Bury Their Bones (Wicked Fortunes Book 2)

by AJ Merlin

  I held my hands up in surrender. “I promise, okay? Let’s keep moving, though. I want to see if I can find a trail. Or something.”

  Chapter 26

  There was no trail to be found. Not then, and not in the days after it.

  True to my word, I didn’t go looking for the necromancer without Akiva or Indra with me.

  Yuna joined us often, and sometimes I saw Merric skulking about in mirrors or as a fox on a rooftop.

  I never commented on it. None of the others did, either, though I wasn’t sure if that was because they were ignoring him or didn’t know he was there.

  The Necromancer did not show up again.

  On the seventh night of searching with not even a sniff of magic, I called it off early. I was tired, and Aveline was off tonight. While she had been too busy with her own life to help me out with this, I missed spending time with her.

  Pushing open the door to our house, I called, “Av, I’m home. Do you want to get pizza or something?” It was only one am. Some places would still be open, and I was starving.

  Av walked out of the kitchen, a mug in her hand. Her golden hair was loose around her shoulders, and she wore a black, long-sleeved t-shirt that was too long for her, over very short-shorts.

  My eyes narrowed, and I inhaled sharply in suspicion.

  “Goddess, you act like my mother. Only she doesn't have your nose,” Aveline snickered. “Yes, I would like pizza.”

  We stared at each other. She leaned against the doorframe and sipped whatever was in her mug.

  “Aren’t you going to ask?” Her eyes met mine daringly. “I know you want to.”

  “I could just walk in and find out,” I replied. “I don’t need to ask.”

  “But you so want to ask.”

  With a sigh, I closed the door behind me. “Does he want pizza? And does he have clothes on?”

  “I could go for some pizza.” The familiar voice caught me by surprise, and I whipped around, eyes widening.

  Baron Kriminel stood in our house, shirtless.

  “Oh my Goddess.” I looked between them. “You are not.”

  “The sex is great,” Aveline remarked into her mug. “You would’ve known sooner if you’d been around more.”

  “I–“ I was flabbergasted. Baffled. Dumbstruck. My cousin was fucking one of the Loa in our house.

  “Do the others know?” I demanded, looking at Baron Kriminel.

  He walked to Aveline, his arms sliding around her waist.

  She looked up at him, a fond smile curling over her lips.

  They weren’t just sleeping together.

  They were dating.

  “Marinette knows,” Kriminel said with a one-shouldered shrug. “The others don’t get out as much. I doubt they’ll find out unless you tell them.”

  “What would they do if I told them?”

  Baron Kriminel took a moment to think about that. “Nibo would be very upset,” he said at last. “Mostly because it’s me, and he finds a reason to be upset at everything I do. I don’t see why the others would care. Why?” He grinned sharply. “Do you think my family will turn your cousin into a mouse? Or a chicken, perhaps?”

  “I think I have enough going on right now without that even being a possibility.” I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose. “Pizza? Yes. We’re doing pizza.”

  “I’ll get it,” Aveline offered, her phone in her free hand. “I was just getting ready to order something anyway. Didn’t think you’d be home tonight, George.”

  I sighed and threw my keys down into the bowl by the door, my thigh bag on the table beside it. “Yeah. Me neither. But at this point, I might as well be chasing a ghost.”

  “No luck with tracking down our necromancer?”

  I met his gaze, surprise coloring my features. “How did you know about that?”

  His ominous grin widened. “Did you think we would not keep track of your progress, summoner?”

  “I didn’t think about it. And I haven’t tracked him down yet,” I admitted. I walked past them, kicking my shoes off, and sank down on the sofa. Both of them followed, and Kriminel perched on the other edge of the sofa while Aveline lounged in the chair. “I don’t get it. There’s nothing. No scent of magic. And he hasn’t killed again. But what he said…” I shook my head. “I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do with ‘uncrown the mother-saint.’”

  “What did you say?” Kriminel leaned towards me slightly.

  I raised a hand, then dropped it at my side. “I don’t know. Something that Merric told me the necromancer said when I had passed out. ‘Maybe she will pull out the pins before I uncrown the mother-saint.’”

  “Who’s the mother-saint?” Aveline asked, looking up from her phone. She tossed it to the end table a second later, probably done with her pizza order.

  I drew my legs up under me with a sigh, grabbing the blanket and spreading it over my lap. “I don’t know.”

  “Could he mean Maman Brigitte?” Kriminel suggested. “She is the mother, after all. And the leader of the remaining Loa. Perhaps he means to dethrone her. Though…” he trailed off thoughtfully. “I have never heard her referred to as a ‘saint.’”

  Caught up on his words, I asked, “Remaining Loa?”

  Kriminel looked up, shaking from his thoughts. “What?” His blue eyes were pale, and he looked genuinely confused at my question.

  “You just said remaining Loa.”

  His eyes lightened further.

  “I’m sure I did not,” he told me. “And if I did–“

  “If you did, then you meant something by it. Were there originally more of you?” Maybe it wasn’t important.

  Or maybe it was.

  “It’s not something that you need to know,” Kriminel said carefully. “It was simply a slip up on my part to phrase things that way.”

  “Can the Loa die?” My voice was too loud, and my question hung in the air between us in lieu of an answer.

  Aveline shifted in her chair, her cornflower blue eyes on Baron Kriminel as well.

  The Loa were said to be deities. The only ones of their kind and veritable gods.

  Could a god be killed?

  “You would do well to drop this line of conversation.” Baron Kriminel’s voice had gone very cold. “I have no intention of entertaining this further, Georgette.”

  A shiver trailed down my spine like sharpened claws, and my insistence died on my tongue.

  Whether they could die or not, I had a feeling I should not push the Loa. Not even one sleeping with my cousin.

  “He likes Little Children, Large Crowns,” Aveline said, pointedly changing the subject.

  “You do?” I raised a brow. ”Why? I have never met anyone else here that enjoys that.”

  “It’s funny.” He was smiling again. Just like that. “I like watching humans embarrass themselves.”

  It was late by the time I went to my room. Or early, depended on how I felt about four in the morning.

  But I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t tired, for some reason, and couldn’t seem to relax.

  I sat down on my floor, my cards in my hand.

  Last time I’d desperately needed their help, they had thrummed with magic that had surprised me. They’d come to me without me having to draw them.

  It hadn’t happened since, but perhaps the magical energies were not impressed at my gallant attempts to provoke their advice over my breakfast choices.

  Now I needed the help once again. I had a three-card spread in mind, preferring that right now over a full reading.

  I wanted to know the nature of the problem I faced.

  I wanted to know the cause.

  And I wanted to know the solution.

  Those things were easy for me to focus on. They were concrete ideas that I could fully wrap my head around instead of thrusting my magic into the unknown and fishing for ideas on my future.

  I never needed to shuffle this deck, with its black patterned backs and worn out illustrations from so muc
h use, but I did so anyway. Not to mix the cards better. No, that didn’t matter. If a card was meant to show up in a reading, it would. No matter if it was at the bottom of the deck or across the room in a locked drawer.

  I shuffled now to put my hands against as many cards as I could, letting my magic rub off of my fingertips and absorb into them.

  Finally, I spread the deck into an arc in front of me, readjusting the candles at either side of my seated form.

  A crystal pulsed with inner, magical light just inches from my leg, lighting my darkened room and sending waves of gentle magic over me and my cards both.

  I’d never seen someone do what I was trying, and I was glad that I was alone. It was most likely not going to work, and I’d prefer to look like an idiot in front of myself instead of in front of someone else.

  With that thought, I checked the mirror, just to make sure a certain kitsune wasn’t preparing to pounce.

  Only my pale face stared back at me, framed by my silver-blonde hair.

  “What is the nature of my problem?” I whispered, knowing my cards didn’t need to hear the words but doing it for myself all the same. I put my conviction and my question into every syllable, sending my magic towards my cards.

  But I didn’t draw one. I didn’t touch any of them.

  Instead, I held my left hand over the deck, palm down, and let it hover twelve inches above the cards. I closed my eyes, focusing on my magic and the cards.

  Nothing happened.

  I sighed, not particularly surprised, and noticed the jawbone necklace at my throat felt slightly warm.

  When I opened my eyes, I nearly fell over backward with a gasp.

  A wolf stood in front of me.

  The Form of the Moon held steady, neither moving nor making a sound as I recomposed myself.

  “You can’t be here!” I gasped. “I didn’t summon you.”

  It just stared at me, then very pointedly tipped its muzzle downward to look at my hand.

  The Moon, upright, lay in my hand. Not the magical card that I used to summon the Form in front of me, but the actual card from my deck.

  I’d never touched it. I’d never touched any of my cards, but here it was.

  “The Moon. Upright,” I murmured, unsure if I was speaking to the wolf or to myself. “It represents illusion. Fear.” That was apt for what this card seemed to bring whenever it showed up.

  “It means you,” I told the wolf sourly. It flicked its ears towards me like it had heard and disagreed.

  But that wasn’t how these things worked.

  Still, I had no reason to question it and no way to seek answers if I did.

  “The nature of my problem is illusion,” I said slowly. “Subconscious, fear–secrets.” I broke off, staring at the wolf again. “The nature of my problem is a secret.”

  Just like the riddle.

  But The Moon represented so much more than a secret.

  The wolf sat down and lifted a spectral paw to its muzzle, nibbling on its pads like a real canine might.

  I watched until it was done, and it fixed its ghostly eyes on mine again.

  “What is the cause of my problem?” I asked quietly.

  The wolf looked down at the cards. I reached out, my fingers near its muzzle, to hold both hands in the air once more.

  Help me. I let the plea hum out along my magic that I cast into the cards, the invisible power sinking into them like water.

  One card glimmered in my vision, my power building up on its surface instead of sinking in like the rest.

  I plucked it from the arc and turned it over in my hand while the wolf watched.

  It was the Devil.

  A stark, white goat skull with curling horns was the most dramatic thing on the card. Under the skull, the Devil had his arms wrapped around two crying women and seemed to be pulling them back against himself.

  The card sat upside down in my hand, the image reversed.

  “Exploring dark thoughts,” I quoted to my spectral wolf. “Detachment. Releasing beliefs that inhibit you.” This card was normally a bit easier to understand, but today I couldn’t see what it meant.

  The nature of my problem was the death toll. And while there was no card labeled ‘Murderer’ with such a meaning slapped on, the Devil wasn’t even close.

  “Yes it is,” I said to myself. “Detachment. Darkened thoughts.” I stroked my finger over the worn but glossy surface.

  I wanted to speculate, but I needed to finish the reading while it was still at the front of my mind and my magic was fresh in the cards.

  I reached out again, the words on my lips to ask for what I needed.

  I never got the chance. Cards scattered from me like a small tornado had hit, leaving only the two I’d drawn now between the wolf’s paws and one left over in front of me, still face down.

  My heart pounded, eyes wide as I stared at the floor, now bereft of my deck.

  I’d hoped for an answer, but this was not the one I was expecting. The other cards had almost seemed desperate to get away from this one.

  The wolf growled very softly when I reached for it, and I stopped.

  “I have to know,” I told it. “I can’t be afraid of what it says.”

  Quickly I reached out and flipped the card over, staring at it where it lay.

  The Three of Swords was so rarely a welcome sight. Especially not upright, as it was now. Three jagged blades stabbed into a bleeding anatomical heart, sending dark red to pool at the bottom of the card.

  As I watched, the other two cards slid from the wolf’s paws to line up with their companion, presenting me with a full picture.

  “Betrayal is the solution?” My voice came out higher than I’d wanted it to. Heartbreak. Grief. Hurt. None of those things had pleasant connotations attached. There weren’t too many ways to take the card, and it normally meant something unpleasant.

  I sat back, letting out a deep breath, and stared at my cards.

  It wasn’t just the individual cards that held meaning in a deck. Sometimes I needed to look at the set up to see what they were trying to tell me as a whole.

  Two out of three were major arcana. If a reading was dominated by them, as this one was, then it meant there were lessons that needed to be learned and big decisions to be made.

  If another one had been reversed, I would’ve taken it that my cards were telling me I was not listening.

  But I was listening. I just didn’t understand.

  Absently I picked up the first card, and nearly dropped it when magic thrummed along my fingers.

  “That’s right. I’m a secret.” The necromancer’s voice seemed to echo in my ears, though there was no one else in the room.

  My fingers slid to the second card. The Devil.

  “You just can’t seem to look. Maybe there are too many obstacles in the way.” I remembered the way he looked at Merric.

  No.

  The way he’d looked at his creature.

  I’d thought he meant to kill my friend. That he had thought to get him out of the way to prove some deranged point.

  But what if Merric wasn’t the obstacle at all?

  What if his own pet was?

  I didn’t want to touch the Three of Swords.

  Whispers filled the room. My wolf stood up, fur bristling, and continued to stare at me.

  Don’t touch it, George.

  Don’t touch it, please.

  I’d never been afraid of my cards before. I’d never been afraid of my own magic like this before. Not even with the wolves.

  But Goddess, I did not want to touch that card.

  The wolf had moved closer, almost nose to nose with me, and I realized that if it wanted to hurt me, it could do a lot of harm with its teeth so close to my jaws.

  My heart pounded in my chest, though I wasn’t sure how much of that was because of the wolf and how much I could attribute to this strange reading.

  The wolf closed the distance between us, leaning forward to rest its forehead against
mine.

  Its ghostly fur was soft against my skin, and its pupil-less eyes stayed fixed on my own.

  I won’t let it hurt you.

  I jerked backward, covering my mouth with my hand to prevent anyone from hearing my shriek of surprise.

  “You can’t speak.” It hadn’t spoken, exactly. It was more like…a feeling. A series of feelings that had hit me so hard that I knew what they meant and the truth of them.

  It stayed where it was, one paw on the Three of Swords.

  The necklace heated against my throat, and the wolf whined. It pawed at the card urgently, looking at it, then me.

  “I’m going to regret this,” I promised myself, leaning forward until I was nearly face to face with the Form of the Moon.

  I reached out and touched the card, my hand brushing the wolf’s paw.

  Electricity screeched up my arm, causing me to almost pull away. The wolf leaned against me, its weight a comfort when the magic became almost too much.

  “She doesn’t see…” I recognized the Necromancer’s voice again. “Do you think….” He trailed off. Someone yelled.

  “Do you think she will see before we uncrown the Mother’s pet Saints?”

  “I think you’re full of nonsense,” Merric’s voice was a mumbled echo in my brain. He sounded hurt, as he had been, and like he was on the verge of passing out.

  “Tell her. Tell her I’ll do it. I’ll take the Mother’s pet next. We’ll do it. We have to do it. She knows why. Knows that we want magic that has touched the mother for what we’re going to do.” The Necromancer’s voice sounded urgent, as if he knew he only had a few moments to relay the message.

  The voice was fading. Merric’s reply was almost inaudible, and as he spoke the magic faded from my arm.

  I opened my eyes, surprised to see the wolf already fading.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, reaching up and running a hand over its ear. “I appreciate–“

  The Form of the Moon vanished as if it had never been in my room. The candles, too, suddenly went out, and I was plunged into darkness as all of the magic I’d used seeped into the floor, and out of existence.

  Merric had been wrong. His voice had sounded so weak, like he had been on the verge of losing consciousness as I had.