Necromancer's Dating Service (Magis Luminare Book 1)

by J M Thomas

  Against so many, and so disorganized… I was beginning to feel we might be hopelessly outnumbered. At least we had Aeron, whose magic was tailored for combat.

  At least, I hoped we had Aeron. His injuries looked painful, and that had to wear on his focus. I had items to get to Don, but I didn’t want to go to Don. I wanted to go to Aeron. Don would have to come out of his tree to get the items anyway—there was no way I’d climb a tree with this rib. Just thinking about it hurt.

  As I approached the partial clearing where I’d left Aeron, my tree cover got more sparse with every step. Thickening mist obscured my view of everything, so I hoped it obscured me, too. Navigation was going to be nearly impossible in an hour or so.

  At this point, the trees were gloomy, upward charcoal strokes on a grey canvas. Allies and foes alike appeared as shadows who deepened the darkness. I shivered.

  Behind me, a distinctive mutter cut through the inky night. I’d overshot my target, unless trickery was somehow involved. At this point, I kicked myself for not having a briefing where I learned exactly what my friends and foes could and couldn’t do. None of these necros seemed to have the same skills as each other, so I had to assume an unknown variety of skills from the watchlings surrounding us as well.

  To my relief, the next tree was the one I’d left Aeron against. There was someone kneeling next to him a few feet away, and they were conferring in hushed tones.

  I approached from behind to make sure it wasn’t an enemy.

  “Who goes?” Aeron snapped, his rasping voice dangerous.

  The other man leapt to his feet, taking up a defensive position in front of Aeron. Okay, so friend.

  “It’s me,” I whispered. “Celeste. Hugo gave me a bag of items to help.”

  The second man appeared in front of me with a quick dash. It was Sian, sweat beading on his forehead. “Let me see!”

  Behind him, Aeron let out a mumble.

  “Keep still,” Sian ordered, pointing a finger at Aeron. “Absolutely no magic until the bag empties.”

  “What have you done to him?” I twisted the bag of supplies away from Sian’s grasp as he reached for it. A look of confusion darted over his face.

  “Give ‘im what ‘e wants.” Aeron sounded so tired, so done.

  I begrudgingly passed the satchel over to Sian, who rifled through it like he was a kid looting the treasure chest at the dentist. As vials clinked and he made disapproving noises, I turned my attention to Aeron.

  Kneeling beside him, I took a good look. His color wasn’t good—the normal pinks and reds were dull and grey. He wasn’t breathing so much as panting. “What do you need?” I asked, my voice barely over a whisper as I clasped his hand.

  “Water, for starts.” Though his eyes were open, they didn’t seem to see his surroundings.

  “An entire saline bag wouldn’t go amiss,” Sian grumbled from beside me. “You weren’t supposed to use so much before this phase.”

  “Yeah, well.” Aeron let out a pained breath. “Fings came up.”

  I recalled him being beaten to a pulp earlier by the watchling in the ambulance. “Things came up” might’ve been the understatement of the decade, but there was no use enumerating them now. Sian could see Aeron’s swelling and lacerations well enough without me pointing them out. He looked like he’d gone through a boxing round with a meat grinder.

  I fished my bottle out of my bag, blessing myself for making a habit of packing the water in case I decided to go on a hike after work.

  Aeron couldn’t even raise his hand to grasp the bottle.

  I blinked back tears as I held it to his cracked lips. He drank greedily, losing precious drops down his chin in his eagerness. Dark red tubing ran from the back of his hand to a few feet up the tree. I traced the winding path to a bag of blood hanging from a nail.

  “I don’t understand…”

  “Aha!” Sian pulled his caduceus necklace from the bag, his blue eyes lighting up as he slipped it back around his neck. He had what looked like a tackle box opened up like a cadaver with its innards spilling out everywhere. From his box, he grabbed then ripped open a sterile wipe and cleaned every part of the needle. Then, for good measure, he lit a cigarette lighter and passed the flame slowly over the device. He wiped it down one more time before capping it again, carefully.

  Only then did he attempt to explain.

  “Lyons here overspent his blood past what our contingency plan allowed for. He gave a donation for his own use a couple weeks ago. That’s what’s in the bag—right back where it started from, no dilution in ability.” Sian knelt on one knee, wrapping up tubing and returning it to its little case. He seemed to know precisely where every bandage and tweezer belonged.

  “I’ll be orright,” Aeron mumbled, and Sian cast him a withering glare.

  “Hush.” Sian shushed him harshly, his bossiness barely masking his concern. “When you talk, you expend energy and become more dehydrated. If this was only round one, like you say, and more are coming…” Sian stood slowly, dusting off his palms.

  I had to brace myself against the tree at that news. “There’s more?”

  Sian delivered a single grave nod, his fingers fumbling as he finished packing up the tackle box. “I’ve cleaned up the lacerations and glued the cuts that shouldn’t be bleeding. That will help him control his delivery. But I’m finding myself at a loss. I’ve been a field medic and a necromancer, but not a field medic for necromancers.” Sian shook his head. “There’s so much I wish I knew the procedure for. I hate guessing like this.”

  I glanced around. There wasn’t much to see but mist, and if I went hunting for razor wire in these conditions, I’d be finding it with my shins, not my eyes. “How much time do we have? How will we know?”

  Approaching footsteps silenced my words. They were heavy, marching, staccato.

  I tensed, wishing I had something I could use for a weapon. Before I could even get a thought of how to move, where to move, what to do, the mist parted to admit Don.

  Black grease streaked his face. His fatigues were covered in pine sap and dirt. In fact, when he got close enough, he smelled like a sweaty pine tree.

  “We don’t need to bunch up like this.” Don’s hands made a wide fanning motion, as if he was pushing us apart.

  “I have walkie talkies for you.” I gestured to the bag, and Sian handed it over. Don quickly pulled what he needed from it, then handed it back to me.

  “I’ll move along after I get his leg straightened out.” Sian’s cleft chin thrust in the direction of Aeron. His leg was still crumpled at a nauseatingly wrong angle.

  “And I’m not going anywhere.” I fixed Don with a hostile stare. Maybe he could scurry back up his tree and spot me some razor wire with that scope so we could all go home. Until then, I was still livid about how he’d treated me.

  To my surprise, Don didn’t even open his mouth to argue, instead tossing me one of the walkie talkies and disappearing back the way he’d come.

  “I’ll get a grid going after this, look for folks to patch up.” Sian glanced around. “I’ve got a wrap and a brace, but I need some yard-long sticks to straighten it against.” He grimaced in the general direction of Aeron’s leg. “So great that we’ve got such nice, clear weather so I can see a damned thing.”

  Despite my worry, I let out a huff. “I can help with that. I tripped over nearly every stick in these woods on the way here from… Oh my god, I forgot about Hugo!” I facepalmed.

  Sian blinked in concern. “What?”

  “Alena got him with that rope zapper thing.” The whole situation seemed like eons ago, but it had to have been only minutes. “Ethan and Marla helped me zap her back, so I think she’s out of commission?” I shrugged. There was so much I wasn’t sure of, so much I had no grasp on whatsoever.

  “He should recover on his own, but I’ll check him out anyway.” Sian positioned himself where Aeron’s foot should be if his leg wasn’t bent at an odd angle. “Go ahead and get me those downed limbs
, as sturdy and straight and close to three feet long as you can find.”

  The radio crackled to life. “Stay low!” Don warned.

  Sian tugged me down to the ground beside Aeron. His hands laced over his head as he ducked, so I imitated his gesture.

  A single report came from Don’s rifle, and I shuddered at the sound.

  Static burst from the radio, and I jumped a little. Don’s voice was quiet, decisive. “You’re clear to move.”

  “Now, hurry!” Sian waved me off with one hand, his attention already on the bag of blood.

  I bit my lower lip as I scrambled through the pine needles to find a sturdy branch. The mist might be obscuring my ability to see their faces, but it did nothing to dampen Aeron’s sudden grunts and moans of pain as Sian set the twisted limb back in its correct position.

  Do no harm, I thought. Except that doing good sometimes hurts. What’s best might not be easy to see in the midst of human suffering. Determined to be brave, I blinked back tears again, wincing at every one of Aeron’s vocalizations. From the bits and pieces that carried, it appeared he had an even more colorful vocabulary than he’d let loose in my presence, and that was impressive enough.

  By this point, my nerves were utterly shot. Every twig snap or leaf rustle conjured an image of some horrible beast in my mind, some keen hunter just waiting for me to come into his crosshairs. Looking for sticks, razor wire, or anything helpful wasn’t happening fast enough.

  Crack. Crack. Thud. That one was closer. My shaking fingers closed around a downed sapling, and I sprinted the rest of the way back to the clearing.

  Aeron was white as a sheet when I came back, but his leg wasn’t twisted anymore. Whatever Sian had done, he’d done well. I dumped my pile of sticks next to Sian’s tackle box, letting him pick the ones best suited to the task.

  “Lift his leg up, keeping it straight like I have it.” Sian gestured to show me what to do. “Just enough I can pass the roll underneath. There.”

  I tried and failed to ignore Aeron’s grimace as his fingernails dug into the ground beside him. Holding his leg as gently as I could, I raised it just enough that Sian could roll the bandage. He splinted it, then nodded at me to gently lower the leg back to the ground.

  Aeron, still braced against the tree in a sitting position, squinted one eye open, then gave me a terse nod. His face was ashen white.

  “I wish…” I began.

  “No time.” Aeron shook his head. “Move.”

  Sian gave the bag of blood a little jiggle, then frowned. “This was meant to top you off, not bring you back from the edge. Be careful, Lyons.” A muscle in Sian’s jaw twitched as he grabbed his kit. “Thank you for your help, Celeste.”

  “The prophecy…” I swallowed hard. “What is your part?”

  “I don’t need a prophecy to know what I need to do. The next right thing, that’s all I need.” Sian gave me a wan smile, then glanced over at Aeron. “When you need me again, I’ll be around. Which way did you say Hugo and Alena were, Celeste?”

  I nodded to indicate where, and Sian’s figure retreated into the mist. After a few feet, he was gone. Completely obliterated. I’d never seen a night like this. As if I’d know what to do with it, I checked Aeron’s bag of donor blood. It’d emptied to about a third left.

  “Nuffink to do but wait, Lessie.” Without raising his hand, Aeron tapped his fingers on the ground next to him. “Our battle will come when it comes.”

  I slid down to his side and placed my hand over his. Taking a deep breath as my mind whirled, I pulled out the paper again, reading aloud at a whisper by the light of my cell phone. I was trying to ignore the crackles, the wood noises, the sudden snaps of twigs around us, but it wasn’t working.

  “Perched on razor wire coils… I have to admit, I don’t look forward to that one. Should probably put on my shoes.”

  Aeron shook his head. “Already ‘appened.”

  “What? How? I thought I’d have known…” I gave him a confused stare.

  “‘At’s ‘ow we got in ‘ere. Frough the fence.” He closed his eyes for a long, slow blink. “Razor wire, us perched on top.”

  “Did I miss the blood boiling, too?” I asked, looking around for sticky puddles.

  He glanced toward the bag. “Some of it.”

  I wished it’d empty into him quicker. He did seem to be getting a bit of his color back in his face, but not enough for my taste. “Did you get your part of the prophecy done?”

  His reply stunned me. “Fuck the prophecy.”

  “What do you mean?” I whirled around to look him in the eyes.

  He clenched them shut against my intrusion. “I said fuck it.” His lips pursed as he pressed against the tree. “If you don’t like it, piss off.”

  His words stung, but I immediately wondered if he was… I didn’t know. I couldn’t know. Then, my eyes fell on the paper again.

  The dark awaits the lion.

  My throat closed over. I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Yeah. Who needs the prophecy. I’ll get everything set right before anything else bad happens to you.”

  The bob of his head in a nod was so slight I almost missed it. “Ethan and Marla in place?” he asked, his head resting atop mine.

  “Should be, if nothing else came up.” I gave Aeron’s hand a squeeze.

  “‘Ow’s the bag?” He raised his head again.

  I checked. “Almost done, why?”

  “It’ll ‘ave to do. Stay close behind me, Lessie.”

  I tried to see through the mist, but there was nothing. The wind rustled leaves and bristles alike, only the occasional snap of a twig or heavier footfall warning me of what was to come.

  Beside me, Aeron began to mutter, his syllables streaming together in an incantation. He fell silent again. “Lessie, flip my ‘ands up, like cups. Bit numb.”

  “Right.” I turned them up. At once, he writhed a little, his eyes narrowing in a wince.

  Blood flowed skyward, then disappeared. He hummed, a lingering note that filled the air.

  All around, the night came alive with shuffled feet and screams. Surprise, then terror, then pain. The silence afterward, like the dull nothing after a shotgun report finishes its last echo, filled the night like dense fog. Then the cycle started up again.

  The radio crackled to life with soft static.

  “Shh,” Aeron said, angling his chin at it.

  I scrambled for the device, turning the sound dial all the way down before shoving the ear bud into my ear. Slowly, I turned the volume back up again.

  Don’s voice crackled through. “Twenty bogies, three groups, advancing in a tri-pronged maneuver from eleven o’clock, three o’clock, eight o’clock. On my signal, Lullaby and Whisper take eleven and eight for a little detour. In three, two, one…”

  I relayed the information to Aeron as I heard it. He acknowledged me with a nod. “Radio.”

  I held up the mouthpiece an inch from his lips, then pressed to talk.

  “Copy. Lion engaging free. ‘Ow many?”

  “Six.” Don counted.

  “Six,” I repeated.

  “Over.” Aeron nodded for me to put the device down again. “The smaller group will be the stronger one. You got anymore of ‘ose mists in ‘ere?”

  “I should have one…” I grabbed my bag, sliding everything close to the tree. “Here.” I opened it for him to look, hoping he’d know what he needed. I sure as heck didn’t.

  “‘Old onto it. Don’t use it until I says.” Aeron licked his dry lips. “And Lessie… whatever ‘appens next… I’m sorry.”

  “Apologize to me over curry.” I stroked the side of his head, an idea coming to mind. Reaching down to the scratch on my calf, I slowly, gently picked off the scab. When a tiny bit of blood glistened on my fingertip, I pulled back the collar of Aeron’s robe, just a little, until the tip of his fish hook tattoo showed.

  I painted the end with a drop of my blood.

  Aeron’s eyes widened a fraction. “Lessie…” />
  “I had a drip on my leg,” I lied. “Did it help?”

  He seemed to consider his answer. “Nah.”

  He was a worse liar than I was.

  Off to our right, a loud snap echoed, like something had ripped a huge limb from a tree. The radio squawked again. “Damn, Lyons. Don’t spend it all in one go.”

  I smiled. “Gotcha.”

  Aeron made a nasty face, still leaning heavily against the tree trunk. Around us, the air whooshed, sending the mist swirling. His eyes grew wide, seeing something I couldn’t. Branches cracked as some sort of massive wind crashed into them.

  I pressed the talk button on the handheld receiver. “Don, what am I not seeing? It’s getting a little freaky down here.”

  “The enemy just pooled resources and summoned a small dragon.” Wonder laced Don’s incredulous laugh, mixed with a crack of worry. “And now, thanks to your boy, it’s our dragon.”

  “We have a dragon?” My eyes widened as I scanned the churning trees through the mist.

  “‘At’s your doin’s, Lessie,” Aeron whispered. “Tell Don I got about ten seconds, then I’m crashing ‘im. ‘E’s about to be a dead dragon.”

  “Aww.” I pursed my lips, a little sad that we couldn’t make a pet of it. Then the next breeze brought a hint of sulphuric smoke from the burning trees to my nostrils, and I couldn’t wait for Aeron to send the dragon back to hell or wherever they’d gotten him. “Hey, Don, ten seconds left before he crashes the dragon.”

  “Roger. Prepare for the two… whatever the fuck those are.” Don paused to clear his throat. “That’s one fubar beastie. You don’t keep those as pets; they’ll eat your ass for lunch.”

  “Do you need me to not talk, Don? Since you can hear me and all?” My mind grasped at straws for ways to be of any help at all. “Save battery?”

  “Battery’s fine. Might help you guys keep cover a bit better. I don’t know how much longer our smokescreen layered with obscuring mist is going to hold out.”

  That was you? I thought in his direction.

  “It’s keeping you both alive right now,” Don responded. “Oh, shit!”

  “What?” I said into the device, without thinking. What?