by Lisa Daniels
“Might be so,” she said softly, some of the tension in her expression vanishing. “I can speak to them, if you like. I can even make them inhabit the ashes, though that will require a little more energy than if I had the bones—and they can’t really move without more substance. But you could talk to your father, if it’s him. Would you like to?”
Trying not to show himself as too eager, Albert gave her a polite smile. “I’m curious. And up for it, if you don’t mind.”
“Hmph.” She asked for the locket, and he gave it to her, watching as she placed it upon one of the chairs in her part of the suite. Then, settling herself in the other, she closed her eyes and slipped into that strange trance that necromancers did. After a moment, a chill rippled through the room and into his soul. The locket stirred on the chair, and he witnessed the slow blossom of a form coalescing around it. The form wobbled a bit, before it became the distinctive outline of an adult male, seated upon the chair, with the locket as its base, its heart.
All he could look at in this moment was the spirit, in the way it was both familiar and unfamiliar all at once, since it didn’t really have the distinguishing features he remembered his father possessing.
“Dad?” he said.
“Hello, son,” the spirit said, in a distant, resonant way. The spirit didn’t move any lips. Its dark gray form shivered from the effort of speaking. “I’ve been waiting to speak with you again.”
Albert gasped softly. The voice, though with a slight echo, perfectly resembled the sonorous tones of his father. “You’ve been waiting all this time?”
“Always. There was a promise, was there not? It is kept. I see my son again. And he’s all grown up. So strong… I couldn’t be prouder.”
Tears welled in Albert’s eyes. “I miss you, Dad.” His voice cracked at the last word. “Would you believe it’s been twenty years?”
“Time doesn’t feel the same as it did when dead, son,” the spirit said. “How’s your mother?”
“She has a new husband, now. She’s happy. I think. But I know she thinks about you often. And I think because I look like you, it gives her some difficulties at times.”
“I’m glad. I was worried she’d remain stuck and never move forward. Never want to marry again after I’m gone. Have you married? Are you happy?”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t see… much, son. I sense you, but… I don’t really see you.”
“For him,” Rosen explained softly, “he’d see you as a white-gold flicker—the essence of your soul. But he wouldn’t see you directly. He likely just recognized the unique fingerprint of your soul.”
The revelation came as a surprise. Albert thought his father would know everything about him if he’d stuck close all these years. But he didn’t. “I’m not married, Father. But I have a career offering my protection. I’ve been protecting necromancers when they need it—and a lot of them seem to need it,” he said. “Rosen Grieves here is one.”
“We have met,” his father said rather dryly, and Albert chuckled at that.
“I can’t believe I’m speaking to you.”
“Some miracles happen, son. What I’ve wanted to say to you for a long time is that life certainly is unfair. Sometimes people just die, and things don’t always work out. But when you die, when you come here… it’s better to come here with no regrets. To have lived your life with love, and happiness, and purpose. If you have no regrets, you can move on.”
“Then… you regret…?” Albert felt a lump form in his throat.
“Oh no. I don’t regret. I just didn’t want to go before I had that second speech with you, as was promised. I’m sure you must have been looking forward to it.”
Albert noted Rosen frowning slightly. “I didn’t think you’d wait,” he said, though it was a lie, for Rosen’s benefit. The last thing he wanted now was to make her feel used, when she was giving him something so wonderful. One last conversation with his father beyond the grave. He knew in his bones this had to be the last one. He couldn’t keep his father waiting on standby forever. Not if the ultimate fate of a spirit that didn’t move on was to corrupt like Laogh McKenna. Though it might be a relief to his mother to be able to speak to his father, he also suspected his mother would hate the idea of someone’s immortal soul being touched in this way. Better for her to think he was already in heaven, watching down upon them. Speaking of heaven…
“Do heaven and hell, as such, exist?”
“I don’t know,” Rosen said, and his father echoed the same sentiment. “I know of the Other Side, but I don’t know what happens when they move on. Not even they do, as the ones who move on don’t exactly come back to tell us.”
“That’s not something you should be worrying about, son,” his father said. “Best get your life lived first before you worry about that. Plenty of time to consider it after.” That familiar rolling laughter followed the words, before the spirit seemed to sober up. “You’re a good, strong man, son. I wish we could have had more time together, but I’m glad that you are who you are today. People like your necromancer need to be protected and cherished. I hope you’ll continue to do so. You’re a good son… it means a lot to see you.”
“It… it means a lot to see you, too, Dad,” Albert said, fighting hard to control his tears, his sadness, and happiness all at once. This was more than he could have ever asked for. His father wasn’t bitter or angry, but full of love and support. He’d been following all these years because he didn’t want to deny his son a second chance to speak with him before going. Rosen’s hand lightly rested on his shoulder, offering comfort and warmth. “Thank you so much.” This was meant to both of them.
“Good luck, kiddo. If you can tell your mother she’s always in my heart… I’d appreciate it. We will meet again, I hope. After you’ve had a long and happy life.”
Albert nodded, now allowing one tear to slide down his cheek. Usually he didn’t like to give in to emotions to this extent. Sign of weakness and all that. But right now… it was needed. He wished he could hug the spirit, but when he reached out a hand to touch his father’s arm, it fuzzed through.
“Sorry,” said Rosen, through gritted teeth. “Not enough to form a physical body.”
“It’s okay,” he said, swallowing the tiny prong of disappointment that came with the act. “This is more than enough, anyway. I never thought I’d be able to talk to him again.”
“He’s going to go,” said Rosen as the spirit began flickering. “He feels he’s done what he was supposed to do. He wants to move on.”
Move on.
“He’s just… waiting for you.”
The words settled onto Albert like a dusting of snow. He didn’t want to be the one responsible for letting his father’s spirit go… but at the same time, he also knew it was unfair to keep someone like this just because he wanted it.
“See you again someday, Father. You’ve earned your rest.”
A sigh of contentment slipped from the spirit’s ethereal lips, and he gradually faded into nothing, leaving the locket to tap against the chair. They both remained silent, regarding the locket, until Rosen picked it up and looped it around his neck once more.
“I was sensing him around you for a while,” said Rosen, absently brushing the back of his neck. “I wanted to talk to you about him before, but I never really found a good time to do so. Or didn’t know how you would react if I mentioned you might have someone following you around from the Other Side.”
Albert didn’t answer her, allowing himself to be washed in that happy sadness. She caught the mood and went quiet, too, and he looped an arm around her.
He’d forever be beholden to Rosen for this. There were just no words, no actions that could express how immensely grateful he felt.
Chapter Nine – Rosen
With the spirit gone, all Rosen felt now in the room was the usual press of absent souls, all contained in the vast graveyard that was Stoneshire. People were obsessed with their gravestones, real
ly. Having that little plot of land, some stone figure looming over their grave, and a place to leave flowers. But those bones made it harder for some spirits to leave. And it was why there was always that prickling sensation of death whenever someone walked through such a domain.
Albert’s reaction was more than she could have hoped for, really. Though the fact that the spirit had been sticking to a promise meant that Albert had already spoken to his father once before. Which made it clearer to Rosen why Albert didn’t mind necromancers at all. Positive experiences like that tended to rub off on people.
She didn’t blame him for any fascination he might have had as a result. It could be very alluring for some, the idea of talking to those loved and gone.
Her quiet time with Albert bled into nighttime, without anyone calling for her. Hargraves promised to have someone tumble into their suite the moment she was needed. Rosen checked the news whenever she felt up to it, trying not to feel too gut punched every time she saw another accident piling up in Stoneshire, another freak death. She also discreetly checked for a reply from James, but got none. She wasn’t sure if she wanted one.
It was over. Albert hit that nail on the head, no matter how much she’d squirmed at first. Maybe it was wrong for her to then just… throw herself into distraction with complete abandon, but she didn’t feel nearly as guilty or ashamed as she should have. Because… well…
She hadn’t been in a relationship for a while, really. She’d been stringing James along for too long. He deserved more than her, and she deserved more than him.
Dawn sent slivers of light through the window, stirring her into wakefulness and the quiet observation that she was quite firmly wrapped around Albert, and getting awfully hot and sticky from the heat radiating between them. He was asleep, but purring slightly from his chest with every breath, and the vibration soothed her like the rumble of a cat. The heat, not so much. But she endured it long enough to relax to the soft sounds, before finally extricating herself enough to roll out of bed, shower, dress, and make herself coffee. She saw that the noises alerted Albert into wakefulness, but he remained in bed with his eyes closed, wanting a little more time in the warmth, to do nothing. He also refused the coffee she offered him, so she used that as an excuse to make two for herself.
Maybe a little overkill, but given some of the crazy hours she worked, she’d come to rely on the drink. I should cut down on this stuff soon, she told herself. Hadn’t quite needed to.
Knock, knock.
Still gripping her second coffee, she ventured over to the door. “Who is it?”
“Hargraves. The necromancers are here. They’re waiting in the reception area if you want to make yourselves presentable and get over there.”
For a split second, Rosen panicked. Did Hargraves know about them sleeping together? Then she shook her head at the insanity of the thought. “Alright. They better be good.”
“We’ll see. Sten, of course, is freaking out from the presence of so many. Thinks it’s bad luck. He probably believes a cat crossing the road will give him some as well.”
It would if the cat was Albert, Rosen thought with a grin. “Yeah, I’ll be with you. What’s the news about the spirit?”
“It’s… she’s heading our way. She made it to the hotel in the night, then reports have her making a beeline straight back to here.”
“What happened to the police stationed at the hotel?”
There was a sharp intake of breath from Hargraves. “Apparently, there was some sort of gas leak. The place exploded and… most of the officers are dead or injured.”
Holy shit, thought Rosen. “Some freak accident, huh?”
“The death toll, if figures are to be believed, and that’s not counting all the accidents, either, because I think some went under the radar… looks to be in the thousands. The hospitals are full, people are being shipped out of Stoneshire to nearby ones.”
Rosen clapped one hand over her mouth and nose, the horrible, clenching sensation in her gut back. Her coffee dangled at an awkward angle, and she only just prevented it from spilling upon the floor. “We could have prevented this.”
“Sten wanted to try and get you arrested on charges of third-degree murder, but we told him it’s more likely he’s the one who’d be arrested for that. So he’s been quiet and docile for once. Just twitches a little at the new necromancers.”
Rosen swallowed down some of her rising anger at the thought of someone even daring to attempt to blame her for their own mistakes. She had far too many bullets in her gun to allow Sten to continue to talk to her in that manner. “I’m glad you sorted out… that little matter.”
“See you there.” Her footsteps echoed off into the corridor. When Rosen turned around, she saw that Albert was already dressed and ready to go.
“You heard all that?”
“Unfortunately.” He plucked at his plain white gym shirt, always preferring the look of some jock who’d just rolled out of the locker room. Still, it did define his muscles quite well, so that was nice. “I’m afraid I have no idea how to protect you from a sudden gas explosion, should this spirit come close. Perhaps I better check the valves to make sure they’re secure...”
There were too many things to check, but Rosen didn’t have the heart to remind him of that. “With three necromancers in the building, we should be able to counter the bad luck somewhat. Maybe you’ll just stub your toe instead.” Or fall inexplicably upon the sharp edge of something. Best not to think about that too intently.
Or she might go slightly mad from the notions of everything that might go wrong.
Albert slid into place behind her when she made herself ready to go, and somehow his presence was magnified behind her, so that she could practically feel his breaths upon her neck, which then led to the all too wonderful and pleasurable events of the day before.
“Will three necromancers really make a difference?” he asked, and she nodded.
“By myself I’d just be killed as well. But with three of us, we should be able to contain it. It’s a shame there’s no others in Stoneshire… this whole situation might have been resolved much sooner, otherwise.” And less people would have died as a result. She couldn’t just run up to the spirit in the street, not without some accident taking her out.
Maybe she could have conjured up some spirits to place them in dead bodies to track Esther Leroy down, but that might end up scaring the general population further. The last thing they needed was corpses walking the streets.
They should have allowed my sister and father to come.
Inside the reception, there was a small huddle of concerned people, Hargraves and Sten locked in what looked like yet another argument between them, and two figures who faced each other, with that calm stillness that Rosen recognized in herself. A blonde-haired woman, a dark-haired man, both with a light tint to their irises.
“I’m Rosen Grieves,” she said, approaching them and straightening her walk as she did so. “The original necromancer on the case.”
“Ah.” The woman gave a tight smile. “I’m Ella Bauman.” She shook a well-manicured hand with Rosen’s.
“Fredrik Gallagher,” said the man, offering a firm handshake of his own. He had a slight European brogue to his accent, though Rosen couldn’t place it. “We have been following the news. Dreadful—dreadful. To think that such a situation got so far out of control...”
“It wasn’t my intention, believe me,” Rosen said sourly. “I wanted to destroy the bones or get two necromancers to come and help me expel the spirit, the moment I realized what it was. But unfortunately, I was ignored.”
“Presumably by Sten?” Bauman gestured toward the wiry anthropologist. “I can smell his contempt of us from the other side of the room.”
Rosen let out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, that’d be about right. I really don’t know what’s up with that guy.”
“To think he summoned a medium here of all people,” Gallagher sneered. “That’s the last person you want near
a revenant. It was a revenant, correct?” His voice was deep and sonorous compared to Bauman’s low but mellow tones.
“Getting there. But not quite. I explicitly warned him. He just didn’t listen.”
“You should have been more forceful.”
“Mm,” Rosen said, deciding not to elaborate on that, since she didn’t really know if there was anything different she might have done. The necromancers continued to talk to one another, then they approached the Tremaines to confirm that if they were unable to exorcise Laogh’s spirit, then they needed to destroy the remains. Millions of revenue or not. Because millions of revenue weren’t worth the millions who might die as a result. Patricia seemed a little sympathetic, but her husband was not.
All about money, after all. Even when lives were on the line, people just wanted their profit. Nothing more, nothing less. Sometimes she found herself really hating this world.
“Be careful,” Albert whispered to her, his yellow eyes grave. “I’ll do what I can, Miss Grieves, but it’s one thing to protect you from a stray bullet or other supernatural. It’s another to deal with your own brand of magic, and a spirit that causes accidents just by its proximity. Which reminds me… I need to check the gas valves.”
He left the room, and she snorted at his caution, but didn’t fault him for it. He returned a few moments later, apparently satisfied they weren’t about to blow up, but now eyeing the ceiling, where small chandeliers dangled.
“I wonder what the chances of those unscrewing and harming us are...”
“You should really stop worrying about that. We’ll negate some of the bad luck.” But not all.
“She’s close,” Hargraves warned, looking up from her phone in that moment. “Security’s spotted her. And there was a motorcycle incident.”
A shiver of anticipation went through Rosen. She gripped Albert’s hand briefly, before he parted from her and transformed into his enormous black panther, now prowling.
He had specific instructions.
If the fight was going bad… he would take the bones and incinerate them. The distress of losing the bones might knock Laogh out of the body—and certainly it would weaken her as she needed time to adjust.
