Silence (22 page)

“I think he would be, if we could get him out of the fire.”

“And if we don’t?”

“He’l be a four-year-old trapped in a burning building at the moment of his death for decades, if not forever.”

Amy said, “What four-year-old?”

Alison told her.

“You were going to tel me about this, right, Emma?”

Emma shrugged. “It sounded crazy,” she said. “But I probably would have; we need realy big, solid ladders, and a car that can carry them, without the parents that would probably insist on coming along.”

“Right. Ladders. Car. Parents out of town. Check.”

“Emma.”

She turned to look at Eric. “Michael, I have to let go of their hands, now. I can’t feel mine at al.”

“Oh. Why?”

“Their hands are very, very cold. It’s like grabbing ice, but without the wet bits.”

“I don’t think they want to go away.”

They didn’t. She knew they didn’t. She managed to nod, but she had to force herself to unclench her jaw. “Eric, I’m using their power?”

“Yes.”

“Does it hurt them?”

“Ask them,” he replied.

“Georges? Catherine?”

They failed to hear her, the way children who are having fun frequently fail to hear the parents who want them to leave the place in which they’re having it.

“I’m going to take that as a no,” Emma told Eric. “I’l let go when I can’t feel my arms.”

“Emma—”

“Did Longland come here to find me?”

“Yes.”

“How did he know where I was?”

“Probably the same way we did. It’s not exact,” he added, “Probably the same way we did. It’s not exact,” he added, “but the dead…some of the dead know.”

“And he expected me to just pick up and go wherever he wanted me to go.”

“That’s what usualy happens.”

Unless you kill the Necromancer first. She wanted to say it, but didn’t. Throwing murder into the mix, while her friends were standing around her, was something she wasn’t up to doing.

“Michael, don’t do that, you’l get grass stains on those pants.” Emma shook her head, because Michael, like the two six-year-olds, wasn’t realy listening.

“And the four in the dance room?”

“They’re amplifiers,” Chase replied. “I think that room was meant to serve as a road.”

“A…road.”

“A road.”

“To where? Hel?”

“Pretty much. That’s not what they cal it,” he added.

“What do they cal it, and what is it?”

“I don’t know what they cal it.”

Emma suppressed a strong and visceral urge to strangle Chase. She probably wouldn’t have managed if she weren’t stil holding onto two children who were leeching the heat out of her body by inches. “What do you cal it?”

“The City of the Dead.”

“Great. And Longland thought he could just come here, screw around with my friends, and cart me off?”

“He doesn’t know you very wel, does he?”

“He doesn’t know you very wel, does he?”

“No, Michael, he certainly doesn’t.” She paused, then said, “If I had gone with him, what would have happened to these four?”

“He would probably have sucked al the power out of them at that point. Creating a road like that takes a lot of power.”

“And this power—if it were gone, what would happen to them?”

Chase just stared at her, as if she were making no sense.

“What do you mean, what would happen?”

“What I said. I can try to use smaler words, if it’d help.”

“They’re dead. They’d stil be dead.”

“Sucking the power out of them can’t be good for them. They must need it for something. What do they use the power for?”

“How the hel should I know?”

“Eric, I’m going to kil Chase now.”

Eric just looked at her. “Emma—” He exhaled, and then shook his head, lifting his hands as he did. “I give up.”

To her surprise, she started to smile, and it was a genuine smile, even though her hands ached, and her arms were now tingling. “You say that. A lot.”

“Without their power, they stil exist. You might even see them, although it’s not a given. They can’t use the power they have, not on purpose. Andrew Copis is using power, but not consciously. They can’t use it to defend themselves. They can’t use it to free themselves. They can’t use it to manifest and play with Michael on their own.

“To do any of that, they need you.”

“To do any of that, they need you.”

“They need a Necromancer, you mean.”

“No. A Necromancer would never, ever do what you’re doing now. Any of it. I meant you.” He smiled, and it was the smile that she liked best. It was warm, if slightly weary, and it changed the lines of his face. Made him look more open.

“Chase.”

“Is she crazy?” Chase asked.

“Oh, probably.”

“And the rest of you,” Chase continued, looking at Amy, Alison, and Michael, although Michael was not paying attention.

“Are you al crazy, too?”

“Dude, you see the dead and you talk about Necromantic magic and the City of the Dead, and we’re crazy?” Amy shot back.

Eric walked over to Emma. “Emma, you are letting go of the children. Now.”

“But they—”

“You can always let them out to play with Michael later. But you need to let go now.”

“Why?”

“Because your teeth are starting to chatter, and you’re turning blue.” He reached out and caught her hands, and he forced them out of their numb, frozen curl. “We can come back and visit Michael again tomorrow,” she told Georges and a crestfalen Catherine. “I promise.”

His hands? Weren’t cold. They were so very, very warm.

His hands? Weren’t cold. They were so very, very warm.

And he cupped them around both of hers and held them.

“Is the house safe?” Amy asked Eric.

He nodded. “We can search the rest of the rooms if it makes you feel better.”

“Not realy. If it’s safe, I have a party to attend.” She stood, scraping concrete with the legs of her chair. “Emma?”

Emma nodded.

“I’m going to check on Skip. I don’t see any reason to kick people out. So far, no one’s caled the police to close us down.”

Chase’s eyes almost fel out of his head, which made Emma laugh.

“What?”

“You’re going to keep the party going?”

Amy shrugged. “Why not? Longland won’t be back tonight.”

“How the hel can you say that?”

“He’s not an idiot. Alison and Emma make a habit of trying to see—and say—only good things. I don’t.”

“No kidding.”

She roled her eyes. “He didn’t like the odds or he wouldn’t have run in the first place. You’re stil here. You know who he is now, or what you think he is, at any rate. Eric said he can’t gather his power base at al quickly. He’s not going to come back to face the same odds. Because I think you’l kil him, if he does. Or try. You can correct me when I’m wrong,” she added.

“Not that it happens often. Emma, did he wear those boots upstairs?”

upstairs?”

“Sorry.”

“Never mind. I’l kil him myself if I find dirt. Speaking of which, you should take Chase upstairs and do something about his hair.” Amy grimaced. “Which, at this point, would probably involve shaving his head. We can talk in the morning, maybe go to this burned-out house you saw earlier.”

Emma nodded again. Amy, in her perfect mock-harlequin getup, slid the doors to one side, letting noise out and herself in.

Only when she was gone did Emma turn to Chase and Eric.

“You’re sure the house is safe?”

“Where did you find her?” Chase asked.

Eric, on the other hand, nodded.

“Good. We might as wel go inside and see if there’s any food left.”

He shook his head. Emma caught it out of the corner of her eye as she turned to face Michael, who was standing, head bent, hands at his sides. He wasn’t moving around too much, which was either a good sign or a very bad one.

“Michael?”

Michael nodded. “I want to go with you,” he told her quietly.

She could have pretended to misunderstand him, but if she had, he would have asked again, with more words. “We won’t go without you.”

He nodded again, and this nod went on in a little bobble of head and hair. Alison touched his shoulder, and he stiled.

“I want to help them,” Michael told her. “They shouldn’t be here.”

here.”

“No,” she agreed softly. “They shouldn’t. But I don’t think Eric or Chase know where they should be. And I don’t know how to get them there.”

“But there’s someplace they should go?”

“I think so, Michael.”

He paused, but she knew him wel enough to know he wasn’t quite finished. “Wil they be happy there?”

Remembering her father’s words, Emma nodded. “Happy and safe.”

“Then we should help them go there. Can you see it?”

“No. I think only the dead can.”

“I don’t want you to die, Emma.”

She nodded again.

“But I guess sometimes what we want doesn’t matter. You can’t make them alive again, can you?”

She felt Eric’s hands stiffen as they covered hers, as if he’d been stabbed or struck, hard. Her own tightened, catching his fingers.

“No,” she told him softly. “I can’t. If I could—” She closed her eyes. “I can’t. I don’t think anyone can.”

“Would you?”

“Yes.”

He nodded again, but this time, she thought he was done. He surprised her, but he often did. “What should I do?” He asked her quietly, in a voice she hadn’t heard since he was twelve.

“Go find Oliver and Connel. And your books. We’re going to stay here until one, and then we’l head home. But we’l cal your stay here until one, and then we’l head home. But we’l cal your house in the morning. Try—try hard—to finish your homework in the morning.”

“But I watch—” he stopped, swalowed, and nodded. “I’l do homework in the morning.”

“Michael?”

“Yes?”

“You did good. Georges and Catherine were happy, and I don’t think they’ve had much to be happy about for a long time.”

He smiled, then. Michael’s smiles were always some mix of heartbreaking and beautiful, partly because they had their roots in a childhood he could stil reach back and touch. It wasn’t the same as Emma’s or Alison’s, because he saw it more clearly.

Only after he had shuffled inside did Alison speak.

“So, Eric. You and Chase hunt Necromancers.”

They glanced at each other, and Eric winced slightly. This was probably because Emma had just crushed one of his hands in hers, in warning. Even Chase, who didn’t seem, to Emma, to be the sharpest knife in the drawer, hesitated before he nodded.

“And you kil them, if you can.”

“Aly, it doesn’t matter,” Emma said urgently.

“Yes, it does. Because if I’m not mistaken, Chase thinks you’re a Necromancer.”

The silence was notably chilier. Alison let it go on for a bit before she started again. “Longland was looking for Emma. But so was Eric, the ‘new student.’ ”

“Aly.”

“Were you looking for her to kil her?”

“Aly, please.”

“Is that a yes or a no?” When Eric didn’t answer, she looked at Chase. “Wel?”

“Yes,” Chase replied. “She’s a Necromancer.”

“She’s a Necromancer who hasn’t done anything wrong .

You were just going to kil her because in the future she might?”

Chase’s eyes had narrowed. “We were planning to kil her before she figures out how to use the power she has and starts kiling hundreds of other people, none of whom have our training.”

“Because you could just assume that she’s going to turn into a mass murderer?” Alison’s face had gone from the healthy side of pink to the unhealthy side of crimson. “And how many other times have you saved the world by kiling someone who is entirely innocent of any crime?”

“Have you ever met a fucking Necromancer?”

“Apparently yes—I have one for a best friend!”

“So maybe she’s a freak!” Chase was also red now. The color didn’t suit him.

“So maybe other budding Necromancers were freaks too— and you’l never know it because they’re dead!”

“Alison,” Eric said, shaking his hands free from Emma’s and turning toward her, “don’t judge him. You don’t know what he’s been through.”

“I don’t know what he’s been through?” Alison took a deep “I don’t know what he’s been through?” Alison took a deep breath. It was not a cessation of hostility, however. She needed it. “You’re right. I don’t. And you know what? I’m not going to kill him. He has no idea what Emma’s been through, and he intended to kil her.”

“When he speaks of hundreds dead, he speaks from experience. He’s seen what Necromancers can do.”

“Fine! Then kil the Necromancers that do. Kiling Emma means there’s one less decent person in the world! Or does he only try to kil Necromancers who can’t do anything to defend themselves first?”

“Aly, he did go after Longland.”

Alison looked at Emma, and then shook both her head and her hands to prevent a familiar half-shriek of frustration from escaping. “Em, this is serious.”

“I know. Believe that I know. But Eric? He’s not going to kil me.”

“Chase?”

Chase had shoved his hands into his pockets, and his shoulders were at about the same level as his ears.

“Wel?” Alison’s hands were in tight fists at her sides.

“No,” he said, as if the word had been dragged from him, and judging by his expression, had broken his front teeth on the way out. “No, I am not going to kil Emma. Satisfied?”

“Not realy.”

“What would satisfy you?”

“Help us.”

“Help you do what?”

“Help you do what?”

“Free the dead. You can start with the little boy on Rowan Avenue.”

Chase gave the little shriek that Alison had managed to swalow. “What’s the point? He’s dead!”