Concealed Special Edition

by Christina Bauer

  A pang of worry tightened my heart. Rowan was the most powerful mage I’d ever met. He was right that they wouldn’t expect his kind of power. Together, we might very well destroy all the Fantomes who were heading this way.

  But I couldn’t let them die without giving them a chance.

  I stepped in front of Rowan, gripped his right hand, and forced it down. “Don’t hurt them.” The light disappeared from his bones.

  Rowan narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean? They’re evil.”

  “We don’t know that. I was alive when the Tsar first came to power. All the Fantomes were true Necromancers back then. You saw Quinn. Many were terrorized into joining the Tsar. Plus, after seeing Gretel, I’ve no doubt that some were conned into following the Vicomte. Now, with so few Necromancers left, I can’t just kill trained Necromancers out of hand. I must give them a chance to embrace our true ways again.”

  “Perhaps.” A muscle twitched along Rowan’s jawline. It was a sure sign he was worried. “But they’re coming here to kill you.” His gravelly voice became even lower. “I will never let that happen.” He raised his hand once more.

  Part of me felt honored that Rowan was so determined to protect my life. More of me wanted to ensure the Necromancers didn’t vanish.

  I gripped Rowan’s wrist again. “Suppose you were about to face some of the last of your Casters. Could you kill them?”

  Rowan’s gaze locked with mine. Intensity burned in his emerald eyes. A long moment passed before he spoke again. “No, I couldn’t.” He lowered his arm.

  I exhaled. “Good.” The beginnings of an idea were forming in the back of my mind.

  It was so insane it might even work.

  Rowan moved closer, interrupting my thoughts. “We’ll have a short time to prepare before they find us.”

  “I don’t want to fight in a hallway. The passages down here are too cramped. That limits what spells I can cast.”

  “Agreed. If we make a stand, it should be in this room. There are tables to act as barriers, and the door seems stout.” He cracked the knuckles on his right hand. “I could create some animals that will slow them down as well.”

  I turned to face the wall of ashes. For my plan to work, I needed to break my ban against summoning ghosts. “And I’ll summon some ghosts. It’s easier to do when you have their remains nearby.”

  “What do you want ghosts for? Not to fight, surely.”

  Rowan’s question made perfect sense. When it came to spirits, their transparent bodies made them pretty useless in battles. Besides, ghosts had a lot of opinions about what they would or wouldn’t do. It wasn’t like summoning up a bunch of bones and animating them, which was my favorite kind of fighting spell. Ghosts needed convincing, especially to do what I was about to ask.

  “I don’t want them to fight. I need them to possess the living.”

  Rowan let out a low whistle. “That’s not too easy. They don’t like doing that, do they?”

  “It’s hard work to control a living mind, not to mention incredibly painful. But there are so many spirits here, some of them should agree. I only need six.”

  Rowan shot a worried glance at the door. “It won’t take the Fantomes long to arrive. How much time do you need for your spellwork?”

  “A quarter-hour, perhaps less.”

  “In that case, I know just the spell.”

  Rowan raised his right arm and began a new incantation. Within seconds, a whirl of red mist materialized around his boots. The crimson haze rose up and began to spin in a cone-shaped vortex. Soon, the mist solidified into hundreds of red bats with tiny glowing eyes and dagger-sharp teeth. The animals screeched as they flew faster and faster. Within seconds, Rowan was surrounded by a single blur of red-winged creatures. He lowered his arm. “Fly!”

  Moving as a single unit, the bats sped out the door. It wasn’t until they were gone that I realized I’d been holding my breath. I knew Casters could create an animal or two, but what Rowan could accomplish was extraordinary. Once the creatures left, the door slammed shut behind them. The wood glistened with red light.

  A sealing spell.

  We stood alone in the room once more. The air felt heavy with meaning. Was I really about to attempt to possess a half-dozen powerful Necromancers? Behind me, there stood the ashes of those who’d been betrayed by Fantomes. What were my chances of convincing any of these ghosts to save Fantome lives?

  I shook my head. This is something I simply must try. I looked over to Rowan. “I’ll start my spell to summon the spirits.”

  Rowan gave me a crooked smile. “I love to watch you work.”

  His compliment had my chest swelling with pride. I focused on the wall of ashes, pulled Necromancer power into my limbs, and spoke another incantation.

  Awaken, arise, take thought and form

  Dust and spirit, master and thrall

  Your Sister summons you

  Answer my call

  The screeches of bats sounded from deep inside the dungeons, followed by raised voices. There was no mistaking the lilt of their speech. Someone was casting spells.

  The Fantomes were coming.

  I released my power. Blue mist materialized around my feet. I pumped more energy into the spell. A sapphire-colored haze drifted up the ash wall. Like a thousand tiny fingers, tendrils of blue smoke burrowed their way into the cinders.

  A moment later, the entire wall of ashes seemed to disappear. In its place, there stood thousands of Necromancer spirits stretching off into the darkness. My mouth fell open. I’d cast this spell on a few graves, and the result had been a handful of blue ghosts.

  I’d never seen anything like this, though.

  Before me, there stood men and women, old and young, wizened and smooth-faced. All of them wore various levels of Necromancer robes. In the distance, their bodies merged into a shifting sea of transparent blue light.

  I folded my arms across my chest, careful to keep my left hand glowing blue. This was the traditional way to welcome a ghost. “Greetings.”

  All of them turned to focus on me. Thousands of eyes flared a brighter shade of blue as they glared in my direction. The rage pouring off these spirits was almost a palpable thing. The air felt thick with it. These ghosts had been torn from their lives and loved ones. Now, I’d yanked them from their afterlife with the Sire of Souls as well.

  Rowan stepped up to my side. “Remember what I did before?”

  “That spell with your sword?”

  “Yes.” His voice lowered. “If they make one false move, I’m doing it again.”

  I felt the thousands of angry stares burn into my soul. “Thank you.”

  Quinn stepped in front of the group. “You.” His scarred face twisted with rage. “We all died in pain. The Eternal Lands of the Sire of Souls are now our haven of peace. How dare you call us away?”

  “I wouldn’t summon you if I didn’t need your help.” The silence that met my words was absolute. My heart pounded harder.

  Quinn’s frown deepened. “We’re done with the living.”

  “I understand that. But you all dedicated your lives to your Monastery or Cloister.” I pulled at the neckline of my shift. “This isn’t my proper clothing. If I could, I’d greet you as a Grand Mistress Necromancer and show you the respect you deserve.”

  The room stayed silent. Even so, the weight of anger faded a little. It felt easier to breathe. I glanced over at Rowan, who gave me the barest of nods. We’d been guessing each other’s thoughts for a while now. I could almost hear his words in my mind.

  You’re doing well. Keep going.

  I pressed my palms together in the Necromancer gesture for supplication. “You’ve already given so much, yet I need your help once again. Six Grand Master and Mistress Necromancers are coming this way.”

  As if emphasizing the point, heavy booms echoed through the chamber. The door rattled on its hinges. The Fantomes were getting closer.

  Quinn bared his teeth in a snarl. “They don’t deserv
e the honor of that name.”

  “I realize that. However, we don’t know why they betrayed their own and…” I took in a long breath. This fact wasn’t easy to think about, let alone say out loud. “They’re some of the last of our kind alive. If they enter this room, they’ll attack me and Rowan. We may have to kill them. I simply can’t destroy so many without giving them a chance.”

  “At what?” asked Quinn. “Delivering you into a quicker death?”

  “I need you to possess them.”

  Quinn lifted his chin. There was no mistaking the interest in his ghostly eyes. “I can wipe out their souls?”

  “No, I’m asking for a partial possession only. I need you to stop them from doing anything to harm us or others. Once Rowan and I defeat the Vicomte, then we can see how many of them wish to return to the true Necromancer life.”

  Quinn’s mouth thinned to an angry line. “Do you have any idea how much power that takes for us to do?”

  “I’m aware.” My voice was pleading. It wasn’t the Necromancer way, but I couldn’t help it.

  Quinn stepped closer. I’d forgotten how tall and lanky he was in real life. “Never!”

  Here was where my Necromancer training could have kept me calm and organized. I should be able to control my emotions and convince Quinn to help. Instead, his response set my soul burning with white-hot rage. “How dare you!” I poked him in his transparent chest. “I was there when the Tsar took power. You betrayed everyone you knew in order to join his entourage. By the gods, you even betrayed me! You and Tristan left me to bear the brunt of a curse that should have been yours alone.”

  Quinn looked away. His skin was too transparent to be sure, yet I thought I saw the twinge of color in his cheeks. Serves him right. “That was Tristan’s idea. I had a hard choice ahead of me.”

  “Precisely. Now, who’s to say that the mages coming here didn’t have their own hard choices? When someone like the Tsar comes to power, it’s easy to make mistakes.” I scanned the faces of as many ghosts as I could. “We’re all still Necromancers, aren’t we? Controlling our emotions makes us who we are. I’m asking you to control your anger and resentment. I know possession is hard for you, but wouldn’t it be worth it if you could help save our way of life?”

  Some of the ghosts shifted uneasily. I could tell I was wearing them down.

  Quinn stared guiltily at the floor. “What do you want, precisely?”

  “Six volunteers to partially possess these Fantomes. They can’t remember finding me on this property. They must have their memories erased and then return to their service to the Vicomte.”

  “And then?” Quinn kicked at the floor with his ghostly boot.

  “I need you to poke around in their minds. See which of them may be open to returning to our true Necromancer ways. Once I defeat the Vicomte, I’ll need to send those with a chance at redemption to visit the Zelle Cloister. The Sisters there will rehabilitate anyone, so long as they undergo a compulsion spell against causing others harm.”

  Rowan stepped forward. “And if any are deemed unwilling to change, then I will take care of them.”

  “Partial possession.” Quinn shook his head. “That’s a massive amount of effort.”

  Rowan shot me a sideways look. He didn’t say a word. Even so, I knew what he was thinking. He agreed with Quinn.

  “There are thousands of you. I only need six volunteers.”

  Quinn sniffed. “Well, I won’t do it.” He turned to face the crowd. “Anyone else want more pain than they’ve ever felt before? And all just to spare the useless lives of these murderers?”

  Frustration tightened up my neck and shoulders. Ghosts were hard enough to convince. But after a speech like Quinn’s? It wasn’t looking good. I slowly scanned the crowd of ghosts. None came forward.

  Quinn swung around to face me. “Looks like you’ll have to kill them after all.” He looked down his scarred nose at me. “Our way of life is over. Accept this. The sooner you join us in the Eternal Lands of the Sire of Souls, the better. That’s the only place where true Necromancy will survive.” Turning on his heel, he strode off into the wall of ashes.

  For a moment, the ghostly crowd kept up their steady stare. Rage was written into the lines of all their glowing faces. I sighed. Why did I think I could talk them into helping? A second later, all the ghosts disappeared. The room felt emptier than ever. My hope was gone as well.

  The pounding at the door turned to an ear-shattering level. It wouldn’t be long now.

  Rowan stepped up behind me. When he spoke, his voice was both deep and gentle. “They’re almost here. What’s your plan?” He didn’t need to say the words. I knew what he was asking.

  Are we killing your fellow mages?

  I pressed the tips of my fingers into my temples. If I could wipe this thought out of my mind, I would. But I’d done my best. There was nothing else for it.

  “Let’s try paralytic spells. If that doesn’t work, then yes, we kill them.”

  The last two words were like a knife that cut into my soul. I closed my eyes and began to prepare my next spells.

  The Last Necromancer, indeed.

  20

  From just outside the door, the bats let out a chorus of high-pitched screeches. I winced. No question what those sounds were. Death cries. I’d put down enough farm animals to know that noise firsthand. I shook my head in disbelief.

  The Fantomes were killing the bats that Rowan had summoned.

  I gritted my teeth in frustration. What a foolish thing to do. Casters were incredibly protective of their creations. Killing magickal animals almost always led to a bloodbath. Most mages were wise enough to only incapacitate any opposing beasties made by a Creation Caster, maybe with a sleeping spell or freezing charm.

  Not the Fantomes, though.

  I worried my lower lip with my teeth. If the last of my people had to die, I wanted it to be as painless as possible. Goading Rowan wasn’t helping. He was strong enough to cast a parasite that would kill a Fantome painfully over a hundred years.

  Rowan glared at the opened archway. “That was unwise of your fellow mages.”

  “Be merciful.” My voice took on a pleading edge.

  “I’ll keep my word. Paralytic spells. And if I must kill, I won’t draw out their pain.” Rowan raised his right hand. A plume of crimson smoke quickly wound up his arm. “I might enjoy the battle, though.”

  I couldn’t deny him that. “Fair enough.”

  Rowan and I slowly turned to face the entranceway. A patchwork of wooden tables separated us from the closed door. My blue orb now hovered at the center of the ceiling. Had I only cast that a few minutes ago? It felt like a lifetime had passed since then.

  The battle would start any second now.

  Rowan’s Caster power lit up the veins in his right hand. His rumbling voice spoke the classic incantations to prepare for battle. I heard the words for protection from harm and the strength of hundreds. We Necromancers had our own versions of all these spells.

  Time for me to cast them.

  I lifted my left arm, pulling Necromancer power into my soul. The air here was rich with memory. It would help the Fantomes’ spells, but it aided mine, too. Power flowed into my limbs. I cast my own set of protection spells, leaving plenty of energy behind for my first volley in battle. Normally, manipulating magick gave me a welcome jolt of excitement. Not this casting, however. My bones felt heavy with foreboding. I had just finished my preparations when it happened.

  The door imploded.

  Wooden shards scattered across the floor. The Necromancers stepped into view. Three men, three women. They all appeared young with pale skin, long black hair, and dark brown eyes. Something hungry and evil lurked in their elegant features. I remembered Marlene, the Mother Superior of the Midnight Cloister. She’d happily tortured and killed Necromancers for the Tsar. My insides twisted with dread.

  I’d worried so much about saving the last of my people. Maybe Quinn and Rowan had been right—
there was nothing left to save.

  The Fantomes raced into the room, their dark robes billowing with each step. Behind them, there followed a dozen battle skeletons. These were silver-boned creatures with wide shoulders and sharp battleaxes grasped tightly in each hand. Blue light shone out from their eye sockets.

  Rowan released his power. A half-dozen red scorpions appeared before us, each one as large as me. They snapped their claws and went after the battle skeletons.

  After that, six red spheres of light hovered in the air. Rowan spoke another incantation. I knew the words.

  These orbs were paralytic spells.

  Rowan lowered his arm, and the spheres shot out across the room, striking each of the Fantomes squarely in the chest. I’d seen paralytic spells at work before. Normally, they were a few glimmers of light no larger than fireflies. These ones were massive. I couldn’t imagine anyone having enough magickal protection to fight those off. Still, I released some blue orbs of my own into the mix. More paralytics, more power. I took in a calming breath.

  If anything could freeze them, that volley of spells ought to do it.

  Dust settled into my eyes, making me blink. I looked up and gasped. Even more battle skeletons were crawling along the ceiling. It appeared that the Fantomes hadn’t wasted their time in the hallway.

  Gods-damn it.

  I spoke a fast incantation and released more power. Instantly a blue haze appeared around me. The mist quickly rose up to the ceiling, where it solidified into a dozen battle skeletons of my own. While the Fantome warriors were silver, mine had ebony-dark bones with bright sapphire eyes. Long razor-sharp claws jutted out from their hands and feet. Perfect for crawling around upside-down while shredding everything in sight.

  More power rushed out of me as the skeletons engaged the enemy. My limbs turned boneless as my power flowed out. Hunching over, I braced my arms on my knees and gasped for breath. From the corner of my eye, I scanned the ceiling, seeing my ebony skeletons take on the silver warriors. My fighters sliced through the opposition, turning them into a cascade of small bones and white dust that fell to the floor.