Neck-Romancer: A Neck-Romancer Novel

by Elizabeth Dunlap

“Stones in the moonlight,” she whispered to herself. “Moonlight on the feathers. Feathers still with death.” I eased her down to her pillow and she grabbed my arm, suddenly clear again. “Jasmine, remember. The Hermit was your past. The shadow will not remain forever. You’ll find magic again.”

  Rolling my eyes at her platitudes, I left her in her room to sleep off her crazy spell and hoped she’d be better in the morning. The kitchen was still preparing dinner, and I poured myself a bowl of hot beef stew from the enchanted stew pot, then walked back outside to eat it in the garden. All of the pixies had gone to bed, making way for the fireflies to light up the dark sky. I followed their eerie lights to the small pond in the garden and moved to one of the benches there, spooning bites of stew with every step. Magical food always tasted better somehow, and it filled me with a happy warmth I wasn’t used to feeling.

  When I was halfway done with my stew, a loud squawking sound drew my attention from the pond water where dozens of small fish were swimming around. I left my meal on the bench and ran towards the noise, only to find a bird flapping around on the garden path. It struggled wildly, but with each passing second it grew more and more still until it was lying motionless on the stones. I knelt beside it and tried to look for a wound, my only light coming from the moon.

  Moonlight on the feathers. Feathers still with death.

  I looked up at the almost full moon and didn’t think, I just started moving. Clomping down the path, I left the garden and ran into the house for my bag before running back outside and grabbing random herbs I somehow knew I needed. I went back to the dead bird and brought out some of the supplies I still carried with me, even though I hadn’t needed them for a long time. There was a candle that I lit up, a piece of chalk that I used to draw a circle, not even knowing how I knew what to draw as I put various marks inside it, and a pestle I used to grind up the herbs before I sprinkled them over the bird and started speaking unknown words that poured out of me like a waterfall.

  My voice rose higher and higher, repeating the words and sprinkling the herbs, until suddenly the bird came back to life with a squawk and a resulting explosion of magic knocked me down on my ass.

  An explosion like that only happened when… I looked down at my hands and up to the bird that was wiggling around on the ground.

  It only happened when a witch specialized.

  “Jasmine!” My grandmother’s shout was accompanied by the sound of her running from the house to where I was sitting on the garden path. Her nimble fingers took my arm and helped me up. “What…” She stopped asking me that because it was plainly obvious what had happened. Her gaze went to the wiggling bird, though his movements were getting slower again. “You specialized,” she asked, looking back at me in wonderment. “You’re a necromancer.”

  I shook my head, and several hot tears dropped from my eyes. “No, I’m not. I don’t know what happened, I just…” The bird stopped moving again and was dead for a second time. “See?” I motioned to him and she knelt to pick the bird up. “I can’t be a necromancer, he’s dead again. Besides, there aren’t any necromancers. That field of magic is, I don’t know, cursed or something.”

  She humphed at me and tenderly held the bird to her chest. “It’s not cursed, it’s just very rare. Incredibly rare. You are the rarest witch alive.” She turned and walked across the garden with the dead bird, and having nothing else to do except contemplate what this meant for me, I walked behind her until she led me to a little graveyard near her house. It was the graveyard where she buried her familiars. “We must bury the bird securely. I won’t tell anyone where he is, I promise.”

  I curled my lip and grabbed a shovel that was leaning against the iron fence. “Why does that matter?”

  She waited as I dug a small but deep hole. “I don’t know much about necromancers, but I know about magic. I would guess there is a spell that involves the first creature you resurrected, and you won’t like what that spell can do to you.” Satisfied with my work, she bent and placed the bird inside the hole, and I shoveled dirt on top of him. “It’s true for many other fields of magic, so I will keep him safe as long as I am alive.”

  Finished, I straightened and wiped my forehead, no doubt streaking it with dirt. “This is unreal, Grandma. I don’t feel different. I’m still the loser girl who talks to ghosts.” It slipped out in my frustration and I almost bit my tongue when I realized what I’d said.

  “You…” She pursed her lips at me, putting her hands to her hips with a chastising scowl. “Jasmine. You’re seeing ghosts? You should’ve said something! That is a clear indication of a necromancer specialty. If we’d known, we would’ve had you try to resurrect something so you could attend Highborn like everyone else.”

  “OH THAT’S EFFING PERFECT!” I shouted, and stomped out of the graveyard, whipping my curls back when they fell over my face. “I could’ve been at school this entire time, but noooo, I had to convince myself I was losing my effing mind—”

  I was cut off when the ghost appeared right in my face.

  “Oh, thank god!” he exclaimed. “I can speak again. Verisimilitude. Quintessential. Boondoggle. Ahh, god, I missed talking so much. This is the best day ever. You’ve specialized! I’m so excited, Jaz!”

  “Where in the fricking hell did you come from?”

  Grandmother walked over to us and stared at the empty air I was focused on. “Is the ghost here right now, Jasmine?”

  I tugged on my cheeks in irritation. “Yes, can confirm, I’m seeing ghosts like a crazy person.”

  “You’re not a crazy person. You’re a necromancer,” the ghost answered, like it was common knowledge, his voice lilting with every word.

  “Okay, when did you have a British accent? Also, why didn’t you tell me I was a necromancer?”

  His ghostly face laughed at me. “I’ve always been British, I just never spoke enough for you to notice. Same with me telling you that you’re a necromancer. Do you know how hard it was just to say your name? There was no way I could get out a four syllable word with your magic so low.”

  “So your strength comes from my magic?” He nodded. “And you were just waiting around me hoping I’d specialize so you could say more than ‘nice rack’ to me?”

  He looked flustered, almost as if his transparent skin was blushing. “I never said that to you.”

  I raised a teasing eyebrow at him, enjoying his reaction. “Did you think it?”

  “Jasmine,” Grandma said beside me, oblivious to everything going on. “What is he saying?”

  “Oh, right. You can’t hear this Brit talking about my boobs. Shame on you, checking me out with my grandmother right here.” I shook a judgmental finger at him, and his mouth contorted with unspoken remarks.

  “Let her see me,” he demanded.

  “Woah there, cowboy. I’ve only just become a necromancer, I don’t know how to do shit. You’re just going to have to trust me to translate for you.” My sweet smile earned a glare from him.

  “Is this punishment for knowing about you this entire time and not saying anything?” I nodded, and he rolled his eyes at me.

  “We have to call your mother,” my grandmother pronounced, and she took me by the arm back to her house where the ghost didn’t follow us inside. Even though I was terribly put out with him, I didn’t like the thought of him outside by himself.

  “Can’t come in?” I asked him just inside the doorway.

  He shook his head and some of his dark hair fell into his eyes. “I can’t pass through wards unless they have your marks on them. You can add some, but it’ll invite other sorts of spirits in, so it’s better not to do it.”

  Grandma came back into the living room and joined me at the door, holding an ancient rotary phone to her ear. “Yes, she’s here with me. A necromancer, yes! I had my suspicions, you know.”

  That made me roll my eyes where only the ghost could see it. Of course she did. Keep telling yourself that, granny.

  “You’ll call Highborn for h
er?” Grandma continued.

  I sucked in a breath at the mention of the school. Now that I had the opportunity to go there, did I really want to? Not specializing when my friends did had revealed everyone’s true colors, that they only wanted to be friends with a witch, and didn’t care about me as a person.

  Just kidding, of course I wanted to go back. I would flaunt my necromancer powers in front of all their witchy faces, and they’d beg to be my friends again, whereupon I would pretend I never knew them. Hell yeah.

  Grandma hung up the phone and peered at me from her glasses. “Your mother is getting you re-enrolled into Highborn, you just have to go there and prove you’ve specialized. Doesn’t have to be a resurrection, just magic. You can still do normal spells like fire and such. Oh, Jasmine, I’m so excited for you!” She leaned over for a hug that I deflected by leaning so far back I fell into the ghost’s body and he was all around me like an ethereal curtain.

  Gross, I got ghost in my hair.

  4

  Back to prep-ville

  With my visit cut short, the next morning my grandmother enchanted her horseless carriage for us to ride into town to the train station. No, I don’t mean a car, I mean a literal horseless carriage. We bounced along the perfect black stone path, and the ghost followed along behind us, flowing in the wind like a plastic bag.

  We rolled through town and went straight to the station. My coffin backpack had a few extra things this time, gifts from Grandma to aid me in my new magical path. I was lucky my bag was enchanted to be bigger on the inside because it had a suitcase worth of stuff tucked in there.

  Grandma bought my ticket and stood with me on the station, the ghost on my other side looking as gloomy as possible. We waited for the Incantation Express to arrive, and it took it’s sweet time so my grandma could ask the questions I knew were coming.

  “So, who is this person?” She didn’t gesture to where the ghost was, but I knew what she meant.

  “I’m not dating anyone.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking who is the lover that you’ve already met?”

  Train, get here, like, now.

  “I’m not discussing boys, or girls, with you. Not gonna happen.” I crossed my arms over my chest to emphasize my point and she straightened beside me, looking away and hopefully dropping it.

  “Your mother was the same way. She ended up with three men and didn’t tell me anything until their wedding. Not that I’m complaining that she’s got so many men, it’s quite normal for us. I myself had two lovers before you were born.”

  Trying not to gag, I slammed my hands over my ears. “La-la-la, not listening to your gross stories.” She rolled her eyes at me as the train horn blared out and the engine came into view, the steam hissing out around us.

  Before the doors opened, Grandma leaned close to me and put a hand on my arm like this was a private exchange she didn’t want the ghost to overhear. “Do you need a birth control spell?”

  “I’M LEAVING, BYE.”

  I stomped onto the train as soon as the doors magically opened.

  “Wait!” the ghost shouted behind me. I turned, avoiding my grandmother’s gaze. “You have to invite me onto the train. It’s warded, but they’re weak enough where I can enter if you invite me.”

  “What are you, a vampire?” A glare settled on his grey face until I rolled my eyes at him. “Okay, fine. I invite you in, Dracula.”

  The ghost made a spooky noise as he floated onto the train and stood in front of me. “Boo.”

  “Hilarious.” I turned on my heels and walked down the train aisle until I found an empty compartment.

  “Hellooooo!” called the ticket master, still as bouncy as he was the day before. “Back again, I see!” My ticket flew out of my hand, and he appraised my destination again. “Highborn Academy, where all the fabulous witches are.”

  “Must be why you’re stuck on this train, then,” the ghost snarked since only I could hear him, and I fought to not laugh in response.

  My ticket punched, the warlock moved on and we were free to pick a spot in the compartment. I sat next to the window, propping my boots up on the rest of the plush bench. The ghost sat across from me, proving ghosts can in fact do so, and watched me pull a snack from my coffin bag. I looked him up and down, noting how his hair seemed more unruly than usual and was slightly covering one of his grey eyes. What color were they before he died?

  “What’s your name?” I asked him, chewing on my blondie brownie. “I can’t keep calling you ‘ghost.’”

  He tilted his head at me with a slight smile. “You never asked me my name before.” That brought a sharp look to my face as I took another bite. “I don’t remember my name. Maybe you can choose something for me?”

  “Why don’t you remember your name?” I asked him, mouth full of food.

  He looked away, out the window where the city lay. “I’ve been dead for a long time.”

  I finished my brownie and rubbed my hands together to get the crumbs off. “Okay, then. Let me see.” I leaned into the wall and brought a hand to my chin to contemplate. What boy had captivated my childhood? There was only one answer. “Gilbert. Like Gilbert Blithe from Anne of Green Gables. Good?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Gilbert. Sure it’s not sissy? I don’t want the other ghosts to make fun of me.” I threw my brownie wrapper at him and it sailed through his torso.

  “Don’t worry, you won’t lose ghost street cred, I promise. Or you will, in which case, I regret nothing.”

  The train took off with a lurch, and we were on our way to Highborn, the snobby magical center of the world.

  Gilbert, as it happened, was overly excited that he could speak again. He spent the train ride talking non-stop. When he ran out of conversation topics, mostly because I’d fallen silent out of annoyance, he started saying every word he knew.

  After that, he started reciting Shakespeare from memory, and I was ready to find the ticket master to ask if he knew a ghost banishing spell, but we quickly rolled into the Highborn station, and I was saved. Putting my backpack on, I left the train as fast as possible and let Gilbert catch up to me inside the station.

  This station was bustling with witches and warlocks, and I kept my head down so no one would notice me. I couldn’t let them notice me. They’d say something mean like I had no business showing my face there, or tell me I was an embarrassment to my mother, all things I’d heard before.

  Several witches walked into the front door and I had to sidestep them while trying to leave. An anxiety attack threatened to overwhelm me when I was safe on the front porch of the station.

  “Jaz, just keep breathing,” Gilbert soothed, coming up beside me.

  Why did I want him to hug me so much?

  Putting a hand out, I leaned against one of the porch posts and tried to steady myself. Their opinions didn’t matter anymore. I specialized. I was an official witch now, and they couldn’t take that from me. Just like that, their ostracization would turn into acceptance, and I hated them for it. You either want someone forever, or you don’t want them at all.

  I sniffed and straightened, trying to wipe at my eyes where Gilbert couldn’t see.

  “I could haunt them, if you’d like,” he offered with a comforting smile. “Move their keys, steal their left socks. Most ghosts would call that petty, but I’ve never much cared for what people think.”

  “You’re a gem, Gilbert,” I snarked with a smile, and left the station, turning to the right where Highborn came into view. Picture the castle from Beauty and the Beast plus the enormous Victorian structure that is Downton Abbey. A gothic masterpiece whose only purpose was to emphasize how pretentious witches are. Well, most of them.

  The sight of it sickened my stomach because it meant I had to return to my former life. Only a month ago, I would’ve traded anything to get my magic back and return to Highborn, but now that I finally had my way in, going back didn’t feel like the best option.

  What if I became
exactly like the people I hated?

  No, I told myself firmly with a shake of my pink tipped curls. I wouldn’t change back to who I was.

  I was Jaz effing Neck, and they couldn’t take that from me.

  The journey from the station to Highborn was about a mile, and we had to pass through Highborn Village before we got to the school. Highborn Village had all the shops for school supplies and clothes, the latest brooms, pets/familiars, food, and of course, the best bar to get smashed at after a long week of bitchy witches.

  Having already ordered my stuff ahead of time from the Highborn phone app, I stopped at all the shops along the way that had my orders waiting for me. Gilbert messed with the witches we passed like putting his hand through their head or wiggling his tongue in their face where they couldn’t see. More than a few wondered why it had gotten so cold all of a sudden.

  The familiar shop was temporarily out of stock, given that this was the middle of the school year so no one needed a new pet. They promised to let me know when there was a new batch of animals so I could see if any of them sparked my magic.

  My last stop was a wand store, and while wands weren’t used with normal spells, they were useful to have with more powerful magic in order to focus it better. I picked something generic from the wand machine and paid for it with some of the Scales my grandmother had given me. My wand box popped out into the little tray like a soda machine and I stuffed the box into my coffin bag before hauling it over my shoulder again.

  “Don’t want a flashy wand?” Gilbert asked me when we’d left the shop.

  I shrugged and shrank back against the store front when a group of giggling girls came by holding bags from the fashion store. “I’m not shelling out Scales for something I’ll hardly use. When I get to the more advanced magic, I’ll just buy a personalized wand and trade in my old one. Besides, do necromancers even use wands?”

  “Don’t look at me, I’m just a ghost. I can’t even remember my damn name.”