by Apryl Baker
Dammit. Where the hell is Aleric when you need him?
Then they start to knock on the door—no, banging would be the better word. Heavy, slow bangs. Which makes me think it’s not Kristoff. Somehow, I don’t think this is his style.
If not Kristoff, then who is outside my door?
A sick feeling starts to form in the pit of my stomach, and I snatch up my laptop. The pounding continues, and I back up toward the bathroom. I have this insane urge to go open the door, just to see, but my common sense wins out. I’ve seen one too many horror movies to let that stupidity rule. It’s always the cute blonde girl who goes to see who’s on the other side of the door that gets killed. Not this cute blonde girl.
“For the love of…”
Madame sounds way past irritated, but the hammering of fists stops. There’s a small scuffle then she’s quietly knocking on my door. “Saidie? Chere, it’s okay now. Unlock the door, s’il vous plait.”
Hesitantly, I do as she asks and open the door. Behind her, I see two very decomposed people. Their clothes are tattered, and large pieces of flesh are missing from their bodies. I swallow, trying to stop the bile from coming up.
“It appears, chere, you have power bleeding out into the night.” Madame looks excessively pleased.
“Bleeding?” I whisper, unable to pull my attention away from two very ripe, rotting zombies.
“Your power is leaking, child. You haven’t learned to harness it yet, another thing we will begin working on tonight. A necromancer’s power is heightened when the sun goes down, and being the novice you are, you had no idea you were bleeding power, power that called these two from the grave.”
“I did?”
Madame smiles kindly. “Yes, child, you did. It’s nothing to be troubled about. Besides, it saves us from having to pull them from the ground. We can use them for your lessons tonight.”
“Lessons?”
I know I sound like an idiot repeating everything, but I can’t get past the fact I pulled not one, but two dead people from the ground without even realizing it. I think a second or two is allowed for me to be in shock.
“Aleric, fetch the girl some clothes. She needs something lighter, something to allow her to move more freely.”
My head snaps up when I hear his name, memories of earlier flashing through my mind. He nods and tries to move around the two zombies, but they reach out and stop him, a raspy, inhuman sound coming from them. What in God’s name is that sound?
He lets out a string of curses, and Madame mutters something before moving into the room. “I’ll get them myself. Saidie, you must call off your watchdogs.”
My watchdogs? Oh…she means the zombies. How do I call them off? I hadn’t even realized I’d put them on the alert.
“Some help, ma fille?” Aleric bites out as he wrestles with one that seems intent on strangling him.
Damn, damn, damn. What the hell am I supposed to do? Okay, Madame said my magic called them, so I should be able to use that magic to command them? Right? Maybe? I don’t know, but I have to try something.
Calling up the light inside that is my necromancy is easy. I only have to reach for it and it’s there. Waterfall effect. Again, it’s that simple. Thinking it and watching my magic float out and into both the zombies doing their best to pull Aleric to the ground.
Now for the Voice. “Stop.”
They continue to snap at Aleric with broken teeth. He shoots me a glare and I match it. He doesn’t need to be snippy for something that isn’t my fault.
Say it and mean it, Bree always says. “Stop.”
The two zombies freeze, and Aleric looks over at me, something akin to fear in his eyes. One still has its hands wrapped around Aleric’s throat.
“Let him go.” They drop their holds and step back, turning to me to await further instructions.
Oh. My. God.
This is not right. This is wrong. No one should be able to do this. To pull a corpse from the grave and command it to do your bidding? Luka’s right. Evil. That is the only word for this ability. I’m evil.
“Hush, now, ma fille.” Aleric grips my arm and pulls me into the bedroom, away from the vacant eyes of the dead. “Be at ease.”
Madame is standing by my dresser, a sundress in her hand. Her eyes are frigid, though. “Here, chere, put this on. You need to be able to move tonight.”
I snatch the dress from Madame and escape to the bathroom, my stomach rolling. Pulling an animal from the ground is one thing, but an actual person? Dear God. What would I have done if that happened at home? My mom would never look at me again. She might even ban me from the house, keep me from my little brother and sister.
Taking several deep breaths, I make myself calm down enough to change into the dress. The mirror laughs at me when I try to tell myself everything’s going to be okay. The crazed look in my gray eyes belies the calm I’m trying for. I can’t get over how those things turned and looked to me to tell them what to do.
A soft knock at the door makes me jump. I’m as nervous as a cat. “Saidie?”
“Coming!”
Taking a deep breath, I open the door and hope to hell I can handle what Madame has planned for me and those poor creatures.
Aleric is lounging against the wall while Madame studies the photo of my family. My eyes narrow when she leans closer, like she’s trying to memorize their faces. I don’t like it, not one bit. Aleric warns me with a barely perceptible shake of his head. He doesn’t want me to upset the woman, but I don’t like her looking that hard at my family. Despite how nice she’s been to me, I get a bad feeling about her.
“I’m ready, Madame.”
She gives the photo one last look before turning her smile my way. Only I see the evil lurking beneath the surface of it. Something’s changed. I’m not sure what, but she’s not staring at me anymore like I’m the second coming. Her look is calculated. Assessing. Eager. Even Aleric lets out a small hiss when he sees it.
She crooks her finger and motions for us to follow her. Aleric follows me out the door, and we both sidestep the zombies. Madame tells us to leave them. She’s decided on something else for tonight. Curiosity wars with my instincts to run from her and that creepy-ass smile. Curiosity wins and I follow along behind her like an eager little puppy.
Antonio and Lucian join us once we hit the front porch. They each hold a lantern up and lead the way around the house, through the gardens, and deeper into the swamp. I’m not sure how long we travel, but when we stop, we’re at the entry to a small graveyard surrounded by the murky water of the Louisiana bayou on all sides, one rickety old wooden rope bridge leading the way across.
Lucian hands Madame one of the lanterns and she starts across, looking over her shoulder, one delicate eyebrow raised. I do not want to go across the creepy bridge. The water is almost black. There could be anything from more zombies to alligators to anything else my mind is currently too freaked out to think about.
Antonio chuckles at my obvious nervousness, and I shoot him a glare. Stupid vampire. It only earns me a full out belly laugh, but when his laughter dies abruptly, I turn to see Madame staring at him with a look on her face that is hard to define. It’s part anger, part promise, and all malevolent.
Dammit, he’s pissed her off, and now I have to go across the bridge of doom and deal with an angry necromancer. If I keep hesitating, she’ll turn that look on me, and it’s not something I want to deal with, so I hurry to the bridge. I grab onto the rope rail when the thing sways under me. How was she able to all but run across it? I inch my way forward, cringing at every little sound from the water beneath me. What could possibly be here that she needs to show me?
Then it hits me. She said we’d work on my ointment stuff and I’d need to scrape the moldy flesh from a corpse. She’s going to make me dig up a grave. I just know it. My nose scrunches at the thought. First zombies outside my door, and now I’m a graverobber. Not on my top ten things to do.
When I finally reach solid ground, I
send up a prayer of thanks to anyone who may or may not be listening. I’m still not sold on the whole religion thing, but in this instance, I need all the help I can get. Madame is bent down, brushing the dirt off a gravestone with the name Andre Harper. She smiles, and this time it’s genuine. It reaches her eyes. Does she know whoever’s buried there?
“Madame?”
“Ah, chere. I hadn’t planned on bringing you here for a while yet, but circumstances changed. Do you know where we are?”
“A graveyard?”
“Yes, ma chere, but not just any graveyard.” She stands and faces me. That predatory look is back in her eyes again. “Aleric, come join us.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He steps on the bridge and strides across it, coming to a stop right behind me. His posture might shout confidence, but those green eyes of his are wary.
“Now, Saidie Blackwater, let’s begin your lesson for tonight. It’s time to learn to raise the dead.”
She wants me to do it here and now? I take the blade she’s holding out to me and look around, unsure what to do. There are no chickens around to behead. Not that I’m looking forward to that, but how does she expect me to do it without a blood sacrifice?
“There are two ways to raise the dead. One is through the animal sacrifice you performed your first night here. The second requires a necromancer of great strength and power.”
I don’t have a very good feeling about this. I move closer to Aleric without meaning to as she continues.
“The second is by using our own blood. Each time we spill blood, it’s a tiny death. We use our own small death in place of the animal sacrifice.”
“But there can’t be enough blood…”
Her grin turns wolfish. “You need to slice the vein in your forearm. Slice it vertically up the vein.”
“I’ll bleed out.” This lady is insane if she thinks I’m doing that. Only people who are intent upon suicide do that. You can exsanguinate in minutes.
“Don’t worry, child. That’s why we have Aleric and his brothers here. They can stop the bleeding.”
Or go on an all-expense paid trip to Sunny’s Barbecue with me as the main course.
“This is the corpse I have chosen for you to summon from the earth. The age of this particular corpse will present you with a challenge and give me an idea of how strong you really are. I want you to slice a long gash in your arm and walk your blood circle around this grave. A wide circle, chere.”
I hate needles poking me, and she wants me to cut myself on purpose? Praying for more courage than I have, I press the tip of the blade to the soft flesh of my forearm. As soon as it digs in deep enough to draw blood, I’m thinking about chickening out. I can’t, though, can I? And one small drop isn’t going to do it.
Best to just rip the Band-Aid off. I close my eyes, press deep, and slice downward. Burning pain lances my entire arm and I hiss, trying not to scream. Aleric’s sharp inhale forces my eyes open. His eyes have gone red. He’s staring at my arm like it’s the first bite of food he’s seen in months. Did they not…eat…feed, whatever the word is? He tracks every drop of blood that falls to the ground.
“Walk your circle, child.”
Madame’s harsh command snaps me out of my fascinated horror and I do as she asks, walking a wide circle around the grave, pressing down on my arm to keep the blood flowing. As soon as the last drop closes the circle, I feel a snap, like the recoil of a whip. The rush of power brings with it the understanding that human blood is so much more potent than animal blood. The older the death, the greater the sacrifice. It’s a truth I know on a basic level. I don’t know how I know, I just do. It’s like a song you haven’t heard in years, but you know every word.
Madame takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Now, child. Repeat these words. Blood to blood, dust to bone, I summon thee. Rise from the ashes of thy grave and serve only me.”
I repeat the incantation, and the bluish light that is my necromancy swells, flows through every cell, and bursts forth, causing me to stagger. It reaches outward, but it bounces off the blood barrier I’ve created. The power beats against my skin, hammers at my psyche, demanding direction. Closing my eyes, I see the dust beneath, see the bones form from the dust and send the magic downward to swirl within the dirt, to collect the pieces that were once Andre Harper. Muscles form, leeching onto the bones, skin molds onto the muscles, and his eyes open to the darkness of the grave.
“Come, Andre Harper, come now.”
The words leave my mouth unbidden, but I pull on the magic that has wrapped itself around Andre, seeping into him, and call him to me. He claws at the decayed wood of his coffin, breaking through, and chokes on the dirt filling his mouth. I strengthen my hold on him and help him climb through the layers of dirt smothering him.
The dirt erupts into the air, raining down around me, but my eyes never leave the hands that appear and start to claw their way to the surface. Soon a head emerges from the soil that seems to be churning, moving in a way that is almost alive. But then, maybe it is. The scent of the dirt and the decay that is being pulled from it is as sweet as honey.
When Andre drags himself from the bowels of his grave, he stands. His skin is perfect. Nothing about him says he has been dead the fifty-odd years engraved on his tombstone. He looks like anyone else. You’d never know, aside from the dirty streaks in his ragged and degraded clothing, that he had been in the ground that long. At least until you looked into his eyes. They are searching, hungry. His mouth opens in a silent scream. He needs something.
“Feed him, child.”
Madame’s voice carries to me from a whisper. Feed him? Feed him what?
Blood. He needs blood. Blood is where the essence of life resides, and it is through blood I called him and through blood he will be laid back to rest. It stands to reason he would need blood in order to function properly. That’s probably what those two zombies from earlier needed, why they were so crazed. They needed blood.
My arm is still dripping, and I hold it out. Andre sniffs, his nose quivering and his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips. Without warning, he lunges for my arm, and I can’t stop the cry that leaves me when his teeth sink into my flesh. The loud slurping noise makes me queasy, but I allow him to feed. The stronger and more aware he becomes, the stronger my magic pulses around him.
I’m saying stop even as Madame echoes the word. Andre lets go and slowly stands, his eyes clear, bright. He looks around, confused.
“Speak your name.” Madame’s command is clear, but he never so much as glances at her. He’s solely focused on me. “Speak now!”
I can hear the frustration and the simmering fury rolling through her tone. He’s not responding to her even though her magic is older than mine. It’s not stronger, though. I called this man from the grave. It is my blood that gives him life and comprehension. It is my voice that he will obey.
“Speak your name.”
“Andre Harper.” The words are harsh, raspy. It has been a long time since he spoke.
“Ask him where his journals are, ma chere.”
Madame’s eyes glow with excitement. It overrides all the anger and frustration from earlier. Why does she want his journals?
“Where are your journals, Andre?”
He cocks his head, as if thinking. I’m not sure he can. What’s left in there is not Andre, but a ghost of the man he was. Can his flesh still retain memories even after all these years?
“They are with my ghoul. Should anyone disturb his crypt, he will tear the flesh from their bones and feast upon it.”
The hollow-sounding voice echoes in the night. Madame’s face breaks out into a grin that I can only describe as bloodthirsty. It gives me chills. What the heck is a ghoul?
“That is all we need, child. Put him back to rest now.”
An uneasy feeling tickles the back of my neck, but I dig my fingers into the open wound on my arm and swipe the blood across Andre’s brow. Then I walk the circle once more, letting more of my blood drip
down.
“Return to your place of rest, Andre Harper.” With that, I let my blood seal the circle once more. I watch, fascinated, as Andre slowly dissolves into dust and flees back into the ground. The earth pulls in on itself, and follows him down until the ground doesn’t even look like it’s been disturbed.
With the last of the earth goes my strength just as it did last night. I stumble forward and fall to my knees. I shake my head to clear it of the drowsiness that wants to overtake me. I’ve lost too much blood.
“Very good, child, very good.” She squats and brushes my hair out of my eyes. “You are just as magnificent as I’d hoped. To pull a corpse as old as that from the ground is nearly impossible for most necromancers, and no one who has had no formal training should be able to do it.”
At least one of us is happy. I have no desire to ever do that again. It felt wrong on so many levels.
“Do you know what is special about this graveyard, chere?”
“No.”
“Only the remains of necromancers rest here.”
She brought me to a graveyard full of necromancers? She had me raise a necromancer’s corpse? No wonder that didn’t feel right. I have the sinking feeling what I’d just done might be considered taboo among necromancers.
“They all came to me, to learn their craft.”
A chill runs up my spine at those words. They came to her, and now they’re all dead?
“You were not going to join them since you belonged to Sabien, but as I said, circumstances started to change the minute I laid eyes you. I knew who you were.”
“I don’t understand.” She’d morphed back into the crazy voodoo lady, and it scared the crap out of me. “Who do you think I am?”
“Child, you are a descendant of the First Daughter. Even if you did not look just like her, your power reeks of her ancestry. I had my suspicions, and then when you put that dog back in the ground with very little prompting from me, your fate was sealed.”
Crap on toast. What the hell is she talking about? I try to scramble away from her, but Aleric drops down behind me, caging me in with his arms, and there’s nowhere to run.
