Tresia (Stone Mage Saga Book 3)

by Raven Whitney

  I knew he wouldn't hurt me, but I had a bad feeling about what was in that shed. A bad feeling that was validated by the smell that wafted through the salty sea air— rot.

  It was a scent that I knew very well by now.

  Beaming, he pulled the door open to reveal what was inside.

  2

  At first, all I could make out was a pale blob. Once my eyes had a moment to adjust to the darkness, the pale blob became a white sheet covering a suspiciously shaped blob.

  “Is that a body?” I asked, deadpan.

  “Ehhh,” he stalled moving his hands up and down like a set of scales. “Think of it more as a potential zombie.” Like a proud kindergartener, he whipped the sheet away from the top of the blob to reveal a portly, balding man in his seventies, whose pasty skin stood at odds with the sunny climes of his home. A red, Y-shaped incision closed with staples marred his chest.

  “Him.”

  “Hm?”

  “Him.” I repeated, looking him in the eyes and pointing to the man who had been under the sheet. “That man isn't just a lump of dead flesh for me to practice on. He's somebody's father, somebody's husband. Someone somewhere is grieving and worried out of their heads because someone stole his body.” A thought occurred to me and I shoved his arm, pointing at him accusingly. “Not to mention the cops are probably looking for him. And you.”

  He shook his head, as though my suggestion about the police was ridiculous. “Not possible.”

  For what felt like the thousandth time, I asked, “Are you crazy? Put him back.”

  “Not until you've raised him and put him back down. Then I will return him to the mortuary where I found him and nobody shall know any different.”

  I gave him my harshest glare.

  “You have had good success so far with animals— fish, chickens, goats, deer. It is time to move to the next level and work with humans.”

  I remained silent and disapproving. Though I hated to admit it, he did have a point. In my necromantic training, I'd learned how to raise animals in any state of decay and how to heal Lexie from just about anything. I'd known that raising humans was the next step for some time now, but the idea of stealing somebody's… somebody and defiling their body like this made my skin crawl.

  He sighed and threw his hands up. “You are being judgmental again. If you do not practice, how will you become strong enough to protect yourself, to protect your family, to protect us? There are times in every warrior's life when they must swallow their morals and get their hands dirty to survive. And like it or not, you are a warrior.” Jack bent over to grab the dead man's hairy arms. “Now get his feet. I want to get this over with before he starts to bloat.”

  A frigid stone settled in my stomach, but I did what he said. The guy had to weigh two hundred fifty pounds, but between Jack and I, it took little effort to carry him out into the spacious, fenced-in sandlot of a yard. All of this training had strengthened my muscles, but I was still only marginally stronger than a normal human woman. Jack— who was doing most of the heavy lifting— didn't think that I would get any stronger physically.

  We set him down on a grassy spot in the middle of the yard. I sat down beside him and pulled the sheet back over his lap from where it had fallen away. I may have to desecrate this man's body, but I could at least give him the dignity he deserved by covering him up.

  The door opened and Lexie came out dressed in jean shorts and a crop top to sit on the steps and watch me. No pressure at all.

  She had been waiting this entire time for me to raise another human. So far, I could make an animal's body look as good as new, but their mind wasn't really there. They obeyed commands, but had no free will to act on their own and would remain eerily still and focused on me between orders. But then, a well-trained dog would behave similarly, so I couldn't be sure a human would do the same.

  I had no idea what she was hoping for: whether the human zombie would be the same as the animals and she would be unique, or whether the human species was unique and this man would come back as he had been in life.

  I didn't know what I was hoping for, either. It would be heartbreaking to see a human being reduced to nothing more than a mindless slave. In Octavius' keep, all of the zombies were in a fleshy, rotting state and didn't seem to have any mind of their own. They'd obeyed their master's orders without question or any clear thought process.

  I could see no reason why my own human zombies would be any different than his. If I even had the necromantic juice to raise another human being. It could be that raising Lexie was just a one-time, crazy adrenaline fluke, like the grandmother who lifted a car off her grandchild.

  But if he had a mind, if he came back as the man he used to be…. My God, I would have to essentially kill this man all over again when I put him back to rest.

  What if he resisted? What if he wanted to go back home to his family and his life? Could I bring myself to kill another innocent person? What if he came back hungry for brains and went on a rampage, spreading his contagion across the globe and ending humanity?

  Jack cleared his throat next to me. He was holding out his pocket knife.

  I scowled at him for rushing me on something this big, but took the knife from his hands. I dragged the blade across my palm and set my bleeding hand on his chest, slipping easily into the dark, quiet place where my necromantic power lay.

  The ocean of shimmering, liquid onyx stretched out before me, vast and fathomless in its depths. Kneeling before the sea strand, I pictured the man I intended to raise and pulled the remnants of his life force from his chest. My hands burned with a flame that felt so good and I leaned over the water's edge.

  There, I saw the spark of this man's life reflected in my hands. It was a slight thing, but glowed brightly against the darkness like a tea candle. I dipped my cupped palm into the inky water and felt the zinging shocks dance up my arm and reverberate through every cell in my body.

  Not knowing how much a human would need, I carefully let a few drops of water slip through my fingers and onto the little spark. It took a single drop to revive a deer, but a human was a much higher energy being. It would probably take more than a deer's worth for a person, but I had no clue how much it would take to bring a person back from the dead.

  But I had an entire ocean to work with.

  When it failed to ignite, I added more, one dribble at a time until his spark grew into a torch-sized flame in my palm.

  I found myself reluctant to let the fire go from my hands, where it was warming my whole body with an most euphoric heat. But his warmth was not mine to keep. I was only borrowing his light.

  So I set that fire gently back into his chest and opened my eyes to see him sitting up, his murky brown eyes locked on my own.

  Lexie took in an awed breath from where she was still seated on the steps. Jack was silent as he stood next to me, but the weight of his intense gaze on the zombie man and me was palpable.

  I tried to stand, but my shaky legs couldn't find footing in the loose sand. Before I fell forward, Jack caught me around the waist and hoisted me to my feet. His eyes asked if I was okay to continue and I nodded my head. He released me, but remained standing next to me even after I thanked him, just in case my legs gave out again.

  The zombie hadn't moved. He was still sitting upright, looking at me. Though now that I was standing, he was staring at my knees.

  “Stand up,” I commanded him, putting power into my words.

  Without a moments' hesitation for the sheet that covered him, the zombie stood.

  Simultaneously, my heart sank and soared. If his mind was intact in any way, he would have taken the sheet with him. Unless he was a nudist, which was unlikely.

  Testing my theory, I asked him slowly, “What is your name?”

  The zombie man did not respond, nor did he give any indication that he recognized my words.

  Keeping my gaze on his, I said, “I command you to tell me your name.”

  Again, he did nothing. He ha
d no presence of mind. He was just as the animals I'd raised.

  Unsure of what to do next, I looked to Jack. “What next?”

  He seemed to think about it for a moment. “Try a test of his speed.”

  Turning back to Lexie, I asked her to open the gate to the fence that led to the front yard. She gave me a confused look, but did as I asked and returned to her seat.

  Once she was seated, I ordered the zombie to run to the ocean and back as quickly as he could. As soon as the words left my lips, he began sprinting for the gate, leaving his sheet behind without a second glance. His movements were awkward and his body swayed more in his gait than a living person's or Lexie's. He wasn't as fast as Lexie, but this shambling dead man— who looked like he rarely left his couch while alive— could put an Olympic sprinter to shame.

  He was back in a few seconds, coming to a halt a few feet in front of me so abruptly that he almost tipped over. Again, he stared down at me with his empty eyes.

  “Test his strength,” Jack suggested.

  “With what?” I asked. “It's not like we have any barbells lying around.”

  Without a word, he walked to the same shed the man's body had been hidden in and came back out with the scorched old oil drum that Lexie and I used for target practice. I never bothered to ask how much it weighed, but it must have been heavy because he was carrying it with the telekinetic genus magic conferred to him by the set of stones he wore on the amulet around his neck.

  He set the drum down next to the man.

  “This weighs near four hundred kilos,” he said.

  Nodding, I turned back to the zombie man and commanded him to try to hoist it as high as he could.

  He knelt and wrapped his arms around the barrel like he would a tree trunk. His body showed slight signs of strain in the way his muscles quivered, but he lifted it up to his chest, then leaned back so the weight of the drum was against his chest and put his hands under it. With a better hold, he lifted it over his head and held it there. His arms were shaking much more than his legs did, so I commanded him to set the barrel down before they gave out and the barrel crushed the poor man.

  Without breaking eye contact, he did what I told him to do. As he was setting the barrel down, it came too close to me and in trying to dodge it, I fell backward onto the ground.

  “You okay?” Lexie shouted and jogged over to us.

  I nodded and let her pull me to my feet.

  Jack stood with a pensive expression. “You can put him back down. We've learned all we need for now.” With that, he turned and walked back into the house.

  “What's gotten into him?” Lexie remarked, watching him go.

  “Who knows?” I responded. Even now that I was reasonably sure he wasn't trying to kill us, my stomach still twisted every time I didn't know what he was up to.

  “Are you okay to stand on your own?”

  “I think so, but don't go anywhere.” She backed off a ways, but remained close.

  Squaring my stance for better balance, I reached out and put my palms on his chest. Closing my eyes, I saw the flame burning in his chest.

  I cupped it in my palms and “pulled”, recalling the black water from his fire. It danced up my arms, leaving a trail of electric tingles in its wake, and slithered back into the ocean where it came from. There was slightly less water coming out than it took to raise him.

  A thud snapped me back into reality. The man was now in a crumpled heap on the ground. I'd forgotten to have him lay down first!

  I rushed to check him for damage. Finding no scrapes or cuts, I breathed a sigh of relief. I wouldn't want to hurt him.

  Lexie understood what I was doing and put her hand on my shoulder. “He's alright,” she said. “Let's get him back in the shed.”

  I took his feet, Lexie took his hands, and together, we carried him back into the shed. Once we set him down, I went back to the yard for his sheet and covered him from head to toe. Lexie carried the barrel over one shoulder with ease and set it back down in the shed.

  “You look like you're about to collapse,” Lexie said. “Let's go put you on the couch before you fall on your face.”

  I accepted her help walking up the stairs and lay down on the couch. I was barely aware of Lexie tucking a blanket around me before I was out like a light.

  3

  The world returned to me to the sound of Lexie's flip-flop tapping impatiently next to me. “If you don't wake up and eat the amazing dinner I painstakingly cooked for you, I'm going to smother you in that pillow.”

  My voice muffled by the sand-speckled throw pillow my face was buried in, I grumbled, “You try bringing a man back from the dead. See how much hup-to you've got left in you.”

  The air poofed from my lungs as Lexie plopped her bony butt down on my back.

  “Do you mind?”

  Her voice dripping with acidic cheer, she chirped, “Nope.”

  “Fine.” I shifted so her weight wasn't directly on my lungs. “What'd you make?”

  “A PB&J.”

  I couldn't help but chuckle, then groan as Lexie shifted so her butt bones dug into my spine.

  “I cut the crusts off and everything.”

  Knowing that for her, that was gourmet cooking, I shut up and turned my head to the side. “Did you think that I could get up with you sitting on me?”

  “Uh, no. No, I did not.” She stood and walked off.

  Still, I had a hard time mustering the energy to move my leaden limbs. This exhaustion was a much more intense version of what I'd felt when I first started raising animals. With practice, it had become as easy as pouring the cold magic of my necromancy into their bodies and there was no after-effect on me.

  But there had been a difference earlier today with the man. If I could just put my finger on what it was, I'd know how to maximize my practice time so there'd be fewer body snatches.

  The pungent smell of peanut butter wafted with a slight breeze by my nose. I cracked open an eye to see she was waving the paper plate in front of my face like a dog with a biscuit.

  “If you get up now, I might even get you one of those energy drinks from the fridge,” she coaxed.

  I grabbed the plate and peeled myself from the couch cushions to make myself vertical.

  “Woohoo!” Lexie whooped, throwing her hands sarcastically in the air. She made good on her word and brought me a highly caffeinated soda from the rusty refrigerator.

  “Thanks,” I said, accepting it.

  She sat down next to me and turned the boxy television on to some reality TV competition show.

  As I bit into my sandwich, I finally noticed how dark it was in the house. “What time is it?”

  She half-heartedly punched my arm. “Don't talk with your mouth full. And it's almost nine o'clock.”

  “Where's Jack?”

  She snorted. “Who knows?”

  “Did he say when he was going to be back?” It had been almost five hours since I saw him last. It felt odd to me, but I didn't know how long it took to bring a dead body back to a morgue. I didn't even know where the body came from.

  “Nope.” Lexie shrugged and beamed a saccharine smile. “Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth, shall we?”

  I smiled back, but inwardly, I was a little worried. Jack might be annoying sometimes, but he was our ally right now. If he died, I didn't know what we'd do or if we would even know he died. And though I'd never admit it to Lexie, he was growing on me. Like a stinky mold, but still.

  Besides, who knew what mischief he was getting himself into out there without us to be the cricket on his shoulder.

  Since there wasn't anything we could do, I nestled back into the couch and watched TV with Lexie.

  “I was kind of hoping he'd be like me,” Lexie mumbled, her eyes downcast.

  “Who?”

  “The zombie earlier.” She turned to face me. “I was hoping he would be like me.”

  I paused for a moment to think carefully before I said, “I'm actually glad that h
e turned out the way he did.”

  “Why? He was a mindless slave, no more than the animals you've brought back.”

  I took a breath to speak, but paused— how to phrase this without hurting her feelings? “Because not everyone is so… separated from their family as you. If he came back as life-like and mindful as you, he probably would have wanted to go back home to his friends and family.”

  She furrowed her blonde brows, like she didn't quite grasp exactly what I was getting at.

  “Aside from the obvious nightmare to his loved ones of having him back dead, it isn't like we could have kept him around with us forever. Eventually, I would have had to pull the plug on him and put him back down.”

  “Oh,” Lexie sighed, understanding now.

  “I would have had to— in effect— kill him again. The poor man would have had to die twice. And can you imagine how shocked he would have been to find out he'd been raised from the dead?”

  “Yeah,” she drew the word out, now uncomfortable with the scenario I was painting.

  “He had a faint tan line of a cross on his chest. He probably would have felt violated by what we did today.”

  “Still, it would have been nice to not be alone in this.” She turned to look at the floor again.

  I grabbed her by the chin and made her look at me as I said, “So long as I'm breathing, you will never be alone.”

  She snorted a little and hugged me. “Literally.” Letting me go and leaning back against the couch, she said, “As much as we have each other, you still don't really understand exactly what it feels like to be the walking dead. I can't eat food anymore; I don't need to breathe unless I want to say something; and when it gets quiet, it's totally silent. I can't even hear my heart beating or the blood rushing through my ears. That kind of silence is enough to drive me crazy.”

  That was true. Though we never would— or could now— part, I would never be able to fully grasp what it was like to be in her shoes. That food had no attraction to her anymore saddened me. She used to love to eat and that I was the reason she couldn't enjoy ice cream or pizza anymore weighed on me.