Page 21

Despite constant caution, my web of lies had unraveled before me, undone by a single thread. By making the choice to act instead of clinging to those lies, I had put everything I had ever worked for on the line. My only consolation was that I had revealed my ability for the best possible cause: to save Genie’s life. She had stepped in the way of the Fear Dearg’s deadly attack, and I had brought her back. As far as exchanges went, I felt I had received the better deal. If she hadn’t put herself in harm’s way, I would be dead, and there would have been nobody to bring me back to life. Necromancy forbade self-resurrection, unless you tricked your way into getting a charm or a spell that could allow it.

And I only knew of one such Necromancer who had done that.

Evil scumbag.Necromancy was not an ability that I’d used often. The only exception was with a childhood friend who had struck his head on a rock while diving from a riverbank, although he never found out what had truly happened to him. I had acted quickly and instinctively, before anyone noticed something was amiss. To his family, it looked as though he had temporarily lost consciousness. My mum knew the truth, but we had both agreed to never speak of it. And she’d helped me to trick every test with a temporary Suppressor, which slotted into my arm prior to getting Readings at covens and this Institute, so the Necromancy would never show up. That was both the trouble and the benefit of innate powers—using them was akin to riding a bike.

I knelt next to Genie, temporarily avoiding Persie’s leading question. “Do you feel all right?” Things could go awry with Necromancy, especially if it hadn’t been used in a very long time. Sometimes, people didn’t come back quite the same. Not zombies, per se, but… different, their eyes vacant, some vital thing forever missing.

Genie prodded her face with her fingertips. “I think so. It’s hard to tell, since I’m freezing my ass off in this rain.”

I shuffled off my soaking wet jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “You don’t feel… off at all?” I asked. She looked and sounded like herself, but that was no assurance that I’d done a complete job. That was another reason I had been fearful of revealing my ability, in case I screwed it up and brought back an empty husk who only looked like Genie. But… how could I have just let her die? It simply hadn’t been an option, when all was said and done.

“Tingly, but I don’t mind tingles,” she replied, with a nervous laugh. “I wouldn’t mind knowing what in Chaos’s name is going on. Persie says I died? All I remember is something in between. Like I was… going somewhere.”

I nodded. “You were, but your spirit was still hovering around. That’s why I asked Persie to keep talking to you, so your spirit would stay close, drawn by the sound of familiar voices. Thanks to her keeping you here, I was able to bring you back. Had you gone beyond that… unfortunately, my skillset is not nearly developed enough to recall souls from behind the proverbial veil. There are some who can, but not me.” I knelt down and took her hand in mine, thrilled that I could hold her and feel warmth instead of the unnerving cold of the dead. “You saved my life, Genie. It was the least I could do, in return, to save yours.”

She smiled, evidently still confused. “But… how?”

“If I tell you, you can’t breathe a word to anyone. It’s not a secret I keep lightly. My lies protect me from others judging me by my past, instead of who I am as a person—my own person,” I explained stiffly. It was like revisiting an old memory that I hadn’t thought about for a long time, trying to bring it into three-dimensions in my mind. I supposed I had lied for so long that I’d started to believe my own fabrications. Now, I had to face everything that I had buried deep, as Genie and Persie were not the type to give in without an answer.

Persie shuffled up beside Genie on the bench, making me feel as though I were teaching a lesson to two wayward children. “We won’t say anything,” she promised.

“Unless you say you’re an axe murderer,” Genie chimed in. “Then, we might have to say something. We’re not priests. We didn’t swear any oath to keep bad secrets.” In that moment, I knew the woman I adored had returned in one piece. If a piece of her soul had become trapped in the ether, she would not have been able to make her usual jokes. Even her eyes spoke of wholeness, glinting with their usual energy. Perhaps, she was just worried that I really was an axe murderer.

You’re going to hate me after this. I braced myself, knowing how the truth had affected her personally. Although, in a twisted way, it had also brought us together. Maybe that would be enough to stave off any wariness or hatred.

“I’m not an axe murderer,” I assured them. “But I am a Necromancer, which is probably fairly obvious.”

Persie nodded. “Yeah, I figured that out when purple Chaos started coming out of your hands and Genie started breathing again. I’ve never understood why Necromancers have to hide what they can do, though, like you’ve been doing. It’s a more ‘taboo’ ability, sure, but as long as you didn’t use it for bad stuff, why would anyone have a problem with it? Take Davin Doncaster, for example. He was the issue, not his powers. But then you’ve got Alton Waterhouse, who, by all accounts, only used it for good.” She paused. “Wait… if you’re swearing us to secrecy, does that mean Victoria doesn’t know?”

“No, she doesn’t.” I took off my glasses and wiped the fog away anxiously.

Persie scratched her temple in thought. “Is that why you kept it quiet, for job prospects?”

“Partially,” I replied.

“Wait a sec.” Genie’s thumb traced small circles against my hand, though I wasn’t sure if she was aware of it. “Necromancy is one of the only hereditary abilities… Is it something to do with your family?” Her eyes widened, as if the pieces were coming together. “Your dad! Has he got something to do with it?”

I exhaled wearily. “Yes.”

“Do we know who he is?” Persie leaned in, her intrigue palpable.

“Yes.” I hesitated, urging the revelation onto my tongue as if I were trying to cough up a fishbone. “My dad is… Davin Doncaster.”

Genie yelped, letting go of my hand and looking at me in shock. “What the hell?!”

I knew you would look at me differently. I stared down at my lonely hand, still feeling the circles she’d drawn on my skin. This reaction was precisely why I didn’t tell anyone. Who would want to be associated with the son of one of the world’s greatest villains? Even though he’d vanished off the face of the Earth and I had no idea what had happened to him after he messed with Atlantis, his reputation lived on. A black smudge on my entire life.

“Are you serious?” Persie’s eyes bugged out of her head. “Hold on a sec… That means the Grimoire that you’ve got is Davin friggin’ Doncaster’s Grimoire?! A book that every magical museum in the world would give their left leg for?”

I’d forgotten that I’d told her about that. However, there was one Grimoire that was, perhaps, even more sought after.

“It’s not quite as infamous as your Great Aunt’s, but yes.” I wasn’t being snarky, but I wanted to regain my footing somewhat, with a reminder that everyone had rotten eggs in their family tree—that didn’t mean the entire tree was bad. I didn’t know enough about Genie’s lineage to speak on it, but Persie’s family certainly had its villains. The worst in recent history, in fact.

Persie reddened. “Good point, well made.”

“I just want to make it clear that, as far as I’m concerned, I don’t even have a father.” I looked to Genie, willing her to look back. But she kept her gaze turned downward, her forehead crinkling with consternation. “Had I not been born with his ability, it would be an easier fiction to maintain. Even so, he’s never acted like a father toward me, and I don’t know, or care, where he is. I made the mistake of trying to find him once, and once was enough.” I twisted the bracelet on my wrist, recalling that error in vivid Technicolor. It made Genie look up at me, at last. “He made my mum believe that he loved her, saddled her with me, and then jumped ship, never to be heard from again. In fact, I’m not entirely convinced that he didn’t just leave his Grimoire behind so that no one else would get their hands on it. Free security, courtesy of the family that he duped.”

“He must have set that trap with the bracelet, not knowing you would try to find him,” Genie said quietly, as if to herself.

I nodded. “I came to the same conclusion. He made it so that anyone who got hold of his Grimoire wouldn’t be able to trace him with it. And I was the idiot who attempted it, out of some stupid sense of wanting to know more about him. I should have stopped with my mum’s mantra, that ‘he was an arsehole who never deserved us.’ Though she always said she was glad to have met him, because she got me out of it.” I shrugged. “But I suppose that’s the stuff parents say so their kids don’t blame themselves.”

“You don’t look like him.” Genie narrowed her eyes, inspecting me. “No… you don’t look like him at all.”

I laughed bitterly. “Small mercies, I suppose.”

“Well, I can understand why you wanted to keep it under wraps,” Persie admitted, giving a low whistle of astonishment. “I’m not sure there’s anyone in the magical world who wouldn’t hear that name and freak out.”

I picked at the bracelet’s leather. “Exactly, which is why I never took his name. I am Nathan O’Hara, and I’ve never wanted to be anything else. If people knew about my father, they would never trust me, even if I didn’t give them a reason to doubt me.” I held Genie’s gaze for as long as she would let me. “Then, there’s the rarity of my ability itself to consider. There are some in this world who want all Necromancers dead or imprisoned, and there are others who would seek to use it for their own ends. So, I’ve done my best to stay off the radar.”

To my surprise, Genie shuffled to the edge of the bench and reached out, taking my face in her hands. “You are wonderful. You are not your father, and you are not defined by his name. You are you. And I owe you my life.” She laughed, her face lighting up. “Although it would’ve been fun to haunt you. You’d never be able to walk into a room again without wondering if I was there. Oh, and you can forget about showering.”

I gulped. “I already have my fears about that, thanks to your invisibility spell.”

“I know.” She winked, giggling in the cutest, most maniacal way as she toppled forward into my arms, holding me tightly. I didn’t know what else to do but hug her back, my hand resting on the indents of her ribs so I could feel every breath she took, grateful beyond comprehension that she was alive—and that she was still undeniably Genie. As she buried her face into the side of my neck, I heard the faintest sniffle. “Thank you, Nathan. Thank you so much for what you did. And, while I’m at it, thank you for being honest. I know who you are… and you’re nothing like your dad.”

My eyes prickled with tears. Those last four words were like a salve to the nightmare of being Davin Doncaster’s son. Not wanting Genie or Persie to see how moved I was, I held Genie tighter and concealed my face in the wet fabric of my jacket, still draped over her shoulders. Because of her, I’d used an ability and revealed a past that I had suppressed my entire life. And, because it was her, it felt utterly worthwhile. On the one hand, I was a firm believer that if it was your time to go, then you had to go. But that black-and-white notion could turn to shades of gray when it was someone you cared for deeply—that was a truth universally acknowledged by all Necromancers. If only the Purges afterward weren’t so horrific, I imagined many Necromancers would use their skills more often. I myself had forged a rock golem back there in the trees, which now lay safely inside the puzzle box. But even that unpleasant experience couldn’t dampen my joy at having Genie back.

“Let’s just not make this a frequent occurrence, okay? I’m not sure I could handle it,” I mumbled into Genie’s shoulder.

She laughed, her breath tickling the back of my neck. “Why, am I a bad hugger?”

“I… uh… meant the dying part.” My glasses started to fog up again, my heart pounding.

She gave me a lingering squeeze. “I know what you meant.”