A Fine Necromance

by Lidiya Foxglove

  When they let go, I let go again with them, and I felt like I was melting—or exploding—but then I woke up.

  “Ohh…Alec…dang. That was nuts.”

  “Just a dream,” he said.

  “Tell that to my aching loins.”

  “Heh…” He kissed me. “All right. I’ll have a talk with your loins later.”

  “Just a dream,” Montague confirmed. “I wouldn’t have wild sex on Christmas Eve.”

  “Oh yeah. If anyone asks you were at midnight mass,” I said.

  Alec and Montague seemed to fall back asleep within seconds.

  Firian was still a fox again, warming my feet. He blinked at me.

  I blinked back.

  “I love you, Charlotte,” he said. “I love your hot ass but I’d love you just as much if you turned into a possum forever tomorrow.”

  “Same.”

  “You’d be a hot ass possum, anyway, I’m sure. Just like I’m an especially foxy fox.”

  “True,” I said. “Merry Christmas, Firian. Wake me up at four am.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Harris

  “Hello, Harrison,” my father said coolly. “I’m glad you decided to join us.”

  Behind him, my mother’s ice blue eyes bored into me. She looked a little scared, I thought, like she thought something terrible had happened to me, but when my father looked at her, she smothered it with a tightened mouth.

  I was going to have to put on the Perfect Son Show. I bowed my head. “I want to make amends.”

  “We were worried sick,” Mother said. “You still haven’t given us a sufficient explanation for where you went this summer. To stay with ‘friends’? What friends are you keeping these days?”

  You think I don’t have friends? You think I have new friends you disapprove of even more than Monty and Alec?

  Well, that’s probably true. A faery lord of Wyrd is probably worse, considering it could destroy your carefully constructed hierarchy.

  But, I bit my tongue.

  “I just want to say that I’m sorry,” I said, even as I heard the voices of my parents and teachers ringing in my head, telling me that one of the worst things a magic user can do is to tell a lie, because magic thrives on truth. “I made a mistake. I realize this. I needed to get away from home to work through some thoughts. I’ve had some personal issues at college that I’ve had a hard time talking about.”

  “You don’t have to hide those things from us,” my mother said, which was as much a lie as anything I’d ever said. “I am very happy to have you home. How are things going with Piers as the new dean? I would think that structurally he would run a tight ship.”

  A tight ship? He forced Alec into exile and he almost did the same thing to Charlotte.

  “I’m sure you heard about Alec,” I said, in a neutral tone. “I suppose…it was inevitable.” That was the best I could say in Piers’ favor.

  “It is truly a shame,” Father said. “Dr. Lyrman must be distraught. He really paid the price for sleeping with a succubus. But it is a cautionary tale. One mistake can ruin your life. Same with your friend Montague. So…your mother and I have been talking with members of the council…”

  “Yes,” she said, as they started to walk down the main hall of Ladyswald, past the somber posthumous Medieval portrait of my ancestor Rudolf II, which guarded over the treasure vault, and to my right, the Lady Elena Alexandra Nicolescu, famous for killing a vampire while heavily pregnant. A couple of my sisters popped their heads out of doors to listen in, and Mother shooed them away with a wave of her hand.

  “Harris, my dear son,” Mother said. “Is one of those personal things you don’t want to talk about…Charlotte Byrne?”

  I frowned, probably revealing too much.

  “I have heard,” she said. “And it would explain a lot about your mood these days. Look, your father and I are actually very happy about this. I’m sure you thought we wouldn’t approve of Charlotte, but the Caruthers bloodline is worth redeeming, and Councilwoman Caruthers wants Charlotte to be safe. Since things didn’t work out with Daisy, we would like to consider a betrothal between you and Charlotte.”

  I knew this was coming, because of what I’d heard, and yet, hearing these words actually escape my mother’s mouth…

  “This would keep her safe,” my father urged. “She would come here to Ladyswald right after graduation, and we would find you a newlywed home right here along the Hudson, so we can all help to show her through wizard society.”

  Charlotte…

  Daisy would have fit in here, in the long run. She would have found her place, lost her edges. Charlotte was like another species.

  What sort of expression would a dutiful son have? My acting ability was smothered by the thought of Charlotte, holding hands with my two best friends, as intimate with them as I once was (well, actually, way more) while I held back. Out of necessity? I wondered if I could ever let my guard down.

  “What do you think?” Mother asked.

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “You’re blushing,” she said, wagging a finger and then giving my father a knowing little pat on the arm. “I can never hide my feelings as well as I’d like either. Now, Harris, I think you realize that Charlotte is in a lot of trouble. She was accused of consorting with her familiar, which is troubling enough. She has a Wyrd wand, and I heard about the incident in the chapel. Something happened in there, didn’t it? And what about Stuart Jablonsky? Anyway—do you know how close she is to being put away in the Haven for not just her safety, but everyone else’s?”

  “What’s stopping them from just going ahead with it, anyway?”

  “Councilwoman Caruthers is heartbroken at the thought of losing her last family member.”

  Councilwoman Caruthers doesn’t give a shit about Charlotte. Not who Charlotte is. She’s just a symbol to her.

  “Harris,” my father said. “When I was young, I had a moment just like you did, where I did some rebellious things, and I know that you are a trustworthy kid, and you’re going to do us proud. You’ll be on the council someday with your cousin. And Charlotte can be at your side. She’s cute, isn’t she? It’s true, you and your mother can never hide a blush. So shall we go along with the plan?”

  It’s true. They want me to forget about Monty and Alec…

  If I didn’t need the holy treasures of the Hapsburgs that were in that room, I might have told them just how it felt to watch my two best friends getting closer, to Charlotte and each other. Now Daisy was even starting to enter their orbit. I would tell them that Firian wasn’t just a ‘familiar’, he was a person and he followed me through the woods in the rain to help Charlotte. I would tell them that was what love looked like, and I hardly even knew how to share it.

  I would tell them I never intended to be on the council. I wanted to get to Wyrd.

  “Sure,” I said, sounding idiotic.

  They walked into the dining room, where Councilman de Brigue was sitting in one of the substantial wooden chairs. He looked up at our entry as if waking up from a nap, pausing to wipe his glasses. “Good day, young Mr. Nicolescu,” he said in a craggy voice that could barely hit a standard volume.

  I had the immediate sense I’d been tricked. My parents had this shift, suddenly, like they were taking a little kid to get shots instead of ice cream, which I knew well because they had actually done that to me.

  “Harris, dear, the councilman wants to ask you a few questions,” my mother said.

  “Yes…yes. I am going to need the truth, young man,” Councilman de Brigue said, coughing. “Is he amenable to the marriage arrangement?”

  “Yes.”

  “You will be doing her a great favor, young Miss Byrne,” Councilman de Brigue said. “She would be at the Haven as we speak if not for a few of us standing up for her, on account of the Caruthers legacy…ahem-hem…” He looked at some papers. “Yes, well, sit down.”

  What if I refuse?

  The question was on the tip
of my tongue. I had to calculate the risks quickly.

  We needed the Hapsburg treasures to fight the Withered Lord, especially so soon. That was pretty much a fact. The holy relics were devastating to demons. If my parents didn’t trust me, I would not get the relics.

  But what will he ask?

  I walked up to the table, trying to catch what he had written down. I saw Stuart’s name.

  They really want Stuart, I thought. Piers keeps trying to find him. But Stuart is a frickin’ faery lord. He can take care of himself.

  “All right,” I said, plastering on a slightly aggravated smile now. “Seems like a lot of fuss…”

  Councilman de Brigue gave me his hand. “You must swear to tell the truth, a promise that is binding, a lie shall burn upon your lips and set your mind unwinding.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “Your hand, please.”

  I slipped my fingers in his withered claws. Councilman de Brigue was over a century old.

  “Do you swear?”

  “I swear to tell the truth.”

  I couldn’t help a little cringe as I felt the spell settle on my lips. I hope this isn’t a huge mistake.

  “Is Stuart Jablonsky one of the fae race?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he come from Wyrd?”

  “As…far as I know.” My attempts to mince words made my lips tingle. “Yes.”

  “Do you know his whereabouts?”

  “Not right now.”

  “But you did.”

  “He had a cave in the forest near Merlin College.”

  “Who else was with him there?”

  “Professor McGuinness and two servants…”

  “Did you stay with Professor Jablonsky when you ran away from home?”

  “I—I—yes.” Damn, for being so old and doddering, de Brigue was a very focused interrogator.

  “Oh, Harrison!” My mother looked both distraught and angry.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I needed somewhere to go and I was trying to figure out his deal. But to be honest, I’m not sure Stuart is that important. He doesn’t seem close to the faeries either.”

  “Did you see any other faeries while you were there?”

  “As I said, just his two servants.”

  “Two servants? Faeries? Did they have any power?”

  “Orson is just a gruagach who makes a lot of trips to Publix, and Penny is a house silkie who cleans up after you if you so much as drop a crumb on the floor. You don’t have to worry about any of them.”

  “I see, I see. And you don’t know where Stuart and his servants have gone?”

  “I’m sure they are hiding from you,” I said.

  “Reasonable of them,” he said. “Thank you, Harrison. That’s all I needed.”

  That’s it? It wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it might be. They didn’t ask about any of Charlotte’s business, at least.

  “Would you like to stay for dinner, Councilman?”

  “No, madam, I will be going,” he said, with a look in his rheumy eyes like he had Things To Do.

  “I’ll see you out,” Father said.

  “You might as well have a seat,” my mother said. “Dinner will be starting soon. Let me just inform Marius and then I’ll call your sisters.”

  “You did very well,” Father said. “I’m glad you’ve realized what must be done.”

  Crap. I had a bad feeling about this, but I had to just go with it. Any attempt to dig deeper would alert my family that I wasn’t a dutiful son after all, and then I wouldn’t be able to steal from them, which was the whole reason I’d come for Christmas in the first place.

  I endured days of holiday festivities. I used to enjoy our holidays, with the ten foot tree that was cut from our own woods on Christmas Eve and lit with real candles, the long table heaped with food, and all my older sisters getting along for just one night when they usually fought like a house full of rescue cats. This time, I suffered through every second of it, knowing what I had to do on my last night here. I would only have one chance and then I had to get the hell out of here before any noticed.

  Anyone with direct Hapsburg blood in the house could just walk into the treasure room. It was unthinkable that anyone in the family would steal anything. Because of the nature of the wards, the family legend was that my father had to drink three drops of my mother’s blood to be allowed to enter. The treasures had been in the family for centuries, carefully kept. If our home was ever attacked, we were to flee to the treasure room and defend ourselves there. We might not be royalty anymore, but my parents had taught us royal paranoia that we might be attacked or poisoned.

  On the last night, once everyone had gone to bed, I crept down the stairs around three am, after everyone was sleeping but before any maids got up to work. I opened the door beneath old Rudolf. A steep stairway led straight down to a windowless room that was permanently lit like a museum, with that dim, soft lighting that places all the emphasis on objects. Necklaces, rings, bottles, knives, rosaries, books…there was even a snuffer for putting out sacred candle flames, and baby shoes that were said to have belonged to Princess Julia of the shadow Hapsburgs (the magical line which had been born in secret and hidden away while witch hunters were particularly active in Europe).

  This was, certainly, the creepiest room at Ladyswald besides maybe the private chapel which had more remains of dead family members. My sisters used to tell me that ghosts lived down here.

  Initially, I was terrified of the treasure room. Then, I realized all my sisters were equally afraid of the treasure room. That was when I started spending time there. I could actually get some alone time away from the chatter of six older sisters (often doubled, when they had friends over). It was an early lesson in steeling myself against instinctive fears, and I knew every object in the room like it belonged to me personally. No one in the family had looked at them so often.

  My target was a simple reliquary ring. It was a powerful charm, and my mother even used to wear it on her finger sometimes when I was young, but as she got older and more sensitive about her beauty fading, she was no longer satisfied with an odd ring. It was very simple and had a little glass capsule on top that contained a shard of bone surrounded by tiny carvings of vines and flowers. Legend was that the shard was from the bones of St. Columba, patron saint of witches, and could also break curses. I carefully opened the back of the case and took the ring from its perch, holding my breath.

  The house remained quiet as I slipped it in my pocket.

  The most sacred relic was the water of the holy grail. This vial had its own story, as it was poured from the agate bowl of the holy grail that was still held in a museum in Vienna, to my mother’s chagrin. Only a magical person could glean water from the grail, so it was useless in a Fixed Plane museum, but there it was. This water would do a number on the Withered Lord.

  I had done what any sensible person would do and brought a decoy vial. How often did my parents actually take out the relics and test their magic? Never. I knew that much. The old grail water was swapped out for an old bottle of healing potion, and the sacred waters went in my pocket as well.

  I was moving slowly and carefully so I wouldn’t make any noises, and it was going without a hitch.

  And then…the doorbell rang. In the middle of the damn night? Oh, shit. That could not be anything good.

  I hunched behind one of the cases as I heard someone rush to the door. Then more commotion.

  “What is it?” I heard Father say. “Come in, sir!”

  “It’s de Brigue. He—he was killed by the faeries. I thought you should know.” I didn’t recognize the voice, but the young man was probably a courier for the council.

  I was edging closer to the door to hear.

  “What?” Mother cried. “Killed? How? How could he be killed?”

  “The gruagach killed him.”

  Well, that wasn’t good. How long had it been since a faery killed a member of the council? And if I remembered my his
tory, the last time, it didn’t go that well.

  My stomach was turning, wondering what we might have unleashed. My family had been fighting for the Ethereal realms for centuries and I was the first one to toss it all aside and align myself with faeries. They always said you couldn’t trust faeries. What if Stuart had actually infiltrated warlock society and used Ignatius? Maybe I was about to wreck the world. I imagined the burly gruagach killing frail old Councilman de Brigue.

  But weirdly, no matter how I tried, I felt more sorry for Orson than the old man. De Brigue would have done something terrible to Stuart.

  And I wondered why my family never told me about Wyrd, if all of this was so important and faeries were so dangerous.

  “What is a gruagach, anyway?” one of my sisters asked sleepily.

  “They’re Scottish fae who work on farms,” my mother said. “How could one of them kill a member of the warlock council?”

  “Protecting his master. They’re strong,” Father said.

  “They are not as strong as a high warlock. This is absurd,” Mother said. “This gruagach must feel the wrath of our order.”

  “Oh, we’ll have trouble with the faeries now,” Father said. “They don’t forget things like this.”

  “No, they’ll have trouble with us,” Mother said, sounding annoyed at my father. Sometimes she felt he was a little too weak for a Nicolescu because he didn’t go around slaughtering vampires, or anyone else for that matter.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have been so quick to try and kill a faery, then,” my sister Helena said. She would be the one to defend me, if anyone did. What would happen if anyone started looking for me?

  “We weren’t going to kill him, we were going to capture him.”

  “Oh, well then!” I could imagine Helena, her hair disheveled with sleep but her eyes alert, throwing up the sleeve of a silk kimono as she expressed exasperation.