Necromancing the Stone (7 page)

“The previous owner must have had a flair for the dramatic.”

James made a noncommittal noise. “If I’m ever in the underworld, I will ask him.” He pulled a long silver chain out of his pocket. “I figured you’d want this.” He took his knife out, cutting the cord quickly. Once the coin was on the chain, he slipped it over Douglas’s head. Douglas felt an icy resonance when it hit his chest. A hypothermic blast, then feeling, real feeling, and not some ghostly approximation, returned. He stretched his arms out and looked at his hands. Solid. Real. At least as long as the coin was around his neck. No need for the rotting shell of a body in the mausoleum. He was tempted to kick up his heels in triumph. Well, almost.

“Where on earth did you obtain a Stygian coin?”

James shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Not really. Impressive, though.” Douglas stretched, enjoying the feeling of having substance again. The coin was like a tiny silver miracle.

“You’re welcome.” James sat down on the marble bench of the mausoleum, adjusting his duster as he did so. “My place is here—I should be here with you,” he said forcefully. To Douglas it seemed that James said this more to himself than anything.

“Nothing would draw suspicion faster than if you left. Everyone knows a
pukis
only changes hands if the owner dies. Your disappearance would cause problems.” Douglas examined James’s face. He supposed most would look at it and see only faint boredom, nothing more. But Douglas had owned James for a long time. He could see concern in the tilt of James’s head, fear in the slightly pinched brow, and an overall confusion in the set of James’s body. For a brief second, Douglas wondered if it might be too much, asking him to serve two masters.

Then James changed the subject, and Douglas let him. “That coin should enable you to move more freely, anyway. Though my earlier suggestion still stands.”

“Starting over seems a lot like quitting to me, James.”

The
pukis
shifted, looking uncomfortable. “You have a chance at a clean slate. Go anywhere. Be anyone. I implore you, let it go.”

“Let my murderer go free? No consequences? Let bygones be bygones, and such rubbish?” Douglas snorted. “I think not. Besides, I’m not willing to throw away all the work I’ve put into this area. It will take some adjustments, I know, but the removal of a few key obstacles should do the trick.” The key obstacles being Brannoc and Sam, of course. It would feel good to get those two off the Council, then once they were safely taken care of, Douglas would emerge and disband what was left. No more governing by democratic discussion. He would rule. And after that, he could start expanding his realm, one piece at a time. The possibilities were endless.

James looked down, and his hair slid over his eyes. He had to twitch it away with a shake of his head. Douglas had never seen it so long and noticed for the first time that there was some curl to it. Then he realized that this was because he hadn’t been there to tell James to get a haircut. It wasn’t exactly a game they played, but it was close. James would get a bit shaggy. Douglas would threaten him with some scissors and a bowl. Then, feigning submission, James would make an appointment at the barber’s. That exchange was no longer taking place, and even though it was but a small moment in their otherwise lengthy lives, Douglas grieved for it. Briefly. Then the grief turned to anger, as it always did with him.

“You were overconfident last time,” James said softly.

“He was lucky.”

“He might be lucky again.”

“I highly doubt that. Did you fulfill your other task? It’s about time we started our campaign against one Samhain LaCroix.”

James hesitated before answering.

“James.”

“I purchased the athame—plain and common, just like you asked, but…”

Douglas tapped his fingers impatiently on the wall of the mausoleum. His delight in the ease it took to tap his fingers overwhelmed his frustration with James, but only momentarily. “Should I be sending my condolences to the LaCroix family or not, James?”

The lock of hair slipped back onto his forehead as James shook his head. “It’s just … I thought…” His jaw clenched as he looked away. “I thought I would draw it out more. Build the situation up. Spread him—and his resources—even more thin than they are.” He looked back at Douglas pleadingly. “Do you see?”

“If you didn’t stick her with the knife, then where did you stick it?”

James looked at his feet. “In her door.”

“Her bedroom door? Not the front door?”

James nodded.

Douglas continued his
tap-tap-tap
on the wall and considered this. Sam was such a sensitive boy, disgustingly sentimental by nature. With people like that the best way to hurt them was through the people they held dear. Killing the blond girl had proved that.

He’d cycled through several targets and had landed on one: Sam’s sister. With that in mind, he’d sent James over to slice her up like a Christmas ham. A nice visual and a very clear point, but then again, over very quickly. Perhaps James’s version would be ultimately more pleasing.

“Dramatic,” he said. James performed best when he wasn’t micromanaged. Sometimes he forgot that. “I like it.” Yes, this way was infinitely better. James had violated the inner sanctum. He’d breezed past defenses and doors and sidled right up to his quarry—mere feet away. No one in the LaCroix family would be sleeping easy now. Which would mean that when he actually killed the girl, it would be that much more effective. Oh, the guilt Sam would feel—the powerlessness! Douglas wanted to do a jig at the idea, but settled for a smile. It seemed more dignified.

In contrast, James was so still that he almost appeared to be meditating. Finally, he asked, “Why her?”

Douglas paused before answering, but only because he was surprised that James had asked the question in the first place. “Anyone in my house posed some risk—too easy to be seen there, and I’d rather avoid it. Brid was also hazardous—besides, I’d like her to be alive so that she can receive the full impact of future events. That left Sam’s mother and sister. Out of the two, I thought Haley would be the easiest target. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering if there was a better choice, tactically speaking,” James muttered. “But you seem to have come to the best conclusion.”

“Naturally.”

He stretched then, just because he could. With the coin on, Douglas felt as good as new. Solid. Like nothing had happened to him. If they hadn’t been hanging out in a mausoleum next to his rotting shell, he’d say he wasn’t dead at all. As long as he kept the coin on, of course. That might become a nuisance eventually, but he could deal with it later. For now, he’d handle the problems directly in his path, like Sam. Of course it was only natural for James to fret, but really, what could Sam possibly do? Kill him twice? “You seem troubled by my orders. Should I be concerned about your loyalty, James?”

James stared at his shoes, taking his time to respond. “I’m worried about you.” He’d never been particularly demonstrative, even in his youth. Douglas had owned him since James was but a boy, and even then he’d been quiet, scrawny and pale, but with an air of gravity rare in someone so young. The way he was acting now was tantamount to an emotional breakdown in everyone else.

Douglas placed a hand on James’s shoulder. “I know.”

An unspoken phrase hung between them both:
You are all I have.
Neither of them had ever said it, not once in all their time together. But they both knew it was true. People had floated in and out of Douglas’s life, but James was the only one who’d stuck.

Though it was warm and pleasant outside, the air inside the mausoleum was chill and quiet. James cleared his throat. “The coin should help you find what you’re looking for, at any rate.”

Douglas held the Stygian coin up for a better look. Remarkable. “Are you sure it wasn’t where I’d left it? In the china figurine in the music room?”

James shook his head, his silver eyes cloudy. “Empty. It’s somewhere in the house, I assume. Perhaps you moved it at some point and forgot?”

“Not likely. That’s not the sort of thing one misplaces.”

“I can’t see it the way you can. It would be best for you to look—more efficient that way.” James pursed his lips. “Are you absolutely positive that you need it?”

“Yes. The coin is nice, but it’s more of a temporary measure. I need the egg to be completely restored. Besides, it wouldn’t do for anyone else to get ahold of it. Consequences of a dire nature and all that.” Douglas let the Stygian coin drop against his shirtfront. “Ask around—carefully. Maybe the gnomes found it and did something with it. Don’t let on what it’s for. I don’t want them thinking they have something to barter with.”

“Lovely. If those little barbarians got it, then it could be anywhere.”

“Just don’t let
him
find it,” Douglas said, his hand resting on James’s shoulder.

James made a noise. “Even if he did, he wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

7

SMOKE ON THE WATER

I unbuttoned the top of my shirt as I looked at the Tongue & Buckle. I wasn’t used to button-up shirts. I only owned two. The one I had on was new, a gift from my sister. Just thinking about her made my fingers worry nervously at the next button. The shirt was black, short-sleeved with tiny little skulls on the pocket. On the back, a Day of the Dead style Virgin Mary. Haley has a wicked sense of humor.

James didn’t insist on much, but he did insist on dressing up for meetings. Ridiculous, since one of the members had a hard time wearing pants. Wait, what was I thinking? James insisted on tons of things. I undid another button.

“You’re one away from a nice seventies look.” Sean put his feet up on the dash.

“I’d need chest hair for that. And gold chains.”

“True.” He leaned farther back into the passenger seat, if that was even possible. Sean, at least, never bitched about my Subaru. “You know, you’re going to have to go in eventually. And the longer you wait, the longer you’re in those clothes.”

I flicked a piece of lint off the black slacks James had dug up for me. He’d grunted at inspection. That grunt probably meant he’d be taking me shopping soon. Or it might have been directed at my Cons. You never knew. He needed to cut me some slack. My last job had been flipping burgers. You didn’t buy dress shoes for a job like that. With a job like that, you couldn’t even afford dress shoes. Or clothes. You couldn’t afford anything, really.

Sean looked over at the pub. “What did Groucho Marx say about being aware of any job that requires new clothes?”

“The quote is that we should ‘beware of all enterprises that require new clothes,’ and it’s Thoreau, not Groucho Marx.”

“Oooh, listen to you. ‘It’s Thoreau.’ Well, we didn’t all go to college for a quarter.”

“I went for a year, not a quarter, and shut up.” I stared at the door with him. I wished Sean could go in with me. Backup might be nice, but it had been explained to me that taking in a bodyguard was a sign of weakness. It meant that I didn’t trust the group. It also meant that I didn’t think I was as strong as they were. Of course, I did feel that way, but the important thing was not to show it.

“Groucho, Thoreau, whatever.”

“Don’t you have tutors at the Den?”

“Yup. That doesn’t mean I pay attention to them.”

“Fair enough.” I opened the door. “Don’t wait up.”

“My entire job right now is to wait up.”

I shut the door and headed for the bar.

*   *   *

Zeke looks like a bodyguard. He’s huge—a mass of muscle and sinew. He’d break my neck if I tried, but I’m pretty sure you could actually grate cheese off his abs. Not that I wanted to know about his abs, but his shirt was so tight I could make them out, and he’s a lot taller than me, which makes them hard to miss. I had a sudden image of him using his abs to grate my face. Unpleasant.

And yet, for some reason, Zeke seemed afraid of me. I couldn’t figure it out. I had slipped on the light suit jacket that went with the pants, and it flared out as I spread my arms for my pat down. Then I shucked off my Cons so he could inspect those, too. Zeke was thorough. He waved me on, then reluctantly pulled out one of the old wooden chairs for me to sit in so I could put my shoes back on. I nodded thanks as I tied my laces. Everything, with the exceptions of the staff and patrons, looked stained with age and use, giving the pub a strangely cozy feeling. If I ever got over my nervousness about coming to meetings, I might really like the Tongue & Buckle.

My shoes were tied, and I couldn’t delay anymore. It was time to join the rest of the Council.

The meetings took place in the back room of the bar at a giant curved table. I grabbed an empty seat next to Brannoc, which is where I usually sat, because he was the one person I knew. He smiled at me—more welcoming than the greeting I got from Kell. The vampire didn’t like me much. From what I gathered, it had something to do with Kell being dead and me being the mayor of Zombieville. I didn’t know too much about it. As soon as I could think of a polite way to bring up Kell’s potential enslavement via necromancy, I’d ask. Until then, I just tried to be nice.

The Council is a motley crew. It’s composed of me, Brannoc, Kell, a satyr named Pello, a witch named Ione, a fury named Ariana, and Aengus, the bartender. I wasn’t entirely sure yet what category Aengus fell into, or what a fury was exactly, besides what I’d read in Greek mythology. Overall, a very intimidating group. I guess that’s kind of the point.

We didn’t have a whole lot of stuff to deal with this time. Petitions to move into or out of the area, mostly. I got roped into accompanying Pello and Kell to a meeting with a representative of the local sea folk. I wasn’t really sure what that entailed. I hadn’t even known we had an underwater contingent.

I ordered a soda from the bar during the break. While I waited for it, I sat on the stool and stared down at my coaster. What the hell was I doing? I had no idea what the other members of the Council were even talking about half the time, and I couldn’t ask them any questions because, once again, it was another thing that would make me look weak. How the hell was I supposed to help anyone, when I didn’t even know what was going on? I spun the coaster in a circle. I was so screwed.