Necromancing the Stone (29 page)

Douglas remembered her apron. Tiny blue flowers on a white background. She’d made it herself out of a leftover flour bag, that much he remembered. It was old and worn, but she’d loved it, he was certain of that. He could tell by the way she smiled at it when she folded it back up. She would often bake, and no matter what the state of the kitchen, his mother had always been clean. Only the apron had ever shown the telltale signs of a day spent cooking, the streaks of flour covering those small blue buds. Sometimes, in the summer, the smear of an overripe raspberry or peach would end up on there as well. He would hug her, always when she wasn’t expecting it, and she’d be forced to wipe the light dusting of flour off his face. And she’d laugh then, a beautiful, wonderful sound.

Luckily his aunt had never made him hug her, and he was glad. It wouldn’t have been the same. Auntie had never smelled of fresh bread and summer fruits. She smelled of perfume and powder, a cold smell he’d never grown accustomed to. And hugging her would have been about as satisfying as putting his arms around a museum statue.

On an impulse, when he was packing his bag for Auntie Lynn’s, he’d grabbed his pillowcase. His mother had made it out of another old flour bag, one covered with a similar pattern. He’d tucked it into the corner of his luggage, hidden between his underwear and socks. Later, on bad days, he’d take it out and hold it close to his cheek. At first it held on to the smell of his home, that warm kitchen smell. But that had faded eventually, and it began to smell dusty and old, like Auntie Lynn’s. The day that fact had sunk in, he realized that he was never going home.

He’d sniffled a bit; then, wiping his eyes on the tattered pillowcase, he walked over to his chest of drawers. Carefully, he folded it until the fabric became a square the size of his hand. Then he pulled open his drawer and placed it in the back, where it would stay until he left that house.

The ringing of a phone jolted him out of his daze. He’d purchased one of those cheap over-the-counter prepaid cell phones so he could get ahold of James. This was the first time he’d received a call on it.

He slipped the coin over his neck and answered the phone. A whispering James was on the other end.

“He found it.”

25

STAND BY YOUR MAN

Brid held on to Sean, leaning with him as his motorcycle took the turn. The pack wasn’t going to like Sam coming back onto their land, but they didn’t have to. They just had to do it.

Sean slowed down as the bike moved onto the gravel road that led to the Den. She hopped off once they’d come to a stop, removing her helmet and tossing it to Sean.

“I thought you broke up with him,” he said, catching the helmet one-handed.

“And I thought you disagreed.” She folded her arms, even though it was a warm night. It was more for comfort.

“I do—I think you’re being stupid,” Sean said as he started to the house.

“Gee, Sean, tell me how you really feel.”

“I can pretty up the words if you want, but it boils down to the same thing.”

She sighed out into the warm night air. “I told you why.”

“Yes, and good, logical reasons all of them. They’re also wrong.”

“Says the guy without a girlfriend.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” He walked up to the front door, hanging the helmets on wooden pegs lining the outer wall. “You could do worse. He’s a nice guy. Plus, you know, he’s loaded.”

She nudged him with her shoulder. “It has nothing to do with how nice he is or how much money he has.”

“No,” Sean said. “But your reasons are almost as bad. He can’t help what he is.” He shook his head. “I almost always back you up, you know that, and I will support you in this, but you can’t get me to tell you I think it’s right, because it isn’t.”

“I know,” she said.

“But you’re going to do it anyway?” It was rare to hear her brother angry. Of course, things had been far from normal lately.

“I can’t see any other way right now.” She looked away, trying not to cry. She hated crying, and in public she hated it more.

Sean looped an arm around her and pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. “It’s okay, Brid. It’ll work out.” After a minute, he added, “I just think you should fight for it a little bit more.”

“I know,” she said, sniffling. “But I can only fight for so many things at a time, and right now I need to fight for me.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Sean said. They stared at the closed door of the Den, preparing themselves before they had to go in, before Brid had to put her professional face on. She hadn’t yet picked up her dad’s ability to walk into a room and dominate it immediately. Brid stiffened her spine. Maybe not yet, but she would. She just had to last long enough to get the chance.

Sean let out a breath. “But maybe I’ll fight for Sam, since you can’t. Someone has to, I think.”

After a moment, Brid answered, “I’d like that. Thank you.”

Sean glanced at his sister. “You ready?”

She squared her shoulders. “Open the door.”

26

I HEAR YOU KNOCKIN’, BUT YOU CAN’T COME IN

By the fifth ring, I was afraid Dunaway wouldn’t pick up, but he did, greeting me with a wary hello.

“Dunaway, hey. Look, I need you to look up something for me if you can.”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Douglas Montgomery…” I stared out the window at the blur of lights as they sped by. Ramon was driving, and I was in the passenger seat, with Haley and Uncle Nick behind us. I’d tried to leave Taco at home, but he’d refused, and every time I returned him to the house, he showed up in the car again. After he chewed through the pet carrier, I gave up. Hopefully, he could hold his own. I watched the swirl of lights and did not want to finish my question, because once I had the answer, an answer I feared I already knew, then there was no going back. Of course, there was no going back anyway, and it was foolish to think otherwise, but knowing somehow made it official. “Has there been anything on him lately?”

“Like what?” I could hear the clicking of a keyboard in the background as he worked.

“I don’t know. Movement on his bank accounts, arrests.… You’re the cop, help me out a little here.”

“Well, I found a death notice, but I think you already know that.”

“Yeah,” I said, putting my head against the window, “I inherited his estate, which I’m sure you found.”

“There is that, yes, but as for anything since, as you might have guessed, no. Dead men don’t usually get around much.”

“I think this one is.” I rubbed my hand over my face. “He’s too smart to leave tracks, though.” I thought, hard. I needed something. “What about property?”

“Wouldn’t you know about that more than me? Don’t you own it now?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head even though he couldn’t see it. “I think he has a cabin stashed up by Issaquah. Cougar Mountain territory.”

I heard more clicking. “Not that I can see.”

I hated to ask the next question even more, because it was going to confirm some things that I didn’t want confirmed. “What about something in that area under the name of James Montgomery?”

“Give me a minute—I’ll call you back.”

My phone rang a short time later. “I found it. You were right. Do you need the address?”

“No,” I said, my gut sinking. Had everything with James been a lie? I felt stupid and blind—what if my trusting nature got us killed? “Thanks, though, Dunaway. For everything.”

“Are you okay, Sam?” Even over the phone, I could tell he was concerned.

“Not really,” I said, “but I’m getting used to that.”

“You’ll get ahold of me soon, yeah? Let me know how this whole thing’s panning out?”

“As soon as I can.”

The line went silent for a second before Dunaway added, “I better not be called in officially on anything, Sam.” Then he signed off. I couldn’t blame him.

We parked and piled out onto the gravel parking lot. The night was warm, but I felt an apprehensive chill as I considered the evening before me. I grabbed Nick’s arm, pulling him back from Haley and Ramon. “What do you need to undo a binding?” I asked.

Nick looked away, embarrassed. “Mine?”

“Yes, yours. Mom already removed hers. I have some juice due to that and … that thing with Douglas.” That “thing” being the ritual Douglas tried to perform where he killed me and took my ability to wrangle the dead. It had backfired when I shoved his dagger into his throat and accidentally took his power instead. Not one of my more pleasant experiences, but it beat being murdered.

“Shouldn’t take much, I’d think.” Nick stopped, his brow furrowed. “Wait, Sam, if Douglas is alive like you think he is, how can you have his power? The ritual was based on death, correct? Namely, his?”

I stopped next to him, staring at the Den. Haley and Ramon, finally noticing that we weren’t with them, turned back to see what the holdup was. Ramon raised an eyebrow at the look on my face, which I think was a mix of surprise and horror.

I pushed out my hands in a stopping motion. “Hold the phone,” I said. “The ritual had to have worked; my power base went way up afterward. Explain that, buddy.”

Nick lifted up my chin and looked into my eyes. “Did you have your bindings checked after?”

“Well … no.” I hadn’t thought of it, to be honest.

Nick rested his hands on my shoulders, his eyelids closing at the same time. We were still standing like that as Sexy Gary pulled up with Minion, Frank, and a handful of battle-ready gnomes. I guess where Frank went, they went too.

Gary eyed us both. “You guys having a moment? Should we get back in the van? Give you some time alone?”

“No,” I said. “We’re cool. I think he’s about done.” I stared at Nick uncomfortably when he opened his eyes and let his hands drop. I had felt the cool brush of his power as it had sifted through me. It hadn’t been what I would call enjoyable.

He was shaking his head. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

“Why choose?” I told him. “You can always do both.”

“Your binding,” he said. “It’s gone.”

“How is that possible?” I’d assumed—well, I think we’d all assumed—that my recent upgrade had been due to my usurping of Douglas’s power. But if that wasn’t the case, if he was still alive, and my binding was gone …

“So this whole time?” I asked quietly.

He nodded sympathetically. “Just you, kiddo. It probably snapped during the ritual.”

“People always list laugh or cry—why isn’t there ever a vomit option?” I felt slightly sick to my stomach at the news. I wasn’t quite sure why. I had planned to get my binding removed eventually, of course, but for some reason, it had been nice to lean on the idea that most of my gift wasn’t actually me. It felt better to say it was all a freak accident, that I’d really been normal before that, just a victim of circumstance.

But that wasn’t true. This was me, all me. I felt my world spin and twist, and more than anything, I wanted to sit down. But of course, I didn’t have the time. Taco, who was draped over my shoulders again, leaned in and licked my face in sympathy.

“You need a second?” Nick asked gently.

I shook my head. “No. We’ve got stuff to do.” I looked up at the group. “Let’s get out to the clearing.”

The gnomes, war paint smeared on their faces, hats jauntily placed on their heads, yelled their war cry in agreement.

The pack was already in the clearing. Not all of them, at least I didn’t think it was all of them, but it was still a lot. Some of the weres looked curious, but most of them gave only the impression of waiting to see what I was going to do. About a third of them still appeared openly hostile. I ignored them, the pack parting as we walked into the great circle they’d created with their bodies. Nothing like being encircled by a group of people who wanted to shred you into ribbons and knowing that they could do it to boost the ol’ self-confidence.

I took off my shoes. I wasn’t sure if it would make a difference, but I didn’t want anything between me and the ground. The grass felt cold between my toes as I closed my eyes and summoned Brooke and Ashley.

Brooke leaned in to give me a hug. “What are you up to, Sam?” she whispered in my ear.

“I’m pretty sure they can hear you,” I whispered back.

Ashley was staring at the crowd, face pinched. “Sam, more than anything else, you seem to have a real knack for putting yourself in a bind.”

“I sure do. Now, stand back, ladies, and jump in if you see me screwing up.”

Brooke put her hands on her hips and smiled. “You sure you want us to wait? Maybe we should jump in now.”

I flipped her off and got to work. I made a big circle in the clearing. Since I didn’t want the pack to kill me for destroying the grass, I didn’t use salt. Instead, I used colored sand. You can get it pretty easily, since people use it for art projects and, for reasons I didn’t quite understand, for weddings, but I bet the lady I bought mine from wouldn’t have been able to guess what I was going to use it for. This sand was a particularly virulent orange color that would stand out nicely in the grass.

I made the circle big enough to fit a boxing ring into, then planted myself at one end of it. Once again, Taco had refused to stay where I put him, and he was curled up next to me contentedly, but keeping one wary eye out on the crowd. I sat cross-legged and tried to clear my mind and meditate, which wasn’t easy, since I had an audience.

Time passed as I listened to the night sounds of croaking tree frogs and conversation.

“Are you going to do anything, LaCroix?” Ashley whispered fiercely. “The natives are getting restless.”

“Fret not, dear one. At least, not yet. You might need to fret later. I’ve got an idea, but you two are going to need to get out of the circle.”

A worried little frown appeared on her face. “What do you have in mind?”

I shook my head at her. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Huh-uh,” she said. “Whatever harebrained scheme you have rattling around in that little cantaloupe of yours needs to be shared with your adviser—namely, me.”

“Trust me,” I said.

“Trust you? Please. I’m dead, not stupid.” Brooke stood behind her, hands on hips, an identical look of mule-headedness on her face.