Tresia (Stone Mage Saga Book 3)

by Raven Whitney

  As I did with Edgar, I poured my black water into the ember. It glowed brighter and brighter with each drop, but wouldn't ignite. Perhaps it needed more because it had been so long in the earth.

  Instead of pouring it by the dribbling palm-full, I doused it with water by the bucket. Handling so much of my magic at a single time was… invigorating. Terrifying. It felt like I was skydiving with only a bed sheet for a parachute.

  From far away, I heard popping and scratching noises, but it sounded like I was underwater.

  It burst into ignition and the torch in my palms crackled with what seemed like delight.

  I opened my eyes to the reality before me.

  A tiny, ivory-colored skull stared into my eyes with its vacant, yet intense empty sockets from only an inch or two from my face. She stood eerily still on her hands and knees in front of me.

  It took everything I had to swallow the scream that clawed in my throat.

  “Constance?” Lexie asked in a breathy voice.

  Jack stood on the other side of the skeletonized zombie with his hands splayed, ready to attack at any moment. He crept slowly closer to her.

  I just stared into the little zombie's strangely expressive eye sockets.

  “Are you okay?” Lexie pressed, still speaking to me like there was a bear in front of me.

  I nodded. Agnes was a child. A child.

  She couldn't have been more than eight when she'd died.

  My heart constricted and tears welled in my eyes, warping my vision. She hadn't even lost all her baby teeth. There was one adult tooth that was just peeking up through the bone of her jaw, pushing up on a baby incisor in the bottom front.

  She'd had a loose tooth when something— probably sickness— had taken her from this world.

  I pictured a little girl with pigtails and an adorable snaggle-toothed grin running around like little girls do, playing hide-and-go-seek and climbing trees. She never got to grow up.

  Who knows who this little girl could have become. She might have grown up to be a doctor, or a mother, or the first woman president. All of that potential for greatness, for happiness, for love had been taken from her by something.

  But it was something I couldn't undo for her, no matter how badly I yearned to.

  Carefully— and because my hands were itching to— I reached out to stroke where her cheek would have been. But the comfort of human touch was beyond her now. This was nothing but bones, animated by my will, to do my will.

  I took a deep breath and got to my feet. The zombie stayed put on her hands and knees. “So what do we do now?” I asked Jack.

  He remained in an aggressive posture, ready to strike at the zombie if it did anything I didn't command. “I am not sure.” he confessed. “I truly did not think we would get this far today.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I think we should do tests, like we did with Edgar,” Lexie chimed in, sounding as uneasy as I was. “Test… its strength and speed.”

  “That is a good place to start,” Jack praised without any sarcasm.

  “I don't think that it'll be as fast or strong as he was,” she said, though it sounded more like she was thinking aloud. “How can it be? There aren't any muscles.”

  She brought up a curious point. How could this zombie move without any muscles? How were her bones articulated when her ligaments had long since wasted away? Her remains were staying together and moving, so we knew it was possible. Maybe my magic did more than I thought.

  “So what can we use to test it?” I asked, looking around. “We didn't happen to bring the big barrel and we can only go but so far away from the jeep. But does it count? Can it go farther away than thirty meters?”

  Jack was quiet for a moment while he considered it. “I am not sure, as your magic is what flows through her. We should not risk it.”

  “So how are we going to see what she can do?” Lexie asked, nibbling on her lower lip.

  “How about we put her up against Jack? If we can keep the fight in a certain area, that would test her out.” I crossed my arms over my chest. The idea of making the skeleton zombie of a little girl fight a fully grown, six hundred plus year old warrior didn't sit well in my stomach, but it had to be done. And the thing kneeling in front of me wasn't Agnes anymore.

  “That is a good idea.” Jack agreed. “I am in the game.”

  I looked down at the zombie, still frozen in place with a stillness that could only come from death. “To your feet.” Immediately, it did as commanded and peered up at me as if awaiting further instructions.

  I took a deep breath to settle the butterflies in my stomach and pointed at Jack. “Attack.”

  It whorled around in place and launched itself at Jack, who braced himself against the attack. Her bones rattled at the impact, but stayed in place.

  The two stood, deadlocked, for a time. Each strained against the other, but neither gained any distance on the other. “Strong,” Jack ground out. “Very strong.”

  “You're going to bail him out if this goes sideways, right?” Lexie asked, starting to sound worried.

  I nodded, not taking my eyes off the scene in front of me. She's not in there, I thought to myself over and over again. He wasn't hurting a little girl, only the empty shell of a zombie.

  Jack jerked his head like it was a fishing rod there was something attached to. The headstone next to me went flying into the zombie's exposed spine.

  The hit sent both of them tumbling backward, deeper into the graveyard and further from the jeep. This was getting too dangerous. “Jack!” I called out, pointing to the jeep behind me.

  He leaped from the heap he and the zombie had landed in and darted closer to where Lexie and I were.

  The zombie stood up, facing Jack with soulless eye sockets locked onto him and approached with a slow, steady gate. As it got closer, it was clear that there was no damage to the bones after having a tombstone slammed into its back.

  Its jawbone started to chatter, raking claws of pure ice up my spine. It sounded exactly like that freaky windup toy of the teeth on feet— sounded exactly like the horde of skulls that had devoured Unus alive.

  Jack remained in place, taking a defensive crouch as it walked to him. Why did it walk? Was it devising some battle strategy in its head? Did it have some autonomy after all? Or were its actions a reflection of my own thoughts and intentions?

  Jack snapped his fingers and the zombie ignited like a creeping bonfire.

  Its only reaction was that the chattering grew faster. It still walked to Jack.

  By the time it got to within a few feet, the bones were starting to warp from the heat. The warping made its skeleton tilt to the side and limp heavily with each step that it continued to take.

  Why was it slowing down?

  I closed my eyes and reached out with my necromancy to peer at its little flame, now burning with a tiny flame, little bigger than a match.

  Attacking Jack had used up most of the magic I'd used to raise her. She had enough of a flame to keep going, but not for much longer. With the damage it had sustained, it was using more and more of its energy to keep trying to complete its orders.

  When I was in that state, I felt Lexie's flame, too. It was smaller than I'd expected. I thought her fire would be comparable to a living person's— bright, big, steady. But it was more the size of a campfire and it flickered more than I was comfortable with.

  There was something in her fire that was connected to me, like a narrow channel that was dug into our souls. It was connected to the black sea, but the water didn't flow freely. It trickled magic from my soul into hers at a rate that matched the flickering in her fire.

  I directed more of that water to flow through the channel to her. Like gasoline, it made her flame roar with life. It got so bright, I had to open my eyes again.

  The smell is what got to me first. The acrid scent of charred something burned my sinuses and eyes. It was the zombie, still burning, but now on the ground, crawli
ng in a jerky motion to Jack.

  Jack, who was standing by Lexie, shaking her.

  She was hunched over with a hand clutching her chest, gasping desperately.

  I ran to her so quickly I nearly stumbled over a grave marker and grabbed her arm. A zing ran through my hand and reverberated through my body. Necromancy.

  She coughed then, a few times from deep in her chest and righted herself. “I'm good,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I'm okay.”

  “What happened?” Jack asked, waving the burning zombie back a few feet. Undaunted, it continued to inch itself forward.

  “All of a sudden, I felt this jolt and it was like everything was too much. Everything started to hurt and feel so… empty.” Her bright blond brows furrowed with thought. “I don't know what it was, but it happened right when Constance got all weird again, doing her zombie thing.”

  Had that been my magic? Did I maybe give her too much of it?

  “Topolina?” Jack looked to me for answers.

  “I reached into the little zombie to see why it was slowing down and I saw that it was using up all the magic I put into it. I also saw Lexie.” I looked downward.

  “And?” he pressed.

  “Her… fire, for lack of a better term, was too small and it was flickering like it might go out, so I added more magic to hers,” I explained quietly. I closed my eyes again and checked her flame. It was bigger now, burning bright and steady. It wasn't like a living person's, but it looked better than it was.

  “How do you feel now?” I opened my eyes and looked into Lexie's. Her once bright blue eyes were still cloudy, but weren't angry.

  Lexie was quiet for a second. “Better.” She looked down at her hands, flexing them. “I can't explain how, but I feel better now. Like I have more energy and my body isn't so—” she nodded her head back and forth like she was trying to find the right word, “heavy. Moving is easier. I still don't have a heartbeat, or need to breathe, and I don't feel hungry, but my body feels better.”

  “Hm,” Jack mumbled. “It seems Alessandra benefits from influxes of your magic, just like other zombies.”

  “That makes sense,” she said. “Speaking of, could you put that thing back now? It's really giving me the creeps.” She pointed to where the zombie lay burning on the ground, still trying to pull itself across the ten feet that separated us.

  “Yes,” Jack agreed. “It is time to put the bambina back to rest.”

  “Yeah,” I said. She had done enough. “Jack, would you dig her grave back up for me? I'd like to put her back where she belongs.”

  He waved his hand, extinguishing the flames that were burning her bones and the few spots of brush and grass that had caught off it. With a solemn expression on his face, he walked past the twitching blackened bones to reach her grave. As he passed the tiny, warped zombie, I could have sworn it continued to reach for him, even when it didn't have the energy left to crawl.

  Using the earth magic conferred to him by his necklace, he pulled away the already loosened soil from her grave.

  Lexie and I walked together to Jack's side, where what remained of her coffin was exposed in the sandy soil. Inside was what looked like the tattered remnants of a doll that still had a bow in the few strands of hair it had left.

  “Stop attacking and return to your grave.” I pointed to the hole in the ground.

  It looked at me and tried to crawl, but wasn't going anywhere. Between her warped bones and dwindling energy supply, she was stuck.

  Lexie averted her eyes. “God, this is hard to watch.”

  “Come, Alessandra.” Jack pulled her back by the shoulder to give me some space.

  Reaching into the black sea, I pulled out a few drops of water and used it to give the zombie just enough energy to crawl. With the added magic, the zombie was able to crawl slowly and return to its grave. It dropped into the hole, only a few feet deep and curled up in the fetal position, clutching her precious dolly.

  Swallowing hard around the lump in my throat, I pulled out what water remained in her, until her bent, black bones fell loose in the casket.

  I sniffled and reached out for Lexie's hand as Jack covered her back up.

  “If I could drink, I'd say I need a shot of whiskey right about now,” Lexie said, her voice softer than the grip she had on my hand.

  When the grave was filled in, Jack turned to face us wearing his standard smile, but there was a tightness in his eyes that wasn't there before. “Shall we go, ladies?” he asked, holding his arm out as if to escort us back to the jeep.

  “Yeah,” I answered. “It's time to go home.”

  8

  We deserve a special dinner,” Jack said as he ushered us in the back door of the bungalow.

  “How special?” I asked, suspicious. “Ramen noodles with hot dogs again?”

  He looked disgusted with me for even suggesting it, even though it was him who made that a few months ago. “Of course not, topolina. I am going to make pasta puttanesca.”

  Lexie looked confused when he went into the kitchen and started rummaging through the cabinets. “Wait a sec, doesn't that mean prostitute spaghetti? Are we eating hookers now? Because if so, I'm glad that I don't eat food anymore.”

  He chuckled, picking out a cannister of flour and some canned vegetables from the back. “No, it is called that because it used to be a dish for the very poor.”

  Lexie shrugged, accepting that.

  Jack cracked a few eggs into a bowl, poured in an unmeasured large clump of flour, and began kneading it into dough. “Drain the vegetables and sauté them in a pot with a dollop of olive oil.”

  “We've been eating nothing but frozen or canned foods since we got here. What makes you think we have olive oil?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “There is always olive oil.” He pointed a dough-caked finger at one of the lower cabinets that had pots and frying pans that never got used.

  I dug around in the cobweb-filled space and did, indeed, find a small bottle of olive oil. Wiping the coating of dust off on my shorts, I read the bottom of the bottle. “The expiration date on this was over six years ago.”

  Jack scowled, waving a hand. “Smell it.”

  “No way.” I almost laughed. What was he thinking? “You smell it.”

  He gave an aggrieved sigh. “Fine, bring it here and open it.”

  I did as he asked and the expression on his face was priceless.

  “No olive oil.” So quietly that he was barely audible, he muttered, “My nonna must be rolling in her grave.”

  “It's fine.” I tossed it in the trash and went over to the sink to drain the canned vegetables. It was nice to finally be eating something that could be called healthy. “I'll just leave some juice.”

  “Save the artichoke water from the can, then. It is the most flavorful.” He went back to work kneading, then rolling out the dough on the table. If I bit into a grain of sand later, I was going to be miffed.

  “Anything I can do to help?” Lexie asked.

  “We have this in hand,” Jack answered.

  She went to the living room to watch TV and play around on the laptop.

  The vegetables started to simmer in the pot I was tending when Jack came over with a handful of fresh, floppy spaghetti. He set it on the counter next to me. “Add one can of water. When it boils, add the pasta.”

  I nodded.

  Moments later, he returned with another handful and went back to the table. Curious at his pace, I took my eyes off the pot to see what he was doing. He was rolling the pasta out on the table and cutting it with his telekineses. Well, that was one way to do it.

  He returned with the last of the pasta and set it and the rest in the pot just as it started to boil. “It will only take another few minutes.” Jack gestured for me to step back so he could add salt and pepper.

  While we then waited, he leaned against the counter. “I am proud of the progress you ladies are making. I do not know if I have told you that.”

  I was su
rprised by his compliment. Not only did he not do that often, he didn't really have the grounds to. Lexie and I were getting better at fighting and I was getting more comfortable with my magic, but enough to make him proud? “Um, thanks, but I don't think we're doing that well.”

  He turned the hotplate off and reached into the cabinet for bowls. “You do not give yourselves enough credit. In only a few short months, your entire world changes, you lose your families and homes, yet you still adapt and move on. That is a skill few have. Many stronger men than you have broken under less.”

  I filled both of our bowls, still uncertain how to take the praise. He spoke of how Lexie and I were playing the hand we were dealt, but what other option did we have? Curl up in a little ball and cry until the big, bad monster stole us away and tortured us to death?

  Jack shifted his weight, seeming uncomfortable as he took his bowl to the table. “All I am saying is that you both are doing well and I appreciate the efforts you are making.”

  “Thanks.” Before we were even at the table, Jack had already stuffed a heaping fork-load of veggies and pasta into his mouth. “And we appreciate how hard you've been working to teach us.”

  He smiled, genuinely this time with no sarcasm or humor.

  I took a bite of the pasta, not sure of what I was putting in my mouth. Yeah, the guy seemed like he knew what he was doing while we were cooking, but this was also the same man who ate like a broke college student— or a dog— every day and didn't seem bothered. Who knew if his taste buds even worked anymore?

  But it was amazing.

  “This is good,” I said around a mouthful of piping hot food, unable to keep the note of shock out of my voice.

  And just like that, he was smug again. “I am Italian. Cooking is in my blood.”

  “So is eating, apparently.” He was already somehow halfway through his bowl. The man ate like a bulldozer. The pasta was still so hot that my tongue was almost burning.

  An almost childlike grin swept across his face, the kind of smile that reached all the way up to his eyes. Once all the slick charm and smarmy pervertedness were stripped away, there was actually a handsome man underneath it all.