Restless (20 page)

3
6. BLUE BLOOD

“SO, WHAT DO WE DO NOW?”
Leesa asked, afraid that she already knew the answer.

Dominic slid the computer back over to Cali, who turned it off and closed the lid.

“I must try to stop him,” he replied. “There is no longer a choice. I must take the fight to him.”

“You mean ‘we,’ don’t you?” Leesa asked. “
We
must take the fight to him.”

Dominic put Leesa’s hands together and clasped them in his. He stared into her face.

“You do not have to accompany me,” he said.

Leesa looked at the wizard in disbelief. “Not accompany you?” she asked. “Isn’t this why you imparted your magic to me in the first place?
Why you’ve been training me so hard? To aid you in this struggle?”

“
Yes, it is. But you are not yet ready for this. I had hoped to have more time to prepare you.”

“Nevertheless, fledg
ling waziri or not, what kind of wizard would I be if I let you face the Necromancer and the black waziri alone?” She turned her palms up and squeezed Dominic’s hands. “You’ve become like a father to me. I’m not going to let you do this by yourself.”

“Not by myself,” Dominic said. “Jenna will be joining me.” He turned his gaze toward Rave. “I’m hoping Rave will come, too.”

Leesa twisted her head around and looked at Rave, who nodded.

“I will go,” he said. “Dral and Bain, too. A world ruled by zombies and black magic is not one
we volkaanes would choose to live in.”

Leesa pulled her hands free from Dominic and stood up. She looked back and forth
between Rave and Dominic, her expression stern. “If either of you think I would let you go do this without me, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Rave’s face broke into a grin.
“I told you,” he said to Dominic.

“Told him what?” Leesa asked, exasperated. “Did you two discuss this already
behind my back?”

“I told Dominic that when the time came, there would be no way to make you stay behind. I
do
know you well enough, my love.”

“Well,
as long as that’s settled, then.” Leesa sat back down. “When do we leave?”

“Wait a minute,” Cali said. “I’m coming, too.”

Her three companions all turned toward her. Dominic and Rave looked surprised, but Leesa did not. She knew Cali too well.

“I know I don’t have any
powers of my own,” Cali said. “But if I stay close enough to Leesa, maybe I can use some of her magic to protect her back or something.”

“Don’t try to argue with her,” Leesa
advised. “It’s as useless as arguing with me.” She grinned. “Maybe that’s one reason we’re such great friends.”

“I guess
we have nothing left to discuss, then,” Dominic said. He turned to Leesa. “Call Jenna. Tell her to meet us here as quickly as possible.”

Leesa took out her cell and called Jenna, who answered on the third ring. Leesa relayed Dominic’s message.

“She’ll be here in less than twenty minutes,” Leesa told Dominic after she hung up.

“
I should get going and collect Dral and Bain,” Rave said. “It will take us longer than the rest of you to get there. Where are you heading?” he asked Dominic.

“To Woburn, where the zombies attacked tonight.
You and your friends can join us there. I will be able to follow the black waziris’ magical trail wherever it leads.”

“You said time is of the essence
,” Rave reminded the wizard. “There’s something I can do to let me find you from a much greater distance than merely sensing the vampire in Leesa’s blood. That way you can start tracking them as soon as you get there—you won’t have to wait for us to arrive.” He looked at Leesa. “If you are agreeable, that is.”

“Of course I am,” Leesa said. “What is it?”

Rave ran his fingernail down the back of his hand, pressing hard enough to break the skin. A thick blue liquid oozed up from the cut. Leesa thought she might even have seen a faint hint of smoke, but she couldn’t be sure.

“
Holy crap,” Cali said. “I don’t believe it—even your freaking blood is blue.”

Rave held his hand up to Leesa.
“Drink a bit of this,” he said. “With my blood inside you, I’ll be able to find you from many miles away.”

Despite the strangeness of the thick blue blood, Leesa did not hesitate. This was the m
an she had given her heart to—anything that would make it easier for him to find her was okay with her, especially in a time of need like this. She pressed her lips to the back of Rave’s hand and sucked down a small swallow of the blue liquid.

The taste was
nothing like she was expecting—it was almost indescribable. Rave’s blood was hot and sweet, sweeter than the sweetest hot chocolate she had ever tasted, with the smooth consistency of maple syrup. She smiled when she pulled her mouth away from his hand.

“Wow,” she said. “No wonder vampires like volkaane blood so much. It’s hot and delicious.”

“Can I have a taste?” Cali asked, grinning. “You might need to find me someday.”

“Incorrigible,” Leesa said,
shaking her head and using her favorite description of Cali’s irrepressible nature.

Rave
pressed a napkin over the wound to stop the bleeding. He stood up to leave.

“Wait a minute,” Leesa said. “Won’t vampires be able to smell that cut? They might be out hunting, especially with the
Destiratu
still going on.”

“I’ll be careful, but it’s a risk I’ll have to take.”

“No you won’t,” Leesa said. She peeled the napkin from Rave’s hand. “I can heal it, remember?”

Rave’
s cut had stopped oozing, but blue blood was still visible. He took the napkin from Leesa and held it close to his chest where no one in the shop could see it. He pressed his finger to the blue stain. His fingertip began to glow a faint blue.

“
I’d better burn this,” he said. “Or else it might draw a vampire to this place after I’m gone.”

When he lifted his finger, the blue part of the napkin had been charred brown. He crumbled up the napkin and held his
cut hand out to Leesa.

She
placed her palm over the wound and pictured the skin on Rave’s hand the way it normally looked. She felt her palm grow warm. When she took her hand away, Rave’s cut was completely gone.

“
Now
you can go,” she said.

Rave smiled. “That’s my girl.” He kissed Leesa on the
forehead. “I’ll see you all soon.”

He turned and left the coffee shop.

3
7. SPINNING BLACKNESS

LOCATED ABOUT TEN MILES NORTH
of Boston, the city of Lynn boasts the largest cemetery in the entire state of Massachusetts. The Pine Grove Cemetery covers more than two hundred and fifty acres, all of which are enclosed by a stone wall said to be the second longest continuous stone wall in the world, trailing only the Great Wall of China. Slightly more than eighty acres are currently used as graveyard, containing almost ninety thousand graves. The entire population of Lynn is about ninety thousand people, making it one of the few towns of any size containing as many deceased people as live ones. The number of dead plus the size of the surrounding population made it the perfect place for the next stage of the Necromancer’s plan.

Having made the sh
ort drive from Woburn, his oversized RV eased to a stop on a quiet street along one edge of the cemetery shortly before midnight. Viktor emerged from the vehicle, almost invisible in his black cloak. He crossed to the head-high rock wall—easy enough for anyone but the Necromancer to climb over—and placed his hand a few inches from the rough stone. Black magic flowed out of his palm onto the wall, spreading until it had enveloped a five-foot wide section from top to bottom. Viktor uttered a single sharp command and the stone simply dissolved, leaving a hole wide enough for even the Necromancer to squeeze through.

Watching from inside the RV’s tinted windows, the Necromancer heaved himself to his feet when he saw the wall dissolve.

“It is time,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Andre and Jordan followed him as he lumbered through the bus toward the door.
Behind them, two of the servants carried a sturdy chair.

A reinforced hydraulic lift similar to those used by wheelchair patients lowered
the Necromancer to the ground. Breathing hard, he crossed the sidewalk and narrow strip of grass and passed through the hole in the wall. Viktor was waiting for him just inside the cemetery. Andre and Jordan joined them seconds later, followed by the servants with the chair, which they gratefully set onto the grass. Their job done for now, the servants quickly retreated back into the RV.

A full moon cast a dim ill
umination over the scene. The party had entered one of the more modern sections of the cemetery, one where most of the marble gravestones were less than fifty-years old and had only just begun to weather. The thick grass was well-manicured and the trees were small and neat.

None of this except the full moon mattered to the Necromancer.

He dug into his cloak pocket and pulled out his shrunken table. He handed it to Andre, who placed it gently onto the ground and then stepped quickly back.

The Necromancer held
his arms out wide and began his sing-song chant. The tiny table began to shimmer and started to grow. Within a minute, it had expanded to full size. The Necromancer continued chanting, shifting his tone as he began the incantation that activated the table and called the imprisoned eyes to the surface. When they were all glowing brightly, he fell silent for a few moments, gathering his breath.

His three followers watched closely. They had witnessed this ritual before
, had heard these incantations, but after the success at Woburn a few hours ago, all of them knew that something different would be happening this time. None of them knew exactly what, though. And where their temperamental leader was concerned, that was always a dangerous thing.

The Necromancer bent forward and place
d his fleshy hands as far out onto the surface of the table as he could reach. The glowing eyes seemed to shrink away from his touch.

He began a third incantation. This one sounded similar to the ones his lieutenants had heard in the past, but
with subtle differences in tone and rhythm. Black magic, thicker and more viscous than anything they had seen before, began to drip down from the edge of the table. The grass where it landed hissed audibly and shriveled up, burned away by the magic. The black ooze continued spilling from the table in thicker and thicker streams, until what looked like a puddle formed on the now bare ground.

Still the Necromancer chanted. The black puddle grew until it was nearly
as wide around as the table itself. Finally, he fell silent, but only for the time it took him to lift his hands from the table and kneel beside the pool of dark magic.

Only the full moon reflected in the blackness—the images of the Necromancer and his followers seemed to be swallowed up by the
ooze.

The Necromancer held his hands out over the blackness and began still another chant, one unlike anything his henchmen had heard before. Ripples appeared on the surface of the magic and it began to slowly spin, first at the edges and then all the way to the center. As the Necromancer increased the pace of his incantation, the speed of the spinning magic increased as well, twirling faster and faster until it resembled a black whirlpool reaching down into the earth.

The Necromancer ceased his chant. The whirlpool continued to spin, but more slowly now that it was not being augmented by his spell. He pushed himself to his feet and turned to Andre.

“My little pet needs to
be fed,” the Necromancer said. “The honor of nourishing it falls to you.”

A look of alarm flashed across Andre’s face.
Something in his master’s tone seemed ominous.

“Nourish it?” he stammered. “How? I have no knowledge of this new magic.”

“You will feed it with your magical essence,” the Necromancer replied. “Your dark spirit shall nourish and strengthen it.”

Andre’s eyes grew wide. “You don’t mean…?” He cut off his words, unable to finish the gruesome thought.

“That is exactly what I mean. You will give yourself over to the magic.”

“Master, no… please, I beg you. There must be another way. I have always served you loyally.”

A hideous smile curved the Necromancer’s thick lips. “Yes, you have. And now you shall serve me yet again.”

“But…if I do as you request…I shall cease to
exist. How shall I serve you then?”

“You shall serve me by giving yourself to the magic,” the Necromancer replied. He laid his heavy ha
nd upon Andre’s shoulder. “You have been existing on borrowed time ever since Dominic defeated you, and I had to steal your essence away before he could destroy it. Now that essence will further my aims.”

The Necromancer shoved Andre hard, sending the black wizard sprawling into the rushing whirlpool of magic. Andre let out a blood curdling scream as his body began to spin wildly in the dark depths, growing smaller and smaller as it seemed to
sink deeper into the magical vortex. His terrified wail grew fainter as he shrank from sight. His scream ceased at the same time his body disappeared from view.

Viktor and Jordan watched in terror as their comrade vanished into the blackness, each praying that a similar fate
did not await them. Viktor felt reasonably certain his master would not dispose of his only remaining black waziri, but he knew there were no guarantees where the Necromancer was concerned. As a mere apprentice, Jordan could find no such comfort.

M
oments after the whirlpool swallowed Andre, the Necromancer began another strange chant. As his voice rang out in a slow, haunting rhythm, narrow ribbons of black smoke began to curl upward from the dark pool’s edges. Unlike normal smoke, these did not spread out or dissipate as they rose—they remained thick and solid looking. When they reached a height of three to four feet, they bent unnaturally—flowing against the light breeze—and snaked out into the cemetery.

At first
, only three columns emanated from within the whirlpool, but with every passing minute more columns arose from the blackness, until dozens of fingers of smoke were wending their way into the graveyard. The Necromancer and his two remaining followers watched as the ribbons of smoke began to bend earthward, seeking out the ground at the base of headstones.