Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things (Dead Things Series Book 1) (21 page)

“What are you talking about?”

“She wasn’t possessed but she wasn’t herself. Then I realized, she’s channeling the old ones. The girl can syphon magic from the dead, or she could, if she had any way of controlling her magic. Instead, today, I’m pretty sure a couple of ancient witches decided to take the reaper for a test drive.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, but Mace continued, piecing things together as he spoke. “I have no idea who thought to bind this girls powers but it was sort of like putting a cork in a volcano. Her powers are building and just the energy leaking from the cracks could undo the universe if that’s what they chose. Had I not been there things would have ended…badly. So I think it’s time to renegotiate.”

The man snorted, “You aren’t really in a position to negotiate.”

“I’m living in her home. She needs me to survive. She doesn’t know you exist or that you want something from her. I know what she really is and I’m now positive I know why you need her. I’d say that makes me in the perfect position to negotiate.”

“I could just replace you.”

Mace chuckled, “What are you going to do? We both know you can’t kill me. If you lock me up I’ll eventually get out and I don’t think you want to spend the rest of your days worrying about the vengeance I will attempt to extract from you or your children or your children’s children…blah…blah…blah.”

There was an exasperated sigh, “What do you want?”

“I want her.”

There was dead air on the line for so long, Mace checked the screen.

“What?”

Mace smiled, “When all is said and done and you’ve done whatever magic you have planned to steal her power, I want her.”

“Why would you want a powerless reanimator, She can’t do anything for you.”

Mace snorted, not directly answering him, “You can have her power but I want her soul.”

He had everything else. He had power, money and immortality. What he didn’t have was a reaper’s soul; her soul. He wanted it so bad he could taste it. If he could have felt bad about it, he would have.

The man on the other end of the line laughed, “You can have the girl when I’m done. Her soul is no use to me. I’m going to need you to go to Georgia to pick up a package in a few days.”

Mace flinched, “Ah, yes. That may be a problem.”

“Why’s that?”

“Seems her magic likes to keep us…close. Should I attempt to leave without her there may be repercussions.”

There was a chuckle on the other end of the line, “Does she know?”

“Not yet.”

“Just be ready to go when Shelby texts you about the package, I can take care of the girls magic, at least temporarily, but if this is more than a temporary problem, you may wish to speak to Shelby about a more permanent solution.”

Mace closed his eyes, he had no wish to speak to Shelby about anything. She hated him. To be fair, she hated everyone but especially him. Though, if anybody might be able to procure something to help sever this tie with Ember, it was her.

“Just let me know when the package is ready. I’ll figure out a way to get to Shelby if you figure out a way to make sure her magic doesn’t flay the skin from my bones.”

“I told you, I’ll take care of it. You just need to work on getting her to trust you enough to bring her to me.”

He pulled the phone from his ear putting it on speaker and firing off a text to Shelby about possible magical objects to help with his problem.

“I’m sure you can do that. Somehow, you seem to have no trouble getting girls to trust you.”

“Perhaps, but she’s not just any girl, is she? She’s a necromancer.”

He hit end before the other man could form a denial. He knew he was right. As impossible as it seemed, November Lonergan was a necromancer. Something akin to fear dripped along his spine as the enormity of it hit him. He couldn’t allow her to know what she was capable of, not yet, maybe not ever.

After a moment, he sent another text to Shelby, asking about another matter entirely. Even as he hit send, he mentally kicked himself for his curiosity.

33

TRISTIN

T
ristin sat in the living room of the empty house. All the others were out at the pet cemetery watching Ember not reanimate ancient household pets. She couldn’t sit around inhaling the scent of fetid dirt and failure anymore so she came home to beat her head against the brick wall of the internet. Even Quinn had abandoned her to see if Ember could actually channel all that wasted magic into purposefully reanimating one dead animal.

Tristin’s lip curled. How had Ember ended up a reanimator? The power was truly wasted on her. She didn’t even want to be a reanimator. She had this amazing, kick-ass gift and she treated it like a curse? If Tristin had that kind of power at her fingertips, she would run with it. She’d be proactive; she’d train. Tristin had focus and drive. She didn’t just sit around waiting for bad things to happen to her. She didn’t wait for pillow lipped demons to rescue her. She saved herself. She didn’t get how anybody could live like that.

She hit enter on the internet search bar and growled in frustration as yet another set of human run sites on mythology popped up. It was too hard trying to filter through what was real and what was fake information.

“What’s going on here?”

She tensed, biting the inside of her cheek, glancing up at the soul eater. He’d been here for four days. “Why aren’t you with Ember? Isn’t that your whole reason for being here?”

“Everybody is taking a break. I heard your aggravation and thought I might be of assistance.”

She arched an eyebrow and received that wide grin that made her want to hit him with another shovel. She saw the uncertain way Ember looked at him; like she wanted to have his demonically perfect babies but also worried he might one day eat those babies. She supposed one might think he was good looking if you were into the full-lipped fallen angel thing and supposing you could overlook the soul slurping evil demon monster part.

“Yes, I hear your kind is exceptionally helpful,” she sneered.

“I may be more help than you think. I know what you’re looking for.”

She rolled her eyes, “What?”

“You’re aiming to figure out a way to save your brother.”

Her heart hammered in her chest, “What are you talking about?”

“Ember told me he saved her life. I know what that means for you do-gooder types. The authorities get involved. The punishment is swift, severe and usually fatal. It stands to reason that you want to save him.”

“What do you even care?”

“I don’t really. It just seems like lately you do nothing but search the internet, beat up that defenseless bag in the attic and make sad eyes at the human boy. It’s irritating, really. You are kind of a sad sack when you’re in a bad mood. So for the sake of household unity, I thought I’d throw you a bone.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Why not?” he shrugged. “I mean, you haven’t made any progress so far or you wouldn’t look so maudlin all the time.”

“Well, it’s not like I have a whole lot of options. The Grove keeps their library on lockdown and no supernatural creature is stupid enough to keep copies of ancient magical texts lying around when it’s a capital offense.”

He laughed then. She threw a pillow at his head. He caught it easily and set it back in the chair, fluffing it nicely before he sat. “I don’t mean to laugh, Luv. But you have the answer right in front of you and don’t see it.”

“Then stop being so cryptic and freaking tell me.” Why were bad guys always so in love with themselves?

“If I was a supernatural creature who wanted access to ancient texts anytime I needed them would I keep them in my home?”

“Obviously not.”

“Right. I would keep them where nobody would know what they are except me. I would keep them hidden in plain sight with people who have no use for them.”

“Like where, my evil lair?”

“I would keep them with the humans.”

“I’ve been through the human libraries and the internet, it’s all misinformation spread by the witches. None of it is real.”

He smiled then, “That is a vast overstatement. Skip the internet, it’s too easy for the witches to follow the trail. You need to look for somebody who had a foot in both worlds, witch and human. A human who would need to be in possession of ancient texts…say for his job?”

He was clearly leading her somewhere but she didn’t care if it helped her brother.

“I don’t know any humans who would need magical texts for their job.”

“No, but you do know a witch who posed as human for twelve years; a witch who would have no way of accessing the Grove library without letting on that he lived,” he told her, his frustration matching her own.

She gasped, “Ember’s dad.”

The answer had been there all along. He was right. He had bound her magic. He had constantly reinforced the spell. He would have needed access to herbs and texts for the rituals. He was a professor of occult studies. She had been so stupid.

“Seems you and the boy wonder should take a trip back to New Orleans.”

“It’s been weeks, there is no way that they haven’t cleaned out his apartment.”

“I don’t know anything about Ember’s father but if I were him, I wouldn’t keep that stuff at my home. I’d keep it in my office. Start there. If the texts are ancient enough or interesting enough, a university would never get rid of them.”

“Why are you doing this?”

He shrugged, palms up, “Relentless curiosity. I just want to see what will happen next.”

She didn’t say anything, warring with the desperate need to help her brother and her blatant distrust of creatures like him. He had no reason to lie or to even offer help. She didn’t have any other options really. He had given her their only lead. She should have thought of it herself. It had been so plain to see. She wondered what else Mace knew.

“Can I ask you a question?” Tristin asked, suddenly.

He narrowed his eyes at her, “You can always ask.”

Leaning forward and dropping her voice low, she asked. “Do you know where the Grove would keep prisoners?”

A strange expression passed across his face. “Depends on the type of prisoner.”

Her shoulders fell, “I don’t know what type of prisoners. It was just something I overheard.”

It was his turn to drop his voice, “What exactly did you hear?”

“I heard somebody say, ‘They don’t know their prisoners.’”

“Do you know who the prisoners are?” he asked.

She shook her head, defeated, “No.”

“Well, can you tell me who said it?” he asked.

“I don’t think so, no. I just wanted to know if there was any kind of containment center or prison maybe outside of town.”

“The Grove isn’t known for imprisoning people unless they plan on using them later. The Grove only tortures and kills and you are better off with the latter, really.”

Tristin paled at that. The thought of her brother being tortured by the grove made her queasy.

“Sorry, Banshee, that was…insensitive,” he told her. She said nothing. “It is curious though, don’t you think?” Mace asked, drawing back her attention.

“What?”

“Why Ember’s name would pop up on his arm?”

Tristin bit down on her bottom lip. She’d said the same thing. “Have you ever heard of a reaper being asked to collect a family member?”

She hadn’t. Ever. But they hadn’t really heard much about reapers at all. That was the problem. Kai had learned reaping from Allister. But still, it just seemed weird to have a reaper collect a family member. It’s why she’d thought it a trap. She said as much.

“I’m no expert, but either the universe has a perverse sense of irony or there is something amiss with this whole situation. Either way, you should be careful. Things just seem…off. It smells like a setup.”

Goosebumps crawled along her flesh. He was right. There was something very off about all of this.

“Hey, what’s going on in here?”

They both turned to where Quinn stood in the doorway, looking back and forth between the two. He wasn’t wearing his hat so his chocolate brown hair was askew. He had dirt on his jeans and leaves in his shirt collar.

Tristin snickered, “What happened to you? Were you attacked by a tree?”

“Oh, slight incident at the pet cemetery.” He held up a hand when she and Mace jumped to their feet. “Everybody is fine. Well, there is a hamster that will never be the same but I think it’s safe to say we really need Mace back.”

“Sure,” Mace sighed. “Remember what I said though. I have no idea what is going on, but be careful. Don’t trust anybody here. Scratch that, just don’t trust anybody anywhere.”

He walked out leaving her with a very confused Quinn.

“What was that all about?”

“I got a lead on how to find the information to save Kai,” she grinned at him.

He looked skeptical, “From him?”

She shrugged, moving forward, picking leaves and debris from his hair and his collar.

“Information is information.”

“Or information from him gets us dead.” He pushed back a strand of her hair with his finger. “Look, I want to help your brother too but do you trust this guy?”

“What choice do I have?”

He sighed, running his finger through his hair again. “We, Tristin, what choice do we have?” He looked to the doorway, “We should carve it over the door like our new family motto.”