“Your soul, do you mean?” I asked.
She made a so-so gesture. “Kind of, but not exactly, if you know what I mean. An essence is something unique to each person. When they die, their soul and spirit are bound together and take off for wherever. Well, that’s where you come in, right?”
I nodded.
“But their essence remains with their body. Think of it as kind of a marker that stays with their bones, and even after, when those turn to dust.”
“And you find that essence?”
She took a sip of her beer and nodded. “That’s what a vespillo does. We can see them. They look like swirly blue glowing things, generally, although sometimes their pattern is weak and hard to see.”
“Why would you want to find the essence of anyone?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Ooh, peanuts. Yum.” She pushed the bowl toward me after scooping out a handful. “Necromancers use us, mostly, since they’re the ones who can really do anything with the essence, but sometimes I get the odd legal request to locate the remains of someone who’s gone missing and presumed banished to the Akasha.”
I searched my mind for any clues as to the purpose of a necromancer. “I realize I’m sounding horribly ignorant, but what does a necromancer do with the essence?”
“Raises them as a lich, of course,” she said, popping another handful of nuts into her mouth. She added around the mouthful, “That’s how you make liches. You raise the remains of a person or, if the body is not present, raise the lich from the essence. It’s easier with a corpse, of course, but a good necromancer thinks nothing of raising from an essence.”
“Ah, liches.” I frowned, trying to remember who’d mentioned them recently. “The . . . er . . . zombie guys, right?”
She took another swallow of beer. “Eve would yell at you for that. Eve’s my girlfriend, and a fourth-class necromancer. We normally work together, although sometimes I get gigs without her. The difference is that revenants aren’t bound to the person who raised them, and liches are. And then there’s that whole magic thing, but that’s really neither here nor there.”
I thought of asking her for more information, but a glance at the clock behind the bartender reminded me that Kristoff was probably going to need my services in a few minutes
Everything A-OK?
I am in the building, but there are several Dark Ones here.
Be careful, I told him before returning my attention to the peanut-munching woman in front of me. “You mentioned an Ilargi in the area. There was one here a few months ago, but I never found him. Have you seen him?”
“Nope, but I gather from the lack of spirits in this area that he’s been really active, sucking back the souls of all the ghosties he could find. I’ve only found one he missed, in fact.”
My skin crawled with horror. “Dear God. The ghost you talked to-was his name Ulfur, by any chance?”
“No, this was an old woman who is parked out in the harbor. She’s afraid to come ashore. Ulfur, you say? Just a second.” She dug through the messenger bag that was slung across her chest and pulled out a battered notebook, paging through it. “Let’s see, new curse I saw in Barcelona, list of wards useful against phantasms, recipe for a whole-wheat challah-” She flashed me a grin. “Dad loves to cook. Oh, here it is.”
She pulled out a piece of paper from the notebook, running her finger down it until she nodded. “Got it. Ulfur Hallursson. He’s on the list.”
“What list?” I asked, panicking slightly. I’d left Ulfur here because he’d assured me he’d be fine wandering around and watching the tourists until I could find a way to send him to Ostri so he could be with the rest of his village.
“The list of people whom Eve is supposed to raise. See?” She held out the paper for me. “It’s a group of about twenty folks. Ulfur got washed into the ocean a hundred and fifty years ago, evidently. That’s what I was asking if you could help me with-the Ilargi evidently had no idea exactly where on the coast the village used to be. I wondered if you’d go out with me to grill any spirits who remained.”
I stared at her in growing horror. “The Ilargi hired you?”
“No, not me. Eve. Technically, Eve should have hired me to find the essences, but I give her a break on large jobs, and she gives me a cut of her fees. It works out well,” she said, sipping her beer and reaching for more peanuts.
“But . . . Ilargis suck souls.”
“I know, and I don’t really like working for them because of that,” she said, giving me a sympathetic look. “But a girl has to live, and really, if the Ilargi has already sucked their souls-and Eve says he has-then the harm is already done. Raising them isn’t really going to make things worse for them, is it? In fact, it’ll be better, because they won’t be phantasms anymore.”
My mind whirled in a miasma of horror and disbelief. Spirits feared losing their souls-which turned them into hopelessly forsaken phantasms-more than anything. My heart wept at the thought of sweet, self-sacrificing Ulfur ending up as one. But if Siobhan was right, then perhaps there was still hope. “I had no idea there was a way out of being a phantasm,” I said slowly. “You’re sure that the Ilargi told you he’d taken the souls of the people on that list?”
She nodded, chewing for a moment before she answered. “I told you he’d been busy on the island. But he didn’t tell Eve where the village was.”
“The village . . . it’s south along the coast,” I answered absently, still trying to sort through the confusion in my brain. “But I sent the villagers on to Ostri. All but Ulfur.”
“That’s part of the problem. He’s the only one from that village on my list, so it’s almost impossible to find it. Will you help me?”
I was silent for a moment, my fingers rubbing the stem of the wineglass. “No.”
“Oh.” Her face fell.
“But I will hire you,” I said, making a decision.
“For what?” She set down her beer, clearly interested.
Dio!
“I want Ulfur. That is, I want his spirit or whatever is left of him returned the way it was.” What’s wrong?
“Mmm.” She frowned for a moment. “Can’t do it. The Ilargi has his soul now.”
This woman is a she-devil! She’s alerted the Dark Ones to me.
Wait a second. You’re tackling Kristjana without me?
“Leave the Ilargi to me,” I said with far more confidence than I felt. “You said your girlfriend can raise Ulfur, right?”
She was alone. I thought I could knock her out and take her out through the window. But she screamed before I could silence her.
“Yes, but the lich is bound to either the person who raised him or the person who holds his soul. So I’m afraid that means he’d be bound to the Ilargi.”
You’re supposed to wait for me so I can brain-zap her! I said, digging through my purse for a few coins. Hastily, I pulled out a pen and a receipt, scribbling our hotel name and room number on it before shoving it at Siobhan. “I’ll worry about that later. I just don’t want poor Ulfur in the hands of some clearly deranged madman. I’m sorry, but I have to go. My husband needs me. Here’s where we are, under the name Vincenzi. Call me in the morning and we’ll work out all the details.”
She took the paper, watching with raised eyebrows as I gathered up my things. “All righty, although Eve is going to be a bit touchy about two-timing her employer.”
“Her employer is an evil soul-sucking bastard who gets what he has coming to him,” I answered, pulling on my coat and waving as I dashed out of the club. On my way!
CHAPTER 9
