by Amber Garr
“Yes. I registered two days ago.” Noah’s visit to our little city meant that he had to check in. Unannounced arrivals were frowned upon.
“Where?” River asked, still sucking on the damned straw.
“At the hospital,” Noah clarified.
“And what is your purpose?”
I leaned forward wanting to know the answer myself. Noah’s eyes met mine briefly before focusing back on River. “I’m here visiting a friend.”
“For how long?”
“A couple of weeks.”
“And who is this friend?”
“River,” I shouted through gritted teeth, trying not to draw any more attention to our table. “I’m sure Noah already gave the Imperium all of this information. Stop interrogating him.”
River smiled and removed the straw from his mouth. When he dropped it back into my mug, I wanted to vomit. Or punch him in the face for being such an arrogant ass.
“I’m sure he did,” River cooed. Turning his awareness back to me, he rested his chin in his hands. “Have you seen mom lately?”
Ice gripped my blood and the lump in my throat tried to claw its way free. “You know I haven’t,” I whispered.
“Oh, well that’s too bad. I think she’d really like a visit from you.”
I couldn’t stop the tears and I didn’t even want to try. As a small drop of liquid fell slowly over my cheek, I glared at my brother. “You know I’m not allowed near her, you bastard.”
River shrugged. “Have you ever asked?”
“Of course I have.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Noah sitting a little straighter. Nothing like airing your family skeletons in front of a hot stranger.
“Huh. Well, maybe you should ask again,” River mused.
“Why are you doing this?” My voice cracked in its weakness. I always let him get the best of me and I hated it every time.
“Doing what?”
“Tormenting me.”
River laughed. Actually laughed like we’d just shared the best joke in the world. I wondered when he’d turned into such an evil, unemotional being. “I’m not tormenting you, Cressa. Just reminding you.”
“Reminding me?”
“Yes.” River stood, legs lifting gracefully over the chair’s edge. He looked like he wasn’t going to say another word.
“Reminding me of what, River?” I stood too. And although my brother had a few inches on me, I felt tall and strong. I didn’t like being threatened. Let alone by my own blood relative.
“That you have family everywhere, Cressa.” River tapped my nose again before I could pull away. Tipping an imaginary hat at my guest, he said, “Have a good time in Durham, Noah.”
Noah tilted his chin in acknowledgement but made no other move. I stood, feet planted to the ground like they’d been nailed there permanently. Had River spelled me again? Or was I just too emotionally raw to make them move?
River’s duster shifted from side to side as he strutted through the crowd and disappeared out the door. I barely heard Noah’s words until his warm hand brushed against my fingers.
“Are you okay?” he asked. It probably hadn’t been the first time.
I nodded, unable to clear the lump of anger and sadness from my throat for a few seconds. “How dare he?” I said to myself. “How dare he do this to me?” I turned and looked down at Noah. “Do you have family?”
After a beat he said, “Sure.”
“And would they ever treat you like that?” I felt another tear fall.
“I would hope not,” Noah said softly, fingers still touching mine.
I dropped into my chair again and wiped at my face. “Well, fuck him.”
“Excuse me?” Noah questioned.
“My brother. Fuck him.”
A ghost of smile skittered across Noah’s flawless face. He sat back in his chair and nodded once. “Yeah, fuck him.”
I couldn’t help it, but I began to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. I’d blame the smorgasbord of emotions my brother always managed to harvest from me. But really, it felt good to laugh and to make a decision.
“Okay, I’m in,” I said once I could speak again.
“Huh?”
“What grand plan do you have to help me get my mom out of the Reformatory?”
Noah studied me for a long time. Or at least it seemed like a long time. “A job.”
“Huh?”
He smiled. “I know how you can make the money you need. And it won’t take you years.”
“How do you know that’s what I need?” Now it was my turn to study Noah and his amethyst eyes.
“I told you, I have a friend.”
Knowing that might be all that I could get out of him, and understanding that this public place wasn’t the best location for our conversation, I pulled out my phone. “Fine. Give me your number.”
“What?”
“Your number. I’ll call you later and we can find someplace a little more private to talk.”
The crooked grin I’d admired last night peeked through. “Well, okay then.” He reached forward and I gave him my phone. After entering his information, he passed it back to me and stood. “I’ll be expecting your call.”
“Yes,” I said, standing too so that I could get a full view of him. Was this crazy of me? Probably. But I was willing to do anything to help my mom. Especially after River’s suspiciously timed visit today.
“Well, then I’ll see you soon.”
“You will,” I said with a smile. My heart danced and my instincts jumped into high alert. But whatever Noah was, he couldn’t be any worse than my brother. At least that’s what my gut was telling me right now. Hopefully my hormones weren’t the ones taking control.
Without saying another word, Noah left, leaving all of the other women staring after him like a lost puppy dog. I had two more hours until my next class and about five more hours after that before I would call Noah.
With an anxious smile and satisfaction knowing I had some kind of plan in place, I grabbed my bag and headed outside.
Eight hours felt like an eternity. Brit was only home for about thirty minutes before leaving for her night shift at the library. I really wanted to tell her all that happened today, but first she had to divulge her details about her evening with Carson. It was nice seeing her so excited, and I figured that I’d have more to discuss after my job with Noah tonight.
By the time I finally climbed into my car, I could barely contain my nerves. Noah had texted me the address, and I set my phone up for directions. The street sounded familiar, but it was in the next town over and I hadn’t been there more than once or twice. He’d told me to drive through the gates, and when I pulled up to the cemetery’s border, something inside of me screamed.
This was not exactly what I’d been hoping for.
Slowly steering my car through the winding, dark road, I gripped the wheel tight enough to make my fingers hurt. I knew he said it was a job, but I guess I hadn’t let myself fully accept that I’d have to raise another human. Unless this was a pet cemetery…
My hopes were doused the moment I spotted the other car. Way on the far side of the property stood Noah and two others. A man and a women. Dressed in dark business suits, the woman wearing a black hat like she was going to the derby. The man had his hand over her shoulders as Noah talked to both of them.
The moment he saw me, he smiled and I felt a little bit more relaxed. I turned off my car, grabbed my bag, and slowly walked over to my new clients. Being in a cemetery meant only one thing, and I tried to hide my nervousness under a fake smile.
“Hello, I’m Cressa,” I said a second before I realized I’d just used my real name.
Noah rested his hand on my shoulder and the spark of energy from him that I’d grown accustomed to, snaked through me in a calming manner. “Mrs. St. Ange, this is the necromancer I was telling you about.”
I held out my hand only to be offered a few fingers in return. A weak handshake. I hated those.
; “And she can be discrete?” the man next to Mrs. St. Ange asked Noah, completely ignoring me.
“Of course,” I answered for myself. “Just as much as I expect your complete silence.”
Noah made a small sound that could have been called a laugh. Not sure what that meant, I did my best to ignore him and focus on the two humans standing in front of me.
The man nodded and ushered the woman up the path and toward a particular grave. Noah and I hung back, giving them a chance to get out of earshot.
“What am I supposed to do?” I asked him, clutching my bag to my chest and trying to ignore the coldness seeping into my bones.
Noah chuckled. “Raise the dead, my little necromancer.”
I looked up at him and rolled my eyes. His cheeks dimpled with amusement and I couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks,” I mumbled. “Seriously, do they understand what’s about to happen?”
Shrugging, Noah’s hand on my lower back guided me after the clients. “You may want to explain the process to them before you start.” He paused a moment as we climbed the small hill. “They only have one question to ask so it should go quickly.”
“And how much are they paying me?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Noah raised a brow and smirked. “Eight hundred.”
“Eight hundred dollars?” I screeched. Mrs. St. Ange and the man stopped to turn and look at me. Great.
In between his chuckles, Noah pushed me forward. “Yes.”
“Can they be trusted?” I asked, suddenly aware of what I was really doing and what the consequences could be. Eight hundred dollars or not.
“They will remain discrete.”
“How do you know?”
“I know enough about them to understand that they value silence just as much as you do.”
Whatever that cryptic riddle meant, I trusted Noah. Stupid, I know. But something about him, and about the clients now waiting for me at the gravesite, set my mind at ease. We wouldn’t be doing this if they didn’t want silence. Both of us could be punished severely for raising the dead.
When we reached the fresh grave, I spotted the name on the makeshift marker: Louis Piedmont St. Ange II. The scent of fresh dirt occupied the damp evening air like a beacon of the corpse now settled below. Even the fresh flowers couldn’t drown out the smell.
“He was my father,” the man said.
I finally looked at him—really looked at him and realized that we were similar in age. Dark circles framed his tired eyes, years of burden seeming to weigh him down. “I’m Charlie,” he continued. “My mother and I need to speak to my father.”
Noah gave me a slight nudge to encourage me to do my thing. “Are you aware of the ritual?” I asked both of the St. Anges.
“No, but we have read about it,” Charlie answered.
“Read about it?” I questioned. Where would they have possibly done that?
Charlie nodded his head while his mother wiped tears from beneath her eyes. In the soft haze of the weak moonlight, her white handkerchief seemed to glow underneath her black gloved hands.
Deciding not to ask any more questions, I pressed forward. “Well, I will need to perform a ritual to wake your father, and then only I may ask him your question.” Charlie’s mouth gaped so I quickly added, “He can only answer to me.”
“Oh,” Charlie said, as though not used to being the one standing by. But a moment later he said, “We understand.”
I turned and looked at Noah, who now waited patiently off to the side. He winked and my energy spiked. I really needed to ask him about that. I wondered if it had something to do with his magical nature…
Oh crap. Suddenly realizing that I had no access to the body now buried six feet below, my breathing increased in intensity. I couldn’t dig Mr. St. Ange out of the dirt. We needed heavy equipment for that. Great, I just ruined my first real chance at making decent money and now they would think I was a fraud.
“Is something wrong?” Noah’s warm breath caressed my ear, and under any other circumstance, I would have melted. But right now, I felt too much like a failure.
“I can’t get to him,” I said.
“What?” Noah asked. He’d moved close enough that Charlie and his mother wouldn’t be able to hear us.
“He’s down there.” I pointed at the mound of dirt underneath the grave marker.
“Yes,” Noah confirmed.
I looked up at him in frustration. “How am I supposed to get to him?”
“Ah, I see,” Noah said with a smirk. “I can fix that for you.”
Stepping around my side, Noah made his way closer to the clients. “I’m going to need you both to move over there for a moment.” The silkiness in his voice impacted us all. We would do whatever he said.
Without hesitation, the mother and son took their place underneath a nearby tree while I stayed firmly planted in my position. I think the gravity of what we were about to do started sinking in with a sickening pit deep inside my stomach. Should I really be here? I could be thrown into the Reformatory, never to see my mother again. I could—
“Cressa?” Noah’s voice broke through my panic attack like a warm knife. “Cressa, I need you to move back as well.” He smiled and I blushed at the intensity in his eyes. He liked this. Whatever it was he was about to do.
Slowly lifting my feet, I took several steps away from the grave. I couldn’t stop watching Noah. Like a hawk, I stared. Inquisitive and curious and…excited. Even as small pieces of dirt began to tremble under my feet, I stayed enthralled.
Mrs. St. Ange gasped and Charlie swore under his breath as the ground began to move. Noah’s focus bore through the dirt, down deep into the ground. He lifted his hands, now spread out in front of him, and large mounds of soil moved to the side. Soon he’d cleared the fresh grave of all its dirt, leaving a large, gaping hole in the ground. With a flick of his wrists, Mr. St. Ange’s coffin rose from the depths like a macabre side show and slowly floated to the path in between me and Noah. Stunned and unable to speak, the three of us just watched as Noah and his telekinetic powers lowered the coffin to the ground. I’d never seen that before, and for the millionth time, I wondered what Noah was. Powers like that didn’t belong to the most common supernatural creatures. No, Noah Hawke was definitely something different.
“Problem solved,” Noah said with a smile.
“Huh?” I asked like an idiot.
“I give you Mr. Louis Piedmont St. Ange II.” Noah said as the top half of the coffin lid sprang open.
Charlie and Mrs. St. Ange jumped back in fear, as though their loved one would leap out and run away. It made me smile, reminding me of the time I’d raised my father, but I quickly hid it when I saw Charlie’s eyes dart in my direction.
“Cressa?” Noah waved me forward, encouraging me to get to my task. That familiar energy surge began to embrace my skin and I felt a new sense of confidence.
Sucking in a breath, I walked around the side of the coffin so that I could clearly view the corpse inside. Freshly dead, Mr. St. Ange didn’t smell bad, but the distinct aroma of embalming chemicals burned my nose for a few seconds. I tried not to make a face.
“Oh, Louis,” Mrs. St. Ange cried out, but her son held her back.
“Mom, no. Not yet,” he said.
I looked over toward them and wondered why he stopped her. Did he know more about my rituals than he let on? Focusing on the eight hundred dollars waiting for me, I knelt on the ground. In my jeans and baggy black sweater, I thought that perhaps I should have dressed more appropriately. Especially compared to the fancy getup the St. Anges all wore tonight.
Focus Cressa.
I shook my head and opened my bag. Digging through a few things, I searched until I found my chicken foot, the lock of hair, and the largest knife I owned. The stench of the foot made me want to stick my head in the coffin, but again I did my best to keep a straight face. Mrs. St. Ange politely covered her nose with her handkerchief.
After unrolling the small piece o
f velvet fabric, I laid out my supplies in a row on the ground next to the coffin. Deciding to begin, I turned and faced my clients. “Once I’ve awoken him, you will need to speak through me. Please don’t be alarmed if Mr. St. Ange doesn’t sound like he used to. Our vocal chords begin to decay almost immediately.”
When Charlie’s faced paled, I knew I’d said too much. Considering I’d only ever raised one human corpse before, I suppose I really didn’t know if that would hold true for all of them. My father had only been dead two days when my brother and I brought him back, but he’d sounded terrible.
And I’d never forget that.
“What will you do?” Mrs. St. Ange asked.
“I…,” hesitating just a moment, I decided to tell her the truth. “I will wake him by mixing our blood.”
Her eyes drifted to the knife lying next to my knee and she clutched her son even tighter. But she didn’t argue. In fact, she nodded her head slightly, giving me her approval to continue.
I turned to look at the body again, seeing Noah standing just a few feet away. His energy trickled over me again, and that intrusion of magic gave me the strength I needed once more. His smile and encouragement made me feel validated.
Placing the chicken foot and the lock of hair beside Mr. St. Ange’s graying head, I pick up the knife and took a deep breath. With one smooth cut, I sliced the palm of my hand open wide enough to bleed. The last time I’d cut myself for this purpose, I’d felt nothing. This time it hurt like hell.
Interesting, I thought.
Rubbing the blood on the knife, I spoke my words softly. They held a lot of power and tonight I needed them to complete this job.
“Restituo animus. Restituo vita.” Lifting up to my knees, I raised the knife with both hands and then plunged it forward into Mr. St. Ange’s chest. My three onlookers sucked in a breath loud enough for me to hear, but I stayed focus and continued to repeat the incantation until I saw a flicker of movement.
First his eyes opened. Then his nostrils flared. And finally, he opened his mouth in a silent scream. I stood, taking a step back from the coffin and wrapping my hand in a piece of towel I’d brought with me.