Death Dealers

by M. G. Gallows

  She stared at her plate for a moment. “I’m sorry, Alex. You got about six degrees colder for a moment there. I’m sorry if I dredged up a bad memory.”

  I took up my polished utensils. “Don’t worry about it. For a necromancer, every date is a funeral.”

  Jocelyn smiled, but looked thoughtful. “Is that what this is like? A date?”

  Something about her tone, like she was asking permission, made me pause. “I guess it is. C’mon, let’s eat before the food feels awkward, too.”

  We ate in silence. The price tag for such extravagance would have cost me a week’s worth of groceries, so I tried to savor my meal.

  But I decided wagyu wasn’t for me. It was indeed rich and tender, but it felt strange to my tongue. The cow had lived a pampered, carefree life. I couldn’t relate to what I was eating.

  Is this what the Rimbault Society is? I wondered. A place for rich mages to pamper themselves? Of course it was. What are you even doing, Alex? With your fake suit and your death magic. You smell poor. You reek of rotten. A bad seed trying to take root in their garden-

  “Don’t like the mead?” Jocelyn asked.

  “Hm? No, of course.” I took another sip. “Just thinking.”

  The plates had vanished while I brooded. The bartender had refilled Jocelyn’s glass.

  “I never took you for someone to nurse his drinks.” She said. “Somehow, I had you pegged for someone who keeps a fifth of scotch or whiskey in his glove box.”

  “Because I keep my balls in my purse?”

  She laughed. “No. I dunno. Sometimes it’s like I’m not seeing the real you.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I honestly don’t know, Alex. I like to think I have most guys figured out the moment I see them. But you’re a bit harder to get a read on.”

  I finished my drink. “I don’t think I’m complicated.”

  “Which is a lie.”

  “Well, maybe,” I said. “But I don’t like being complicated.”

  “You’re good at avoiding it,” she said. “I kind of envy that.”

  “It’s come back to haunt me. I thought the Visatori taught me a lot about how to handle myself, how to deal with things. Then this week happened.”

  “I had a simple life once too,” Jocelyn said. “The Society was just a fancy club to rub elbows with money. Then I started climbing the ladder. These past few days? They’ll turn into years if you aren’t careful. You just come up for air, and something pushes you back under. You have to use every trick you know to keep ahead. Sometimes you have to make choices you don’t like.”

  I thought about Max. “Yeah. That lesson is becoming very clear.”

  We looked at each other. I tried to see what was lurking past those silver pools, but I only saw my reflection.

  “Joce, let’s clear the air a little, eh? I know you want Jesse. But what if he doesn’t want to come home? What if he could be dangerous, not just to others, but to you? To Eddie?”

  She flinched. “You don’t understand, Alex. I can’t just hand him over to the Keepers. They’ll execute him. Publicly. And that’s not all of it. I’m on the verge of a formal sponsorship into the North American Council. Do you know what that means?”

  “You?” I asked. “You’re the thirteenth Councilor Walter was talking about?”

  “He’s my husband,” she said. “He’s Eddie’s father.”

  “You’re married to the Archmage? But you can’t be much older than me. The Archmage… how old is he?”

  She shook her head. “Fonourgy is as rare as Necrourgy. The last Councillor—my mentor, Robert Lacroix—was the only one in North America before I moved here. Walter took an interest in my career early on. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, Alex, and I took it. Jesse didn’t like that.”

  I swallowed. “Can’t say I’m surprised. The Council treats us ‘black mages’ like problems waiting to happen.”

  “Not just judge people. Help them. North America’s Council has been stagnant for years, they never agree on anything that doesn’t profit them. With me on the Council, Walter would have the political clout to make actual changes. No more deadlocks, no more policies that only benefit high-ranking members. It means a lifetime, a Versed’s lifetime, of helping people like me who had to do things they hated to get by in life.”

  A bitter truth materialized in my mind. “I get it. You won’t go expose Jesse, because of the scandal. You’re protecting your career.”

  She scowled. “I’m protecting the life I have. If the Council finds proof that my brother is behind this, Walter’s rivals will use it to toss my application. I may as well go back to being an escort, because no one will ever open that door for me again.”

  I leaned back. “So what am I supposed to do? Let him frame me for murder?”

  “No! Help me catch him. He’s my responsibility. If I can get him away from the Brothers, stop what he’s doing... I don’t know if he’ll ever come around, but I can keep him from hurting people. When he’s contained, far away from here, the Council will never have enough evidence on you, and I’ll be there to vote in your favor.”

  “Assuming I don’t die beforehand.”

  She took a breath. “I’m asking a lot, but we can do this if we’re smart. What do you say? Please say yes.”

  I frowned. I didn’t like it. Not one bit. But if I could stop Jesse, save my neck, get rid of the Brothers Midnight, and have a friend on the Council?

  “Yes,” I said, but I felt like a fool. “Assuming we can even catch him.”

  “Thank you.” She sighed, and some tension drained from the table.

  Rain pattered against the windows. Aubergine’s was quiet as a grave.

  “What do you think of this place?” She asked.

  “I think I’d have to sell a kidney to eat here again.”

  Jocelyn smirked. “You know, Necrourges have ways to make money. Lots of money. Legally.”

  “Like what?”

  “By talking to the dead? If you got the right papers, you could work in a lot of different fields. Forensics, law enforcement, medical studies. There are women who make millions pretending to be mediums in California, and they’re not even Versed. Imagine what you could charge to speak to someone’s dead nan?”

  “There it is,” I said with a smirk. “The bottom dollar.”

  She shrugged. “It’s something to think about.”

  “I have, and I don’t need it. I don’t like complications, remember? I had a good thing going. Quiet. Comfortable. I want that kind of life, at least for another decade or two.”

  “Sounds dreadfully boring.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But boring necromancers don’t get harassed by every self-righteous asshat looking for a cause to fight.”

  “You sound like Jesse, you know that? Jesse before, I mean. Before all this.”

  “Ask your husband. He’s convinced I won’t survive a century before I turn bad.”

  “Mm, he has experience. And you have a certain creepiness about you. Cold spots when you’re in a mood. Like the air in early Spring. Damp.”

  “Clammy,” I said. “You think I’m clammy.”

  She laughed out loud. “Not clammy! It’s more like fog. Without a fog. Sometimes there’s fog. Did you notice?”

  “Sure,” I said. “First ‘aboot’ and now ‘clammy.’ I’m batting a thousand tonight.”

  “I’m used to fog. I’m from London, aren’t I?” A phone in her bag beeped. She checked it and frowned. “Walter is looking for me.”

  “Got you on a short leash, huh? Should I be worried? He put a bomb in my chest.”

  “No,” Jocelyn said. “But he prefers I focus on raising Eddie.”

  I shook my head. “Is this all worth it, Joce? Marriage, a kid, hunting your own brother, all for a chance to sit in a big chair? Half of those Councillors didn’t care if I was innocent, the other half wanted to see more evidence before they put me to the flame. I don’t see you doing a lot of good with them.”
/>
  “Some days I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’ve come too far to give it up now. And all this fucked up shit, it’s temporary. I can deal with it.”

  I scowled. “I guess raising some asshole’s kid is more dignified than being a sugarbaby.”

  Jocelyn glared at me. “Alex. Do I offend your sensibilities? Like as a person? Because I can flutter my eyelashes and endure grabby hands?”

  “No.”

  “So why do you get so mean about it?”

  “I don’t. Call it chivalry, or something. I dunno.”

  “More like misogyny.”

  “No,” I said. “Let’s go with envy.”

  “Bollocks.”

  “No. You lucked out,” I said. “You’ve got looks, brains, and magic. The world folds over itself for people like you.”

  “It isn’t that easy, Alex.”

  “It looks that way.”

  “Easy getting ogled? Objectified? Used like a breeding mare? Yeah, I’m pretty and I know it, I know how to work it to get what I want. Doesn’t mean I don’t feel sick when they only see tits and ass, when all they’re thinking of is what they want to do to me, and don’t pretend you haven’t done it yourself! Acting like they deserve me. I can’t connect to people like that!”

  Jocelyn leaned back and rubbed her arms. “That’s my ‘clammy’. To see what people want so I can use them, but all I ever see is me being used. So I’ll tolerate it as long as I have to. And then I won’t have to ever again. Then, when I tell someone to go fuck themselves, they’ll do it, and I won’t have to use my magic.”

  She put her trembling hands on the table and bowed her head. I wanted to reach out to her, to hold her hand and tell her I wasn’t out to use her.

  But I’d be lying. I tried to be as decent as life allowed, but I was fooling myself if I said altruism was my motivator. I needed her to help me catch Jesse. To save my skin from Walter’s flames. I was in no position to judge her.

  But I saw her in that Cinderella dress, with her distant marriage, and I saw someone so isolated. As different as we were, I still knew how she felt. Deep down, under all the ambition and sacrifice, we just wanted to stop feeling so goddamn alone.

  I reached out to touch her hand, and she intertwined her fingers with mine. “I’ll help you get him,” I promised.

  We held on for a long time. Finally, she took a breath and stood. “I’ve got to go. Can I give you a ride home?”

  I considered it, but my eyes caught movement outside. A crowd of at least twenty people approached Aubergine’s through the parking lot. They walked shoulder-to-shoulder. Like a firing line.

  “Alex?” Jocelyn asked.

  I opened my mouth. “What is-”

  Something hit the window and exploded. The blast threw me backward and showered me with glass. For a moment, all I heard was the ringing in my ear. Then came the gunshots.

  And the screams.

  TWENTY-TWO

  I rolled onto my stomach and crawled over broken glass towards Jocelyn. I found her curled into a ball near our table, holding her ears. Blood stained her face from a cut above her eyebrow. I had a flash of Madelyn bleeding out on my bed.

  No, no, she’s not dying. Stop freaking out! You need to move!

  “Joce!” I said. “Hey, hey!”

  She blinked her unfocused eyes. “Wha-?”

  The bartender knelt next to us. “Please remain here, sir,” he said, and sped downstairs.

  I dabbed some blood away from her eyes. “Listen Joce, you gotta stay with me, okay? Stay awake!”

  I crawled towards the stairs. The windows of the restaurant had shattered and howling wind filled the restaurant. I counted three bodies on the floor, motionless amidst overturned tables and chairs. Aubergine’s had cleared out some over the course of our date, but there had to be at least a half-dozen patrons still present, and a handful of wait staff.

  The mages fought for their lives. A man with a ponytail and beard hurled a ball of light at the attackers outside. It exploded like a firecracker and sent a few of them flying. The bartender zipped past the windows and rained blows on the men trying to force their way in. Rebecca shouted orders in French to the wait staff, who guided the remaining diners to safety.

  The gunmen outside weren’t mages, but they had strength in numbers. Each carried an old Soviet-era assault weapon, a cheap and reliable black market bulk buy. From the look, the attackers were vagrants, or-

  Or the drug addicts from the Arlington.

  They were zombies. The Brothers had sent their puppets to shoot up the place. The ‘why’ didn’t matter; they were winning. Blank-faced and heedless of fear or pain, they marched on, piling through the shattered windows, firing controlled bursts at the mages who learned the hard way that thin wooden tables were useless as cover. The floor of magical water didn’t accept the intruders, and they sank to their knees, but it didn’t slow them in the slightest. A young woman got close enough to unleash a gout of flame on one, but the zombie shot her dead before he succumbed.

  Anguish and panic hit me. The zombies weren’t soulless husks. They were people, locked in their own minds, forced to march to their deaths, to murder as many other people as they could. I wanted to shout out a warning to the mages, to get them to realize, but the cold, logical side of my brain told me what mattered was escape.

  I crawled back to Jocelyn, who was still conscious, but had not tried to move.

  “Wha’s happen?” She mumbled.

  I lifted her up and looked for an immediate exit. The door beside the bar looked like my only option. I shouldered my way into the kitchen and my legs tangled in something. I twisted mid-fall to keep from landing on Jocelyn and met the gaze of the lifeless cook that had tripped me. Her throat was slashed so wide that her head hung lopsided. The kitchen was a madhouse of butchery. Three other cooks lay shot, or gutted with their own kitchen implements.

  Jesse Kendall stood in the center of the kitchen with a rifle slung over his shoulder, admiring his murderous work. He turned his mad smile on me and wiped blood from his jaw. “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”

  I rolled Jocelyn off me, and looked for something, anything to defend myself. Nothing was within reach. Jesse laughed and hurled a knife at me. It struck the door while I pulled Jocelyn and myself behind a counter.

  “Where are we?” Jocelyn asked with a dizzy slur.

  Jesse laughed, and I heard him cock his assault rifle. “Alex Fossor. Life is full of surprises. I knew ol’ Joce was comin’ tonight, but I didn’t figure she’d bring a mutt like you with her.”

  “Are you fucking nuts?” I called out. It wasn’t the sanest thing to say in that situation.

  “Little bit, yeah.” He laughed. “But I’ve got an easy out for you. Walk out that door, and I let you live.”

  I swallowed. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s it? We walk?”

  Jesse snorted. “Not ‘we’. You. Jocelyn is comin’ with me.”

  “What do you want with her?”

  “That’s family business. Figured it was time for a reunion. Me, her, and little Eddie.”

  “If you wanted to see her again, you could have called,” I said.

  “Ah now, there’s the rub. I could’ve dangled a carrot or two in front of Joce, invited her for tea, but she and I both know that’s not how this works.”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about? She’s been trying to find you for months. Years.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Jesse replied. His voice dropped low and cold. “Come on out, sis. Time to get reacquainted.”

  Jocelyn was still groggy, but she steeled herself, and pulled the gold bracelet off her wrist. Her dress melted into her street clothes, and from her purse she produced a familiar bracelet. The one she’d used to teleport us to Walter’s home.

  I grabbed her arm. “Do it.”

  She shook her head. “Jesse!” She called. “Please, just-”

  Bullets tore through the st
ainless steel counter, punching holes in the metal. We crawled over each other to get out of the way, but Jesse stopped before he could perforate us both.

  “Shut your mouth!” He snarled. “One word out of you, sis, and your boy-toy is dog food!”

  I mouthed the words ‘do it’ and pointed at the teleportation bracelet. She gave me a strange, almost apologetic look but shook her head again.

  What the hell is her goal? To get shot? I contemplated snatching the bracelet and using it on her, but I didn’t know how it worked. I peeked under the counter. Jesse paced well out of my reach, with plenty of cover between us. No way I could survive a charge. But there was an exit to the kitchen beyond him.

  I needed something, a distraction. I found it, three steps from Jesse.

  What I was about to do needed a fair amount of magic, and I’d been slinging new spells and rituals all week. I had never practiced what I was about to attempt. Burnout was a genuine risk. But hell, what was one more test of my limits?

  “Times a’wasting, Joce,” Jesse said. “Come on out.”

  “Any second and the law is going to be here in force, Jesse.”

  He chuckled. “Like I’m scared of a few Keepers.”

  “You haven’t met the Sheriff.” I reached out with my magic. “He won’t need a gun to stop you.”

  He slapped a fresh magazine into his AK. “Gonna be long gone before they realize what’s happening. Ten seconds, Joce.”

  “Get ready to run for the exit behind him,” I told Jocelyn.

  “What?”

  “One, two, ten!” Jesse said. He worked the bolt on the rifle.

  I brought my spell together and focused it on Jesse. As one, the bodies of the dead cooks stirred. Their movements were inhuman, uncoordinated, but I had never controlled more than one corpse at a time before. It was like steering three string puppets with one hand.

  But they got Jesse’s attention. The closest chef rushed him, and he opened fire on it. Bullets tore through the body, but the corpse kept coming. It tangled Jesse’s limbs and pushed him off-balance. The cook with the lopsided head got between his legs and hung on like hot tar.

  Jesse smashed in the chef’s face with the butt of his rifle. The third corpse joined the dogpile and tried to pin him in a full nelson.