Catching Echoes (Reconstructionist 1)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  Kett dropped her hand, stepping away to the side. He wasn’t playing anymore. The change in his demeanor was startling.

  But before I could sigh in relief and start trying to salvage the situation, the vampire’s gaze fell on Ben kneeling before me.

  “You mistake me,” Kett said, flicking his silvered gaze to me. “I collect power. I don’t snuff it out.”

  The necromancer let out a shuddering breath. “But … Ben.”

  “Yes, Ben,” Kett said, echoing her. “Ben is a problem. You’ve created a monster, Teresa Garrick. And a monster must be powerful in order to justify its existence. Like me.”

  He glanced sideways at the necromancer. “Like you.”

  Then he turned his gaze to me.

  I tightened my hold on Ben, knowing I couldn’t actually stop Kett if it came to it.

  “Ben is next to nothing,” Kett said. But his tone was smooth despite the harshness of his words. “Not human, and not truly a vampire. When you realized what you had done, you should have taken care of it. You should have killed him.”

  “I know …” Teresa’s admission came as a strangled cry. “But he’s mine. He’s all I have. I couldn’t. I couldn’t go on without him.”

  “And so we are here.”

  “You …” Teresa clamped her mouth shut on whatever she was going to say, but then she forced herself to speak. “You are powerful. More powerful than I thought a vampire could be. You could … finish the transformation.”

  Kett laughed.

  The dry, sharp sound ran down my spine like someone had walked over my grave. Which was supremely creepy while standing in a cemetery.

  “Could that request get any more ironic coming from a vampire hunter?”

  Teresa lifted her chin defiantly. “I was nine when my family was slaughtered. I am no vampire hunter.”

  “We are as we are made, Ms. Garrick,” Kett said. “And since that is exactly what makes you valuable to me, I suggest you embrace it.”

  He lifted his gaze from Ben’s bowed head to meet mine. There was something pointedly sardonic, meant solely for me, in his statement, but I had no idea what he was referring to.

  “However,” Kett continued blithely, “since a single drop of my blood would most likely kill the boy, your suggestion is the same as ending his pathetic existence. I can do that with far less pain to him.”

  “No!” Teresa cried out, but then she softened her tone. “Please. There must be another way.”

  “Nigel,” I said.

  The two of them looked at me in unison, Teresa hopeful, Kett peeved at my interruption.

  “Nigel could finish what he started,” I said, sounding more sure of myself than I actually was.

  “I have need of Nigel,” Kett said. “The amount of blood he’d need to give the boy would weaken him. Perhaps even kill him.”

  “What do you need him for?” I asked quietly. “Do you think he’ll want to live another day after all of this?” I waved my hand to indicate the graveyard. “After the deaths of the other boys?”

  “That’s on Ben’s head,” Kett said. “That’s his burden.”

  “No,” I said, building the idea in my head even as I spoke. “That’s Ben’s mistake. And it’s Teresa’s mistake for denying Ben information. But ultimately, Nigel doesn’t want to be a monster confined to his basement for decades. He wanted to help Ben if he could. Let him finish.”

  “He’d never willingly sacrifice himself,” Kett said. “He’s a coward.”

  “Ask him.”

  “I don’t need to.”

  I frowned, not understanding Kett’s statement until Nigel appeared between two headstones a dozen steps away. His hands were stuffed into his pockets. I wasn’t sure how long he’d been listening in on our conversation, or when he’d chosen to enter the graveyard.

  “You could make me do it.” Nigel spoke to Kett, who stared back at him impassively.

  “What good is the boy to me? He’s more of a burden than you will be. Not to mention that it’s against Conclave edict to turn one so young, and without the magic needed to survive with his mind intact. If he goes mad, I’ll have to kill him. If he cannot control himself, he’ll have to be locked away. Possibly for decades. And without any other magic, he will always be weak. Always be lesser than. Prey.”

  “He’s already partially turned,” I said. “He’s survived this far. And it also isn’t your choice, is it? Nigel is only beholden to you as his elder. But you are not his master.”

  Kett didn’t answer, which I understood to mean he had nothing to say. Because I was right.

  I was guessing that the Conclave functioned in a similar structure to the Convocation, and to individual covens. The elders of the thirteen strongest covens held seats on the Convocation. My Aunt Rose was the nominal head of the Fairchild coven. Pearl was the head of the Godfrey coven. Each witch in a coven followed the coven elder’s advice, but hopefully not blindly.

  Kett was an elder of the Conclave, so I assumed he must be someone’s master. But not Nigel’s.

  Nigel glanced at me, then at Ben. He contemplated the churned grass underneath his feet. “I’m not a very good vampire.”

  “Why did you consent to the change in the first place?” Kett asked.

  “I didn’t.”

  Kett stilled. Or grew even more still, in that way he did. But I couldn’t tell if he was shocked or simply calculating the best course of action.

  “You’ve already drunk from me,” Nigel said. “I assume you saw everything I could show you.”

  “I did not know you were unwilling.”

  Nigel stepped closer to Kett, squaring his shoulders to stand taller than the more powerful vampire. His tone hardened. “But you saw my maker? Tasted him in my blood?”

  Kett nodded curtly.

  “You will avenge my death.”

  For a long moment, Kett stared at Nigel. Then he glanced over at Teresa Garrick. She was wringing her hands, but she stopped under Kett’s gaze.

  “Necromancer, whether or not the boy survives, you will do as I say. You will aid me in any way I request. I will never demand your life, but that is all that will be sacred between us.”

  Teresa nodded. “Yes.”

  “And if the boy survives and Nigel does not, he will be without a master.” Kett swept his hand toward Nigel. “You see how well that works. So Benjamin will be mine to do with as I will. He will follow the edicts of the Conclave. And when he is strong enough, a mentor will be selected for him.”

  “You …” Teresa began.

  “It will not be me. Unless the boy distinguishes himself in some way, he is beneath my attention.”

  Teresa swallowed, glancing down at Ben. Red streaks of blood had dried on the boy’s face. Tears of blood. But the burns on his neck were already healing.

  The necromancer squeezed her eyes shut before she spoke. “If I agree, we will move to Vancouver. Deeper into Godfrey territory. I will still need to face a tribunal.”

  “A fledgling cannot remain with his family —”

  “I can control him.”

  Kett laughed harshly. The corpses of three dead teens were damning evidence against the necromancer’s ability to control her son.

  Teresa amended her statement. “I can control him now.”

  “And why would the Godfreys want the trouble a fledgling vampire poses?”

  “A necromancer of power is always wanted.”

  A slow, almost-cruel smile spread across Kett’s face. “You think the Godfreys are powerful enough to intervene with the boy? You think they will even take him without my vouching for him?”

  “Pearl is the most powerful —”

  “Jade,” I said, interrupting Teresa’s faltering attempt to bargain.

  “Don’t interfere, witch,” Kett said.

  I placed my left hand on Ben’s head. Getting even more involved in this situation was insane. The teenager had just tried to kill me, and I was shoving myself into the middle of negotiations that ha
d nothing to do with me.

  But I remembered what it was like to have my life — my very existence — controlled by the whims of people more powerful than me.

  “Jade Godfrey will accept the word of Kettil, elder and executioner of the Conclave.” I chose my words and phrasing carefully. “She’s a collector, isn’t she? Just like you, Kett. Except she factors in friendship, perhaps a little more than you do.”

  “Jade has never raised a vampire fledgling,” Kett said coolly.

  “No Adept will ever run unchecked in Vancouver. The Godfrey coven contains more than witches now.”

  Kett narrowed his eyes at me. Then he looked at Teresa. “Do you understand what you’ve done, necromancer? What you’ve allowed to happen?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you know better than anyone what a rogue vampire can do.”

  The necromancer could only nod.

  “Then whether or not you move to Vancouver, the boy is mine to do with what I will.”

  Teresa grimaced sadly, but she nodded again. “I have one last condition.”

  “Name it quickly.”

  “You will hunt down the vampires that slaughtered my family. You will make them pay for what they did.”

  A genuine smile crossed Kett’s face. “Already done.”

  Teresa looked shocked.

  “The Conclave was always aware of your family’s activities. Had it not been so, you would not have been allowed to continue them for so many generations.”

  Kett held out his hand to the necromancer. She clasped it without hesitation, sealing the bargain.

  “Now put your horde to bed, necromancer.” Kett glanced back at me, smirking. “As the witch already demanded.”

  There was some deeper meaning behind his smirk, but I was too tired and drained to worry about it.

  Teresa nodded, closing her eyes. I was buffeted by a lighter brush of the energy I’d felt before the chaos erupted. Then the inert corpses spread across the graveyard began to shift, piecing themselves together and moving back toward their graves. It was sickeningly mesmerizing.

  “They’ll go now,” Teresa said, spent and swaying on her feet.

  Kett nodded, then turned to Nigel, who had been waiting patiently for his fate to be decided. “I will avenge your death.”

  Nigel took a deep breath. Then he knelt in the grass and held his arms out to Benjamin.

  I loosened my hold on the teenager, but he hesitated.

  “Come, Ben,” Nigel said. “Come to me … my child.”

  Teresa began to sob in earnest. Her son looked up at her. She stepped toward him, trying to wipe the dried blood from his face.

  “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you, my boy. Please forgive me. Please, please.”

  Ben grabbed her hand, holding her tightly. “I don’t want to be weak,” he said. “I don’t want to die. I’m tired of dying.”

  Teresa nodded. “Go to Nigel, then. Go.”

  She disengaged herself from her son, then turned to walk away through the zombies reclaiming their graves and disappearing into the darkness.

  “Wisteria,” Kett said quietly. “Go with her. Please.”

  I nodded, turning away before I had any chance to see Ben crawl into Nigel’s arms. Before I could watch one or both of them die.

  Maybe I was the coward. Brave enough to bandy words with a vampire, arrogant enough to bargain with Nigel’s, Ben’s, and Teresa’s lives. But too weak to watch the results of my interference play out.

  Out of all the Adepts in this graveyard, maybe I was the weakest in spirit.

  ❒ ❒ ❒

  By the time we crossed beyond the stone wall that marked the boundary of the cemetery, the zombies had returned to their graves, but the cemetery itself still looked like a war zone. The Convocation was going to need to bring in a cleanup crew — or make a hefty donation to atone for the apparent vandalism that was sure to be discovered by morning.

  Jasmine was pacing along the sidewalk by the front gate, her phone pressed to her ear. She looked up as Teresa crossed out of the cemetery ahead of me. The necromancer climbed into the back seat of the white SUV parked at the curb without a word. Nigel’s green Accord was behind it. Jasmine and Nigel must have gone back for the vehicles while Kett and I were fleeing zombies.

  My cousin stared at me. “What the hell happened? Where’s Kett?”

  I glanced back at the cemetery, which looked exactly the same as it had when I’d first seen it. Then I narrowed my eyes, looking through the magic with which Jasmine had cloaked the entrance. I could see the destroyed headstones along the edge of the main path. The graveyard looked smaller from outside than it had felt while within it.

  “Nice spell,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, it won’t last through the dawn.” Jasmine was now texting madly with someone.

  “Neither will Ben and Nigel,” I said. “One of them, anyway.”

  Jasmine snorted.

  I wasn’t joking.

  Jasmine looked at me, concern flooding her face. “Oh, Betty-Sue …” she whispered. “You’re really hurt.”

  “Yes.” I lifted my right hand. “I’m pretty sure at least one bone is broken in my hand. I punched Ben.”

  Jasmine stared at me as if I were insane. “You … punched a vampire?”

  “Well, he wasn’t fully a vampire at the time, according to Kett. So I guess I was lucky. Oh! Pencils do not kill vampires. Three pints isn’t enough. It all makes sense. That’s why the pink pencil was enough to unbind the magic animating Colby.”

  “Wisteria, you’re rambling. Or possibly drunk.”

  “Yeah. I might have a concussion.”

  Jasmine swore a fanciful blue streak, reaching for me while somehow still texting with one hand at the same time. “I’ve got a healer coming.”

  “My apartment would be better, maybe?” I was rapidly losing my grip on reality. The dark houses and half-lit street were sliding sideways. “I’d like to sleep.”

  “No sleeping with a maybe-concussion.” Jasmine’s voice was far away, though she was steering me toward Nigel’s car. She forced me into the front passenger seat, leaving the door open though the night was cool.

  I sat there, toying with the tiny platinum houses on my bracelet and feeling the magic of it tickling my fingers. I shouldn’t have been playing with it, though. I should have been shutting down my senses, gathering and reinforcing my mental shields to avoid further exposure to magic.

  Except I remembered the way the bracelet had glowed on my wrist. I remembered the pulse of power — the force of my amplified magic — as I’d smashed my fist into Ben’s nose, then wrestled him to the ground.

  I touched a little platinum fence, then a tiny tree. The bracelet was meant to be ironic. A ‘screw you’ to my family, and to all the dark secrets contained behind the perfect facades of their perfect homes.

  But really, it was an acknowledgment that even though I might spend years living purposefully, following the rules, keeping my magic contained and trying to be useful — I would always be a Fairchild. I would always choose my own life and the lives of those I loved — as short a list as that might be — over everything and everyone else.

  A person like me, capable of what I was capable of, didn’t deserve a white picket fence or the family that came with it.

  Kett appeared at the cemetery gate. He was cradling Ben in his arms. The unconscious teenager was deathly pale. But if the transformation worked, it made sense that he was supposed to be.

  Jasmine hustled over to the SUV, opening the back door. Teresa half-stepped out of the back seat, reaching for her son.

  “You may text Pearl now,” Kett said to Jasmine.

  “Already done.” Jasmine’s tone was stiff and accusatory. “The second I saw the state Wisteria is in.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, wrapping my hand around the bracelet until it cut into the flesh of my wrist. Pain shot through my hand, clearing my hazy head. I eased my grip.

  Jade Godfrey had
unwittingly saved my life tonight. I certainly wasn’t going to sit around being morose about it.

  I glanced around the sidewalk and vehicles.

  Kett was gone.

  As Jasmine climbed into the car, I closed the passenger-side door. “Ben’s alive,” she said, starting the engine. “Kett says the tinted windows in the SUV will only protect him from the predawn. So they have to get him underground, or at least better protected right away.”

  “And Nigel?”

  Jasmine looked grim. Then she nodded toward the cemetery. I followed her gaze.

  Beyond the screen of Jasmine’s magic, fire flickered among the gravestones.

  “More vandalism,” I muttered sarcastically. My heart felt oddly heavy given that I hadn’t really known Nigel at all, and how he had tried to rip my throat out when he’d first laid eyes on me. Though he’d been driven to that act by all the things beyond his control. I knew the feeling.

  “It was what he wanted, though.”

  I looked over at my cousin. “He told you?”

  She shrugged. “He told all of us. Look at how he was living.”

  “He was forced.” As I whispered the words, unbidden tears finally began to roll down my face.

  Jasmine nodded, intuitively understanding that my sorrow was a reflection of the elements of our shared past — and how those elements had paralleled Nigel’s life.

  Brushing moisture away from her own eyes with one hand, she gripped the steering wheel with the other. I wrapped my hand around hers. Shared pain was always easier to handle.

  A car pulled up behind us. The Convocation cleanup crew had arrived.

  I dropped my hand, automatically reaching for a Kleenex in my bag before realizing I didn’t have it. I used my sleeve to wipe my face instead. The crew would collect my purse and get it back to me.

  The white SUV slipped away from the curb with Kett at the wheel. I hadn’t seen him return.

  Jasmine waved to the two witches climbing out of the car behind us, then put the car into gear and pulled away. “The healer is meeting us at your place,” she said.

  “Okay.” I allowed myself to settle back against the seat and the headrest. “I found your birthday gift.”

  “Yeah? Cool.”