The Reckoning (5 page)

Unlike Tori, Derek was struggling to control his powers. But no one even recognized that. They didn’t see Derek. All they saw was the werewolf.

G
WEN ARRIVED FOR TRAINING
after breakfast, and Margaret was supposed to show up at any moment. Simon and I were in the hall when Gwen popped in, cell phone in hand.

“Is Tori with you guys?” she asked.

“I think she’s still in bed,” I said. “She didn’t want breakfast. I’ll go get—”

“That’s okay. I just got a call from work. Someone called in sick and they need me to mind the gallery. Tell Tori I’ll be back around four.” She started to leave, then stopped and turned to Simon. “Yesterday, when Andrew said I was a witch, you looked surprised. You couldn’t tell?”

“Uh, no.”

“Cool. Guess that part of the modification worked.”

“Huh?”

She smiled and waved us into the parlor, then she plunked into an oversized armchair, kicked off her shoes, and tucked her stockinged feet under her, obviously in no hurry to get to work.

“I can tell you’re a sorcerer just by looking at you. It’s a hereditary trait. Sorcerers can recognize witches and vice versa. Andrew said they wanted to get rid of that when they tweaked your genes.”

“Why?”

“Political correctness run amok. They say witches and sorcerers developed the trait as a defense mechanism.” She grinned. “Know thy enemy.”

“Enemy?” I said.

She looked at Simon. “What have you heard about witches?”

“Um, not much.”

“Oh, don’t be polite. You’ve heard we’re inferior spell-casters, right? We hear the same about sorcerers. It’s a silly rivalry, rooted back in the Inquisition. Both races are good spell-casters, with their own specialties. Anyway, Andrew says the Edison Group got the idea that if they could do away with that internal radar, we’d all just get along.”

She rolled her blue eyes. “Personally, I think they made a big mistake. That recognition serves a perfectly good evolutionary purpose—to prevent accidentally interbreeding.”

“Between witches and sorcerers?” I said.

“Right. It’s a volatile mix and—” She stopped short,
cheeks coloring. “Enough of my blathering. Work calls, however much I might like to avoid the summons.” She started to stand, then stopped. “You guys like pizza?”

“Sure.”

She asked us what we wanted. “I’ll bring dessert, too.” She looked at Simon. “Can you eat dessert?”

“I can have a little of whatever you get.”

“Good.” She lowered her voice. “Anything I can get you guys, just let me know. This isn’t exactly a teen-friendly house, and you must be going nuts, worrying about your dad, Simon, and your aunt, Chloe. I’m really hoping—” Another glance, another notch lower on the voice volume. “They’ll come around. Andrew will push them in the right direction and I’ll do what I can to help.”

We thanked her. She asked us what magazines we read, so she could grab some. Then Andrew called for Simon—it was time for his lesson. He told Gwen he’d love some comics, whatever she could find, and he took off. I asked for a copy of
Entertainment Weekly,
which I figured would be easy to find.

Then, before she left, I asked, “What you said about mixing witch and sorcerer blood, is it dangerous?”

“Do you mean…?”

“Someone I know might have both.”

She smiled. “Something tells me we’re both talking about the same person, but neither wants to be the one to say it in case the other doesn’t know. Is this someone named after a dead queen?”

I nodded, and Gwen breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Andrew wasn’t sure if you guys knew, and I didn’t want to be the one caught gossiping.”

I tried to tell her that Tori didn’t know, but she kept going.

“Yes, mixed blood presents some challenges. It adds an extra boost, and you guys, from what I’ve heard, don’t really need that. But the group says neither Diane nor Kit was a particularly powerful spell-caster, so—”

“K-Kit? S-Simon’s dad?”

We stared at each other. Gwen’s lips formed a soundless curse and she winced.

“Guess I really
am
spreading gossip. Typical.” She gave a shaky laugh as she busied herself checking her cell phone. “It probably isn’t true. Even the part about her dad being a sorcerer might not be true. Not like I’d know—I never worked for the Edison Group and I don’t know either Kit or Diane. Anyway, sorcerer blood or not, I’m sure Tori will be just fine. I’ll tell her—”

“No! I mean, she doesn’t know the rumors. Any of them. Her dad being a sorcerer was just something I overheard at the lab.”

“Well, then, I won’t tell her. You shouldn’t either.”

Was Kit Bae Tori’s father? He couldn’t be. Kit Bae was Korean, and you could easily see it in Simon. Not so in Tori.

Sure, genetics did some wonky things—like Simon’s dark blond hair. But if Diane Enright intentionally got
herself pregnant with a sorcerer’s child—as the demi-demon claimed—picking Kit Bae would be like choosing a redheaded father when neither you nor your husband had red hair. There was a good chance Tori’s dad would know the baby wasn’t his.

So, no, Tori and Simon didn’t share a father. But if everyone else believed they did, Tori and Simon might hear the rumor, and that was a complication no one needed.

M
ARGARET ARRIVED SHORTLY AFTER
Gwen left. When Tori came down and heard Margaret was taking me out for my lesson, she decided to join us. Tori might be good at hiding it, but I knew she was just as anxious and restless as we were. The last thing she needed was to spend the morning in our room. Derek and Simon sure wouldn’t invite her to do anything with them.

When Margaret hesitated, I said I’d be more relaxed with Tori along. Complete crap, but I can’t help it. Derek isn’t the only one to suffer from overwhelming instincts. I have the unshakable urge to be helpful, which I usually end up regretting. I only hoped I wouldn’t this time.

Before we left, Andrew gave Margaret a bunch of tips about touring with a half-million-dollar runaway. It was clear he didn’t want us to go out at all, but Margaret insisted. I was
a long way from Buffalo, she said, and with my black hair, I didn’t look like the girl in the poster. Besides, what kidnap victim would be driving around with a woman who could pass for her grandmother?

So we left. Margaret’s car was some fancy European model, like the kind my dad always leased, which made me think about him. Dad and I had never been real close. I was Mom’s baby, and after she died, well again, it was that instinct thing. Some people have the instinct to be parents and some don’t, and Dad didn’t, though he tried his best.

He traveled a lot, which didn’t help. He did care about me, though. More than I realized. After my breakdown he flew from Berlin to stay at my bedside until I went to Lyle House. He only went back when he had to, and he thought I was safe in Aunt Lauren’s care.

“So this necromancer stuff,” Tori said from the backseat. “Chloe doesn’t know a lot about it.”

She motioned for me to start asking questions. I’d fantasized about meeting another necromancer, and here I had one and hadn’t asked a single thing. Worrying about Dad wasn’t going to help me any.

I started by asking Margaret about the ghostly reenactments I’d seen. Residuals, she called them, but she didn’t tell me anything else I hadn’t already figured out. They were leftover energy from a traumatic event that played over and over again, like a film loop. Harmless images, not ghosts. As for how to block them…

“You won’t need to worry about that for a few years. Concentrate on ghosts for now. Deal with residuals when you’re old enough to see them.”

“But I am seeing them.”

She shook her head. “I suspect what you’re seeing is a ghost reverting to his death form—how he appeared at the moment of his death. Ghosts can do that, unfortunately, and some like to do so to intimidate necromancers.”

“I don’t think that’s what this was.” I told her about residuals I’d seen—a man jumping into a saw in a factory and a girl being murdered at a truck stop.

“My God,” Tori said. “That’s…” When I glanced at her, she’d gone pale. “You
saw
that?”

“I’ve heard you like movies, Chloe,” Margaret cut in. “I suspect you have a very good imagination.”

“Okay, so can you tell me how to block them when I
do
start seeing them?”

I must have let a little sarcasm sneak into my tone, because Margaret looked over sharply. I fixed her with my best wide-blue-eyes look and said, “It helps if I know what’s coming. So I’ll feel ready to handle it.”

She nodded. “That’s a good attitude to take, Chloe. All right then. I’ll let you in on the trade secret. When you see a residual, there’s a surefire way to deal with them. Walk away.”

“Can I block them?”

“No, but you don’t need to. Simply walk away. They aren’t
ghosts, so they can’t follow.”

I could have figured that out by myself. The problem was: “How do I know it’s a residual? If it looks real, how do you know it
isn’t
? Before you see…the dying part.”

“One sign is that residuals don’t make any noise.”

I knew that.

“Another is that you can’t interact with them.”

Knew that, too.

So if I noticed a guy about to jump into an industrial saw, I should stop and listen for any noise? Yell at him and see if he answered? By then, if he was a residual, he’d have already jumped, and I’d see exactly what I’d been trying to avoid. And if he was real, I could let him die while trying to spare myself an ugly sight.

If I could tell it was just a ghost—residual or not—I’d know the person wasn’t in danger and I could get out of there. So, while she drove through a small town, I asked how to do that.

“Excellent question,” Margaret said. “Now the real lessons begin. There are three ways to tell the ghosts from the living. First, clothing. For instance, if a man is wearing a hat and suspenders he’s a ghost, likely from the nineteen fifties.”

“I’ve seen guys wearing hats and suspenders,” Tori said. “Young guys, too. It’s retro.”

“A Civil War uniform, then. If he’s wearing that, he’s a ghost.”

No kidding.

“Second, as you may have noticed, ghosts can pass through solid objects. So if he walks through a door or a chair, you can be sure it’s a ghost.”

Even someone who wasn’t a necromancer could figure that out.

Margaret turned the car onto a road leading out of town. “And the third…Any ideas, Chloe?”

“If they don’t make noise when they walk?”

“Excellent! Yes. Those are the three ways to tell ghosts from the living.”

Great. So if I saw a guy standing still, and he wasn’t wearing an old uniform, I just had to ask him to walk through furniture. If he stared at me like I was crazy, then I’d know he wasn’t a ghost.

I hoped that the practice part of the day would go better. When I saw where she was taking us, though, that hope faded fast.

“A c-cemetery?” I said as she pulled into the parking lot. “I c-can’t—I shouldn’t even be here.”

“Nonsense, Chloe. I certainly hope you aren’t afraid of cemeteries.”

“Um, no,” Tori said. “It’s the bodies buried in them that worry her.”

Margaret looked from me to Tori.

“Uh, dead bodies?” Tori said. “Potential zombies?”

“Don’t be silly. You can’t accidentally raise the dead.”

“Chloe can.”

Margaret gave a tight smile. “I’ve heard Chloe is quite powerful, but I’m sure she doesn’t need to worry about raising the dead yet.”

“She already has. I was there.”

“I-it’s true,” I said. “I raised subjects of Dr. Lyle’s experiment, buried in the basement at Lyle House. Then I raised dead bats in a warehouse, and a homeless guy in a place we tried to spend the night.”

“Bats?” Tori said, nose wrinkling.

“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“And I thank you for that,” she said. She turned to Margaret. “I was there for the homeless guy. I saw him crawling across Chloe—”

“I don’t doubt you did, but I’m afraid you girls have been the victims of a cruel trick. There are members of the Edison Group who have a very big stake in this experiment and would love to make it appear that the subjects’ powers were vastly increased by the modification. One of their staff necromancers apparently wanted to make the group believe Chloe could raise the dead. That’s absurd, of course. Not only do you need years of training, but it requires rituals and ingredients you don’t have.”

“But I raised the homeless guy
after
we got away.”

“That’s what they wanted you to think. Obviously, they were on your trail, which is how they intercepted you at Andrew’s house. It doesn’t matter. Even if you could raise the
dead”—a twitch of her lips, clearly humoring me—“I’m here and I’ll make sure we take the proper precautions. Learning control is the best way to overcome your fears.”

When I tried to protest again, Tori asked if we could have a minute. We got out of the car and she led me to a spot under a maple tree. My stomach clenched every time I caught a glimpse of the gravestones, imagining accidentally slamming ghosts back into the corpses buried under them.

I only had to glance at the cemetery walls and I could see Derek’s scowl, hear him snap, “Don’t even think about training in there, Chloe.”

“She’s jealous, you know,” Tori said.

“What?”

“You can raise the dead. If she admits that, then she has to admit you’re a better necromancer than she is.”

“I don’t think being able to raise the dead makes anyone
better
.”

“In their world it does, because it means you’re more powerful. Everyone wants to be more powerful.” She looked around the cemetery, her gaze going distant. “It doesn’t matter if it’s good power or bad. I lived with my mom long enough to see that. Margaret might not want to raise the dead, but she wants to be able to, and she doesn’t want some kid to be better at it than she is. So she’s telling herself you can’t.”

“Okay, but I’d rather
not
prove her wrong.”

Tori’s lips pursed. “Actually…”

“Uh-uh. I’m not returning any poor ghost to its rotting—”

“Only temporarily.”

I gave her a look.

She sighed. “Fine. But whatever that chick’s hang-ups, her job is to train you, and you need training. We all do. It’ll be fine as long as you take it easy, right?”

True. While I couldn’t help remembering Derek’s suspicion that Tori was betraying us, I could see no nefarious advantage to encouraging me to raise the dead.

“Look, do what you want,” she said. “I’ll back you up. As cliché as it sounds, we’re in this together. You, me, the guys. Not exactly the gang I’d pick—no offense—but…”

“You’re stuck with us.”

“My advice? Take her lesson and be careful.”

I imagined what Derek would say. He wouldn’t like the situation, but I think he’d eventually agree.

I went back to Margaret and said I was ready.