Bury Their Bones (Wicked Fortunes Book 2)

by AJ Merlin

  “I…” he swallowed and looked at me.

  “Let’s find your mother,” I said, giving the monster and its place of death a very wide berth.

  He followed, eyes still on it as if the thing was going to move.

  The hallway was empty and very dark. I didn’t dare turn on any lights, fearful of letting any other monsters know exactly where we were.

  Besides, I barely needed light. I could see well in the darkness, and my eyes adjusted quickly.

  The dark house seemed surreal. Everything was hushed, with the loudest noise coming from the wind that shook the windows from the outside.

  Coldness pooled in my gut, and the feeling only grew as I continued down towards the other end of the hall, where a door lay ajar, beckoning us with a soft light from inside.

  “Mom?” Nathanial called, breaking the quiet with an uncertain voice that shook.

  I could hit him for it.

  Something shifted, and the door opened just a bit wider.

  “I’m in here, Nathanial.”

  I’d only heard her a few times, but Teresa’s voice was unmistakable. My shoulders dropped in relief, and Nathanial pushed past me to get to her faster.

  I followed a bit more slowly, confused at the feeling in my gut.

  The fear should be subsiding. Not getting worse.

  I’d reached the light now, and my boots glowed dark silver in the pale gleam of it. Nathanial pushed the door open, letting it fall back so that I had to push it open as well.

  And I was so afraid. The feeling rose and rose. Like an orchestra playing a crescendo inside my rib cage and coming to a fever pitch.

  My heart joined in, its tempo becoming quicker and quicker, though I could not place why every sense in my body was screaming at me to run away now.

  “Mom…that thing. Are you hurt?” We were in the kitchen of his house, and the light that shone came from a small lamp on the table.

  Everything had taken on a grayish hue, and it felt to me that I was viewing the scene through the filter of an old movie. The only sounds in my ears were Nathanial’s racing heart and my own.

  My foot landed in something wet that nearly made me slip. When I looked down, I saw that my boot was planted firmly in a puddle of something black, that had pooled in this corner of the kitchen.

  Drops of it had been spread, however. I followed the trail of black with my eyes, trying to puzzle out what in the world I was looking at as my heart hammered against my ribs like a prisoner wanting to escape.

  Then the drops ended, right where Teresa’s own shoes stood stark against the pale floor.

  I looked up, surprised that she hadn’t turned to face either of us as the dread built in every fiber of my body.

  “Nathanial,” I breathed in the dead quiet of the room.

  He made to go to her, but I grabbed his arm in a grip that brokered no disagreement.

  The voodoo priest looked at me, then down at my hand. “Let me go,” he snarled. “I am going to make sure my mother is all right.”

  “No.” Because I knew what he would find. Some part of me had known ever since we stepped foot in this house.

  “No?”

  I took a deep breath, the words not wanting to form on my lips. If I said it, it would be real.

  If I said it, everything in this room would know.

  “She isn’t okay.” The shutters stilled, the wind coming to a dead halt.

  Teresa’s head twitched, her hand spasming at her side.

  “I don’t think she’s been okay for awhile now.”

  “What’s wrong with her? She’s standing right there!” Nathanial tried to jerk his arm out of my grip and jerked back harder, keeping him in place.

  “Because-I’m sorry Nathanial-but your mother is already dead.”

  Chapter 30

  “She’s not dead!” Nathanial tried to pull away again, but I kept my grip on him as waves of trepidation threatened to overwhelm me.

  I didn’t know what to do. My feet felt like they were nailed to the floor, and an overwhelming sense of failure tried to overtake the fear.

  “Stop!” I snapped, letting my fangs lengthen. “Look at the floor.” I gestured down to where I stood, at the pool of black blood near my boot.

  Nathanial looked, his eyes widening as realization hit.

  No one could lose that much blood and live.

  Teresa’s hand twitched again, the fingers jerking unnaturally.

  “Then how is she…” Nathanial’s words died on his lips.

  We both know how she was standing there.

  There was someone in this house who liked to play with dead things, and Nathanial’s mother had become his shiny new toy car.

  “We need to go,” I breathed, taking a step back. I didn’t know why she was just standing there, and I was sure I didn’t want to know how long she’d stay like that.

  Her head jerked to the side like she’d been hit. Nathanial made a soft sound in his throat and clenched my hand.

  I couldn’t imagine what he was going through. I had so much sympathy for him and wanted to see if he was all right…but that would have to wait.

  Escape was at the forefront of my mind.

  “Slowly,” I murmured, tugging him back. “Come on, Nathanial. We’re going to do this slowly.”

  He took a step, then faltered.

  My heart stuttered, and I wanted to scream at him to move.

  “What if she’s not really dead?” The voodoo priest asked, a hint of hysteria in his voice. “W-what if she’s just being controlled. That blood might not be hers–“

  “That blood is most definitely hers!” I snapped.

  Too loudly.

  Her head jerked back this time, at an angle that would be impossible if she was still alive.

  Nathanial gasped and surged forward.

  “No!” I shrieked, losing my grip on him. I reached out to grab him again, but I was too slow.

  “Mother!” Tears ran down Nathanial’s face. He held his hands out to her, and the gris-gris dropped from his fingers.

  At last, I saw her eyes.

  Or what was left of them. The left was gone, set in the side of her face that looked like it had been crunched on by an alligator.

  My stomach rolled. I couldn’t look at that. No way could I focus on that part of her face. Blood and worse dripped from where her eye should’ve been, and I was glad that the harsh shadows hid quite a few details from me.

  Her other eye rolled wildly in its socket, finding Nathanial first. Her mouth opened, just as Nathanial gripped her arms, and Teresa screamed.

  The light went out.

  “Nathanial!” I screeched, lunging forward and trying to find anything in the pitch black.

  He cried out, and I heard the sound of something hitting the floor with a thump.

  It had sounded like a body.

  I stopped, panting, and stood in the center of the room as I listened. Was this thing blind in the dark? Like I nearly was? If I summoned a witch light, would it be on me before I could react?

  A hiss sounded from my left. I dodged to the right, sprinting back out the open door and into the hallway.

  Teresa came after me. I could hear her skittering on the floor with movements that didn’t sound like steps.

  Stupidly, I turned to look over my shoulder, finally taking the risk and bringing light to pool in my palm.

  It had been a definite mistake.

  Teresa was following, her head lolling to the side as she ran at me on all fours with limbs that bent in every direction except where they were supposed to go.

  Without thinking, I ran to the front door, focusing on just getting away from her and getting out of here. If I could lead her away from Nathanial–

  I opened the door straight into the face of the necromancer’s second pet.

  It smiled, blood dripping from its face, and snapped its jaws shut inches from where my hand had been seconds prior.

  I slammed the door in its face, knowing I was g
oing to have to deal with at least one of them.

  If I had to pick one, it was going to be Teresa. The old woman looked fragile and didn’t have an alligator’s jaws sewn onto her own. Surely that was the better option? Best case scenario, Teresa had pearly new dentures to chomp on me with.

  As I pulled my magic up, focusing on what I wanted to summon, she leaped at me from across the room, just visible in my witch light.

  I screamed as she took me down, surprised at her strength. While she had no fangs, she clawed and snapped at my neck, going directly for my throat to end it.

  And she was so strong. I was sure this wasn’t how she’d been in life, but Dead-Teresa pinned me to the floor easily, her long fingers digging into my wrists.

  She had me, my arms pinned to the floor at my sides and her knee shoved into my stomach so hard I could barely breathe. I gasped anyway, trying again for my magic.

  Teresa opened her ruined mouth wide, the skin holding the bad side of her jaw together shiny with spit and blood.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my fingers scrabbling on the hardwood as I fought to do anything. “I’m so sorry I didn’t save you.”

  Teresa lunged downward, not hearing or caring about my words, her flat teeth aimed for my throat as my stomach clenched at the pain I was sure would come when she did bite into me.

  She never got that far.

  Opening eyes I hadn’t realized I’d shut, I saw a pale, delicate hand on her throat, keeping her off of me.

  As I looked further up, my mouth fell open in shock.

  The Form of the Chariot stood above her. Her wings were spread in a brilliant display of white, and her long fingers dug into Teresa’s throat mercilessly.

  But I sure as hell hadn’t summoned her.

  Without me asking or giving her any sort of direction, the Chariot levered the old woman up and off of me. She then tossed her easily across the room and into a bookcase, where Teresa collided heavily and slid to the floor.

  “But you…” I could handle the Moon doing this. Barely. But the Chariot?

  She reached down a hand to me in a very obvious offer to help me up.

  But I hadn’t asked her to do that either.

  Like the night in the cemetery, I could feel my magic flowing into her. But I wasn’t controlling it, nor how she used it.

  She just…did.

  I took her hand, accepting her offer and letting her pull me to my feet. She lifted both hands, smoothing them over my hair as if she was a parent checking for injury.

  “T-thank you,” I stammered belatedly, still shocked out of any rational thought.

  Was that a smile on her lips?

  No. Surely not.

  Her hands fell, and she was still. The magic flowing from me to her stopped, and she stood there as if I’d just summoned her and had yet to give her an unspoken command.

  This was unfortunately not the time to dwell on my magic acting so strangely.

  Teresa got to her feet, making strange keening sounds as she did so. Her body looked broken. That throw into the bookshelf hadn’t done her any favors, that was for sure.

  She didn’t seem to mind, however. She just came towards me, one leg dragging behind her.

  The door behind me shuddered on its hinges, a loud bang ringing through the room. Something cracked, and I realized the door wasn’t going to last much longer under the assault from the Necromancer’s other pet.

  I needed to find him. I needed to stop him if I could.

  Otherwise, I doubted these things would let me leave.

  Making a split-second decision, I ran up the stairs that lay near the door, the Chariot following close at my heels. Was he up here, sitting in a room while his toys played downstairs?

  Some of the rooms were open, and I stuck my head into them, acutely aware of the front door when it cracked and finally splintered.

  Shuffling steps followed me up the stairs. I sent a thought to the Chariot, who turned to bar its way.

  Though I wasn’t sure how long she could hold it off.

  And I wasn’t sure what I’d do when-or if-I even found the necromancer. Should I just jump off the roof and hope for the best? I couldn’t drive away, since Nathanial had the keys.

  A stab of guilt and fear went through me. Nathanial. Was he dead?

  Without him, I was alone.

  Wait.

  Surely someone had to have messaged me back. Surely someone had checked their phone by now.

  I reached into the pocket of my pants, where I’d put my phone when we’d gotten out of the car.

  It was gone.

  I wanted to scream. Fear suffused my lungs, clogging every breath I took and Goddess how I wanted to scream.

  Instead, I locked my teeth together, unwilling to put voice to my fear.

  The Chariot screamed, rushing down the steps as she tried to push the monster away from me. I fed her my magic, hoping she could keep this up, and opened the door to the last room I hadn’t checked.

  It was the attic. Old and rickety, the wind outside sounded loudly against this room by whistling through the boards and creaking the windows.

  And it was empty.

  My heart sank, eyes running over the contents of the room. An old bed. A pile of boxes, a window–

  The window was open.

  I crept towards it, still half focused on the battle my Arcana faced on the stairs. It wouldn’t be much longer before she was out of power completely, and her Form would disintegrate.

  Outside of the window, just a few feet below the sill, lay the roof that covered the porch. This part of it slanted gently, like a ramp.

  I laid my hands on the sill, arms trembling, and inhaled.

  The scent hit me in the face like a truck once I let myself take advantage of my wolf’s senses. Teresa’s magic intermingled with others that I didn’t recognize, and it seemed to tangle around my brain and yank me upward.

  “Goddess, please don’t let me die,” I breathed, and climbed through the open window, resting my boots very carefully on the other side.

  I climbed warily, the wind picking up and making me glad I’d put my hair up.

  I wished for the seventieth time that I wasn’t alone. Some part of me ached to prove to all of the ones I cared about that I was capable. That I could live up to the image I’d presented at the gala.

  But most of me wanted to curl up and let someone else take care of the dead things in the house and the monster that controlled them.

  As I reached the peak of the roof and balanced myself on it with legs that shook very slightly, I tried to find something-anything-that didn’t belong up here with me.

  The moon aided me. It shone down brightly, allowing me to take advantage and see somewhat clearly.

  A shape stood up smoothly, thin and wavering in the wind.

  I didn’t need to see his face.

  I knew who it was.

  “You disappoint me,” the necromancer chastised in a hollow voice. “I gave you everything. I wanted you to save her.”

  “I–“ the connection to the Chariot evaporated. I knew what that meant.

  I could only hope that she’d managed to take the monster with her.

  That hope was dashed when the creature slithered around me, sneering up at me as it made its way back to its master on mostly-broken limbs.

  I shivered, and forced myself not to move. It didn’t try to attack me. It only curled around the necromancer’s feet like some kind of messed up dog.

  “You didn’t give me anything,” I said coldly. “If you didn’t want her dead, then you shouldn’t have killed her.” I clenched my hands at my sides, magic ready to go once I figured out what exactly I should do.

  The asshole lifted a hand and wagged a finger at me, his head mimicking the mocking motion. “If you have me, you want to share me. If you share me, then you haven’t got me. What am I?”

  This again?

  I wanted to scream at him to shove his riddles up his ass. My nails dug into my palms, and
my power begged to rip into this man who had done so much harm.

  “All we have to do is wait, you know?” I snarled, not bothering with his riddle. “Once the Loa realize that you’re here with me, they’ll come for you. And I really don’t think it’ll take them long.”

  He stopped. Confusion covered his features, and he looked around like something was going to happen. “The Loa? Come for me?” He repeated. “Do you honestly think–“ he broke off with a giggle. “Oh George, George. Poor Georgette.” I hated when he said my name. “The Loa won’t come here. Not when they know it lurks in the darkness.”

  “What?” I blinked, taken aback. My fingers slid over something, and when I looked down, I found that I held The Moon in my hand.

  All right. I could play along. If my wolves wanted a piece of him, who was I to say no? It was strange to feel their desire in my brain, and stranger still that they had a desire in the first place. They shouldn’t have.

  I let the card disintegrate into glowing ashes that fell to the roof, forming once more into the shape of two spectral wolves, their eyes effervescent in the moonlight. “There’s nothing in the darkness except for your toys,” I snarled. “The Loa aren’t afraid of you.”

  “They aren’t?” He leaned to the side, and the monster rose so he could brace his weight on it. “Of course. They’re afraid of us.”

  “They aren’t–“

  “Then where are they, George? Why did they send you to be their Jonathan Harker, instead of doing it themselves? Only, they must be so disappointed, don’t you think?”

  That name struck something in me. A memory, of…

  Of a movie.

  A very old movie I’d watched with my mother, and many times since.

  I loved old horror movies, and Dracula was no exception.

  “You think you’re Dracula?” I asked, eyes narrowing.

  The wolves circled me, eyes on the necromancer’s pet.

  I wondered where Teresa had gone.

  I also wondered if Nathanial was dead.

  His face pinched in frustration again. “Of course I’m not Dracula. No, I’m not even worth the insects, am I? Locked up in this cell of mine…” he buried his fingers in his hair, mumbling nonsense.