Page 11

T hanks to that quick call, Jean-Claude met us at the door at street level. He let us in, got us upstairs, and did a bang-up job of prepping Rollo’s body for what came next. By the time Vi declared me a graduate from her homeschool for necromancers, he had learned as much about the theory of necromancy as me.

That was why I found Rollo’s body lying on the floor in his room inside a perfect salt circle dotted with the burned-down nubs of candles Jean-Claude had taken from my bag. And why I was able to step right in with Kierce, who would have to handle my usual part, behind me.

“Light the candles moving widdershins,” I told him. “We need to raise a circle to contain Rollo’s soul.”

A tether remained between his spirit and his body. Otherwise, his body would have stopped breathing, pumping blood to his heart, and all the other things that kept a person alive. I had to hope that conduit was enough for his soul to latch onto and root itself where it belonged.

With deft hands, Kierce lit the candles, singing a hymn under his breath that prickled my skin.

Magic rose around us, doming above us, and sealing us in with Rollo—body and soul.

“Here goes nothing.” I knelt beside him, bracing my wrists on his sternum, holding my cupped hands over his heart. “Let’s hope both halves want to be a whole enough to figure out what comes next.”

The magic I used to reach into people, to rip out their souls, wasn’t gentle. I wasn’t sure it worked in reverse either. We might end up there regardless, with me attempting to reverse-engineer my process, but I would exhaust all other avenues first.

Gently, as though I were releasing a butterfly, I opened my fingers.

The ball of light dripped over my fingertips like melting wax, splashing onto Rollo’s chest.

“That’s good,” I coaxed it, unsure why I was baby-talking his spirit. “Very good.”

Afraid to blink, I waited for the glimmer to soak in. To absorb. To do…something.

“There’s too much resistance.” Kierce pricked his finger then palmed Rollo’s forehead. “His soul isn’t strong enough to fight through whatever is preventing it from reentering its vessel.”

“Do you think it’s because he’s alive?” I probed the substance on his chest with careful fingers. “But why would that bar his spirit entry when souls who astral project can slide in and out of their bodies without a problem?”

Though Rollo wasn’t as strong as Vi—few practitioners were, honestly—he was a perfectly capable astral projectionist, as he had demonstrated when he appeared to me in my home. His soul should know the mechanics even if it rarely got a chance to experience the process.

“Perhaps the enchantment altered his soul, or his body.” Kierce wiped Rollo’s forehead clean. “One half might no longer recognize the other.”

“The magic is parasitic.” We knew that much thanks to Vi. “As their souls are consumed, they forget who they are, making them more docile and willing to remain trapped, which further degrades them. Are the missing bites really enough to fundamentally alter the core of who they are?”

“Can a person be whole without their memories?”

The question was meant to come off as rhetorical, I was sure, but it lodged in my mind like a splinter.

“The past can drive us,” I said carefully, “but it can also hold us back.”

The dead behaved the same way.

Some souls were tough enough to stick around after death only to erode as years passed without them resolving their unfinished business. Others lacked even that much agency. Residual spirits were a single scene that played out over and over. A visible memory, more or less, that repeated until they ran out of energy and vanished. Forever.

There was no way to guess how long a soul lasted when plugged into a battery like this spell. That it existed at all was an unthinkable crime against the dead.

“Perhaps if we pierce the skin.” Kierce rubbed his jaw. “A small cut would tell us if it’s the right idea.”

“Okay.” Blood was a common spell ingredient, so the idea had merit. “Grab my athame?” I realized my mistake as soon as I said it. “I left the bag in my room.” I noted the thinner consistency of Rollo’s essence and knew there was no going back. “We can’t risk lowering the circle. His soul is too vulnerable. Do you have any ideas?”

“Yes,” he said after a brief hesitation. He folded his fingers into his palm except for one, which curved and blackened into a massive talon that explained how he pricked his finger earlier. “I can do it.”

That was new, but I wasn’t surprised, given his god aspect. “You’re full of cool tricks, you know that?”

“You’re the only one who has ever thought so,” he said, slicing Rollo’s shirt open a few inches below where his soul puddled and then peeling the fabric aside to reveal his bare chest. “I won’t go deep.”

With a light hand, he parted Rollo’s skin in a line about six inches long.

Blood welled and spilled down his sides, but he didn’t so much as twitch from the pain.

“Here we go.” Gently, gently , I smeared his soul like ointment over the cut. “And…”

The bluish glaze didn’t sink in or otherwise react upon contact, which set my stomach churning.

As if the heat of my palms were melting it, Rollo’s soul liquified the more I handled it.

“Nothing.” Kierce beat me to it. “There’s still a barrier preventing the two from joining.”

Mentally, I took back the petty thought I was happy to experiment on Rollo. I wasn’t. Not even a little.

“We have a couple of hours left before dawn, but I don’t think his soul will last that long.”

A spirit this vulnerable couldn’t survive sunrise outside of a host. Not without the enchantment holding it to the earth. I wasn’t sure even the box I used to transport Pedro could safely contain him, and I wasn’t eager to find out.

“You sound like you have an idea.” He waited for me to elaborate. “If you do, you need to act soon.”

“You saw what I did to Ankou. Or maybe you didn’t. You were in bad shape.”

“Yes.” His eyes held the faint glow of pride. “Are you afraid you’ll hurt Rollo?”

“I’ve only ever used that particular power to protect myself. I’m not sure it can be used any other way.”

I killed with it. Plain and simple. It was a defense mechanism the sisters of St. Mary’s had triggered in me when they went after Josie that fateful night. Since I couldn’t see any other use for sticking my hand into a person’s chest, metaphysically, and crushing the spark from their soul, I was hesitant to think that this was a safe use of my talents.

“You’re stronger now. You’ll have more control.”

Demigoddesshood hadn’t come with an instruction manual any more than necromancy had when I was a kid with powers I hadn’t understood until Vi stepped in to coach me much like Kierce was doing now.

“Yeah. One day I will. Maybe. If I start practicing. Rollo doesn’t have that kind of time.”

Gently, he reinforced a truth I didn’t want to acknowledge. “He doesn’t have time either way, Frankie.”

Hearing it out loud hurt worse than I expected when Rollo and I had been at each other’s throats for years.

“You’ll have to anchor me.” I shook out my hands. “What I do requires me to leave my body.”

Astral projection? Maybe. I wasn’t sure. I hoped this never became routine enough for me to be certain.

“If you’re lost…” he hooked a finger under my chin, “…I will find you.”

Fear had always triggered the out-of-body experience that allowed me to affect other souls. I might have worried I lacked the necessary adrenaline dump to kickstart the process had I not been terrified of what losing Rollo would do to Vi.

With a cold stone lodged in my gut, I placed my palm over Rollo’s wound, where the residue of his soul was congealing.

I could do this. I could be careful. I could use my powers for good.

I just had to focus.

Closing my eyes, I sank deep within myself, lowering the barriers that inched up whenever it hit me how much I had changed. I wasn’t the same girl who defended Josie from the ravenous claws of the vile creature hunting her.

I was an adult. I was a demigoddess. I was…

…spiraling back into the abyss of those bottomless memories.

“I hear you, little one,” a honeyed voice coaxed. “Come out. All will be well. Your sin is already forgiven.”

From where I stood in the hall, peering around the corner into the kitchen, I figured Josie was in one of the lower cabinets. That meant I had to lure the sister away. If she caught Josie sneaking food again…

“Sister?” I used my most polite voice and avoided eye contact. “Is something the matter?”

“No, darling child.” The sister, dressed in a full nun habit, laced her spindly fingers at the level of her belt. “All is well.”

“Do you need help cleaning the chapel?” I kept my head low. “I can get the broom.”

“Helpful, aren’t you, Mary Frances?” Her hem made no sound against the stone as she approached me. “You are close to Mary Josephine. I have heard you call her sister. Do you know where I might find her?”

“I haven’t seen her since lunch.”

“I do not enjoy punishing those in my charge.” Her shadow grew taller, leaner. “I am but a caretaker.”

“Yes, Sister.” A tremor shook my voice. “You are merciful.”

Fingers lengthened to needlelike tips. The sister grew until she hunched to avoid a hanging pot rack. Her breath, which had been sweet a minute ago, blew sour across the space between us. Her bones creaked when she moved closer, and her sinew popped as muscle protested the change in her nature.

“Where is Mary Josephine?” She loomed over me, dark and hungry. “I will be lenient if you tell me.”

“I—I—I haven’t seen her s-s-since lunch.”

Hooking a finger under my chin, she wrenched my head up until my nose pointed at the ceiling, forcing me to stare into the empty sockets of her eyes. “You’re lying to me, Mary Frances, and lying is a sin.”

I was screaming before her smile revealed rows of serrated teeth with rotting meat stuck between them.

Terror burned hot in my gut while icy cold spread down my arms into my hands.

And reached.

And reached.

And reached.

“Frankie.” A strong hand clamped on my shoulder. “You’re levitating.”

“Mors tua,” I rasped, throat raw, “vita mea.”

Your death, my life.

“Don’t let your past rule your present.” Gentle fingers slid across my jaw. “You’re safe here, with me.”

Safe.

I wasn’t sure I trusted the word. Or the voice speaking it. But it was a nice voice.

And when soft lips brushed mine, grew firmer, more demanding, I couldn’t help noticing the light.

The soul before me glittered like diamonds, casting rainbows along the backs of my eyes. I reached for it to feel those hard edges. I expected it to be cold, but it was warm. So warm. I luxuriated in the comfort I found there, wanting to snuggle deeper and deeper and?—

A stuttering exhale whistled past my ear, my name a prayer on that agonized breath. “Frankie.”

The brilliant light I had been admiring flickered and twisted, a flame one draft away from extinguishing.

“Kierce.” I ripped away from him, thrusting myself back into my body. “Kierce?”

Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, but he smiled down at me, trembling, his eyes sterling bright.

“Oh, God, no.” I stared at my hands in horror. “I’m so sorry.” I tucked my arms against my chest to keep them away from him. “I could have killed you.” I couldn’t breathe past the knot in my throat. “I’m?—”

“You did it.” Kierce shackled my wrist. “Look, Frankie.”

All I could see was him. His pallor. His strain. His ache. I couldn’t believe what I had almost done.

“Your hand…was in…my…chest.”

The hoarse voice snapped my attention to Rollo, who blinked like the overhead light blinded him.

“Hey.” I allowed that link to Kierce to calm my frantic heart. “How are you feeling?”

“The fuck you…think…I feel?” His head lolled toward me. “Your…hand…”

“Your soul didn’t want to go back where it came from.” He had inherited the sight from Vi, and like her, he could see my soul when it went wandering. To wake up with me wrist-deep in him must have been a fright. “We had to take extreme measures.”

As he regained his strength, he lifted his head a fraction, noticing the thin line of blood down his chest. “You cut me open?”

“Again.” I patted his cheek, trying to play it off like I hadn’t been seconds away from shattering us both. “Extreme measures.”

“We should get him into bed.” Kierce scuffed the salt line with the toe of his shoe. “He needs to rest.”

As the circle fell, Rollo’s complexion waned, and it gave me an idea. “Jean-Claude?”

We must have worked on Rollo longer than I realized since Jean-Claude had left to wait with Pedro and Josie in the living room. I recognized the squeak in the old floors as he rose from the couch and hustled down the hall. As soon as he cleared the doorway, he crossed himself and spoke a low prayer in French.

“What can I do?” He hovered on the threshold. “How can I help?”

“We need to move him to the bed, but I want to set a circle around him until we’re sure his soul is stuck tight. Can you and Kierce pull the frame out from the wall? I don’t want to leave any room for mistakes.”

“No problem.” He lifted the right side like it weighed nothing. “Two feet enough?”

“That’s fine.” I watched as Kierce picked up the left with the same effortlessness. “Thanks.”

After repositioning the eyesore of a bed and sweeping around it, Kierce laid a thick new line of salt.

Between the two of them, they had the whole thing done in under five minutes.

“Scoot aside, cher .” Jean-Claude knelt opposite me, his big joints popping like gunshots. “I’ll get him settled in.”

“I can…do it…myself,” Rollo muttered, already half asleep. “Stop…fussing…over me.”

Until I failed my first attempt at standing, I hadn’t realized that I sat on my legs for so long they had gone numb. I didn’t have time to catch my balance before Kierce scooped me off my feet and retreated to the far corner, clearing a path for Jean-Claude to tuck in Rollo.

“Wait here.” He set me on a decorative stool, backing away with reluctance. “I’ll close the circle.”

“I’ll stay with him.” I rubbed my face, exhaustion setting in, wishing I had a pot of chicory coffee to gulp. “Someone has to reset the circle if he needs to get up and pee or whatever.”

With so many cemeteries nearby, the urge to sneak out and recharge almost overwhelmed me.

“No. I’ll stay with him.” Jean-Claude cut me a scowl. “You’re about to tip over just sitting there.” To forestall any protest, he raised a gnarled hand. “If I need magic help, I’ll ask your magic man.”

A laugh made it halfway up my throat before the room tipped onto its side with a loud thump.

Or maybe that was just my head hitting the floor.