Necromancing the Stone (33 page)

Brid gave me a ride home on Sean’s motorcycle. I’d left the car with Haley so she could bring James back to the house whenever he was ready, and I’d made the rest of the crew follow in Gary’s van.

Once I got home, I went straight to the fridge. I chugged a soda without closing the fridge door, something my mom would have berated me for. But it was my damn house, and I could do whatever I wanted. So I leaned in and enjoyed the cold.

Brid came up behind me and slid her arms around my chest. I hugged them to me one-handed and grabbed another soda with the other. I shut the fridge with my foot while shuffling over to the counter to set down my drink. Then I turned and gave Brid a proper hug. If she hadn’t pulled away, I don’t think I ever would have let her go.

“You look terrible,” she said.

“It’s good to look like one feels. I think it’s more honest that way.”

She grinned. “I need to get back.”

“Hm.”

“We’re going to keep Ramon for the night. I don’t think he’ll want to change right back, so I figure we’ll let him run.” I nodded and held her, but all too soon, she walked out the door.

After she left, I slogged my way up to the bathroom. I didn’t have the energy for it, but I took a shower anyway. I needed to wash off the sand and blood. It felt good, but I still didn’t feel clean. Bringing about someone’s death will do that to you. Doing it a second time only amplifies the feeling.

My fingers were pruney by the time I got out. I don’t really remember drying off or pulling on pajama pants, but I must have, because when I found myself standing in the middle of my room, staring absently off into space, I was dry and pajamaed. Absently, I noted that I was probably in shock. I also noted that I didn’t care. Crawling into bed, I vowed never to leave.

My window was still open, and the breeze had started to chill enough that I pulled the blanket up to my chin. The fresh air felt nice, though, so I didn’t close it. I couldn’t sleep. I was bone tired and emotionally exhausted, yes, but my brain was spinning like a hamster wheel.

So much had happened lately, I just didn’t know how to sort it. I missed Brannoc. At least with him I knew it was something big—death and a protective, nosy deity—keeping him away. It made the things keeping Brid and me apart seem tiny and insignificant, but I missed her just as much. She couldn’t keep sneaking into my bed, not if she wanted to convince the pack to believe that she’d given me up. On top of that, I was worried about James. I felt bad about Douglas. A thousand other thoughts and uncertainties swirled and wouldn’t stop. I threw off the covers with a growl of frustration.

“Not easy being all grown up, is it?”

I yelped in surprise. Brannoc was leaning against my wall. My hand went involuntarily to my neck, but my medicine bag wasn’t there because I’d taken it off to shower and in my daze had forgotten to replace it.

Brannoc chuckled as I tried to regain composure. Someday I’d be used to ghosts popping up out of nowhere, right? He came over and sat on my bed.

“I think,” I said after I’d calmed down, “that I could handle either growing up or being a necromancer on its own, but the combo is a bit problematic.”

“I hear you.”

I sat on the edge of my bed, my fingers picking at the blanket. “I’m sorry. You know, about everything.”

“Don’t be. I hear you found my killer. That’s enough comfort for me. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“Bridget sure didn’t make it simple.”

Brannoc grimaced. “Don’t blame the goddess. It’s bad form. Besides, it was mostly my fault.” He looked away.

I examined the uncomfortable expression on his face. “You asked her to intervene so I couldn’t bring you back.” As I said it, I knew it was true, whether he admitted to it or not. “Why the hell would you do that?” I was too tired to get angry, really angry, and it was hard to attach that kind of emotion to Brannoc anyway. He’d always been such a good guy to me. But then again, I’d been mad at a lot of good people lately.

“Tough love,” he murmured.

I let that sink in. “You had to see if we could function. If the pack could do it on their own.”

He nodded. “Hardest thing to do, with kids, doesn’t matter if they’re yours or someone else’s. At some point, the training wheels have to come off.”

“And if I’d raised you—”

“They’d never have made their own way. My kids, the pack, they would have kept coming back to me every time they hit a hard spot. Never would have learned to trust their own judgment.”

“You didn’t want to drag it out. So you did it quick,” I said. “Like a Band-Aid.” He didn’t answer me, but he didn’t need to. “I wouldn’t have kept bringing you back, you know. Sometimes it’s just not right. I learned that with Ling Tsu.”

After Douglas had kind-of-sort-of-not-really-died that first time, I’d broken into the zoo and laid to rest the zombie panda that he had raised. Ling Tsu had died at a rather inconvenient time, so the zoo had paid handsomely for Douglas to fix the problem. Now, I could have left Ling Tsu. He wasn’t hurting anybody. But he wasn’t happy, and it wasn’t right, keeping him alive like that. Sometimes what I do is good, but sometimes it’s toeing a little too close to the line. Ling Tsu was quickly becoming my barometer for what was okay and what wasn’t.

“So, how’d we do? You know, with the being all responsible business,” I asked.

He patted my shoulder, just like the last time I’d seen him at the Den. When he was still alive. I looked at my feet, my throat suddenly feeling thick and painful.

“You did good,” he said.

“If I did so good, why do I feel so shitty?”

Brannoc patted my shoulder again, in sympathy this time. “It’s called growing pains, kid. You’ve had a lot going on the past few months. Some good, some bad, but all change. When you hit a spot like that, it hurts while you try to catch up to it. Give yourself some time to grow.”

“I’d love to,” I grumbled. “But it seems life isn’t giving me much time to adjust.”

He laughed. “It most certainly isn’t, is it? What’s that curse? ‘May you live in interesting times’?”

I pulled my knees to my chest. “I got interesting in spades.”

“Yeah, you did, and I can’t promise that’s going to end anytime soon. And I hate to add to the pile, but I have a favor to ask you, O mighty champion of the Blackthorn pack.” He grinned while he said the last part.

“Name it.”

“Keep an eye on my kids, will you? I know they’re all grown up and everything, but it’s never easy to lose someone, no matter how old you are.”

“Of course,” I said. Then I grimaced. “If they let me. There’s been some tension between the pack and me lately.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know, but do your best. I know you will.” He got up to leave.

“Hey, Brannoc?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, you know, for everything.”

“You’re welcome.” He started to fade, then reversed it, slamming back into existence. “Oh, and Sam? If my daughter ever decides she wants to keep you around on a more permanent basis, let her know that she has my—and Bridget’s—blessing.” He grinned widely when he saw how beet red my face got. He gave me a farewell wave, then disappeared.

It was easier sleeping after his visit.

Breakfast in the morning was a little awkward. James was subdued, but no longer appeared to be a broken man. My sister had crashed in one of the guest rooms and was kind enough to cook breakfast before she drove home. It was nice to have her there, and I told her she could claim a guest room as her own for whenever she needed to stay.

Things were tense with me, James, and Haley in the kitchen. I was trying to be normal and lighthearted, but there were several elephants in the room—my guilt over Douglas’s death and James’s guilt over threatening Haley being the two biggest metaphorical pachyderms in the bunch. I wasn’t sure how to resolve it. Do I apologize to him? Does he apologize to me?

Then Haley put silverware in front of us and made us set the table. As she placed a big pile of butter knives in the center of the table she fixed me with a gimlet eye. “Try to not kill anyone while you’re setting the table.” Then she poked James. “And I don’t want to find these in any doors. Knives next to spoons, boys. Not in people or furniture—once is a slipup. Twice is impolite. Three times is downright rude.” She turned and went back to cooking breakfast.

For a long, drawn-out breath, no one said anything. The only sound was the snap of butter on a hot skillet. Then James picked up a handful of knives and placed one carefully by a spoon. He nudged it with one finger until it sat perfect and straight. He stepped back and examined his handiwork, leaning so Haley could see.

She nodded, pleased. “Very good. Baby steps. Keep this up, and I’ll tell you where I hid the steak knives.”

I couldn’t help it then—I collapsed into a chair, laughing. James didn’t laugh—but I could see the beginnings of a smile twisting at the edges of his lips. Haley was right. Baby steps. Leave it to my little sister to settle a complicated issue with place settings.

Ashley and Ed transported in while we were eating and Ashley accepted Haley’s French toast in lieu of the usual waffle payment. Haley makes killer French toast. Ed took a cup of coffee, but only after he explained to me, in full detail, how much American coffee was lacking in comparison to the kind they brewed in his homeland. After I was done eating, he asked to speak to me privately.

Once we were alone, he handed me what appeared to be a coin on a chain. “What is this?”

It’s what was keeping Douglas in his state of half life. A Stygian coin.

The coin felt cold in my palm. I flipped it over. Both sides were worn down with use. It wasn’t a quarter, but that was about all I could deduce.

“A Stygian coin? As in the River Styx?”

He nodded.
Yes. People used to be buried with silver coins over their eyes in order to pay Charon. The coins are difficult to obtain, since you have to go to the other side to get them, and many mortals, if they have the proper combination of bravery and stupidity needed to undertake the journey in the first place, don’t make it back.

“That’s really nifty and all, but why are you giving it to me?”

After much discussion, we have decided that you have earned such a reward.

I held up the coin. “Well, it’s shiny, I’ll grant you that. What do I do with it?”

With an amused expression, Ed took it out of my hands and put it around my neck. I immediately felt the same curious feeling I got when I summoned a circle or offered up blood in sacrifice. “Whoa.”

Ed’s ears flicked.
Ashley has told me that certain aspects of being a necromancer trouble you—namely the sacrificial part?

I mumbled an agreement while I picked up the coin off my chest so I could look at it more closely.

This coin pays the sacrifice for you.

I looked up at him. “Really? I don’t have to kill things or slice up my arm anymore?”

No. But you might need to feed it once in a while. Do I smell bacon?

Haley had made bacon for the carnivores, and unless they’d been complete gluttons, there should have been some left. Ed returned to the kitchen before I could stop and ask him what he meant by “feeding” the coin. I didn’t like the sound of that.

I tucked the coin in my pocket for now. There would be time for questions later.

31

WE ARE FAMILY

Ramon came back a few days later. Things had settled down a bit by that time. I was lazing about on the front porch steps, drinking my coffee, petting Taco, and watching the gnomes train Frank in some of their fighting techniques. It was pretty hilarious.

Ramon grabbed a cup of coffee and joined me. “Why is that gnome wearing a cowboy hat?”

“That would be Chuck the Norriser. He’s convinced that, since Chuck Norris wears one in
Walker, Texas Ranger
, he must do so in real life. It’s caused quite a hullabaloo in the gnome community. They think the break from tradition might be a slippery slope and that soon all the gnomes might turn away from their customary garb. It got pretty ugly there for a while.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, but then Frank said he was giving Chuck a special sanction because of his namesake, but the hat will still have to be red. So we’ve ordered a tiny red cowboy hat to be made, and everyone’s happy.”

“That is truly bizarre.”

I shrugged and sipped my coffee. “To outsiders, everyone’s home life is weird. Mine just happens to be extra weird.”

Ramon glanced at me. “So you’ve finally accepted this as your home, huh? No more ‘I’m going to bulldoze this place and burn the rubble’ talk?”

I thought about that for a minute and looked around. Frank and the gnomes were now going through a set of what looked like Tai Chi. The Minotaur was playing Frisbee with the nymphs. (The nymphs were winning.) One of the big stone lions was basking in the sun, its tail flicking slowly. The gladiators were trimming the shrubs, and James, in cat form, was ruthlessly stalking a butterfly. My sister, in a ridiculously floppy sun hat, was tending the garden. I yelled at her to keep an eye on the hedges that had been snaking forward to snatch her hat. The scene was almost idyllic, and I realized that at some point, somewhere deep down inside, I’d decided that this was home. Ramon was right.

I took another sip of my coffee. “No, no bulldozing or rubble-burning.”

“Good,” Ramon said. “I like it here.”

“Me too.”

Taco got up, stretched, then flopped out into as much sun as he could manage.

“What about your uncle?” Ramon asked.

“We are in a delicate state of truce. That’s enough for now, I think.” I stared into my half-empty cup. “Are you … okay?”

Ramon was also having a staring contest with his coffee. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it? What I am?”

“What? No. I don’t care if you start turning into a purple-spotted giraffe hell-bent on world domination—you’re still my best friend.”

He set down his mug and turned to me. “Then what
is
bothering you?”

“I guess I feel, I don’t know, responsible.”

“For what?”