“Thanks,” I replied. “But don’t you want in on this?”
He looked at me, and not for the first time, I wished his eyes weren’t so dark. It would have been nice to have some idea of what was going on in his head. “That’s up to you,” he said.
Mom always liked to say that we hardly ever know the decisions we make that change our lives, mostly because they’re little ones. You take this bus instead of that one and end up meeting your soul mate, that kind of thing. But there was no doubt in my mind that this was one of those life-changing moments. Tell Archer no, and I’d never see him again. And Dad and Jenna wouldn’t be mad at me, and Cal…Tell Archer yes, and everything suddenly got twistier and more complicated than Mrs. Casnoff’s hairdo.
And even though I’m a twisty and complicated girl, I knew what my answer had to be.
“It’s too much of a risk, Cross. Maybe one day when I’m head of the Council and you’re…well, whatever you’re going to be for L’Occhio di Dio, we could work on some kind of collaboration.” That brought up depressing images of me and Archer sitting across a boardroom table, sketching out battle plans on a whiteboard, so my voice was a little shaky when I continued. “But for now, it’s too dangerous.” And not just because basically everyone in our lives would want to kill us if they found out, I thought. But because I was pretty sure I was still in love with him, and I thought he might feel something similar for me, and there was no way we could work together preventing the Monster Apocalypse/World War III without that becoming an issue.
Not that I could say any of that.
Archer’s face was blank as he said, “Cool. Got it.”
“Cross,” I started to say, but then his eyes slid past me and went wide with horror. At the same time, I became aware of a slithering noise behind me. That just could not be good; in my experience, nothing pleasant slithers.
Still, I was not prepared for the nightmares climbing out of the crater.
chapter 31
There were three of them, and they had been human once. Many humans. Their bodies, as they hoisted themselves out of the pit, were like patchwork quilts of human flesh and mismatched limbs.
They lumbered toward us, and the one nearest to me reached out one meaty, thick-fingered hand. His other arm, I noticed as hysteria bubbled up inside me, was slender, pale, and tipped with bright red nails.
“Ghouls,” I heard Archer say. His voice was low and tense, like a person who’s being confronted by a wild animal. “Reanimated human flesh, used as guardians. Seriously dark magic. Someone obviously didn’t want us finding—”
“Oh my God, less talking, more stabbing, please.” My voice was squeaky with fear, and I knew my eyes were huge when I swiveled around to look at Archer.
He already had the sword in his hand, and he was crouching slightly. “I can slow them down, but ghouls can’t be killed by blades. You’re the one who has to stop them.”
“Come again?” I nearly squeaked.
“You’re a necromancer,” he said. “They’re dead.”
Oh, right. One of the many “perks” of having a lot of dark magic at my disposal. But I’d never seen the point in boning up on my necromancer skills. When was I ever going to need to order around the dead?
The things were getting close enough now that I could smell them, and it was all I could do not to gag. “I don’t know what to do,” I said, panicked.
“Well, think of something fast,” Archer replied. There was a burst of movement out of the corner of my eye, and suddenly, he wasn’t beside me anymore, but in the thick of them, sword flashing. He caught one of the ghouls under the chin with the point of his blade, but there was no blood. The thing stopped moving, but it didn’t fall. Instead, it swept a hand at Archer like he was an annoying mosquito. But Archer ducked and swung again, piercing the side of the second ghoul. This time, a thick black substance poured from the wound, but the thing just looked irritated. No matter how much Archer hacked and stabbed, the ghouls showed no signs of pain.
By now I had drawn up as much magic as I could possibly hold, but I was afraid to start sending big bolts of it into the fray. The last thing I wanted was to hit Archer, who, I was beginning to realize, had definitely held back in Defense. I’d never seen anyone move like he did, his movements fast and sure. Too bad they weren’t doing any good.
Finally, one of the ghouls got a grasp on his hair, and he winced as the thing jerked his head back. I think I might have cried out, but it was hard to hear anything between my heartbeat and the whirring of magic in my veins.
“Could we start with the necromancing now?” Archer shouted at me.
I held my hands out in front of me, pointed toward the ghouls, and did my best to stop panting, something that was hard to do when the smallest ghoul turned his head. I caught a glimpse of his face, which must have taken each of its eyes, its mouth, and its nose from different “donors.”
Taking deep breaths, I gathered my power until I could feel it crackling in my fingertips. “Let him go!” I commanded in what I hoped was my most “I am a powerful demon” voice. Probably would’ve been better if my voice hadn’t cracked on the last word. I released the magic in my hands, which felt kind of like snapping a giant rubber band.
A bolt of power flew from my fingertips, crashing into a nearby tree with a thunderous crack. There was a bright flash like lightning, and a branch fell to the ground. The ghouls startled, which meant the one holding Archer jerked his head back even farther. The smallest one made a noise that might have been distress, but they certainly didn’t seem under my control.
And they weren’t letting Archer go.
Okay, so my first experiment with necromancy was an epic fail. Take two.
I fought panic and frustration. Shooting off my magic at the ghouls was no good, but what else was I supposed to try? “Think, Sophie,” I muttered under my breath,
“Yeah, please do that,” Archer replied, his voice slightly strangled. The ghoul holding him had wrapped a hand around Archer’s throat. The thing’s expression wasn’t threatening, just curious, like he was little kid trying to see what would happen if he just kept squeezing.
I slammed my eyes shut. Okay, they were dead. Yucky dead things. That smelled like—okay, those thoughts were not helpful.
Except…they were dead. They’d come from the ground, crawled out of the dirt at the base of the crater. I thought of how my magic always felt like it was rushing up from my feet, and wondered if maybe that could be reversed.
This time, instead of sending my powers out, I sent them down, snaking through the earth. “Release him,” I said again, quietly this time.
I heard a muffled thump, and when I opened my eyes, Archer was lying at the ghoul’s feet, rubbing the back of his head. The ghouls watched me with blank gazes, clearly awaiting their next order.
“What do I do now?” I asked.
Archer got up and came to stand next to me, his gunk-covered sword dangling from his hand. “You can put them back,” he said. “Or you could let them go.”
“What, like set them free to roam around the island? I don’t think so.”
Archer shook his head. He was breathing hard, and sweat gleamed on his brow. “No, draw the magic out of them and let them be dead. Really dead.”
“Okay,” I said, hoping I sounded confident, like taking the life force out of ghouls was one of my favorite hobbies, right up there with knitting and sudoku. But the weird thing is, as soon as I thought about it, I could actually feel the magic keeping the ghouls alive. I could almost see it shimmering like a black thread among my own powers. And in the end, it was a simple thing to use my own magic to “cut” that thread.
As soon as I did, the ghouls slumped to the ground. I stared at their prone forms and said, “They look kind of pitiful.”
Archer snorted, and I saw the ring of purple bruises beginning to circle his neck. “Forgive me for not feeling too sympathetic, Mercer.”
