Edgar sighed and lowered his head. “Not in front of the girl.”
“Tell me,” Vicky said. “I want to know how bad they really are.”
How bad? As far as I was concerned, the whole lot of them just needed to be put down. Philip, Zachariah, Ezekiel, kill them all.
“Damn,” Edgar whispered. “Damn them,” he said as his voice started to rise. “Damn it all to hell! A hundred and sixty-one.” He said it so fast, but his words hung in the air, choking us all into silence.
My heart sank, and that’s a goddamned understatement. “A hundred and … and what?”
Sam cursed. Vicky tried to say something but her voice cracked. She tried to hold her tears down to a muffled sob, but she broke into a wailing cry a moment later.
“Sorry, girl,” Edgar said as he reached up and squeezed her arm.
Vicky undid her seatbelt and crawled into the backseat beside Sam, snuggling up beside the vampire and shaking in her arms.
Foster cursed from his new perch on the dashboard. He unsheathed his sword halfway and then slammed the blade home with a metallic smack. “We kill them all.”
Silence reigned the rest of the drive. One hundred and sixty-one people dead. And for what? Some kind of perverted temper tantrum by the world’s scariest necromancer? My knuckles paled to white on the steering wheel as I took the exit back to the shop.
We pulled in right behind Zola in the small rear parking lot. I took a deep breath before stepping out of the car. Everyone was already out and headed to the shop. Sam carried Foster on her shoulder, walking closer to Mom. I was relieved to see Mom looked whole again. I stepped up the pace a little and hurried to the back door.
“You look like you’re having a fine day,” the little face on the lower deadbolt said.
I pulled my leg back and swung my foot like a punter. The deadbolt screamed and cursed and slid open with a crack.
“Calm down, Damian!” Mom snapped. “There is no need to break things.”
I looked back and started to explain the deadbolt until I remembered she couldn’t even see it. Instead I just nodded and fixed a small smile on my face as we walked inside.
Bubbles came pounding down the stairs as Peanut tried to shoot beneath the saloon doors. I sighed and tried to go limp as the miniature-pony-sized cu siths began to bat us back and forth with tongues and well-meaning hip rubs.
“They’re adorable!” my mom said. She started gushing out some string of incoherent baby talk a moment later and I started to worry.
She crouched down between Bubbles and Peanut, scratching one’s stomach and the other’s scruff. They, in turn, were giving her a growling, purring approval.
Dad watched as Mom played with the bristly green and black cu siths. Peanut happily flopped his braided tail from one side of the room to the other.
“They’ve grown more,” Edgar said, crouching down to scratch Peanut’s neck.
“Bubbles!” Ashley called from the front of the shop. “Peanut!” Both the cu siths vanished through the doorway in a symphony of claws on hardwood.
We filtered in behind the pups as Frank came out from behind the counter.
“Frank,” I said as I extended my hand and traded grips. “Glad to see the place is still standing.”
“For now,” he said as Sam pulled him away into a rib-cracking hug.
Dell was already there, standing beside Ashley. He nodded to me and resumed his conversation with the witch. Ashley laughed and curled a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Tell him,” Dell said.
Ashley’s eyes moved from Dell to me. “The video is out of control Damian,” she said as she turned to me. “The Watchers can’t shut it down. There aren’t … one of the Cleaners told us their Mage Machina are dead.”
I nodded. “Edgar thought that might be the way of things.” I rubbed my face and glanced toward the back room. “I need to run upstairs for a minute,” I said. “Check something in the Black Book.”
“That thing gives me the creeps,” Sam said as she dragged Frank into the back and settled onto the couch beside Mom.
“Me too,” Frank said from the other side of the saloon-style doors. “I can’t pick it up without getting goose bumps.”
“I want to come with you,” Vicky said.
I smiled and held my hand out. She grabbed it and squeezed with both hands, wrapping thin fingers around my palm. I started to lead her through the back.
“Damian, who is that girl?” Mom asked.
The grandfather clock ticked once, twice, and more in the following silence.
“You can see her?” I asked.
“Of course I can see her,” she said with a huff. “She’s right there.”
“Umm, this is Vicky.”
I locked eyes with Zola. She glanced away, returned my gaze, and then shrugged. “Ah’ll think on it.”
I nodded and started to turn away before I remembered one other thing.
“Oh, Ashley?” I said
She looked up. “Yeah?”
“I think Edgar may want to talk to you about something called ‘The Blade of the Stone.’”
I saw her stiffen and then she slowly scratched her neck. “Figured that might come up. Mike said something?”
“Mmhmm.” I flashed her a grin as I led Vicky up the stairs. I heard footsteps coming up behind us and turned to find the Old Man. He nodded and we continued up.
It felt good to step onto the carpet and take shelter between the aisles of books. An old friend was sitting in the circle near the far wall, studying an ancient grimoire we’d come to know as the Black Book. The circle was set with wards, giving ghosts just enough power to interact with the physical world if I gave them a ‘key,’ as Ward called it. I had a few ghosts I now considered regulars.
“Koda,” I said with a nod to the ghost at the reading table. His cowl was shifted back slightly on his bald head. He adjusted his grayish cloak as we came closer. His order wore brown in life, but his cloak would be gray now until his ghost was no more.
“Damian,” he said as he turned the page of the Black Book and shook his head. The movement caused a string of oversized prayer beads to sway from his neck, each bead bearing a different rune. “This is a grave tome. A threat to us all.”
Vicky jerked on my arm as we got closer to the old ghost. I glanced back at her.
“What is it, kiddo?”
“Where did you get that?” she asked.
“What? The book? Frank got it from Vassili in a trade. Not sure where Vassili got it.”
“I have to go.” She started to pull away from my hand.
“You’ve no reason to fear me, child,” Koda said.
Vicky paused and smiled. “It’s not you. I’ve seen that book. It shouldn’t be here.”
“And where should it be?” Koda asked, his sallow cheeks lifted by a small smile.
“It should be in the Burning Lands.”
“Go,” the Old Man said from behind us. “The Ghost Pack should know.”
Vicky nodded and ran back down the stairs. I could hear every footfall and a thump as she skipped the last three steps.
I closed my eyes and pushed my aura out. I could almost see it racing through the streets of Saint Charles, across the Missouri River and down the highways.
Happy, Vicky needs you.
I am coming.
His voice rattled my brain, his speech a low and powerful growl.
I opened my eyes and looked at the Old Man. “What’s your name?”
His lips quirked and the scars around them followed. I’d hardly call it a smile. “Old Man is fine.” He started toward the circle, passing the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and pausing briefly before a small section on Roman occultism.
I settled into one of the overstuffed leather chairs and the Old Man did the same, seating himself below a small bookshelf mounted to the wall beside Koda. He stared at the floor, and it took me a moment to realize what he was looking at.
“Those are old wards,” he said.
“They aren’t all that old,” I said. “We only put them in a few months ago.”
The Old Man let out a little laugh. “What do you know about wards, boy?”
I shrugged. “A bit.”
“As I thought. Your master laid these wards, and I’m fairly sure of where she learned them.”
“Actually, Ward laid them,” I said, thinking of the same man who had designed Zola’s hidden chest.
“Interesting,” the Old Man said as he glanced up at me. “Let’s see what our friend has learned.”
“Friend, you say?” Koda said with one raised eyebrow as he closed the book. “I do enjoy your boldness.”
“When you’re as old as I am, you’ll have little time for anything else.”
“Oh, I think you know I’m quite a bit older than you,” Koda said.
“Did you find anything?” I asked as I leaned forward, my eyes locked on Koda’s.
He cupped his chin and nodded. “There is nothing in here to label you a dark necromancer. The use of a soulart is nothing more than an art. I remember times when they were not so uncommon, but I did believe them to be damning. Now, I think they may have been forbidden for another reason.”
“It is what you
do
with the soulart that makes you a dark necromancer,” the Old Man said as heavy, deliberate footfalls started up the stairs. “But that is the case with any art. Stop worrying about Pinkerton’s accusations, boy.”
I leaned back in the chair and stared at the black book. “I’m trying.”
“Pinkerton’s not long for this world,” Koda said. “Not with Adannaya out for blood.”
I nodded agreement, but I wasn’t sure. I’d seen her balk at killing Philip already. Maybe now. Maybe he’d gone so far off the deep end she’d do it as an act of mercy.
“Have faith, Damian. Your master will not shirk her duty. She is no Sunday Soldier.”
A broad-shouldered silhouette appeared at the end of the aisle. The light brought his face into focus as he came closer, flat lines and soft eyes beneath his black hair. Hugh smiled as he nodded to each of us and sat down in the last chair.
“You are nothing like him, Damian,” Hugh said as he pushed the thick braids in his hair behind his shoulders.
“You heard that?” I asked.
The werewolf nodded.
I glanced at Koda, and then back to Hugh. “Part of me knows all of you are right,” I said as I tapped my foot. “But look at what I did. Throwing around soularts and controlling a gravemaker? Wielding a soulsword? It’s what Zola has
always
taught me a dark necromancer would do. I just …”
“Enough,” Hugh said. “You did these things to protect your friends. To avenge your friends. Had you not acted, we would likely all be dead. Alan still talks about the battle with Prosperine.” Hugh steepled his fingers and leaned forward. “He tells everyone we were wrong about necromancers, that some are good and some are evil, just like the rest of us.”
A small smile formed on my face.
“And you know something? He is right. Do not judge yourself so harshly.”
The Old Man let out a low laugh like he was choking on a bag of gravel. “Listen to the wolf. If there’s a dark necromancer at this table, it’s me.”
Hugh held up his hand. “Before I forget,” he said. “I am glad to see you intact after your encounter with the Piasa Bird.”
“About that,” I said as I looked at the Old Man and then back to Hugh. I stuck my thumb out at our scarred compatriot. “He scratched its neck like it was a pet.”
“Ah, indeed.” Hugh smiled and leaned back, lacing his fingers over his stomach. “Even gods have friends.”
I waited. And waited a bit more. “That’s it?” I asked.
“It’s not why I’m here. Though the awakening of the Old Gods is a dire thought, there are more immediate concerns. Foster, would you please get Edgar, Zola, and the vampires?”
A cough sounded from above us. I glanced up to find Foster crouched on the edge of the top shelf near the high ceiling. “Sure thing,” he said as he took flight with a sheepish grin.
“We have a problem,” Hugh said. “And it’s not only a werewolf problem, or a vampire problem. That recording, of the blood mage and Ashley and the rest of you.” He bowed his head over his interlaced fingers and rubbed his thumbs over his eyebrows. “I’ve already spoken to everyone who was here.”
“Technology,” the Old Man grumbled. “More advanced ways of killing each other. That’s all it has ever been.”
“There is truth in your words,” Koda said, “but you should not always ignore the fantastic in favor of the evil before you.”
The Old Man stared at the old ghost. “I have seen evil beyond anything you can conceive. I have fought it. I have killed it. I have lost everything I am to it. Do not think to lecture me.”
Koda smiled a huge smile as he rubbed a prayer bead between his fingers. “You would have enjoyed Sherman as much as Adannaya enjoyed Sheridan. Sherman was bleak, dedicated, and teetering on the edge of reason.”
“I rather liked General Sherman,” the Old Man said. “I was there.”
Hugh raised his eyebrows slightly, and I’m sure my own surprise was far less subtle. Koda took it in stride.
“I will always wonder if there was another way,” Koda said. “But those men gave their orders a long time ago, and it cannot be changed now.”
“There is always another way,” the Old Man said. “There’s not always a better way. I rode in the First Alabama. I was there. I took part in the march.”
Zola snorted from the end of the aisle, Edgar, Sam, and Vik trailed behind her with Foster and Aideen fluttering above them.
“‘Ah was there’,” Zola said with a laugh as she came up beside Koda’s chair. “No need to be coy. There were times you
were
the march.”
The Old Man took a deep breath and nodded. “I know what you mean, but let’s not reminisce on those times.”
“I was there too,” Mike said as he followed the others up the stairs. His gaze trailed to the shadow standing just outside the circle of wards.
I focused, only a bit, and the little necromancer came into view. She waved, curling her fingers a couple times near her cheek. I waved back and nodded to Mike when he smiled. She’d died in the south, in Mike’s arms. I wondered if it was during the march.
“Hugh?” the Old Man said.
The werewolf nodded and turned his chair a little so he could cast his gaze around our circle. “This is not an age for secrets. There is so much coverage of that fight, it’s causing people to delve into decades’ worth of archives. They’re digging up other recordings. Things written off as hoaxes. A major effects house just released a statement saying they could find no evidence of CGI.”