A Fine Necromance

by Lidiya Foxglove

  My cousin wasn’t exactly what I would call a nice guy. He had set up this marriage with Daisy, after all. I knew all he wanted was power. If he was lying about Charlotte hanging out with Firian, I knew it was only to keep her in his clutches and not have her go to the witches. It seemed like everyone was out for blood.

  “Piers, you can set her up with Harris if you think it’s best, but I still want the thing done. I want the blood of those wolves wiped from her and the Order’s methods will do it. I want all evidence of my sister’s crimes wiped from the record. My parents were lenient with my sister and she was lenient with her daughter in turn. I will not make the same mistake. Charlotte hasn’t had discipline, that’s the trouble. She’s just a girl, so this is our last chance. I don’t care if she fears you, or me either. I’d rather have her fear you than end up losing her magic, working for a demon, insane or dead.”

  “That is a very good point,” Piers said. “Well, I have a ward on the church so she can’t leave and those boys can’t get in, and I will perform the ceremony tomorrow morning, as planned, but I think we need to consider how we can gently remove other bad influences from her life as well. I don’t want to offend the Xarras or the Lyrmans, but we both agree that they no longer belong here, yes?”

  “Yes, although I do like the idea of the vampire clan actually taking out the Withered Lord for us, and Montague is a part of the deal, so…tread carefully.”

  This was not good. She was the one who had cursed Firian. Charlotte was miserable without him. It sounded like nothing would convince Catherine to break that spell and let her be with him again.

  Worse, their plans seemed to reach far. They wanted to remove Alec and Montague from school, keep Firian a fox forever, and…marry her to me?

  No. I can’t be with her unless I deserve her.

  I never fell in love with Daisy because I knew she would be miserable in the marriage, and she would change to fit in. She would understand that she had no other choice.

  I couldn’t let Charlotte be like that.

  I turned from the door in disgust. No use talking to Piers. I didn’t know what I could say to convince him not to ‘purify’ Charlotte.

  I walked softly back down the stairs. The guard at the door nodded to me. “Stay dry,” he said, as the first drops of a rainstorm were starting to fall. I knew Piers would find out I had been there, but no help for that.

  I ducked behind one of the buildings at the farthest corner of the gate and cast a concealing spell on myself. I checked the gate for wards. Breaking wards was one of my best talents, especially since these weren’t meant to keep students in so much as to keep enemies out. I only had to weaken them a little. Then I climbed the gate, my muscles straining as I hauled myself over. It would be a huge help to have Alec or Monty with me, but I didn’t want to get them in trouble.

  I ran into the darkness, pelted by rain, to the only experienced magic user we could trust. I didn’t have much time. Hopefully, Stuart would know how to stop purification spells.

  The downpour hit when I was about a mile deep into the woods, with a long way to go. The trees helped shield me from the worst of it, but it turned the warm day to a clammy chill, and despite the light spell cast on my wand, I could only see a short way ahead, light shimmering on wet leaves while the din of rain pelting the forest roared in my ears.

  “Pretty unpleasant place to take a walk.”

  “Shit!” I whirled, ready with an attack spell, only to see Firian walking behind me. “What are you doing out here?”

  “What happened to her?” he asked. “She hasn’t called me, but I know she’s distressed. I appeared outside the gates just in case the council was watching for me. Then I saw you out here.”

  It was deeply strange for a familiar to show up in the presence of another magic user and start talking, but I already knew Firian was strange. And the worry in his eyes? I knew what that was like.

  “They locked her in the chapel overnight, with plans to purify her of her sinistral blood in the morning.”

  “This school was a lot more fun before the dystopia kicked in,” Firian said.

  “It’s the same old battle. Clearly they feel that Master Blair was too soft on everyone, and they’re probably not wrong. I wanted to learn how brutal the world can be.”

  Firian glanced behind him, concern for Charlotte plain on his face. Foxes were very expressive. “So what are you out here for?”

  “I’m going to talk to Stuart.”

  “I see.”

  I kept walking, and Firian followed me. I didn’t mention I was glad for the company, and he didn’t thank me for being out here in the miserable rain to help his witch.

  But, we understood each other.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charlotte

  It’s probably not surprising information that a cold, dark, empty church is as creepy as a haunted house. Especially a church built in the 1880s, where everything was as ornate as a gilded theater, but more somber. The cavernous room was shadowed with a huge carved altarpiece with figures of the Virgin Mary and some saints looking down on me, and even the smell was eerie, this sweet wood-candle-incense aroma that seemed very ancient and reminded of funerals. There was a lamp post outside one of the stained glass windows, I guess, so that one window had a soft glow behind it and the rest were very dark.

  I looked for the light-switches, but I couldn’t actually find any. Did the church even have electricity? Maybe it didn’t.

  I climbed into a pew and huddled there so I didn’t have to look at any of it. “Thanks a lot, Harris…,” I muttered. “Woods might have been better.” I felt like calling Firian might be a bad idea, like I was being watched and judged.

  But then, at some point, I heard the wind picking up outside, and then I heard thunder in the distance. So maybe not.

  I tried to sleep, but it was impossible. Every sound had me shooting up off the bench to investigate, and this building seemed to rattle in the wind and creak randomly. I heard this weird movement behind the pulpit. It sounded like something slapping against the floor.

  I started thinking about how sometimes people used to be buried under the floors of churches. Ohmigod, what if someone is buried in here and their corpse is scratching at the stones to be let out?

  I had probably been there a couple of hours at this point.

  I also needed to find a bathroom. But I was terrified to leave my pew in case the pulpit zombie got me.

  I took a deep breath. “It’s probably a mouse,” I told myself. I felt a little ridiculous, but I had dealt with demon-wolf attacks, demon-bat attacks, and dabbled in the dark arts at that point, so nothing seemed off the table. But how could a mouse make that noise?

  At some point, I was either going to pee on the church floor, or find the bathroom, so I got up and crept around in the shadows, looking for the door. I finally found a dimly lit toilet, groping around in the dark for toilet paper and soap. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and for the first time, I confronted what this was really about.

  The council said they wanted to purge my sinistral blood. What did that mean? Did my blood make me who I was? Would it hurt? The little boggart certainly seemed upset about it.

  “I’m scared,” I whispered. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t want to lose my grandfathers’ blood…” I swallowed. “Samuel? Samuel…can you help me?”

  The flopping sound continued. I huddled in the bathroom, heart pounding so hard I felt a little dizzy, but I started to feel like this was something I needed to confront.

  You’re going to take on a demon and you’re afraid of a dark church and a weird noise? Come on.

  So I mustered my strength and walked up to the pulpit.

  There was a large white fish flailing around on the floor. Oh shit. It had been there for a while, then.

  “Um…”

  I had questions.

  But there was no time for questions and the one thing that crossed my mind was Firian telling me
how the rules of Etherium and Sinistral were different than our world, and more like fairy tales.

  Maybe this fish was a mermaid. A wish-granting mermaid.

  But for now, it was a fish. If it was a talking fish, it wasn’t volunteering anything. It was just suffering on a marble floor. So it was up to me. I sprang into action. I picked up the fish. This was not something I particularly relished doing, but I felt so bad for it. I didn’t want to just let it die. I rushed the fish into the bathroom and threw on the faucet. I had to grip the slippery, gross, wriggling fish under my arm while I shut the drain. Maybe this wasn’t good fish water, I don’t know. It was the best I could do.

  When the fish got in the water, it seemed a bit listless.

  “Oh—am I supposed to put you in the holy water?” This seemed like a moment in Fortune’s Favor. You’re stuck in a room with a puzzle to solve. Dying fish? Basin of mystical water? Duh. Once again, classic RPG.

  So I ran the fish back out and put it in the stone basin near the entrance.

  At this point, the fish seemed very sick, so I frantically cast a healing spell for good measure, although I wasn’t very good at those.

  The fish vanished, leaving the water sparkling for a second.

  My eyes darted around. I didn’t hear anything now.

  “Did that have anything to do with anything?” I called. “Samuel…can you hear me?”

  I told you not to rely on me. Use the resources around you, and the magic you have been taught.

  Right. Classic RPG shit part two: if a wise elder teaches you a special new spell, then you should use that spell. Stuart told me I needed to practice my necromancy and keep from making emotional attachments to the dead.

  I was pretty disappointed there was no mermaid though.

  I crouched in front of the basin and lifted my wand, slowing my breath and focusing my concentration until I felt the shift, that subtle sense that the magical world was opening up to me. I was getting better at feeling it.

  “O spirits, please guide me in your humble wisdom and tell me what the heck this fish is about. Thank you for your help.”

  The faint, ghostly form of an old man appeared in front of me. He was dressed like a priest, and he had an old timey beard, so either he was a hipster priest who died a few years ago when his home-brew exploded, or he was a priest from back in the 1800s.

  “Why are you in here, child?” he asked. “And why did you place a faery inside of the holy water?”

  “It was dying on the floor. Did I mess it up? I’m really sorry. I’m not Catholic, although it’s very beautiful in here.” Best to compliment the ghost. “They locked me in here so they could purify my werewolf blood tomorrow, and then a dying faery fish appeared out of nowhere… I don’t know if you can help me. Maybe you don’t want to help me. Purifying people of werewolf blood might be something you’re into.”

  “Do you wish to be purified of this blood of your kin?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then, I would not recommend it. It seems this faery tested you, and because you did not hesitate to save her life, she offers you her protection.” He dipped his fingers in the holy water and brushed it on my brow. “The faeries had blessed water before us. Some day they might be gone, and humans will remain, but the rituals of this earth will bridge us. All things are connected, but it is usually only in death that we see it. Be well, Charlotte.”

  He faded away.

  I smiled. I hadn’t felt anything when he touched me, but when I brushed my brow, it was wet.

  “He was cool,” I said. “But what about you, faery fish? Will I find out who you are?”

  There was no answer. I guess I had to puzzle it out on my own for now. But at least, when I curled up on the pew again to sleep, all my fears seemed to have left me, and I dreamed until morning.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Harris

  “It seems as if Charlotte has guarded herself against the purification spell,” Stuart said, after talking to his raven. “The faeries intervened and she passed their test. She is protected, this time.”

  Firian’s ears lifted with subtle relief.

  “The raven told you that?” I asked.

  “That is what they do,” he said. “If you take the time to learn their language.”

  “So I hurried all the way here in the rain…and she’s fine. I don’t need to do anything.”

  “Are you angry that she fixed her own problem?”

  “Of course not.” I fidgeted, as Stuart fed his raven some raven treats. “You seem very calm about everything I just told you. They were going to hurt her, and I just…I had to do something. Even if she can protect herself, they’ll just find another way. Don’t you want to put her somewhere safe?”

  “She wants to be there,” Stuart said. “Ignatius would be very upset about all of this, but in the end, I am a faery. I covered up my nature with friendliness, but I must say, it’s been such a relief not to pretend to care about human concerns anymore.”

  “So Charlotte’s welfare is just a ‘human concern’ to you?”

  “I care,” Stuart said. “I care about her very much. I simply trust that it will unfold the way it should.”

  Penny offered me some hot tea, moving quietly in the background, and added another log to the fire that was slowly drying out my clothes. The presence of servants reminded me of home, except that Stuart was living in a humble cave.

  I wasn’t sure what to do next. I didn’t want to just return without accomplishing anything.

  I glanced at Firian. The fox had followed me all the way here. Charlotte loved him more than anyone, and she loved him the wrong sort of way. I hadn’t even see my familiar in human form in many years.

  But for Charlotte, his situation was as heart-breaking as if Alec or Montague was turned into an animal.

  “What about Firian?” I asked.

  “The curse?” Stuart said. “Her great-aunt cast it.”

  “Her great-aunt is not going to break it,” I said. “I’ve heard enough to know that.”

  “Hmm.” Stuart sipped his tea leisurely. “I wonder what would?” His eyes lifted.

  “Is there something we can do about it?” I asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Do you think there’s something you could do about it?”

  “Well, nothing that wouldn’t cause even more permanent and lasting damage to my relationship with home…”

  “So,” Stuart said, “you could do something about it. And that is the price you would have to pay.”

  “I think I liked you better when you were covering up your nature with friendliness.”

  “You’re not the first one to say that,” said Orson, who was just hulking in the corner peeling potatoes. Well, Stuart’s servants were a little different from the ones at home. They were more intense, more woven into the place somehow. Orson was only of average height but he had a tall presence, with thick black hair and a warrior’s wildness, what my father would have called “a Pictish barbarian look.” My father had all of Europe dialed down to regions and tribes, even the ones that hadn’t existed in centuries.

  Stuart shook his head. “I can only tell you the truth, Harris. Sometimes there is no easy choice; a hard one is all you will have. I can’t save Firian or Charlotte for you.”

  “I have a feeling you could. If you wanted to.”

  “I don’t need saving,” Firian growled. “Not from you, anyway.”

  “Samuel and Ignatius are trusting me to guide Charlotte and everyone close to her by extension. The best skill a wizard can have is the ability to figure out solutions on their own,” Stuart said. “I also need to be careful. If I’m the last one standing, I have knowledge of Wyrd. Connections you’ll need. I can’t get captured by the council.”

  “Ignatius isn’t dead,” I said. “I mean—he isn’t, is he?”

  “No,” Stuart said. “Not dead.”

  The look on his face seemed almost like he wished Ignatius was dead.

/>   So where is he, then? The Haven?

  I wondered what they did to women who lived as men—became men, even—in the Haven.

  “Aw, fuck,” I said.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I wasn’t apologizing.”

  But it almost felt like it was my fault. The councils? They were my people. My family, my family’s friends. I had been clinging to that world, afraid to stand up to them for fear of losing my own wealth and power.

  I was starting to realize how hollow it was.

  “I know what to do, Stu,” I said. “Thanks for the talk.”

  Orson got to his feet and handed me an umbrella for the walk back. “Are you finally going to get your lady?” he asked.

  “People need to stop making assumptions.”

  “I know a lovesick man when I see one, and I saw one as soon as you showed up here, though I didn’t know the object until I saw the lady Charlotte.”

  I grabbed the umbrella. “Damnit, how does everyone see it so plainly when I make every effort not to wear my heart on my sleeve?”

  “When it’s there, it’s there,” Orson said.

  “Not for faeries.”

  “Not true. Most faeries just take a little longer to crack, that’s all,” Orson said, glancing sideways.

  “What? Orson, you sly dog,” Firian said. “Was Stuart ever in love?”

  Orson raised his thick brows. “Servant’s oath.” He shoved me along. “Go on.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Charlotte

  In the morning, the church doors opened and I stirred sleepily.

  “Get up!” Piers cried, marching in. “I’m glad you got a little beauty rest, my dear. You are going to be reborn this morning.”

  I think he was annoyed that I didn’t seem scared. But that faded quickly as I walked out, stumbling a bit on my lingering exhaustion and wishing for a toothbrush, and realized the entire school was gathered around outside looking up the church steps.