Unholy Spirit (The Necromancer's Daughter Book 3)

by Genevra Black

  So much had changed since Astrid’s death that it felt like it had been two years instead of two weeks. Without the valkyrie’s guidance, the Reach was adrift, and those left to pick up the pieces were unsure how to restore a faction they hadn’t been alive to witness.

  Still, they weren’t destroyed, and they certainly weren’t ready to give up.

  And, as far as she knew, they still expected her to lead.

  Why Astrid had chosen Edie to be the Reacher in the first place was still a mystery. The fact that her father had tried to revive it once? The belief that a powerful hellerune would be feared and respected?

  Whatever the case, ready or not, the responsibility had been dropped in her lap, and it was too late to run away.

  Her friends were adjusting well to their new situation, especially considering some of them were juggling the death of a beloved friend at the same time. Since the battle at the Temple of the Rising Divine, their ragtag group had stuck together while their trip to New York City was arranged.

  Matilda had been hosting everyone save for Sissel and her father, though the Inuutsutoqs were around more often than not. Tilda’s generosity was much to the chagrin of Cal, who avoided her, preferring to spend his time running errands or patrolling the city. Edie tried to be extra gracious to make up for him, but the vampire’s sad, passive acceptance was unwavering.

  As Edie walked the street, she looked around. Worn-down buildings surrounded her on every side with only the thinnest thoroughfares for traffic, a warren of a neighborhood. Dark windows glared down at her from all angles. A few streets away, police sirens wailed, and nearby, a cat screeched. Glass crunching under her feet made her look down, eyes traveling over the snow-edged sidewalk.

  It had been snowing a little bit every day, and freezing at night. The chilly air caused the stubborn piles to stick instead of melt. Edie had stopped posting on social media months ago, but she checked her feed for news and had seen that it was even worse in other places. Anster wasn’t known for its gentle winters, so that was new. A circulating map had promised that they’d probably be driving into New York in the middle of a blizzard.

  But blizzard or not, New York would be better than here. The Aurora were so shaken by Radiant Eirik’s betrayal and the huge loss of vivids that their support against the New Gloaming had come to a screeching halt. According to Cal and other contacts, Watcher patrols had diminished, but they’d been replaced by New Gloaming reveling in their newfound invulnerability.

  Some were content to walk around in broad daylight, brazenly unglamoured; others were practically walking riots, causing destruction to humans as they saw fit. The fact that neither the governor nor the president had sent the National Guard to help made Edie dread just how far up the Wounded’s influence went.

  Personally, it was too dangerous for Edie to go outside anymore without covering up—which was why, when Klein had asked to meet up, the two had agreed on the quietest bar in the most unfamiliar neighborhood they could think of.

  Edie lingered on the sidewalk and waited for a barhopper to stagger through the door first, following him close to slip in unnoticed. Inside, it was dark enough—with only neon signs and the muted colors of an old jukebox illuminating the room—that she felt comfortable pulling down her scarf and taking off her sunglasses.

  While she tried to discreetly search the bar for a familiar face, she ordered the first draft beer she saw. The bartender handed her a bottle instead.

  It took a few moments of looking to find Klein sitting in the backmost booth. Edie could see at a glance that the vampire had done their best to conceal their striking appearance. Hair that was usually platinum blond and straight down their back had been cut, dyed dark brown, and pulled messily into a ponytail. They wore no makeup or jewelry and had donned a pair of thick-rimmed glasses that somehow changed their whole face. On the wooden table in front of them sat an untouched cocktail.

  In the couple years the two had worked together at Nocturnem, a goth club downtown, Edie had gotten used to seeing them every shift. Too bad Nocturnem’s owner, Scarlet, had turned out to be not only a Gloaming loyalist but a friend of Zaedicus Oldine and crony to Sárr, the Wounded Lord.

  Edie approached with her “draft” and sat down unceremoniously. “You don’t even look like the same person.”

  “Good,” Klein replied with a snort. “Unfortunately, that’s the goal.”

  “Are you okay? What exactly happened?”

  Klein heaved a long sigh. “I was okay, for a while … but Scarlet must have suspected something, because she checked Nocturnem’s security footage. Must have seen me talking to you and realized I told you she’d kidnapped Cal.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. I’m not sure how I escaped with my un-life, honestly, but here I am.” They sighed again. “I know I don’t have to worry as much as someone like you, but it’s been rough. You know how Scarlet is, with her legendary grudges. It’s getting harder and harder to hide. Those stupid Watchers seem to follow me everywhere I go.”

  Edie rubbed her forehead. If Scarlet was ordering the Watchers around, she must play a bigger role than just Zaedicus’s pet human-wight. It figured. “Christ. I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault,” they replied with shrug.

  “It kind of is. I was the one who dragged you into this. I can’t help but feel at least a little responsible.”

  “I get it.” Klein smiled wearily. “Maybe it was for the best, though. What kind of asshole would I be if I kept working for her? Even if it was just as a bartender.”

  Edie fiddled with the label on her beer. “It being for the best doesn’t change the fact that you’re lucky to be alive. Just … let me know if there’s anything I can do, okay? Before that luck runs out.”

  “Actually … there might be something you can do.” The vampire leaned back and crossed their arms, searching Edie’s face. Their own expression seemed to be asking an earnest question. “Man, I died in the early eighties. I don’t know shit about the Reach. I’ve always been neutral.”

  “Why not join when my father tried to revive it? The Reach is a neutral faction.”

  “I don’t trust factions. They always turn into something horrible, over time.”

  Edie sighed. “That’s fair.”

  Though Indriði had obviously had an ulterior motive, her critical words about the Reach had piqued Edie’s interest, and she’d done a little research. Although the old Reach had had a reputation as arbiters and harborers of refugees, Edie had been reminded soon enough that, when it came to the status quo, neutral had meant something different several centuries ago. Slavery in many different forms, among other things, had been overlooked.

  According to Satara, her ancestors on Mare Isle had been one of the first groups to splinter, and Astrid had been one of their first advocates. From there, internal conflict, faction wars, and the growing popularity of the Aurora and Gloaming had ultimately been its demise. So, really, Klein was right.

  “I just never thought about it,” they continued. “I was safe enough. But I don’t have to tell you things have changed. I’m not sure how much longer I can do this on my own.”

  “Yeah.” Edie was quiet for a moment, before she finally put into words what she’d been thinking for the past two weeks. “The old Reach is gone, and it isn’t coming back. I think my dad was trying to resurrect something that just doesn’t exist anymore. Can’t exist.”

  “Typical necromancer. Sooooo, I guess you start over, then?”

  “I guess we don’t have a choice.”

  Klein shrugged. “Choice is an illusion anyway. So what are you guys doing now?”

  “An old, uh, friend of Cal’s, Matilda Ardelean, joined up right away. She managed to recruit some of her rich buddies, and they’ve been helping set up safe houses and funds for displaced people.” Edie finally took a thoughtful sip of her beer, trying to recall Tilda’s recent updates. “They’ve got beds, food, transportation. She and Satara negotiated for a bunch of
in- and out-World mercenary groups to come guard the operations and stuff.”

  Klein raised their brows.

  “Yeah, I know. The mercs are almost one hundred percent armed and ready to fend off any Gloaming raids. I can send you some info if you want”—Edie shifted to take her phone from her back pocket—“but I’ll be in New York soon, so I won’t be around to check up on you.”

  At the mention of New York, Klein lit up. “Like the city? How come?”

  She hesitated. She trusted Klein not to go blabbing to the Gloaming, but what if the Gloaming wouldn’t take no for an answer? Edie didn’t want anyone to have to withstand torture to keep her secrets safe. “It’s … complicated.”

  “Wait,” they said, “where the hell are you staying in NYC? I thought you were broke.”

  Edie opened her mouth to reply but quickly stopped herself. Right. She wasn’t broke anymore. It was hard to get used to the fact that she now had a substantial inheritance—newly acquired, thanks (and no thanks) to Cal—at her disposal. The full nearly nine million, too, after Tilda had insisted on paying off her and Mercy’s medical debt. Bless that woman.

  When Edie didn’t answer right away, Klein leaned forward. “Come on, Edith, you don’t have to keep things from little ol’ me.”

  “No, I’m not! I mean, I was broke. It’s just—” She shook her head. “I’m just realizing how much work Tilda has been doing these past couple weeks. She’s putting us up at her apartment in Manhattan. I guess she has someone managing it, like an Airbnb thing, and they’ll meet us there.”

  “Well, okay, listen,” Klein replied, glancing around the bar. “I need to get out of this city, like, yesterday. And since you keep insisting you owe me one…” They smiled hopefully. “Maybe you could bring me with you?”

  “Well—”

  “I’d stay out of the way. Let you do your Reach business or whatever. I just need to get somewhere less batshit, know what I mean?”

  Edie considered the request. She couldn’t see any reason why bringing Klein would be a problem, but probably best to ask anyway. “I’ll talk to Tilda and the others.”

  “Great. Awesome! If it pans out, text me when and where I should meet you, I guess.” After a pause, Klein peered at her. “Wait, what do you mean you were broke, Miss Starving Artist? You come into some money recently or something?”

  Some. A half-mad laugh escaped from Edie. “You could say that.”

  With a grunt, Edie lifted the last of her bags into Ghost’s trunk, then stepped back to survey her work. She’d been tasked with jigsawing everything to fit into the snug space, and she’d done a pretty good job. Thank the gods for all those hours of Tetris.

  Cal, leaning against Ghost’s side, gave the ’63 Eldorado a pat, and the trunk closed seemingly of its own volition. One of the many perks of owning a haunted muscle car.

  Edie turned to look at the small group gathered in the parking garage of Tilda’s building. Apart from the vampire wight herself and the group going to NYC, Sissel stood with her hands in the pockets of her bomber jacket. Beside her was Fisk in all his naked, slimy glory. Finally, next to him sat Mercy, her shoulders slumped forlornly.

  Mercy’s medium brown skin was a couple shades grayer than normal, and there were dark bags under her chocolate-colored eyes. Since they were still rooming together at Tilda’s, Edie knew that her best friend hadn’t slept; her tossing and turning had kept Edie up all night, too.

  The worry wasn’t doing anything to help her usual fatigue either. An unexpected battle at Gloaming Lord Zaedicus’s party three months ago had left her permanently disabled, and though she’d regained some use of her legs through medicine and therapy, she was using a wheelchair today. Her not even bothering with her crutches or cane was a telltale sign she was in a lot of pain.

  “You have to text me every day,” Mercy said seriously before immediately yawning.

  “No,” Sissel cut in, “call us! I want to know everything you do!”

  “I’ll remind her,” Satara promised as she came closer to hug Mercy goodbye. Dressed warmly in a turtleneck and puffy vest, the shieldmaiden kept glancing anxiously at Ghost, probably eager to get on the road. She had already locked Astrid’s shop up—maybe for good—and arranged to have her cats looked after. Like Edie, she’d packed all she could from her apartment into boxes that now resided in Tilda’s storage unit.

  It had been Satara’s idea to follow Indriði to New York City. At first, defeating the Gloaming had seemed like an abstract concept, and they’d all been rolling with the punches. Now, it was personal. Indriði had obliterated Astrid, and her death had caused Satara to become a fledgling valkyrie. If they didn’t figure out how to transition her into a true valkyrie soon, she would die.

  To add insult to injury, Indriði had also taken Astrid’s ancient shield and spear as trophies. Satara intended to get them back.

  Edie had been wary of the plan at first, but there was too much at stake to sit around and hold down the fort; they had to go confront the people trying to turn the world to chaos. The letters Cal had stolen from Indriði claimed there was not only a Reach presence—something Astrid had led them to believe didn’t exist—but a hellerune hidden in New York. Another person like her. Aside from her and her dad, she hadn’t so much as heard of another one before.

  As the others continued saying their goodbyes, Edie turned to look at the one person who hadn’t spoken all morning.

  To be fair, Marius hadn’t spoken much at all these past couple weeks. Though Tilda had kindly let him stay with the rest of their group in her penthouse—and gifted him new clothes, to boot—Edie could tell he was still troubled by what had happened when they’d faced off with the Aurora. Not knowing if his father was still alive or not was hard enough; when Marius had run from the Aurora, he’d left behind the only support, the only family, he had ever had. He’d left behind his life.

  When Edie thought about it, she was surprised he was doing as well as he seemed to be. She guessed he was trying to keep his head down and focus on the task at hand.

  “You ready?” she asked him quietly.

  He glanced at her, awkwardly shoving his hands in the pockets of his lightweight jacket, then looked over her shoulder at the daylight pouring in from the garage entrance. "As ready as I'll ever be."

  Their exchange was interrupted by Sissel, who left the rest of the chatting group to give Edie a firm handshake. The teenager—now officially sixteen—had been enduring hugs for a few minutes, but no longer, it seemed. "Augustus will miss you," she said, dark eyes crinkling into crescents.

  "Promise you'll take care of him." Edie smiled back. "And stay safe, and listen to your dad."

  These days, Tilda and Nils’s independent study curriculum occupied most of Sissel’s time. She still studied literature and math, but there was now a bigger focus on the magical world around them and the history of it, and she seemed to enjoy it more than the online classes she'd been taking previously.

  Still, finding ways to get into trouble was Sissel's specialty, and the adolescent Venomgut drake she'd hijacked from Indriði only encouraged her. Edie figured teenagers were the same no matter their species.

  "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Sissel said, releasing her hand.

  Edie snorted. "That seems like a curse on my safety."

  Without warning, she felt something cold wrap around her and lift her off the pavement. She tensed, gasping, but relaxed once she realized it was just Fisk.

  "Strength, speed, and well-wishes to you, skald Edie!" The towering sea spirit nuzzled the side of her head, dampening it. He still insisted on referring to her as a skald despite the fact that she hadn't so much as picked up her guitar in almost two months. She'd packed it and her portable amp into the trunk on a whim but would probably be too busy getting her ass kicked to use it.

  "Thanks." She wiggled to look over her shoulder at him. "Is this a hug?"

  "Yes." He squeezed tighter. "Mercy says I am getting better at them."
<
br />   "The first hug he gave me nearly broke my back," Mercy confirmed from a few feet away.

  Fisk set Edie down carefully and nodded to Satara and Marius as well. "Safe travels, my friends. May the gods watch over you." Then he turned to Cal and deadpanned, "I do not care if you perish."

  "Love you, too, Shamu," the revenant grumbled around a newly lit cigarette. He was already on his second pack of the day, by Edie's count. But she didn't have to monitor his smoking to know he was stressed about leaving Anster—even with the walls he put up so she couldn't get inside his head, their connection was taut with anxiety.

  Finally, it was Tilda's turn, and she hugged Satara and an awkward Marius as she spoke: “My caretaker, Yuval, is expecting you, so everything should be set up for when you get there. Don’t worry, I am absolutely certain you’ll love her.” When she hugged Edie, she lingered, tilting her head to whisper in her ear. “Please be safe. Please, please don't let them get into trouble."

  Since Edie was far from the most responsible one in their party—and everyone knew it—Tilda probably meant Don't let Cal get into trouble. Their reunion at the Gloaming party had been the first time Tilda had seen Cal since he’d abandoned her and skipped town, and she clearly still had feelings for him. Not that Cal had done much to deserve it. He was like family to Edie, but when it came to Tilda, he acted like an ass. That was shitty enough on its own, considering how friendly she was, but especially bad after everything she was doing for them.

  The wight released Edie from her embrace and looked at Cal, black eyes shining. She was usually more inscrutable, but when it came to the revenant, Tilda wore her heart on her sleeve. "Good luck, Cal," she said hesitantly. "Take care of Edie. And Ghost, too."

  Cal was stiff, looking at the car instead of her. "Yep."

  Stubborn bastard.