Stolen Souls

by Debra Dunbar

  “I’ve got most of it here, but since we’ll need to draw the ghoul back to the host’s grave, there are some additional supplies I could use. In an ideal scenario, there would be a fresh grave near the host body’s to draw the ghoul. I doubt that’s the case, though.”

  Tamika pulled the map from her over–sized bag and unfolded it. “Here’s his expanded territory. I’ve marked all the recent graves and updated it with any burials that took place today. There are too many to run electric wire around all of them, and after last night, I’m worried he’ll just move on to older graves until he finds one we haven’t trapped. How can we keep him from consuming dead flesh until we deal with him? I’d like him to be as weak as possible. He didn’t eat last night, and I really don’t want him to eat tonight either.”

  “If we apply a heavy layer of salt to all the new graves. That will keep him from eating. That’s easier and quicker than running electric wire around them.”

  Salt? Nyalla frowned. Salt hadn’t worked one bit when she’d done it. Was it perhaps something that required application from a person with magical ability, or was Tadax spouting off erroneous facts?

  “I can do that while you gather your materials and get set up. Anything else?”

  Tadax looked pensive as he stroked his bearded chin. “We need something to draw the ghoul to us. They particularly like children.”

  Oh no. That was not happening! “I’m nineteen,” Nyalla hastily interjected. “I’ll be twenty in a few weeks. Is that young enough? Plus he’s really pissed at me for escaping him last night. I think if I’m beside John Mayfield’s grave, that will be incentive enough for him to come there.”

  “Well, that might be enough. I think we should have a baby there, just in case.”

  Not going to happen. “Trust me. We don’t need a baby. He wants me dead more than anything right now.”

  “He does,” Tamika agreed. “You should have heard him last night. I nearly crapped my pants.”

  “Okay. Then you salt the graves; I’ll get all my materials together. And tell that Ben guy to be there too. We need to make sure there’s as much of the original grave dirt there as possible, as well as the all the pieces of the grave marker.”

  “Got it. We’ll meet you there at eight.” Tamika motioned Nyalla toward the door, but she hesitated.

  “Can you explain the ritual and the spell to me? I personally have no magical ability, but I’ve seen a lot done in my lifetime. I really want to know what you’ll be doing tonight and what to expect.”

  Tadax pulled himself up to full height and scowled down at her. “Those are trade secrets, ma’am. You’ll see what happens tonight, but I’m not about to reveal the details of everything to you. Plus there isn’t time. We have things to do, and it would take me hours to explain the art of necromancy to a non–practitioner.”

  “Just a general overview,” Nyalla pressed. “The basics of what you’ll do tonight.”

  “No,” Tadax pronounced practically before the words had left her mouth. “Get going, and I’ll see you tonight.”

  Nyalla followed Tamika out and down the road to where Ben fumed in his Toyota.

  “Someone needs to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t skip town, money or not,” Tamika told her.

  “I agree. You’re going to be salting the graves, and I have to go home and get the money, so maybe Ben can do it?” It made sense. If Tadax tried to run, Ben would beat him to a bloody pulp.

  Ben was in favor of the idea and drove back to drop Tamika off at The Eastside Tavern, and then back to Westminster and Nyalla’s car.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he promised, before speeding off to watch their necromancer, leaving Nyalla beside the battered Suburban.

  With a sigh, she climbed inside, placing the various folders and printouts that Tamika had given her on the passenger seat. Something was wrong — really wrong. Why had Tadax told them to salt the graves? It hadn’t worked on the ghoul last time. It didn’t even work with demons unless used in a circle and properly spelled. If he was wrong about the salt, he was probably wrong about other things too. She sat in the SUV, looking out at the gray sky, worrying over the fate of people she’d come to consider friends. Outside of that Tadax creep, she’d be devastated if anything happened to Eric, Shelly, Baby Jack, Ben, and even Tamika. Plus Wyatt might be there too. Her own life wasn’t as much on her mind as her friends’ and her brother’s. This was real — not some crazy video game or late–night movie. This ghoul had become powerful and could easily kill them all.

  Of course, her life up until a few months ago had been equally hazardous. The particular elven kingdom where she’d been enslaved wasn’t as cruel to their humans as others, but she still ran the risk of running afoul of magic gone wrong, or demons. If she could live through that, if she could survive those terrifying days when she’d been sold to a demon, if she could manage to learn a new language and begin to understand a confusing new culture, she could face this.

  She was strong. And she wasn’t about to put all her faith in some “douche–bag” necromancer who’d screwed up a resurrection and thought salt was going to stop a ghoul. Looking down at the passenger seat, she shuffled the folders and picked up a yellow one, opening it to the few pages inside.

  “George the Necromancer, here I come.”

  26

  The man outside the gorgeous two–story home watering the lush lawn matched the picture of George from Tamika’s Internet screenshots. Nyalla paused, glancing from the overweight man in khakis and a white button–down shirt to the lovely home behind him. The house looked to be only a few years old and was in the current style with windows everywhere, pillars gracing the front porch, and sections jutting from the side for the three–car garage and the sunroom.

  The man smiled at her as she approached, angling the hose so it didn’t spray her. “I’ve been expecting you, although I didn’t realize you would be quite so young.”

  He was serene, calm, a look of gentle intelligence in the eyes behind wire–rimmed glasses.

  “Are you George … the necromancer?” It seemed odd to be asking such a thing of the man. He seemed more like an accountant, or a programmer.

  “Yep.” George shut the water off and began to gather the hose up. “Follow me and we’ll talk. We won’t get any decent rain for another two weeks, and I don’t want my Zoysiagrass to suffer. Do you know there are few grasses that are hardy enough to stay green through winter and summer in this region? I paid a lot of money for this lawn, and water ban or not, I’m gonna keep it alive and green.”

  Nyalla followed George, listening to him discuss his landscaping as he neatly folded the hose and stashed it in a small, brown box bedside the house. Taking off his ball cap, he ran a handkerchief over his bald head and smiled again as he stuffed the white square of cotton into his pocket.

  “Now, tell me what problem would bring an angel–blessed, demon–marked girl to seek out an old man?”

  “There’s a ghoul, and it’s eight days out of the grave. We’ve got the necromancer who raised him, but I don’t have any confidence in his ability to do this.”

  “Oh, honey.” George patted her shoulder. “That’s a mighty big problem. Let’s sit and talk.”

  Nyalla collapsed into a cushioned lawn chair and told the man the entire tale. It was odd that she felt comfortable enough around a stranger to give him every detail of the week’s strange happenings. It was odd that she felt comfortable at all around a stranger. When did she stop being so panicked about going somewhere she hadn’t been before and meeting someone new? Something about fighting for her life, and the lives of those she cared about, had knocked the fear right out of her.

  George nodded and made sympathetic noises. After she’d finished, he took his time to speak, steepling his hands in front of his face and looking thoughtful. “This ghoul is a bit old to easily return at this point, and your bumbling necromancer is correct that the best way to send the ghoul back is for the one who raised him to p
erform the magical working. If this man was inept enough to inadvertently raise a ghoul, than it’s a good possibility he won’t be able to handle this on his own.”

  “Can you help?” Nyalla pleaded. “Maybe two necromancers can do the job. Or you can act as backup? I’ll pay you.”

  “Necromancers should never work in tandem. Energies often conflict, and we could wind up with worse things than a ghoul. Even inept, this Tadax gentleman is still your best bet. I can, though, give you information that will help you assist him. Trust me, hon, you are far more powerful than a paltry necromancer.”

  “But I have no magic,” Nyalla protested. “The elves did extensive testing, and I’m devoid of even the most basic of magical energies. I can’t even do a simple charm.”

  George made a tsk noise. “Elves can be very blind. So can angels, but that’s a story for another day. You may not have any magic, but that doesn’t mean you’re worthless.”

  “So what can I do to help?”

  “There are a few ways to kill a ghoul. One is to completely destroy the host body. That’s difficult to do with the regeneration abilities of a ghoul this old, and it’s not like you have any explosives handy. If you could manage to chop it up into little bits, or burn it, that would do the trick. If you knock him out with electricity or enough bullets, you can quickly move in and destroy the body. All you need is a group of people armed with pickaxes and a good constitution for the squeamish stuff.”

  Nyalla thought for a moment. That might be a good back–up plan. With Eric’s gun, plus her and maybe Ben shooting, they might be able to get the ghoul down. It had worked last night. “Are there any other ways?”

  “Besides the necromancer performing a ‘return’ spell, you can always take down a ghoul by putting its host body back into the original grave and re–burying it.”

  “Won’t it just climb out again like it did the first time?”

  “No. After the first night, the ghoul has full possession of the body, and the dirt from the host’s grave works to drive him out of the corpse. You’ve got an old ghoul, so it’s going to take more than a handful of soil. You’ve got to put him back in the grave and completely cover him up.”

  Nyalla shook her head. “I don’t see how that’s going to happen. He’s very fast and has this habit of disappearing in a mist. We wouldn’t have time to get all the dirt over him before he was up and out again.”

  George sighed. “Well, I think chopping him to bits is your second best option after the necromancer. Shame he’s so old. The first few days they’re weak, and the soul from the host still battles them for control. I’ve seen a ghoul rise from the grave only to fall right back in it when the soul of the dead rebels and wins.”

  Nyalla stared in amazement. “How many ghouls have you seen?”

  The man shrugged. “Five, maybe six. I don’t count the gal who fell right back in the grave again. Accidents happen. The key is to send them back right away. Unless, of course, you meant to raise them.”

  “Why would anyone ever want to raise a ghoul?”

  “They’re not much use for anything besides scaring people, and killing once they get old enough. If there was an enemy army you wanted dead, raising a ghoul in the middle of them is a sure–fire way to make that happen. Either they run away screaming, and you put the ghoul back in the ground directly after, or you wait until it’s killed them all and perform a reversal. Pretty effective.”

  Nyalla looked at the man with newfound respect. How someone so cheerful and seemingly benign could casually discuss unleashing a ghoul on a group of humans was beyond her.

  “Well, thank you very much, Mister George. I truly appreciate your time.” Nyalla stood, and the man did also, putting out his hand to shake hers.

  “Good luck to you, little Miss.”

  She took a few steps then turned. “If things don’t work out with this Tadax, is there a way you could try? You’re the only necromancer I’ve met today that I have any confidence in.”

  George pursed his lips. “I’m pretty old to be trying to stuff ghouls back in their graves, but if it comes to that, I’ll give it a shot. Heck, we’ve all got to die sometime, don’t we?”

  That was true, although Nyalla really hoped that death held back his icy hand tonight. Having her life vanish just when it seemed it was beginning would be a cruel twist of fate. She thanked George again and turned to head to her car, thinking of the beach and what the salt spray would feel like on her face. No, she most definitely did not want to die tonight.

  27

  Nyalla slowly drove down the gravel lane, inching around the damaged Corvette that still lay half in/half out of the road. Sam’s house loomed before her, gaping holes where windows had once been and strips of wood hanging from the sides. If she survived this night, she’d need to ask Candy to refer a reputable company that could come out and begin repairs, especially the windows. It had been a dry summer, but with the glass broken, a rainy spell was sure to come.

  She heard her phone buzz on the seat beside her, pulling over when she recognized her brother’s number.

  “Wyatt!” Nyalla shrieked. “Are you in Baltimore yet? When will you be here?”

  “Early morning. I’m in Denver right now waiting on a connecting flight.” His frustration came through the phone line. “Did you find the necromancer? Is he going to kill this thing? Can Candy and her pack come out as back–up?”

  She took a deep breath, trying to sound calm and confident. “Thank you for getting that information on Tadax to me. We found him, and I’m bribing him to help us put the ghoul back. He’s doing the reversal spell tonight.”

  “Bribe? What are you bribing him for? I’ll just hit him a few times and threaten to shoot him.”

  Her brother had clearly been spending too much time with demons. Their methods of coercion were rubbing off on him.

  “Bribe. We want him willing to do this, so he doesn’t screw it up then ditch us and run off.”

  Wyatt sighed. “Tell me the plan for tonight. What’s this Tadax doing, and do you have a back–up plan in case he’s as good at getting rid of ghouls as he is resurrecting dead people?”

  She wanted to tell him the plan, but Tadax had refused to be specific. Tamika was wasting her time salting a bunch of graves, and everyone was supposed to show up at eight and hope that a miracle occurred, but that wasn’t something she could tell Wyatt.

  “The necromancer is gathering his materials, and the ghost hunter is doing prep–work. I just got back from consulting another necromancer. We’re good here, Wyatt.”

  Actually they were pretty far from good. Maybe they’d get lucky and the ghoul will just fall over dead in front of them. Of course, he’d need to fall into his grave and stay there while they shoveled dirt onto him.

  “Okay, but have a back–up plan,” Wyatt grumbled. “Take a gun, and ask Candy to go with you.”

  “Definitely.” She did plan to take a gun, but there was no sense in risking Candy’s life in addition to everyone else’s. Nyalla couldn’t imagine a werewolf could do much against a ghoul.

  “I love you, little sis. See you in the morning. Please be careful?”

  “I love you too.” She placed the phone back on the passenger seat and continued to drive, blinking back tears and hoping with all her heart she was still alive to welcome her brother home.

  ***

  The sun cast its last rays over the horizon, spreading long shadows before them. Tadax pulled up in his red Mini Cooper and pulled a box from the trunk. Nyalla noticed he’d parked the car so he’d have a straight shot out of the cemetery and to the road. The necromancer shifted the box as he approached, causing the contents to clink noisily against each other.

  “Got the money?” He asked Nyalla before he’d even sat the box down.

  She nodded. “Half now. Half when the ghoul is gone.”

  Tadax scowled. “I don’t guarantee results. I told you that. I’ve never done this before.”

  “I understand, but I’ve g
ot some legitimate concerns that you’re going to just run off and leave us here to deal with an angry ghoul. Half now, the other half later.”

  She held out a stack of money. Tadax only hesitated a second before taking it. He might be upset, but not so much that he was going to walk away when she was waving fifteen–thousand dollars in his face. The necromancer counted out the bills before stuffing them in his pocket and looking around at the others.

  “Everyone here?”

  “Not yet. Eric just got off work, and he’ll be here soon.” She hoped so anyway. He’d wanted to run by the field where they’d battled the ghoul two nights ago and try to scoop up as much of the grave dirt as possible. After removing several buckets full, he’d been worried there wouldn’t be enough to hold the ghoul to the grave.

  Tadax looked at the sunset. “We can’t wait for him. I’m going to go ahead and set up, but if he’s not here by the time I’m ready to charge the circle, he’ll have to stay on the outside of it.”

  Fear coursed through Nyalla. She’d seen enough magic users in Hel that she knew circles kept things out and also kept things in. They could contain a rowdy demon, or protect a group from a rowdy demon. The idea that Eric might somehow wind up on the outside of one with the ghoul while they were safely inside was horrific. She knew exactly what that ghoul would do to Eric, and it would delight in the fact that she was watching.

  Tadax used a string to trace out a twenty–meter circle surrounding the open grave, marking it with chalk dust. A foot outside the circle, he marked another using a different bottle of chalk. Using a compass, he marked north then carefully measured out four equidistant places on the circle and placed a candle in a glass votive on each spot.

  “I’m a little concerned about that circle,” Tamika muttered to Nyalla. She and Tamika were observing the necromancer while Boomer kept watch. “The others I’ve seen have all been on hard surfaces, where the caster can precisely draw the protective runes at the edge. How he’s going to draw them with any degree of accuracy in the grass is beyond me.”