Necromancing the Stone (6 page)

I rolled it over in my hand. Odd that anyone would hide something so pretty. Odder still that the egg felt cold to the touch, almost magically so. Marble was sometimes like that. Was jade? I examined it carefully, because that’s how you should treat a new thing in Douglas’s house: carefully and like it could kill you at any moment. There was something different about the egg, but I was too tired to really think it through.

My pajama pants didn’t have pockets, and I was reluctant to leave the egg lying around. I opened up my pouch—my mom had told me never to open it, but that was before I’d known what it really was—and tucked the egg inside. Mom had made the pouch to hide me from the things that go bump in the night. You know, the kinds of things that might want to talk to someone like me. It was also supposed to hide me from, well, someone like me. I figured it could hold on to the egg for a little while. Record in hand, I turned off the light and headed back to my room.

*   *   *

Haley woke me with a phone call, which was a little unusual. My sister is a texter, especially if she thinks I might be asleep. I mumbled something—it might have been “hello,” or it might have been “piss off.” It’s hard to be sure of these things sometimes.

“Be nice,” she said. Which meant I’d probably told her to piss off.

“Sorry,” I grumbled, but I only half meant it. “What’s up?”

“Are you free tomorrow? I wanted to see if maybe you’d pick me up from the library.”

“Of course. Yeah. Wait.” Something was wrong with the conversation, and I was having a difficult time brushing away the cobwebs and figuring out what it was. Finally, my brain caught up with an almost audible ding. “Why aren’t you catching the bus?” Haley was an independent kind of girl and liked to function without the help of, say, me. So generally she only pestered me for rides if she couldn’t catch a bus or she needed some other favor.

“Can’t a girl just want to see her big brother?”

Alarm bells now. Flashing red lights. Danger, Danger, Will Robinson. “What happened, Haley? And skip the bullshit, please. I haven’t had any coffee yet.”

“It’s nothing. Really. Sort of. It was probably just a prank. Mom’s overreacting, and now she doesn’t want me catching the bus home by myself.”

A flicker of the last violently delivered message—namely Brooke’s head in a box—surfaced before I could suppress it. Now that I was paying attention, I could hear the tiny vibration of fear in Haley’s voice. I should have noticed it instantly. “What kind of prank?”

“Don’t freak out, Sam. Mom’s bad enough.”

“I will freak out less when you tell me.”

“Someone left a knife in the door.” Her voice was nonchalant, trying to mask her fear, trying to make it sound as if someone had simply left flowers.

“A … knife? No note? Nothing else?”

“That’s it. Knife. Door. It’s not a big deal.” Before I could argue or lecture she said, “Please don’t worry. We’re fine.”

I rubbed a hand over my face. Of course I was going to worry. But I could do that on my own time and not lay it all on Haley. “Okay. I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Just be careful. And, Haley—carry some Mace or something, will you?”

She forced a laugh, and we went over the details before she hung up. Haley might be shrugging it off or downplaying it so I wouldn’t worry, but I knew better than to ignore threats. Just like I knew better than to think this didn’t involve me in some way. Who on earth would threaten my baby sister and a witch who makes shampoo? No one, unless they were actually aiming at me. A chill eased up my spine, and I shivered.

I couldn’t go back to sleep after that.

*   *   *

Grass tickled my hands as the sunlight created a warm red glow on my eyelids. It made it hard to keep them closed. I was practicing my newfound skills with a game of hide-and-seek with Ashley and Brooke. A game, I might add, where I was always It.

Though I was never very good at it, I was worse that day—it was hard to concentrate on practice when I kept replaying my conversation with Haley in my head. I squeezed my eyes shut and searched. I could sense Ashley off to my left, the crackling presence of a Harbinger. I could feel the shadows of plants, trees, and animals. The outlines came together in my head. But I couldn’t see Brooke. I tried harder. Nothing. Which wasn’t possible, since I knew she was hiding out there somewhere. I just didn’t know where. I turned around. Still nothing. I steadied my breathing and thought. Where else could she be? I turned back around and tilted my head up slightly. In my mental sketch of the forest, I could clearly see Brooke’s long legs dangling over a tree branch. They were swinging back and forth nonchalantly, because apparently to Brooke being that far up in a tree was no big thing. I guess once you’re dead, falling from great heights loses some of its scariness. I smiled and opened my eyes. “Olly, olly, oxen free.”

James walked out onto the lawn, his tail twitching. “What’s next, kick the can?” He sat next to me, his head high as he told Frank where to set the picnic basket. “He’s a member of the Council, and you have him playing children’s games.”

Ashley shot him a withering look. “He needs to learn precision, and his grasp of the basics is fuzzy at best.”

“Why are you back in that form again?” I asked. “You could have carried the basket yourself if you’d switched.”

James turned his cool feline gaze on me. “What, Frank is too good to carry food, but it’s okay for me to do it?”

“No,” I said, exasperated. “That’s not what I meant. I … you know what? Never mind. If you want to be a kitty, be a kitty.”

“I don’t mind,” Frank said as he set down the basket. He opened it and took out a blanket, followed by an assorted picnic lunch. I had no idea what I was paying James, but based on his picnic-assembling skills alone, he needed a raise. I moved over to the blanket and snagged a piece of cheese.

Ashley flopped onto her side, her pigtails swinging. She arranged her skirt. I’m not sure why, but she generally dressed like a Catholic schoolgirl. “Hand over the goods, Frank.”

Frank reached back into the basket and pulled out a plastic container. I didn’t have to look into it to know that it held Belgian waffles with fresh strawberries. The smaller container probably held syrup. I’m sure James even had whipped cream somewhere. As part of a bargain, I owed Ashley a steady supply of waffles. After I moved in, James took over on the days I was home. At first Ashley argued and said this was against the spirit of the agreement. But after one spectacularly awful batch of waffles by me, Ashley conceded. The kitchen is just not my domain. Not sure I have a domain. I should get one.

Brooke settled down next to Ashley and pulled out her spectral clipboard. She’d become very fond of it. “Speaking of Council,” she said, “don’t forget the meeting is at four.”

“How could I forget? No one here would let me if I tried.”

“Well, someone has to keep your shit together in my absence.” The voice came from behind me. A little lower than I remembered, like someone had taken a slight bass growl and added it over his regular voice. Changed or not, I knew that voice. I hopped to my feet in an instant.

Ramon stood a few paces back, a black duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Dessa, the daughter of a local seer named Maya who’d helped us out during the Douglas thing, stood a few paces back, waving. She was also related to June, the only other necromancer I knew personally. I should also add that Dessa is a stone-cold fox—Ramon’s words, not mine.

I felt most of my guilt and worry vanish when I saw Ramon grinning fit to explode. The guilt would return, probably in spades, but I’d worry about that later. I hugged the bastard. He hugged me back without hesitation. I could feel some of his new strength, though it was obvious he was trying to be careful. He squeezed me again.

“Man, it’s good to see you.”

Aaaaaaaaaand the guilt was back. The pack had told me not to visit, but I hadn’t tried very hard. “They told me—”

“I know,” he said. “No worries. Now, let’s break it up before people start to question our sexuality again.” I laughed and let him go.

“They told me the same thing,” Dessa said. “So I just texted him instead.” Why hadn’t I thought of that? Because I’d been afraid of what his return texts would say, probably. Or worse—that I’d get no reply at all.

Brooke squealed and clapped, jumping up to give Ramon a quick ghostly kiss on the cheek. “I would’ve visited, but you wouldn’t have been able to see me. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on these two.” She kissed his other cheek, just for good measure.

“Good to see you too,
chica
,” he said.

I introduced him to the rest of the group. James, doing his best to look abused even in feline form, ordered Frank to make up a large plate of food and pass it to Ramon. He took it with a thanks and dug in. It was good to see him up and healthy again. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been unconscious in a hospital bed, strapped down with wires and cuffs. He’d been fighting the infection then, all because he’d barged in, white-knight style, to save me. It had been touch-and-go for a bit. Now he looked back to normal, with the exception of a few pounds of muscle added on. Ramon used to be as slender and scrawny as me. Not anymore. Just one more new thing to get used to. I pointed out the new skate ramp—as if he could miss it—and called it a welcome-home present. James made sure to refer to it as an eyesore that was ruining the lawn, and I made sure to ignore him.

“Let’s go check out your new digs so you can put your crap away,” I said, punching Ramon in the arm.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from Ramon’s new room. James could be a bit unpredictable at times. I think after all his complaining, I expected something Spartan, cold, maybe just enough effort to get by, like a prison cell or a college dorm. Instead, I was greeted by a massive four-poster bed complete with curtains and dark cotton sheets. The frame looked like oak. There was a matching desk and nightstand. James had even unpacked Ramon’s stuff left over from the move out of our old apartment.

“Wow.” Ramon flopped onto the bed as I continued to gape.

“Yes, well, it was the best I could do on short notice.” James hopped up onto an armchair. “I put what few things you had from Sam’s place away. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it might help you settle. Feel free to move anything you like.”

I ran and threw myself on the bed too. It poofed. A feather mattress. Hot damn. “How come you didn’t do this with my room? I still have milk crates holding up a plywood shelf for my books.”

“If you remember, you insisted on bringing your own stuff, including that moth-eaten thing you call a mattress. You wouldn’t even put your music in the library, or your books. Ridiculous.”

I hadn’t wanted to mix up my stuff with Douglas’s. I know it sounds weird, but I felt like, once that happened, this new house situation was permanent, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. Besides, evil bastards shouldn’t like good music. It just doesn’t go with torture and dark machinations. Which reminded me, I should show someone that egg I found. But I was really comfortable.… I sank deeper into the bed.

“I don’t remember that,” I lied.

“You referred to it as a ‘slippery slope,’ saying you didn’t want to get used to Douglas’s wealth and lifestyle. Why you think luxury leads to the dark side is beyond me. Having nice things doesn’t necessitate evil. You work hard. Why can’t you sleep on something that isn’t a home for millions of dust mites?”

He had a point. I didn’t want to get any closer to being like Douglas, but did that mean I needed to keep my room in a squalid condition because that was familiar? Was I just being stubborn?

Ramon got up and started exploring his room. “You kept all your crap furniture?”

“Most of it,” I said. “The stuff that would fit in my room. James wouldn’t allow some of my stuff in the common areas.”

“I was afraid it might give the other furniture ideas. Pretty soon the whole house might start slumming it.”

“Be nice,” I said. James’s only response was a slow feline blink.

“You’re like one of those monks who beats himself with a cat-o’-nine-tails in order to stay penitent.” Ramon opened one of the desk drawers and turned to James. “You even put office supplies in here. Thanks, man. I owe you one.” He peered more closely at it. “Is this engraved?”

“What does it say?” I rolled a little closer on Ramon’s heaven mattress.

“It has my name,” Ramon said, slowly. “And what appears to be a bear paw print.”

I watched his face to see his reaction as he stared at the paper, looking for any hint of anger or self-pity. I wasn’t really sure yet how Ramon was taking his … condition. A wave of relief went through me as the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. He laughed, a deep, belly-wrenching laugh, and thanked James again.

James stiffened a little, his ears twitching forward in attention, like he hadn’t expected the gratitude. “You’re welcome. I also took the liberty of purchasing some basic bathroom items for you. They are in the washroom across the hall. You’ll have to share with Sean, I’m afraid.”

Ramon shrugged. “That’s cool. I’m just glad to have an actual bed. No more couch living for Ramon.”

“Don’t talk about yourself in the third person,” I said. “It’s creepy.”

Ramon pulled out his desk chair and sat. “Sam, I know why you held on to your stuff, but seriously, you’re not going to go all evil just because you get a new bed and a shelf. I don’t think you’re bought off that easy. But if you’re worried, I can keep an eye on you.”

“Yes,” James said drily, “we can always keep your stuff in the basement with the rest of the torture devices should the need to self-flagellate arise at any point.”

“All right, all right,” I said. “I give. James, you win. May I please have new furniture?”

He gave me a slow, regal blink. “As Master wishes.”

“Cut it out.”

Then he stared at the clock and left, soft paws padding down the hall. I got the message. It was time to go greet the other Council members.

6

EVERY TIME IT RAINS, IT RAINS PENNIES FROM HEAVEN

Douglas examined the coin lying in James’s hand. Flat and silver, the writing or the symbols had been worn smooth long ago. He couldn’t even hazard a guess as to its country of origin. It was attached to a heavy, braided cord that was stained with age. Supposedly, it was a piece of hangman’s rope, which Douglas found a touch excessive.