he’d crumble. Blocking it out of his mind as best he could, he texted Brian back:

  [Adam Einan]: Alright sure. I'll head over in a couple minutes?

  [Brian Morison]: do itttttttt broooooooo

  With a sigh, Adam dumped his plate in the sink before heading to his room.

  The moment he entered, his gaze touched the Genesis again. He couldn't bring it with him—Brian would think it was weird if he brought it over, and strapped to his back no less—but he wished he could. The past day and a half had felt more like a week, and having it near had started to give him a sense of security. Or maybe that had just been the feeling of having Elle's soul close. Maybe the guitar wouldn't feel the same now that it was empty.

  Trying to keep his head clear, monitoring his breathing, he got dressed, pocketing the wallet and keys resting on his bookshelf. When he exited his room, Edie seemed to already be gone, and he could hear Cal mumbling to himself in Elle's room.

  He hesitated outside the door for a moment, wondering if he should go in and see how everything was going. According to Edie, Cal had noticed Adam's odd behavior. The least he owed him was an explanation. But the thought of explaining himself twice in such a short period of time made his stomach turn. He left by the back door, locking it behind him.

  It had snowed again last night, and the roads were slushier than yesterday, so he skipped his bike and headed to the subway instead, going through the motions robotically. Navigating the city was in his nature, as integral as breathing or blinking.

  Aside from the odd roadie or sound tech who still kept in touch, he, Brian, and Mikey had been the only members of DB to stick around New York. Dead Thing and Clottia had gotten married and moved to LA pretty much straight away. With Mikey gone, Brian was the only band friend nearby, and it had hurt to grow apart from him. Hopefully, this was a sign that he wanted to patch things up. Despite all the awful shit going on around him, Adam couldn't help but feel relieved, even excited. He'd made new friends, but only a few people knew his whole story. That meant something.

  His mind drifted, lost in anxieties and memories even as he arrived at his stop and hopped off. The next thing he knew, he'd entered Brian's apartment building and was quickly approaching his door.

  Adam stopped in front of it, hands squeezed tightly in his pockets. He took a deep breath before knocking.

  It's fine. It's just Brian. Just keep it cool and don't tell him anything. You don't need to be sent to a psych ward right now.

  There was no answer for a few long moments, though he swore he could hear something on the other side of the door. He texted that he had arrived, and was about to try knocking again when it finally opened.

  Back in the day, Brian had always worn platform boots that made him taller than Adam, but the Brian standing before him now was a couple inches shorter. His complexion was pale and lightly freckled, his face square with round cheekbones, and he wore his sandy hair in a high-and-tight style. The hair always threw Adam off. In the DB times, he'd shaved it pretty closely. Instead of the black tank top and dark jeans that had once been his signature look, he wore a T-shirt and cargo pants.

  A "Hey, bitch!" and a big grin was his greeting. Typical.

  Nevertheless, it was familiar, and it made Adam crack a smile. "Hey, man."

  Brian stepped aside to let him in, and once he entered, Adam went for a standard handshake and bro hug. As he did, though, he couldn't help but notice how Brian tensed up, how he pulled out of the embrace hastily.

  Adam shoved his hands back into his jacket pockets, biting back a grimace. Maybe the hug had been too much after so long. "How you been?" he tried instead, glancing around the apartment.

  He was barely able to take anything in, however, before he noticed that they weren't alone. A woman
sat on the couch, watching them with a smile. She was porcelain-pale, with precise but dramatic makeup and black hair so glossy and straight it almost looked like a wig. She wore a pentagram strap mini dress and velvet wedges, and he couldn't help but stare.

  Was this a new girlfriend, maybe? Whoever she was, she was way out of Brian's league. It was fine that she was here, but he'd been under the impression that this hangout would just be the two of them. It seemed weird that he'd been given no heads up.

  His moment of staring only lasted a second before Brian caught on: "Oh, by the way, Adam—" He led him over to the couch. "This is my friend."

  Before Adam could respond, she rose from the couch, tugging at the hem of her mini dress and leaning to extend her hand. “Nice to meet you, Adam. I’m Scarlet.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  "Scarlet. Hi." Adam smiled and extended his hand, too. "I'm Adam."

  Her skin was cold to the touch, and she didn't shake his hand so much as hold and squeeze it for a moment. "I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Scarlet's tone was ... weird. Almost a purr. Her red-painted lips were curled into a sweet smile, her black eyes glinting. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she was flirting with him. But that couldn't be the case—they'd just met, and he looked half-dead.

  Apparently, that fact hadn't escaped Brian's notice. As he sat on one end of the couch, he said, "You look like absolute shit, Frankenstein. Is this what being an artist does to you? All that time inside doodling?"

  "Heh. Yeah, I guess so."

  "It pays the bills, I guess. Or does it?" he added with a chuckle.

  Adam wondered if it would be rude to say that, yes, these days, it paid the bills and then some. He settled for simply sighing and sitting in the empty space between Scarlet and Brian. "I was promised beer.”

  "Oh, yeah." Brian rose and started toward the kitchen, then came back shortly with a six-pack. "You sure you'll be able to handle it, Frankie? I know you're terrified of this stuff."