Finn Fancy Necromancy (31 page)

“Oh man, Pete. I'm so sorry.”

Pete started to shake his head but stopped and winced. “Why sorry?” he said, his voice slurred, groggy sounding. “You didn't do this.”

Vee placed a couple of pills in his mouth, then made him sip some water.

“No,” I said. “But if I hadn't gone after the Króls, they wouldn't have had reason to hex us.”

“Don't be a dumb head,” Pete said, then closed his eyes and slumped forward. Vee had to grab him so that he didn't slide off the toilet and carefully propped him up. She held a pair of scissors now and began to carefully cut at Pete's T-shirt. She lifted off the protection amulet, a clear fluid stringing between it and Pete's skin, and dumped it in the sink. It would need to be recharged before it would offer any protection again.

“Finn,” Vee said as she worked. “I know you need to deal with your guilt, but Sarah agrees with Pete. You're not responsible for what happened; whoever cast the hex on your family is.”

My family. Crap. “Sammy!”

“Is fine. Mattie said her apartment's warded.” Vee paused, and after a second, said without looking up, “Was that Dawn, the woman in the dining room?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I know you took Pete on a date with her. Are they—should she be back here, taking care of him?”

“No,” I said, understanding her real question. “They're just friends. And Dawn's a mundy. In fact, I need to get back to her.” I gave a final glance at Pete. “I am sorry,” I said to him, even if he couldn't hear me. “I'll make this right, I promise.”

I went to the kitchen and fetched a glass of water. It gave me time to think up a story for Dawn.

She looked up from her blood-misted dress as I entered the dining room, the lights of the chandelier making her lavender afro glisten. “It's strange,” she said, her tone subdued. “The only time I've been in your house is when I'm invited to a funeral.”

I knocked on the dark wood of the nearest chair. One might think that arcana, knowing the truth of magic, would not be superstitious. But arcana don't assume we know everything about the world any more than scientists do. We just know more about the magical bits than mundies do. So while no wizard has ever proven the effectiveness of knocking on wood, for example, it doesn't hurt to be safe.

“Pete will be fine,” I said, both to reassure her and as a ward against ill luck. “I'm sorry you saw that.”

Dawn blinked at me, as if waking from a daydream.

“Fuck sorry! Finn, what the hell just happened?”

I set the water in front of Dawn, but she ignored it, waiting for me to answer. I paced beside the table so I wouldn't have to look her in the eyes. “Well, we work with a lot of chemicals, you know, for preserving and disposing of bodies and all. And unfortunately, Pete must have gotten some on his skin, and, uh, something must have caused a reaction. It doesn't happen very often, but it is one of the risks of our business.”

Dawn watched me for a second. “Are you lying to me?”

“No,” I said, feeling like a jerk. I stopped pacing.

“So throwing that necklace on him, that had something to do with a chemical burn? And why did that woman make him drink something rather than rinsing off his skin?”

“Uh.” Crap. “I don't know how it works. It just does … pH balance of his sweat or something.”

“Okay.” Dawn stood up. “Can I see him?”

“Not right now. He's being treated.”

“And I'm not in any danger?”

“No.”

“Fine. I'll come back in a few hours and talk to him then.” It wasn't a question.

Dawn left the room. I escorted her to the side door and held it open as she left. She glanced back at me. “I'm not stupid you know, Finn. I've seen lots of weird shit in the time I've been your neighbor. Strange folks coming and going, strange noises and explosions coming from your basement at all hours. And then there's you, suddenly dropping out of the world and living off the grid for twenty-five years. I don't know if you guys think you're illuminati, or you're terrorists, or what, and until now I haven't really cared too much because whatever else you all are, you were my friends. But Pete, he's like my brother, and this all just got too real for me to ignore. So I'm going to find out the truth, one way or another, you can believe that.”

She marched off.

“That could be a problem,” Zeke said behind me, causing my heart to leap up into my throat. I spun around.

“Cheeze whiz! Are you trying to kill me?”

“If I was tryin' to kill you, fool, you'd know it. What was that all about?” he nodded in Dawn's direction.

I gave him a quick rundown of events.

Zeke tugged at his mustache as he listened, then said, “Damn it! I knew I should have stuffed a grenade down that smug witch's throat. Vee's okay, yeah?”

“Yeah. I don't think the Króls even know she exists.”

“Good. I found the location of the dead EMP warden. Avalon Underhill, in Everett. We can leave soon as I know Vee's safe.”

I leaned against the door frame, suddenly exhausted. Thinking about Talking made me feel doubly so. How much more would I have to go through to see the end of all this? I rubbed at my face, and said, “Okay. I'll go let Mort know so he can get ready.” If he wouldn't help, I'd need to steal his persona ring somehow.

“I'll check in with Vee.” Zeke headed toward the stairs.

“Uh, okay.” I didn't mention that Vee was downstairs with Pete. Let them have a few extra minutes before Zeke stormed in playing the protective big brother. I followed him upstairs, and then went to Mort's door.

“Mort? It's Finn. Can I come in?”

“Is it safe?” Mort's voice called.

“Yes.”

The door cracked open, and Mort peered past me. “What the hell happened? I heard shouting, screaming.”

“Pete's been hexed. But the danger should be over now.”

Mort frowned and backed away from the door. I pushed it open. Mort stood there in his satin pajamas, holding a baseball bat in one hand and a clear vial of liquid with an ankh etched into it in the other hand.

“Someone hexed Pete?” he asked.

“Yes. He's hurt, just like I warned you might happen.”

“We should call the ARC and get them to hunt down whoever—”

“We know who did it, Mort. Felicity's clan. And they're not the only threat. If we get the ARC involved, they might only make things worse, remember? But Zeke's found the crypt—it's in Avalon Hills. We'll leave as soon as you're dressed and ready.”

“I don't know. If there's someone out there throwing hexes—”

“No way they have enough blood magic to cast another one like that, at least not for a while. And the best way to stop these attacks is to find whoever attacked Felicity and framed me, so the Króls throw their hexes at the right person. So come on. This will be fun, an adventure, like when we used to sneak into town to listen to the bands. Remember that?”

Mort leaned the bat against his dresser. “I remember me having to drag you down there, you were always so scared.”

“Yeah, well, so don't make me drag you. Unless you're too Scaredy McScaredy Pants?”

“Screw you.” Mort started digging through his dresser drawers. “I'll be down in a minute.”

“Thanks.”

I headed downstairs to check on Pete and make sure Zeke wasn't being a pain.

Someone, or something, pounded on our front door.

I froze at the bottom of the stairs. Thankfully, all of the windows were covered, so whoever it was couldn't see me.

Another knock, then, “It's Grayson, here on official ARC business. Please open up.”

Zeke and Mattie appeared, followed by Vee, and we all exchanged glances. Whatever Grayson's reason for being here, it couldn't be good. Even if the local ARC had detected the hex and were here to help, they'd ask all kinds of questions that would risk me and Zeke being detained, possibly even arrested. They surely frowned at vigilante assaults on suburban witches.

“Back door?” I whispered.

Zeke shook his head. “They probably have enforcers at the other exits.”

It was a lucky thing we'd locked down the house after the hex attack. That wouldn't stop enforcers from getting in if they wanted to, but hopefully they weren't eager to go all SWAT on us.

The doorbell rang again.

“My room, then,” I whispered to Zeke. “I have an idea.” A bad idea, but it was better than arrest.

Zeke glanced down the hall, nodded, and we headed up the stairs. Grayson called out, “Let me in, or I'll have to let the enforcers do their work. Please, be reasonable.”

I glanced back as we crested the top of the stairs and nodded to Mattie. She nodded back and crossed to the front door.

I motioned Zeke into my room, and continued down the hall to fetch Mort.

“What's going on?” he asked as he tied his shoes.

I made the silence gesture and whispered, “I'll explain in a sec. Come with me.”

I led him back to my room, closed the door as quietly as I could, then tiptoed to the window and eased it open. I peeked out to make sure no enforcers were in sight, then tugged on the cable that ran between our house and Dawn's. It felt sturdy. I looked over at Dawn's yard, bright with late-morning sun. The back was a maze with piles of driftwood, bottles, discarded yard ornaments, and other odds and ends I could only assume were meant for future art projects, but the side yard beneath the cable was hidden by the hedge. Hopefully, it was still just grass. I looked at Zeke and motioned to the cable. “What do you think? Father built it, so it will definitely hold our weight.”

“I think you're crazy.” Zeke paled, an impressive feat for someone whose skin was already on the blue side of white. “I ain't getting on no rope, Gramaraye.”

Mort stepped back toward the door. “Maybe we should go talk to Grayson. I for one have nothing to hide.”

“You'll be hidin' a black eye if you take another step toward that door, fool,” Zeke said without even glancing at Mort. He tugged on the cable. “I'd rather fight our way out than ride this thing.”

I shook my head. “If we fight our way out, we'd be putting everyone else in the house at risk. Including Vee.”

Zeke tugged at his mustache, and eyed the cable like it was a scorpion trying to sell him a used car.

I heard the low hum of voices coming from the heating duct near my feet. I motioned for silence, then knelt down, putting my head close to the ornate grate covering the duct. Zeke knelt beside me, though he didn't lower his head. Grayson's voice echoed up the duct. They must be standing near the large air intake grate by the stairs. Had Mattie maneuvered them there on purpose?

“… killed one Król male, and we received an anonymous tip that Finn and Ezekiel were both there. I'm afraid there's little I can do about this, Miss Wodenson. The ARC won't condone this kind of vigilante behavior.”

“I'm sure they didn't kill any witch,” Vee's voice trembled as it drifted out of the duct. “He doesn't want to go back into exile. There must be some mistake.”

“Well, your brother was exiled for exactly this kind of act,” Grayson said. “And we know that Finn fought with the Króls at a restaurant in town, and the tip placed him and Zeke at the Króls' home at the time of the murder. If they thought the Króls were threatening you or Finn's family, is it so hard to believe they would take action themselves rather than coming to us?”

Mattie said, “Finn's not a killer, Uncle Jimmy. You know that.”

“I certainly hope not. And I wish the Króls were the only reason I'm here. But we've identified Felicity's body. She was killed in Finn's trailer, possibly with dark necromancy. And there's still no trace of the enforcer who was supposed to be at the transfer, or of whoever attacked the Fey.”

“I don't understand,” Mattie said. “Wasn't Uncle Finn
in
the Other Realm when it was attacked? So you can't blame him for that, right?”

“I do not blame Finn for anything, Mattie. But the ARC isn't so convinced he is innocent. It appears his changeling was in communication with Zeke's. The ARC now thinks perhaps Finn somehow communicated with Zeke in the Other Realm as well, may have coordinated some kind of revenge on the ARC for their exile, or maybe even become agents of the Fey. Finn could have then coordinated with his changeling or loyal feybloods to lure Felicity to his trailer and to attack the transfer for him, or to hire someone who could.”

“That's crazy!” Vee said. “Why—”

“I know. I agree. It's crazy. But let's say the ARC is wrong, and someone else did kill Felicity and attacked the transfer. What if that same someone wants to harm Finn and Ezekiel, afraid of what they know? Please, both of you, I will do everything I can to protect them, but they really do need to turn themselves in. They're collecting enemies faster than I can keep track. Where are they?”

“I told you, we don't know,” Vee said. “We've been extremely worried.”

“We just got hexed like a half hour ago,” Mattie said. “Uncle Pete's hurt. And Uncle Finn might be lying somewhere, dying, or—” Her voice broke. She was a good actress.

Zeke and I stood up.

“What do you want to do?” I whispered. “Grayson said he'd help us. If you want to give yourself up, try to clear your name, I'll understand. You wouldn't be in this mess if not for me.”

Zeke stared at me, and for a second he held a look in his eyes as though someone told him Santa Claus died by falling from the roof onto his dog. “They really think
I
did all that?” he whispered. “I always assumed, what with all their spells, the ARC never accused no one that wasn't guilty. Even you. But—” He blinked and looked out the window. A determined scowl settled over his face. “You go first, then I'll send your brother after. I'll go last, since I'm heaviest.”