seattle ; wednesday ft
By the fifth ring, Sam was afraid Dunaway wouldn’t pick up, but he did, greeting Sam with a wary hello.
By the fifth ring, Sam was afraid Dunaway wouldn’t pick up, but he did, greeting Sam with a wary hello.
“Dunaway, hey. Look, I need you to look up something for me if you can.”
“Depends on what it is.”
“Douglas Montgomery…” Sam stared out the window at the blur of lights as they sped by. Ramon was driving, and Sam was in the passenger seat, with Haley and Nick behind them. Sam had tried to leave Taco at home, but he’d refused, and every time Sam returned him to the house, he showed up in the car again. After he chewed through the pet carrier, Sam gave up. Hopefully, he could hold his own. Sam watched the swirl of lights and did not want to finish his question, because once he had the answer, an answer he feared he already knew, then there was no going back. Of course, there was no going back anyway, and it was foolish to think otherwise, but knowing somehow made it official. “Has there been anything on him lately?”
“Like what?” Sam could hear the clicking of a keyboard in the background as he worked.
“I don’t know. Movement on his bank accounts, arrests.… You’re the cop, help me out a little here.”
“Well, I found a death notice, but I think you already know that.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, putting his head against the window, “I inherited his estate, which I’m sure you found.”
“There is that, yes, but as for anything since, as you might have guessed, no. Dead men don’t usually get around much.”
“I think this one is.” Sam rubbed his hand over his face. “He’s too smart to leave tracks, though.” Sam thought, hard. He needed something. “What about property?”
“Wouldn’t you know about that more than me? Don’t you own it now?”
“No,” Sam said, shaking his head even though Dunaway couldn’t see it. “I think he has a cabin stashed up by Issaquah. Cougar Mountain territory.”
Sam heard more clicking. “Not that I can see.”
Sam hated to ask the next question even more, because it was going to confirm some things that he didn’t want confirmed. “What about something in that area under the name of James Montgomery?”
“Give me a minute-I’ll call you back.”
Sam's phone rang a short time later. “I found it. You were right. Do you need the address?”
“No,” Sam said, gut sinking. Had everything with James been a lie? Sam felt stupid and blind-what if his trusting nature got them killed? “Thanks, though, Dunaway. For everything.”
“Are you okay, Sam?” Even over the phone, Sam could tell he was concerned.
“Not really,” Sam said, “but I’m getting used to that.”
“You’ll get ahold of me soon, yeah? Let me know how this whole thing’s panning out?”
“As soon as I can.”
The line went silent for a second before Dunaway added, “I better not be called in officially on anything, Sam.” Then he signed off. Sam couldn’t blame him.
They parked and piled out onto the gravel parking lot. The night was warm, but Sam felt an apprehensive chill as he considered the evening before them. Sam grabbed Nick’s arm, pulling him back from Haley and Ramon. “What do you need to undo a binding?” Sam asked.
Nick looked away, embarrassed. “Mine?”
“Yes, yours. Mom already removed hers. I have some juice due to that and … that thing with Douglas.” That “thing” being the ritual Douglas tried to perform where he'd killed Sam and took his ability to wrangle the dead. It had backfired when Sam had shoved his dagger into his throat and accidentally took his power instead. Not one of his more pleasant experiences, but it beat being murdered.
“Shouldn’t take much, I’d think.” Nick stopped, his brow furrowed. “Wait, Sam, if Douglas is alive like you think he is, how can you have his power? The ritual was based on death, correct? Namely, his?”
Sam stopped next to him, staring at the Den. Haley and Ramon, finally noticing that we weren’t with them, turned back to see what the holdup was. Ramon raised an eyebrow at the look on Sam's face, which Sam thought was a mix of surprise and horror.
Sam pushed out my hands in a stopping motion. “Hold the phone,” he said. “The ritual had to have worked; my power base went way up afterward. Explain that, buddy.”
Nick lifted up my chin and looked into my eyes. “Did you have your bindings checked after?”
“Well … no.” Sam hadn’t thought of it, to be honest.
Nick rested his hands on Sam's shoulders, his eyelids closing at the same time. They were still standing like that as Sexy Gary pulled up with Minion, Frank, and a handful of battle-ready gnomes. Sam guessed where Frank went, they went too.
Gary eyed us both. “You guys having a moment? Should we get back in the van? Give you some time alone?”
“No,” Sam said. “We’re cool. I think he’s about done.” Sam stared at Nick uncomfortably when he opened his eyes and let his hands drop. He'd felt the cool brush of his power as it had sifted through me. It hadn’t been what Sam would call enjoyable.
He was shaking his head. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
“Why choose?” Sam told him. “You can always do both.”
“Your binding,” he said. “It’s gone.”
“How is that possible?” He'd assumed-well, he thought they'd all assumed-that his recent upgrade had been due to his usurping of Douglas’s power. But if that wasn’t the case, if he was still alive, and Sam's binding was gone …
“So this whole time?” Sam asked quietly.
He nodded sympathetically. “Just you, kiddo. It probably snapped during the ritual.”
“People always list laugh or cry-why isn’t there ever a vomit option?” Sam felt slightly sick to his stomach at the news. He wasn’t quite sure why. He had planned to get his binding removed eventually, of course, but for some reason, it had been nice to lean on the idea that most of his gift wasn’t actually him. It felt better to say it was all a freak accident, that he'd really been normal before that, just a victim of circumstance.
But that wasn’t true. This was him, all jim. Sam felt his world spin and twist, and more than anything, he wanted to sit down. But of course, he didn’t have the time. Taco, who was draped over Sam's shoulders again, leaned in and licked his face in sympathy.
“You need a second?” Nick asked gently.
Sam shook my head. “No. We’ve got stuff to do.” Sam looked up at the group. “Let’s get out to the clearing.”
The gnomes, war paint smeared on their faces, hats jauntily placed on their heads, yelled their war cry in agreement.
The pack was already in the clearing. Not all of them, at least Sam didn’t think it was all of them, but it was still a lot. Some of the weres looked curious, but most of them gave only the impression of waiting to see what Sam was going to do.
About a third of them still appeared openly hostile. Sam ignored them, the pack parting as they walked into the great circle they’d created with their bodies. Nothing like being encircled by a group of people who wanted to shred you into ribbons and knowing that they could do it to boost the ol’ self-confidence.
Sam took off his shoes. He wasn’t sure if it would make a difference, but he didn’t want anything between himself and the ground. The grass felt cold between his toes as he closed my eyes and summoned Brooke and Ashley.
Brooke leaned in to give Sam a hug. “What are you up to, Sam?” she whispered in my ear.
“I’m pretty sure they can hear you,” Sam whispered back.
Ashley was staring at the crowd, face pinched. “Sam, more than anything else, you seem to have a real knack for putting yourself in a bind.”
“I sure do. Now, stand back, ladies, and jump in if you see me screwing up.”
Brooke put her hands on her hips and smiled. “You sure you want us to wait? Maybe we should jump in now.”
Sam flipped her off and got to work. He made a big circle in the clearing. Since he didn’t want the pack to kill him for destroying the grass, he didn’t use salt. Instead, he used colored sand. You can get it pretty easily, since people use it for art projects and, for reasons Sam didn’t quite understand, for weddings, but he bet the lady he'd bought his from wouldn’t have been able to guess what Sam was going to use it for. This sand was a particularly virulent orange color that would stand out nicely in the grass.
Sam made the circle big enough to fit a boxing ring into, then planted himself at one end of it. Once again, Taco had refused to stay where Sam put him, and he was curled up next to me contentedly, but keeping one wary eye out on the crowd. Sam sat cross-legged and tried to clear his mind and meditate, which wasn’t easy, since he had an audience.
Time passed as he listened to the night sounds of croaking tree frogs and conversation.
“Are you going to do anything, LaCroix?” Ashley whispered fiercely. “The natives are getting restless.”
“Fret not, dear one. At least, not yet. You might need to fret later. I’ve got an idea, but you two are going to need to get out of the circle.”
A worried little frown appeared on her face. “What do you have in mind?”
Sam shook my head at her. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Huh-uh,” she said. “Whatever harebrained scheme you have rattling around in that little cantaloupe of yours needs to be shared with your adviser-namely, me.”
“Trust me,” Sam said.
“Trust you? Please. I’m dead, not stupid.” Brooke stood behind her, hands on hips, an identical look of mule-headedness on her face.
Sam couldn’t argue with both of their powers combined. “Fine. I’m going to summon Douglas,” he said. “Happy?”
“No,” Ashley said. “I’m not.”
Brooke looked thoughtful. “How are you going to do that? I mean, can’t he just ignore you?”
Sam held the egg up in the moonlight for them to see. “I don’t think he’ll be able to resist this. At least, I hope he won’t.”
Once Sam had finally shoved the both of them out of the circle, he closed it. Ashley was really unhappy with that, since she wouldn’t be able to bust in and help if things went wrong, and being Ashley, she felt it necessary to point out the fact that things often went wrong.
And it would have felt nice to have Ashley in there-someone to save his ass if things went awry. But all his power wouldn’t mean a damn thing if it wasn’t Sam pulling the strings. More than just fixing things, the pack needed to see him-not Ashley-kicking ass. They needed to know that Sam wasn’t a screwup. That he didn’t get onto the Council because of some fluke, which it turned out was true. The power that had landed Sam that seat was his and had always been. Not inherited from Douglas, but 100 percent Sam.
Of course, none of this would matter if Sam fucked it all up again.
He winked at Ashley’s furious little face. “I’ll try not to screw up too bad,” he said. “I need you guys to keep an eye on the outside, okay? Please?” Sam could feel the crowd turning, even from inside the circle. The angry weres were getting restless and agitated, arguing with some of the others around them. Sam could see Eric getting into Ramon’s face and Ramon, arms crossed, telling him to back down.
Not entirely mollified, Ashley nodded anyway and didn’t bring up any other arguments.
Sam had become pretty proficient at closing a circle. He used a little blood because he wanted this one to be as sturdy as possible. Once he'd bandaged the cut on his arm, Sam took his place at one end.
He closed my eyes and let his head droop. He blocked out the sounds and the smells, concentrating on the cold jade egg in his left hand and the solid athame in his right.
The air was still warm and full of summer. Sam pulled it into my lungs, holding it before letting it go. He was a little worried about what he was going to do, and he needed to shove that fear down, to push it deep, where it wouldn’t distract him. In some ways, calling up Douglas seemed stupid. He’d survived their last confrontation only because he’d been lucky. Sam knew that. He wasn’t in his league. That being said, what else could he do? Let him run around, even though he was pretty sure he’d killed Brannoc? Wait for someone else to take care of the problem? Ha. Sam may not have been qualified, but he was the closest thing to it. There was no cavalry, no badass to come and save the day for him. He was going to have to be the badass.
Sam tightened his grip on the egg. “Douglas Montgomery, I summon thee to get thy ass over here right now.” Usually when he summoned someone-or something-he let the call go out into the ether and waited. This time, he sent it into the egg. If Sam was right, that was his connection to Douglas. That was the call he couldn’t ignore.
Squeezing the egg even tighter, Sam whispered, “Olly, olly, oxen free.”
Sam felt him appear. The temperature in the circle dropped about ten degrees. Sam looked out with his sight and found what he had expected, the electric blue dome of my circle stretching overhead, and the swirling, nauseating mass that was Douglas.
Sam opened my eyes.
He didn’t look any different, despite his death. Immaculate and cool in his dove gray suit, cuff links twinkling in an errant shaft of moonlight, his body bore no mark of our fight-no scarring around the throat, nothing. Necromancers have a few neat tricks, but self-healing wasn’t one of them, which made Sam wonder how, exactly, he’d pulled it off. The body he’d seen earlier was his-Sam was positive.
He still scared the crap out of Sam.
Douglas stayed at his end of the circle, head tilted slightly up, regarding Sam with faint curiosity. Sam held up the egg. “I’ve got something of yours.” Sam wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d been expecting, but Sam had expected something. Douglas just kept staring.
“What do you want?” he asked.
That was a fine question. What did Sam want? He looked down at the egg, making sure to keep Douglas in his line of sight. “I want this all to be over. I’m sick of losing people-of you taking them from me.”
The bastard smiled. “Life is about loss, Sam. You can’t change that.”
The image of the egg blurred as Sam's eyes teared up. He was so angry, so frustrated, He wanted to scream.
“What are you going to do?” Douglas asked. “Destroy the egg? Try and kill me? Banish me? Subject me to more of your inane chatter?” That preacher’s voice of his sounded amused, but there was an undercurrent of intense hatred underneath it. “And now that I’m here, what’s to stop me from taking it?”
Sam kept looking at the egg. He hadn’t really planned on what to do after this point. To be honest, he hadn’t really thought the summoning would work. There was movement at the edge of my vision, and Sam realized that a few people had ignored the frosty stares of the pack and were now at the edge of his circle. They couldn’t come any closer than that. Sam scanned the faces surrounding us. Haley, her countenance grim, stood next to Nick. He looked a shade pale, but had his feet firmly planted. Ashley looked determined, Brid and her brothers were angry, Frank looked worried, and James … James looked scared.
Wait. James?
He had his hands pressed against the dome, his eyes on Douglas. “You weren’t at the cabin,” James said. Sam didn't think he’d ever seen such naked emotion on his face.
Douglas tapped the dome, looking at its construction, even now studying me above all other things. No fear, just faint curiosity. “I was busy,” he said. “And then I was summoned here.” He cocked his head, finally tearing his gaze away from the dome and looking at James. “Did you know about this?” His voice held a hint of accusation.
James twitched his head, a small movement of denial. “When I couldn’t find you at the cabin, I called the house. The Minotaur told me where everyone had gone.” James’s hands fisted against the barrier. “Please, don’t do this.” Was he talking to Sam or to Douglas?
Douglas gave him a faint smile in return. “It will be all right, James.” He turned back toward Sam. He didn’t say anything else. He just waited, his arms in front of him, holding his wrist with one hand, the very picture of patience.
Sam's hand tightened on the knife. “All this stupid misery and pain-caused by you,” he said. “It’s gotta stop.” Sam advanced on Doulgas now, unthinking. He heard the shouts of Brid and a few others outside, but Sam ignored them, his only thought focused on hurting the person who’d hurt him and the people Sam cared about.
Sam slashed at him with his athame and … nothing happened. The dagger passed through, but Sam couldn’t see any damage.
Douglas just laughed and then backhanded Sam so hard that he hit the ground. Sam had been hit by Douglas before, and it was never fun. His being dead hadn’t changed that.
He held up something that glinted in the moonlight. “You can’t hurt me, sonny boy, not while I have this.” He kicked me then, hard in the ribs. Sam thought one or two might have broken but he couldn't be sure. He coughed painfully. “But I can most certainly hurt you.” He punctuated this with another kick, this time catching Sam in my stomach. Sam's breath whooshed out of him, but he swung his hand clumsily, trying to catch Douglas. Douglas danced out of my reach easily.
He moved toward Sam again, and Sam rolled to his feet, backing away from Douglas. The sight of Sam retreating made Douglas laugh. “Don’t you find it the slightest bit amusing that we keep fighting over power, power that I want, but you don’t? That you’d give away if you had the chance?”
Sam saw Brooke leaning against the circle, her face scrunched and angry and afraid. “No,” he said. “Not really. To be honest, I just think you’re kind of an asshole.”
Douglas ran at Sam again, and Sam barely saw him. But Sam felt his fist as it hit Sam's face, and he was once again lying on the grass. He tasted blood. The sudden image during training only a few days ago, his feet against a tree, a squirrel chattering, sprang into Sam's mind. He'd been so tired of getting his ass kicked back then. Looked like he hadn’t learned a whole lot since.
Sam started to get up, and Douglas went for his ribs again, kicking him in the already bruised area. He did it again. And again. Sam couldn’t breathe now, and he kept wishing that he’d at least landed one punch. Of course, if his athame hadn’t caused any damage, his fist certainly wouldn’t, but he thought he’d have felt better anyway. Outside the dome Sam could hear raised voices and commotion, but he couldn’t lift his head to see what was going on.
He was pretty sure some ribs were cracked. It hurt to breathe and he felt blood on his lips and tongue. Gross.
Another blow, this time to Sam's stomach. He looked back down at the egg. So much pain and hate brought on by one little soul-Sam was convinced that was what it was. More than most people on this planet, Douglas knew that death could be sudden and, Sam was sure in his mind, inconvenient. So he had hidden a part of himself in this tiny jade egg. Sam didn’t really care how he managed it, the simple truth was that he wanted Douglas gone and buried. He wanted it all to be over. But he was also tired of people dying. And he realized he knew what he wanted to do.
Of course knowing what you want to do and knowing how to do it are two separate things. Sam studied the egg. He had no idea what spell Douglas had used to hide himself in it, and e wasn’t sure if there was a proper way to break it. So he did the only thing e really knew how to do-Sam called the soul out.
Necromancers have power over the dead. That’s their main gig. But what does that mean, exactly? Is it the flesh they control, or the spirit? When Sam brought someone back, he wasn't just putting the physical being back together though he could probably do but what would be the point? We aren’t the shell that binds us, but that little intangible speck that hides within. As all the guidance counselors tell you growing up, it’s what’s on the inside that counts.
Sam stumbled to his feet, and Douglas let me. Why not? It wasn’t like he’d been putting on a good show up until now. Sam opened up his hand so the egg could roll into his palm. Sam held it up at eye level so e could see it better and so Douglas knew what I was doing.
Sam grinned at him, tasting the blood on his teeth as he did so. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he whispered, but the sound carried. Douglas watched, face unreadable, while Sam cast all my power into that egg.
Nothing happened. Sam frowned, knowing full well that Douglas was staring at him in an amused fashion. Okay, so his first try didn’t work. Maybe he could just smash it? Sam started to cast around, looking for a rock, but he seemed to have picked the one piece of land that was totally rock free.
“You can’t smash it, can you? The spell is strong, and you have nothing to break it. You don’t even have a rock.” Douglas's voice took on a scathing tone. “You’re lacking something even primitive primates consider a tool. I can’t believe you got the best of me, even once. Brought down by something lower than an ape.” He shook his head in disgust.
He was right. Sam didn’t have a rock. But he was going to smash the egg anyway. He could use the pommel of his knife. Sam just needed to find something hard to sandwich it with. His palms started to sweat, the moisture making the cold, slippery surface of the egg hard to hold on to. It shot out of my hand and onto the ground. Taco, who’d been hiding quietly in the grass, spun out after it like it was a tennis ball.
“No!” Sam shouted. He ignored me as he went for the egg. “Taco! Be a good boy and give it back.” Sure, he’d never brought anything back before, but there was always a first time.
Douglas peered at us. “What is that?”
Sam could tell when he figured out what Taco was, because his cold arrogance was replaced with a look of panic. Now, why would a tiny little thing like Taco cause that reaction?
Then Taco, apparently not caring one iota that his new ball was made out of stone, bit right into it, and Sam remembered why Douglas had forbidden chupacabras from entering his homestead. Taco’s jaws tore right through Douglas’s spell and cracked the egg open. It might as well have been made of paper.
Again, Sam wasn't sure what he'd been envisioning. Maybe a glowing spark coming out of carved stone and floating over to Douglas, or perhaps some mystical smoke weaving its way into his body. You know, some peaceful magical crap.
But what Sam got was a sonic boom. The sound was deafening, and as Sam was thrown backward, he caught a glimpse of Douglas being similarly knocked down. Outside the dome, he could see a flurry of movement. Chaos appeared to be ensuing, but inside my magic bubble, and except for a persistent whine in my blast-deadened ears, things were nice and calm as he slipped into unconsciousness.
[NFB, NFI. Taken from Necromancing the Stone. Part 1 of 2. Warning for: post length, violence.]
By the fifth ring, Sam was afraid Dunaway wouldn’t pick up, but he did, greeting Sam with a wary hello.
“Dunaway, hey. Look, I need you to look up something for me if you can.”
“Depends on what it is.”
“Douglas Montgomery…” Sam stared out the window at the blur of lights as they sped by. Ramon was driving, and Sam was in the passenger seat, with Haley and Nick behind them. Sam had tried to leave Taco at home, but he’d refused, and every time Sam returned him to the house, he showed up in the car again. After he chewed through the pet carrier, Sam gave up. Hopefully, he could hold his own. Sam watched the swirl of lights and did not want to finish his question, because once he had the answer, an answer he feared he already knew, then there was no going back. Of course, there was no going back anyway, and it was foolish to think otherwise, but knowing somehow made it official. “Has there been anything on him lately?”
“Like what?” Sam could hear the clicking of a keyboard in the background as he worked.
“I don’t know. Movement on his bank accounts, arrests.… You’re the cop, help me out a little here.”
“Well, I found a death notice, but I think you already know that.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, putting his head against the window, “I inherited his estate, which I’m sure you found.”
“There is that, yes, but as for anything since, as you might have guessed, no. Dead men don’t usually get around much.”
“I think this one is.” Sam rubbed his hand over his face. “He’s too smart to leave tracks, though.” Sam thought, hard. He needed something. “What about property?”
“Wouldn’t you know about that more than me? Don’t you own it now?”
“No,” Sam said, shaking his head even though Dunaway couldn’t see it. “I think he has a cabin stashed up by Issaquah. Cougar Mountain territory.”
Sam heard more clicking. “Not that I can see.”
Sam hated to ask the next question even more, because it was going to confirm some things that he didn’t want confirmed. “What about something in that area under the name of James Montgomery?”
“Give me a minute-I’ll call you back.”
Sam's phone rang a short time later. “I found it. You were right. Do you need the address?”
“No,” Sam said, gut sinking. Had everything with James been a lie? Sam felt stupid and blind-what if his trusting nature got them killed? “Thanks, though, Dunaway. For everything.”
“Are you okay, Sam?” Even over the phone, Sam could tell he was concerned.
“Not really,” Sam said, “but I’m getting used to that.”
“You’ll get ahold of me soon, yeah? Let me know how this whole thing’s panning out?”
“As soon as I can.”
The line went silent for a second before Dunaway added, “I better not be called in officially on anything, Sam.” Then he signed off. Sam couldn’t blame him.
They parked and piled out onto the gravel parking lot. The night was warm, but Sam felt an apprehensive chill as he considered the evening before them. Sam grabbed Nick’s arm, pulling him back from Haley and Ramon. “What do you need to undo a binding?” Sam asked.
Nick looked away, embarrassed. “Mine?”
“Yes, yours. Mom already removed hers. I have some juice due to that and … that thing with Douglas.” That “thing” being the ritual Douglas tried to perform where he'd killed Sam and took his ability to wrangle the dead. It had backfired when Sam had shoved his dagger into his throat and accidentally took his power instead. Not one of his more pleasant experiences, but it beat being murdered.
“Shouldn’t take much, I’d think.” Nick stopped, his brow furrowed. “Wait, Sam, if Douglas is alive like you think he is, how can you have his power? The ritual was based on death, correct? Namely, his?”
Sam stopped next to him, staring at the Den. Haley and Ramon, finally noticing that we weren’t with them, turned back to see what the holdup was. Ramon raised an eyebrow at the look on Sam's face, which Sam thought was a mix of surprise and horror.
Sam pushed out my hands in a stopping motion. “Hold the phone,” he said. “The ritual had to have worked; my power base went way up afterward. Explain that, buddy.”
Nick lifted up my chin and looked into my eyes. “Did you have your bindings checked after?”
“Well … no.” Sam hadn’t thought of it, to be honest.
Nick rested his hands on Sam's shoulders, his eyelids closing at the same time. They were still standing like that as Sexy Gary pulled up with Minion, Frank, and a handful of battle-ready gnomes. Sam guessed where Frank went, they went too.
Gary eyed us both. “You guys having a moment? Should we get back in the van? Give you some time alone?”
“No,” Sam said. “We’re cool. I think he’s about done.” Sam stared at Nick uncomfortably when he opened his eyes and let his hands drop. He'd felt the cool brush of his power as it had sifted through me. It hadn’t been what Sam would call enjoyable.
He was shaking his head. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
“Why choose?” Sam told him. “You can always do both.”
“Your binding,” he said. “It’s gone.”
“How is that possible?” He'd assumed-well, he thought they'd all assumed-that his recent upgrade had been due to his usurping of Douglas’s power. But if that wasn’t the case, if he was still alive, and Sam's binding was gone …
“So this whole time?” Sam asked quietly.
He nodded sympathetically. “Just you, kiddo. It probably snapped during the ritual.”
“People always list laugh or cry-why isn’t there ever a vomit option?” Sam felt slightly sick to his stomach at the news. He wasn’t quite sure why. He had planned to get his binding removed eventually, of course, but for some reason, it had been nice to lean on the idea that most of his gift wasn’t actually him. It felt better to say it was all a freak accident, that he'd really been normal before that, just a victim of circumstance.
But that wasn’t true. This was him, all jim. Sam felt his world spin and twist, and more than anything, he wanted to sit down. But of course, he didn’t have the time. Taco, who was draped over Sam's shoulders again, leaned in and licked his face in sympathy.
“You need a second?” Nick asked gently.
Sam shook my head. “No. We’ve got stuff to do.” Sam looked up at the group. “Let’s get out to the clearing.”
The gnomes, war paint smeared on their faces, hats jauntily placed on their heads, yelled their war cry in agreement.
The pack was already in the clearing. Not all of them, at least Sam didn’t think it was all of them, but it was still a lot. Some of the weres looked curious, but most of them gave only the impression of waiting to see what Sam was going to do.
About a third of them still appeared openly hostile. Sam ignored them, the pack parting as they walked into the great circle they’d created with their bodies. Nothing like being encircled by a group of people who wanted to shred you into ribbons and knowing that they could do it to boost the ol’ self-confidence.
Sam took off his shoes. He wasn’t sure if it would make a difference, but he didn’t want anything between himself and the ground. The grass felt cold between his toes as he closed my eyes and summoned Brooke and Ashley.
Brooke leaned in to give Sam a hug. “What are you up to, Sam?” she whispered in my ear.
“I’m pretty sure they can hear you,” Sam whispered back.
Ashley was staring at the crowd, face pinched. “Sam, more than anything else, you seem to have a real knack for putting yourself in a bind.”
“I sure do. Now, stand back, ladies, and jump in if you see me screwing up.”
Brooke put her hands on her hips and smiled. “You sure you want us to wait? Maybe we should jump in now.”
Sam flipped her off and got to work. He made a big circle in the clearing. Since he didn’t want the pack to kill him for destroying the grass, he didn’t use salt. Instead, he used colored sand. You can get it pretty easily, since people use it for art projects and, for reasons Sam didn’t quite understand, for weddings, but he bet the lady he'd bought his from wouldn’t have been able to guess what Sam was going to use it for. This sand was a particularly virulent orange color that would stand out nicely in the grass.
Sam made the circle big enough to fit a boxing ring into, then planted himself at one end of it. Once again, Taco had refused to stay where Sam put him, and he was curled up next to me contentedly, but keeping one wary eye out on the crowd. Sam sat cross-legged and tried to clear his mind and meditate, which wasn’t easy, since he had an audience.
Time passed as he listened to the night sounds of croaking tree frogs and conversation.
“Are you going to do anything, LaCroix?” Ashley whispered fiercely. “The natives are getting restless.”
“Fret not, dear one. At least, not yet. You might need to fret later. I’ve got an idea, but you two are going to need to get out of the circle.”
A worried little frown appeared on her face. “What do you have in mind?”
Sam shook my head at her. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Huh-uh,” she said. “Whatever harebrained scheme you have rattling around in that little cantaloupe of yours needs to be shared with your adviser-namely, me.”
“Trust me,” Sam said.
“Trust you? Please. I’m dead, not stupid.” Brooke stood behind her, hands on hips, an identical look of mule-headedness on her face.
Sam couldn’t argue with both of their powers combined. “Fine. I’m going to summon Douglas,” he said. “Happy?”
“No,” Ashley said. “I’m not.”
Brooke looked thoughtful. “How are you going to do that? I mean, can’t he just ignore you?”
Sam held the egg up in the moonlight for them to see. “I don’t think he’ll be able to resist this. At least, I hope he won’t.”
Once Sam had finally shoved the both of them out of the circle, he closed it. Ashley was really unhappy with that, since she wouldn’t be able to bust in and help if things went wrong, and being Ashley, she felt it necessary to point out the fact that things often went wrong.
And it would have felt nice to have Ashley in there-someone to save his ass if things went awry. But all his power wouldn’t mean a damn thing if it wasn’t Sam pulling the strings. More than just fixing things, the pack needed to see him-not Ashley-kicking ass. They needed to know that Sam wasn’t a screwup. That he didn’t get onto the Council because of some fluke, which it turned out was true. The power that had landed Sam that seat was his and had always been. Not inherited from Douglas, but 100 percent Sam.
Of course, none of this would matter if Sam fucked it all up again.
He winked at Ashley’s furious little face. “I’ll try not to screw up too bad,” he said. “I need you guys to keep an eye on the outside, okay? Please?” Sam could feel the crowd turning, even from inside the circle. The angry weres were getting restless and agitated, arguing with some of the others around them. Sam could see Eric getting into Ramon’s face and Ramon, arms crossed, telling him to back down.
Not entirely mollified, Ashley nodded anyway and didn’t bring up any other arguments.
Sam had become pretty proficient at closing a circle. He used a little blood because he wanted this one to be as sturdy as possible. Once he'd bandaged the cut on his arm, Sam took his place at one end.
He closed my eyes and let his head droop. He blocked out the sounds and the smells, concentrating on the cold jade egg in his left hand and the solid athame in his right.
The air was still warm and full of summer. Sam pulled it into my lungs, holding it before letting it go. He was a little worried about what he was going to do, and he needed to shove that fear down, to push it deep, where it wouldn’t distract him. In some ways, calling up Douglas seemed stupid. He’d survived their last confrontation only because he’d been lucky. Sam knew that. He wasn’t in his league. That being said, what else could he do? Let him run around, even though he was pretty sure he’d killed Brannoc? Wait for someone else to take care of the problem? Ha. Sam may not have been qualified, but he was the closest thing to it. There was no cavalry, no badass to come and save the day for him. He was going to have to be the badass.
Sam tightened his grip on the egg. “Douglas Montgomery, I summon thee to get thy ass over here right now.” Usually when he summoned someone-or something-he let the call go out into the ether and waited. This time, he sent it into the egg. If Sam was right, that was his connection to Douglas. That was the call he couldn’t ignore.
Squeezing the egg even tighter, Sam whispered, “Olly, olly, oxen free.”
Sam felt him appear. The temperature in the circle dropped about ten degrees. Sam looked out with his sight and found what he had expected, the electric blue dome of my circle stretching overhead, and the swirling, nauseating mass that was Douglas.
Sam opened my eyes.
He didn’t look any different, despite his death. Immaculate and cool in his dove gray suit, cuff links twinkling in an errant shaft of moonlight, his body bore no mark of our fight-no scarring around the throat, nothing. Necromancers have a few neat tricks, but self-healing wasn’t one of them, which made Sam wonder how, exactly, he’d pulled it off. The body he’d seen earlier was his-Sam was positive.
He still scared the crap out of Sam.
Douglas stayed at his end of the circle, head tilted slightly up, regarding Sam with faint curiosity. Sam held up the egg. “I’ve got something of yours.” Sam wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d been expecting, but Sam had expected something. Douglas just kept staring.
“What do you want?” he asked.
That was a fine question. What did Sam want? He looked down at the egg, making sure to keep Douglas in his line of sight. “I want this all to be over. I’m sick of losing people-of you taking them from me.”
The bastard smiled. “Life is about loss, Sam. You can’t change that.”
The image of the egg blurred as Sam's eyes teared up. He was so angry, so frustrated, He wanted to scream.
“What are you going to do?” Douglas asked. “Destroy the egg? Try and kill me? Banish me? Subject me to more of your inane chatter?” That preacher’s voice of his sounded amused, but there was an undercurrent of intense hatred underneath it. “And now that I’m here, what’s to stop me from taking it?”
Sam kept looking at the egg. He hadn’t really planned on what to do after this point. To be honest, he hadn’t really thought the summoning would work. There was movement at the edge of my vision, and Sam realized that a few people had ignored the frosty stares of the pack and were now at the edge of his circle. They couldn’t come any closer than that. Sam scanned the faces surrounding us. Haley, her countenance grim, stood next to Nick. He looked a shade pale, but had his feet firmly planted. Ashley looked determined, Brid and her brothers were angry, Frank looked worried, and James … James looked scared.
Wait. James?
He had his hands pressed against the dome, his eyes on Douglas. “You weren’t at the cabin,” James said. Sam didn't think he’d ever seen such naked emotion on his face.
Douglas tapped the dome, looking at its construction, even now studying me above all other things. No fear, just faint curiosity. “I was busy,” he said. “And then I was summoned here.” He cocked his head, finally tearing his gaze away from the dome and looking at James. “Did you know about this?” His voice held a hint of accusation.
James twitched his head, a small movement of denial. “When I couldn’t find you at the cabin, I called the house. The Minotaur told me where everyone had gone.” James’s hands fisted against the barrier. “Please, don’t do this.” Was he talking to Sam or to Douglas?
Douglas gave him a faint smile in return. “It will be all right, James.” He turned back toward Sam. He didn’t say anything else. He just waited, his arms in front of him, holding his wrist with one hand, the very picture of patience.
Sam's hand tightened on the knife. “All this stupid misery and pain-caused by you,” he said. “It’s gotta stop.” Sam advanced on Doulgas now, unthinking. He heard the shouts of Brid and a few others outside, but Sam ignored them, his only thought focused on hurting the person who’d hurt him and the people Sam cared about.
Sam slashed at him with his athame and … nothing happened. The dagger passed through, but Sam couldn’t see any damage.
Douglas just laughed and then backhanded Sam so hard that he hit the ground. Sam had been hit by Douglas before, and it was never fun. His being dead hadn’t changed that.
He held up something that glinted in the moonlight. “You can’t hurt me, sonny boy, not while I have this.” He kicked me then, hard in the ribs. Sam thought one or two might have broken but he couldn't be sure. He coughed painfully. “But I can most certainly hurt you.” He punctuated this with another kick, this time catching Sam in my stomach. Sam's breath whooshed out of him, but he swung his hand clumsily, trying to catch Douglas. Douglas danced out of my reach easily.
He moved toward Sam again, and Sam rolled to his feet, backing away from Douglas. The sight of Sam retreating made Douglas laugh. “Don’t you find it the slightest bit amusing that we keep fighting over power, power that I want, but you don’t? That you’d give away if you had the chance?”
Sam saw Brooke leaning against the circle, her face scrunched and angry and afraid. “No,” he said. “Not really. To be honest, I just think you’re kind of an asshole.”
Douglas ran at Sam again, and Sam barely saw him. But Sam felt his fist as it hit Sam's face, and he was once again lying on the grass. He tasted blood. The sudden image during training only a few days ago, his feet against a tree, a squirrel chattering, sprang into Sam's mind. He'd been so tired of getting his ass kicked back then. Looked like he hadn’t learned a whole lot since.
Sam started to get up, and Douglas went for his ribs again, kicking him in the already bruised area. He did it again. And again. Sam couldn’t breathe now, and he kept wishing that he’d at least landed one punch. Of course, if his athame hadn’t caused any damage, his fist certainly wouldn’t, but he thought he’d have felt better anyway. Outside the dome Sam could hear raised voices and commotion, but he couldn’t lift his head to see what was going on.
He was pretty sure some ribs were cracked. It hurt to breathe and he felt blood on his lips and tongue. Gross.
Another blow, this time to Sam's stomach. He looked back down at the egg. So much pain and hate brought on by one little soul-Sam was convinced that was what it was. More than most people on this planet, Douglas knew that death could be sudden and, Sam was sure in his mind, inconvenient. So he had hidden a part of himself in this tiny jade egg. Sam didn’t really care how he managed it, the simple truth was that he wanted Douglas gone and buried. He wanted it all to be over. But he was also tired of people dying. And he realized he knew what he wanted to do.
Of course knowing what you want to do and knowing how to do it are two separate things. Sam studied the egg. He had no idea what spell Douglas had used to hide himself in it, and e wasn’t sure if there was a proper way to break it. So he did the only thing e really knew how to do-Sam called the soul out.
Necromancers have power over the dead. That’s their main gig. But what does that mean, exactly? Is it the flesh they control, or the spirit? When Sam brought someone back, he wasn't just putting the physical being back together though he could probably do but what would be the point? We aren’t the shell that binds us, but that little intangible speck that hides within. As all the guidance counselors tell you growing up, it’s what’s on the inside that counts.
Sam stumbled to his feet, and Douglas let me. Why not? It wasn’t like he’d been putting on a good show up until now. Sam opened up his hand so the egg could roll into his palm. Sam held it up at eye level so e could see it better and so Douglas knew what I was doing.
Sam grinned at him, tasting the blood on his teeth as he did so. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he whispered, but the sound carried. Douglas watched, face unreadable, while Sam cast all my power into that egg.
Nothing happened. Sam frowned, knowing full well that Douglas was staring at him in an amused fashion. Okay, so his first try didn’t work. Maybe he could just smash it? Sam started to cast around, looking for a rock, but he seemed to have picked the one piece of land that was totally rock free.
“You can’t smash it, can you? The spell is strong, and you have nothing to break it. You don’t even have a rock.” Douglas's voice took on a scathing tone. “You’re lacking something even primitive primates consider a tool. I can’t believe you got the best of me, even once. Brought down by something lower than an ape.” He shook his head in disgust.
He was right. Sam didn’t have a rock. But he was going to smash the egg anyway. He could use the pommel of his knife. Sam just needed to find something hard to sandwich it with. His palms started to sweat, the moisture making the cold, slippery surface of the egg hard to hold on to. It shot out of my hand and onto the ground. Taco, who’d been hiding quietly in the grass, spun out after it like it was a tennis ball.
“No!” Sam shouted. He ignored me as he went for the egg. “Taco! Be a good boy and give it back.” Sure, he’d never brought anything back before, but there was always a first time.
Douglas peered at us. “What is that?”
Sam could tell when he figured out what Taco was, because his cold arrogance was replaced with a look of panic. Now, why would a tiny little thing like Taco cause that reaction?
Then Taco, apparently not caring one iota that his new ball was made out of stone, bit right into it, and Sam remembered why Douglas had forbidden chupacabras from entering his homestead. Taco’s jaws tore right through Douglas’s spell and cracked the egg open. It might as well have been made of paper.
Again, Sam wasn't sure what he'd been envisioning. Maybe a glowing spark coming out of carved stone and floating over to Douglas, or perhaps some mystical smoke weaving its way into his body. You know, some peaceful magical crap.
But what Sam got was a sonic boom. The sound was deafening, and as Sam was thrown backward, he caught a glimpse of Douglas being similarly knocked down. Outside the dome, he could see a flurry of movement. Chaos appeared to be ensuing, but inside my magic bubble, and except for a persistent whine in my blast-deadened ears, things were nice and calm as he slipped into unconsciousness.
[NFB, NFI. Taken from Necromancing the Stone. Part 1 of 2. Warning for: post length, violence.]