Necromancing the Stone (12 page)

James was seated at the table reading the paper when I walked in. “I’ve already called a tow service. That thing needs a tune-up anyway. In the meantime, you’ll just have to cope with the injustice of driving one of our other cars. A hardship, I know.”

“Not now, James.” My bed was sounding really, really good.

“Going to your room to mope, while wholly in character, is not the optimal choice at the moment.”

“Yeah, well…” I walked off, leaving the sentence unfinished, a move sure to tick off James. I didn’t care. Everyone else seemed pissed at me, so why not just add him to the list?

I threw myself onto my bed, letting my muscles relax, taking in the quiet. Wait a minute. I rolled to my feet. My bed was wet. Sniffing the comforter, I picked up the all-too-familiar smell of urine. Which was now on my shirt. After last night, I probably needed a wardrobe change anyway, but that wasn’t the point. Fuming, I pulled on fresh shorts and a T-shirt, tossing the offending clothes into the hamper. As I did, I noticed something else. My room had been TP’d, and there was a scratching noise coming from the cabinet. Cautiously, I went to open it. A striped skunk darted by with a tiny—and I think drunken—garden gnome riding on its back and yelling “yippee-ki-yay!” as it went out the door.

I stood there, clenching and unclenching my fists, trying to decide what to do. Right.

I pulled the comforter off the bed and walked outside. I wasn’t quiet about it. James, back in kitty form, came trotting after me, asking what was wrong. I ignored him, throwing the piss-stained comforter down on the grass.

The yard was quiet. None of the statues moved, no one looked my way, but that didn’t mean they weren’t listening.

“House meeting, right fucking now!” I crossed my arms and waited. Nothing. “James,” I said quietly.

“Yes, Master?”

“I want a sledgehammer and a Dumpster.”

A curt flick of the tail and then he morphed, pulling out his phone when he was done. And suddenly, but not surprisingly, my lawn came to life. The statues busted free in a cloud of dust, the gnomes slunk over from the flower bed, and the little gladiator guys slid down from their pediment. While I was glaring, Frank pulled up. He didn’t say a word, just parked the car and quietly slipped into the crowd. Ramon rested his skateboard against the half-pipe and jogged over, an interested look on his face. They formed a semicircle around me.

“Sit,” I said, pointing at the ground. They all sat. “I want to make something very clear, so I need you all to listen. This includes the shrubbery.” I swear the bushes dipped a little in embarrassment. “Now, I’ve tried to be good-natured about everything, accepting all the harassment as well-meant hazing.” I started ticking things off on my fingers. “The tires, short-sheeting my bed, taking staged incriminating photos of me in my sleep, and so on. Have to test the new guy, I get it. But I’ve had enough.” I glared at them all, catching every eye until they knew I meant business.

“Like it or not, I own this house now. Like it or not, you guys are my responsibility. I’ve tried to be understanding, but apparently that just isn’t cutting it.” The Minotaur scuffed at the grass with his hoof. The gladiators from the pediment were also looking at their toes. Only the gnomes appeared defiant. “I know you guys had a lot of change this year. You’ve lost…” I wasn’t sure what Douglas was to all of them. A tyrant? A boss? A dear friend? I had a hard time picturing him in positive or glowing terms. Still, as with James, he might have been all they knew. And say what you will about Douglas, he apparently managed to run this household smoothly, something I was certainly having trouble doing.

I felt a grudging respect for Douglas in managing it, and some sympathy for my criminal housemates who had admittedly had their worlds turned upside down as well.

When you don’t have much, you hold on like hell to the things you do have, even if they’re rotten. That goes doubly for family, even if your family is Douglas. “You lost someone important to you. I am sorry for that. But this”—I motioned to the comforter—“has got to stop.”

The group was silent, and I could tell my speech wasn’t working. My anger was dissipating now, and more than anything, I just wanted to get the situation back in hand. I looked down at the gnomes. “You guys.” At my address, they all leapt to their feet, puffed up their chests, and held their pickaxes, shovels, and hoes at the ready. One of them had a tiny lute. I didn’t know they had a minstrel. Weird. I shook my head. “No, I don’t want to fight. You have a leader, yeah?” The gnomes formed a huddle. After a few minutes of whispering and covert glances in my direction, they finally pushed forth a spokesman. He stuck his shovel defiantly in the ground, then took off his little red hat and held it in both hands.

“You have a name?”

“Twinkle.”

“Twinkle,” I said slowly.

“The Destroyer,” he added.

“Your name is Twinkle the Destroyer?”

He nodded.

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be? Okay, Twinkle the Destroyer, I take it you guys have been popping my tires? Causing general mayhem?”

He nodded proudly. “Yes, though the Minotaur was conscripted for tire duty. He handled it with the soul of a warrior.” He beamed at the Minotaur, who was managing to not make full eye contact with me. “We even set his pants on fire yesterday.” He pointed at Frank, who shrugged sheepishly.

“You had a lot going on,” he said. “I didn’t want to add.”

I turned my attention back to Twinkle. “You set my friend’s pants on fire?”

“Yes. Death to the infidels!” The rest of the gnomes erupted into a cheer, brandishing their assorted lawn equipment with glee.

“Right,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration and praying for patience. “You know that means nonbeliever, right? So what are you accusing me of not believing in?”

Another pointy-hatted huddle. Twinkle came back to the forefront and shouted, “Death to the new guys and their non-jam-delivering policies!” They proceeded to high-five one another.

I leaned over toward James—back as a cat now and sitting on the porch railing—and whispered, “Non-jam-delivering policies?”

James flicked his whiskers in what I think was amusement, most likely aimed at me. “Douglas used to have me give them regular payments of jam, root beer, et cetera, to buy their loyalty.”

“And you didn’t tell me this because…?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Touché. “You practically run the place, why didn’t you do it?”

James sniffed in what I thought was a very haughty manner, his tiny pink nose stuck in the air. “I run the house, not the rabble. Do you expect me to do everything? My schedule is already filled to bursting with all the new people moving in, the extra shopping—”

I cut him off before he could work himself into a tizzy. I had a feeling that, had I been Douglas, he would have been doing all this without question. Maybe he was trying to get out of extra work, maybe I was too soft, but either way, the response was the same. “I guess not.” I rubbed my hand over my face and considered. Essentially, the whole time I’d been here, the security staff hadn’t been paid. I would have been harassing the management too, though I probably would have started with a discussion and not so much jumping straight to peeing on someone’s bed. You have to work up to that sort of thing. Still, I had essentially staged a hostile takeover, which did kind of explain why they’d been going on the offensive. I didn’t have time for this. I scanned the crowd and landed on …

“Frank.” He got up from his seat on the lawn and came over. “I want you to get your clipboard and come back out. Quickly, please.” After Brooke had received her new spectral-style clipboard, she’d insisted I get some for the house. It was easier to comply than argue with her, so I’d had to take her shopping at one of those big warehouses full of office supplies. I’d never seen anyone get so excited over Post-its and packs of highlighters.

Once Frank returned, I grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him in front of me. “Okay, most of you know Frank already, but I’d like to reintroduce him as the head of human resources.” I got a lot of blank stares. One of the little gladiators used his sword to scratch his head.

“This means that Frank will be your go-to guy. He’ll oversee your problems, make sure you get paid—whatever you need, Frank will handle it.” This announcement started a lot of chatter. I pushed Frank closer to the rabble. “He will sort this out.” I gave him a quick pat on his shoulders. “Frank, sort this out.”

To his credit, he stepped forward bravely, armed only with a pen and a clipboard, and said, “Now, what kind of jam do you prefer?”

I slipped inside the house.

11

EVEN HITLER HAD A GIRLFRIEND

While I shuffled aimlessly through the kitchen, Ramon made a beeline for the fridge and set to work eating his way through what appeared to be an entire roast chicken before I was even able to collapse into the chair across from him.

“You look tired,” he said.

“That’s because I am tired.” I rubbed a hand over my face.

“Then take a nap.” He placed a bone onto the platter and reached for a drumstick.

Sleep had become a treasured commodity to me the last few months. I’d been short on it before—I went to college briefly—but that wasn’t quite the same thing. There’s a difference between missing a few hours to finish a paper or cram for a midterm and losing sleep because someone is trying to kill you and your loved ones. Or losing sleep because you were kidnapped and stuck in a cage. And now I had a new nightmare to add to my list—a silver dagger buried in my little sister’s door. At the rate I was going, I might as well stop sleeping altogether.

Recently, I’d also been losing sleep because of nightmares and the simple fact that the things that go bump in the night liked to come by and shoot the breeze on occasion. It’s lonely being a ghost. My family aside—my estranged uncle Nick and two baby half-sisters were all part of team zombie—necromancers were rare. That meant the ghosties and ghoulies had few people to sit down and have a nice chat with. And from the sound of it, I was part of the tiny minority who weren’t complete tools. So my sleep time was becoming more and more interrupted, unless I remembered to keep my medicine bag on constantly. Sometimes, though, that seemed like a cop-out. Lots of the spirits just wanted to talk or ask me to look in on their families or whatever, and so sometimes I left it off on purpose. I wouldn’t want to go through any sort of afterlife without having someone to chat with. Brooke had been talking to me about setting up a regular time for spirits to stop by, sort of like office hours for a professor, but in nicer digs.

“Nap time would be awesome,” I said to Ramon, “but I have to figure out what happened to Brannoc, who’s threatening my sister, and probably five other things I haven’t even thought of.” I grimaced. “And I need to burn my sheets.”

Ramon wiped his greasy fingertips on a napkin. “And if you don’t rest your brain, you won’t be any good at any of it. I know you, Sammy. You’ll keep going until you collapse. An hour either way won’t matter. Haley’s out and about, and your mom is at her shop. They’re safe. Go sleep, and I promise I’ll wake you.”

“And if I say no?”

Ramon snorted. “If I have to, I will pick you up and put you to bed myself. Before you try and argue, remember that I could juggle you now if I wanted to.”

I sighed and got up. “Bullies, I’m surrounded by bullies. Fine, an hour,” I said. “But that’s it.”

“An hour, and you can sleep in my bed. No one’s pissed on my comforter, I’m positive.” The implication being that no one would dare. Ramon chuckled evilly and went back to his chicken. I crawled into his monster-sized bed and considered how much my friends had changed and how it was all my fault.

True to his word, Ramon woke me in an hour. “Brid’s here,” he said, and then he left. I was groggy, but I felt a lot better than I had earlier. I crawled out of bed and went to go see my girl.

The sun was bright. It filtered in through the large pines, dappling the grass in the lawn. When I walked out, Brid was sitting on the newly installed porch swing, looking out at the scene before her, a thin layer of amusement perched over her otherwise sad face. And no wonder. The statue nymphs were lounging on the grass, weaving flowers into the Minotaur’s hair. They giggled and braided while the large beast snored. The gladiators were playing Frisbee with a stone discus from the pediment, and the gnomes were conspicuously absent. Frank sat on the porch steps, his clipboard in his lap, a satisfied look on his face.

Even though Brid was smiling, I could see circles under her eyes and a slight pallor to her skin. I was not new to the signs of mourning. I took her hand, squeezing it to let her know that I understood what that kind of loss felt like. I’m not sure if that’s what she got out of it—maybe she just got the part about the hand squeeze. But even that was better than nothing. I led her away from the house, figuring she could use some quiet time and privacy.

We took a walk down to the water. The coastal line of my property didn’t have a beach as you might imagine it. No, it had more of a jagged-rocks-and-pebble-ridden-strips-of-land thing going on. I didn’t mind. I loved the water, and I was still amazed and grateful that I got to live so close to it.

Brid and I took a seat on one of the bigger and less jagged of the boulders. The sun reflected brightly off the water, but a large pine tree hung over where we were sitting, creating a nice bit of shade. All in all, it was pretty perfect.

“This is nice,” Brid said, getting comfortable. A sliver of sunlight cut across her tank top and shoulder, and I traced it with my finger.

“What’s bothering you?” I asked. “I mean, besides your dad. Obviously I know what’s bothering you on that front.” Brid’s level of preoccupation told me her sad demeanor wasn’t due only to her father’s death.

She popped her sunglasses up on top of her head so I could see her eyes and notice how her rueful smile didn’t quite reach them. “I’m that transparent, huh?”

“Not usually,” I said, “but sometimes I can figure you out.”