8FOLD: The Necromancer Saga # 3, "Interludes"

[Amabel Holland]

The secret circle has escaped Samson Drake's assault on Shallow House,
but not without casualties. June Lash stayed behind to hold back
Samson as long as possible, giving the others a head start.


THE NECROMANCER SAGA # 3
"INTERLUDES"
[8F-222] [PW-66]


-------------- SECRET CIRCLE --------------------

MAILE AKAKA, age 20. Aeromancer. Injured.
Once the top field agent of The Company, she orchestrated her own
abduction and memory wipe to defect to the circle. She now serves as
its leader.

AZABETH "BETH" COLLINS, age 37. Oneiromancer.
The circle's co-leader, recently awaken from a long slumber.

DAVID COLLINS, age 31. Mnemonomancer.
Husband to Beth, brother to Claire Belden, unlikely wielder of the
ancient blade Thirteen.

JUNE LASH, age 47. Ailuromancer.
Maile's spymaster, commanding dozens of feline agents around the globe.

SARAH AVERY, age 25. Evocamancer.
An engineering genius, she refuses to use her demon-summoning magic.

TREVOR JEFFRIES. Robot.
A sophisticated robot built by The Company to infiltrate the circle.
Retooled by Sarah, and equipped with sonic weaponry.

PINKY MURDER, age 23. Apparamancer.
Teleporter. Recently escaped from a formless hell. This also resulted
in Samson's escape, and in his transformation into the necromancer's
vessel.

--------------- DAYLIGHTERS ---------------------

Bethany Clayton (KNOCKOUT MOUSE), age 32.
Wielder of the Singularity Gauntlet, leader of the Daylighters. A
friend of Maile's.

Ghedi Dirie (ZIP), age 17. Apparamancer.
Long-range teleporter capable of moving large groups, but only to
places he's been before.

--------------- THE COMPANY ---------------------

CLAIRE BELDEN, age 31. Metamancer.
Missing, presumed to have defected, pursuing her own agenda with the
help of Trinity Tran.

TRINITY TRAN, age 35. Haematomancer.
Once a fugitive, working for The Company in return for their
protection; now, the head of the dominant faction within The Company.
Pregnant with David Collins's child.

SAMSON DRAKE, age 28. Sciomancer.
Company assassin; formerly Maile's lover. Now the living vessel of the
necromancer.

-------------------------------------------------

June doesn't want to die.

   She had just started living, after all. She spent decades going
through the motions, pretending to be alive. Living in her little
house, tending to the cats of the neighborhood. She's pretty sure she
understood the cats better than people. Certainly she liked them
better. And the cats seemed to like her better than most people did.

   That suited her just fine. Or she said it did. But even when she
said it, there was a sting. Sharp at first, but after a while, you get
used to it, used to the lonely sad empty feeling, so used to it in
fact that it doesn't register as lonely or sad or empty anymore.

   And then one day, Goliath appeared, and led her to Shallow House.
To Marcus and Lieke, to David and Beth. And she never got along with
them as easily as she did the cats. Didn't connect to them as
effortlessly. It was awkward. Clumsy. But it was something fuller.
Something better. Something she had needed all along, but never knew
it. It made her aware of her loneliness, of her emptiness, of how much
it had been stretching her thin.

   She has friends now. She has Trevor. She has people now, and it
makes such a huge difference. It feels like she has just started
living her life. So of course now it's going to end. That's just her
luck.

   It isn't fair, but her life has never been "fair" before, so why
would it be any different now? She doesn't want to die. She wants more
time. More time with her people. Hell, she wants more people. More
joy. More life.

   But the people she does have, for the short time that she had them?
They're important enough that she'll do what she can to protect them.

   (She supposes this is how it had to play out. In order for her
people to make it worth living for, they also had to be worth dying
for.)

   Goliath purrs beneath her fingertips: Shallow House purrs beneath
her fingertips. And beneath both the cat and the house, if they were
ever two different things at all, there pulses her magic, making them
all stronger than they've ever been. There are few things stronger
than cat-magic. Marcus had told her once that cats were the most
magical creatures on earth.

   "You don't need to tell me that," June had said.

   It won't be enough. She knows that. When the shadows have swallowed
her up, Samson will continue his pursuit. And then what? Maybe he wins
(probably he wins). Maybe he loses. All she's doing is buying them
more time.

   But what they do with that time, and what the result will be, she
doesn't know. She can't know. That's frustrating. She doesn't mind
dying. She doesn't want to die, but she doesn't mind it, not exactly.
Not if she knows she has something to show for it. The idea that
she'll die, and the bastard still wins? It's heartbreaking.

   The house convulses, buckling with her doubt. She feels it in the
sudden collapse of Goliath's lung. None of that, then. Good vibes
only. She's going to hold him back for as long as she can. It's going
to be long enough. It has to be.

()

Maile is dreaming of cats when Beth pulls her into the waking world.
She's stretched across a cot. "Did everyone make it?"

   Beth shakes her head. "June stayed behind. Sarah disappeared into
the walls of the house. Pinky went looking for her."

   Maile feels the shock and the grief climbing up her throat. She
liked June; reminded her of an aunt. And Sarah was the closest any of
them came to being an actual friend. She shoves it all back down.
Now's not that time. She has a job to do.

   She touches her belly. It's tender, but there's no sign of Samson
slitting it open. "Trini Tran was here?"

   Beth nods. "Still is. David called her. And Bethany. They're
waiting for you. I'll call them."

   "No," says Maile, reaching for Beth's hand. "Help me up. I'll come to them."

   "You're still healing."

   Maile winces. "I can feel that. You know better than to argue with
me, though."

   "I do." Beth helps her up.

()

Bethany's brought along some of her people. Some of them Maile's met
before, others she only knows by reputation. They're the closest thing
Bethany has to big guns these days. There's only one of the capes and
tights set whose absence is conspicuous.

   "Kate's still dealing with her own end of the world thing?"

   "Yeah," says Bethany. "I can ask her to send Pill back. I know
she's your expert on all this."

   Maile's heart jumps. Yes! Yes. Please. We need her. "No. Kate needs
her right now more than we do. I can manage."

   "Not as much as you think," says Trini. "You can't go back out in
the field. I barely put you together the first time."

   "That's my call," says Maile.

   "It's really not," says her Beth, casting a meaningful glance at David.

   "Uh, yeah," says David. "You have to sit this one out." Then,
suddenly afraid he's overstepped: "Please?"

   Trini stifles a laugh. "Sorry," she says, suddenly embarrassed. She
looks at David, not unkindly. "I forgot that you were, well, you."
Self-consciously, she turns to David's wife, expecting a wince or a
reproach. Instead, Beth just smiles and nods.

   Trini then turns back to Maile. "When all this is over, and our two
sides go back to trying to kill each other, your side's going to need
you."

   Bethany puts a hand on Maile's shoulder. "Sometimes, you lead from
the front, and sometimes, you have to just step back and put your
trust in your people. It's hard. I know it's hard. I've been there.
You're calling the shots, but you're doing it from here. You know
better than to argue with me."

   "I do," says Maile. "Has Beth caught everyone up to speed?"

   "More-or-less," says Bethany. "Samson's back, only now he's the
vessel of the necromancer. He's trapped at Shallow House but the House
is dying. When he gets out, he's going to, what, exactly?"

   "That we're still a little hazy on," says Trini. "It's bad news,
but other than that?" She shrugs.

   "He's coming for me," says David. "I have the sword."

   "The sword of stories," says his wife. "Thirteen. Blade of Quasha
Oathbreaker. The weapon feared by even dread Venus. We think it can
kill the necromancer."

   "It can," interjects Trini. "Claire was sure of it. It's why her
father gave it to her, and why she gave it to her brother. The
necromancer knows it. Eliminating that threat is going to be his top
priority."

   "Are we sure of that?" says Bethany. "If I was some end of the
world high mucky muck, I would focus on ending the world. Then the
sword is irrelevant."

   "So would I," says Maile. "But that's us. We're talking about Samson."

   Trini nods. "Samson likes to hunt. And to gloat. It's why he came
to Shallow House in the first place."

   "So," says Bethany, "if he's going to come to us, we need to choose
our battlefield carefully. I'm guessing somewhere without a whole lot
of shadows."

   "I know a place," says Trini. "Let me make some calls."

   "Good," says Maile. "In the meantime, there's still the question of
the two remaining stone vessels. If we kill Samson and don't get rid
of the vessels, the necromancer can still come back. Will still come
back."

   "Do we know where they are?" asks Bethany.

   "We've narrowed it down to a handful of sites spread around the world."

   "Well, good thing I have a few dozen superheroes spread around the
world," says Bethany. "My people can handle that part if you can
figure out the rest."

()

Trini and Bethany go to make their phone calls. David awkwardly
socializes with the super-people. Beth lets herself slip into sleep,
reaching for signs of the others.

   Which leaves Maile and Trevor.

   "How's the body feel?"

   "Good," he says, a bit distracted. "Better. Different? Maybe it's
whatever Sarah did to it. Or maybe it's because before, I thought I
was, you know, human. Now I know who I am. What I am."

   "What are you, Trevor?"

   "Well, I'm a machine, right? I'm wires and processors. My brain is
a collection of if-then statements and logic loops with some RNG
thrown in for spice. There's a comfort in that."

   "Is there?"

   "It reduces everything. Makes it simpler. A lot of people think of
themselves, of their personality, of who they are and why they are, as
being made up of something ineffable and mysterious. I certainly
thought of myself that way. But really, it's just programming.
Arteries instead of wires. Neurons instead of processors. Trauma: if
trigger, then response."

   "Humans are just machines?"

   "Yes," says Trevor. "Only I know it, and you don't. I can see my
programming." He forces a smile. "I can transcend it."

   "How's that working for you?"

   The question hits him like a knife. "Not great." With a finger he
pulls at the baggy skin underneath his right eyeball. "Artificial tear
duct. Sarah told me it looked like very expensive Cradle tech. They
put it there so that when my programming dictated, I could pretend to
be sad. To fool you.

   "And I know this," he continues. "If sad thing happens, then
waterworks on. There are no chemicals in my brain or body to make me
feel distressed or sad. No endorphins to be released. I know all this,
and yet. The thought of June." The tears start trickling down his
cheeks.

   Maile puts a hand on his shoulder. "Then let's make sure she dies
for something. Let's make sure it counts."

()

Maile is reviewing Bethany's squad assignments when Beth interrupts.
With her are Sarah and Pinky.

   Much to Sarah's surprise, and her own, Maile hugs her tight. "Thank
God you're safe."

   "God had nothing to do with it," says Sarah.

   Pinky is in fairly rough shape. The magic has broken past her
mancer's mark. It's the kind of damage that Trini Tran can't heal;
only time will do that.

   "What do you have there, Pinky?"

   Pinky is as surprised as Maile to find herself clutching a book.
"It kept appearing. When I jumped. Kept ending up in my hands."

   "I know enough about magic to know that there's a reason for that,"
says Maile. "May I?"

   Pinky thrusts the book towards Maile, who takes it into her hands.
Immediately the book starts to fall apart in her hands, the leather
flaking off like the paper, until only a single page remains. Like
most books from Shallow House, Maile finds it indecipherable
gibberish.

   "Well," says Maile. "I take it this page is important."

   "It is," says David, peering over her shoulder. "I remember it
vaguely. I've seen it in one of my father's memories."

   "Can you dig deeper?"

   "Not safe to," says David. "But I remember this symbol." He points.
"the pit of bones. The place where the necromancer was born. His place
of power."

   Maile feels it in her stomach. "The place where we need to go, to
destroy him."

   David nods. "Yes, I think so."

()

Trini has just finished laying her careful trap for Samson when she
hears of this abrupt change of plans. "Excuse me, but 'his place of
power'? That doesn't sound like we're going to have the home turf
advantage."

   "Quite the opposite," says Maile. "But you know how this magic
stuff is, Trini. You know we're right."

   "Maybe we can split the difference?" says Bethany. "Maybe we can
lure him to Trini's trap. At the very least we can hold him there,
long enough for David to do whatever magical thing he needs to do to
destroy him."

   "That could work," says David. "But how do we divert him? He's
going to be hot on my trail."

   "No," says Pinky. "He'll be hot on mine. We're still linked. And
with my magic spilling out like blood in the water, it's going to call
to him something fierce. If he assumes I'm where you are, he's not
going to spend time looking for you, when he can just look for me."

   "You can barely stand," says Maile.

   "I'll go with her," says Sarah.

   "Neither of you are combatants."

   "But I am," says Bethany. "I'll go. I'll hold Samson. And we'll
have Ghedi on hand to port us out if things go awry."

   "Better if I go," says Maile.

   "It's not, and you know it," says Bethany.

   "Samson is my problem. I can't ask you to risk your life for this."

   "Cradle was my problem, and you risked yours for me and mine." She
clasps Maile's hand in hers. Her big science fiction space gauntlet is
warm to the touch. "Don't worry about me. I won't be going down for a
chump like the necromancer. I've still got a big stupid space war to
win."

()

Trevor will be traveling with David. Trini arranges a series of gates
to get them where they need to go. David goes over the details with
her.

   When they're done, he hesitates. "Do we need to talk?" He gestures
inarticulately to her belly.

   "It's your kid, if that's what you're asking," says Trini. "I
assumed Maile told you that already."

   "She did. Do you want me, um, involved?"

   "I don't think that'd be a good idea."

   He nods. Trini can't tell if he's disappointed or relieved. She
puts her hand on his cheek.

   "You would've been a good father, though."

   "Do you think?"

   "You're utterly hopeless and frustrating," she says, not unkindly.
"But you mean well, and I think that goes a long way. You'd never hurt
our child, you'd want what's best for them."

   He seems pleased by this. Trini considers leaving it at that, but
her cruel streak compels her to press on. "But they would never be
safe with you. You spend too much time twisting yourself up in knots,
waiting for other people to tell you what you should do. You can't
protect them. Can't make the hard choices."

   "And you can?"

   Trini balks. "I have. David, who do you think is running The
Company these days? Maddocks is disgraced. Lydia Black is dead.
Cordelia is isolated, though she doesn't know it yet. Who does that
leave?"

   He freezes. He knows what he should say but he's afraid to say it.
Trini can't believe she used to find that somewhat endearing. What's
more, she's surprised she finds it endearing now. She softens. "I hope
our child is like you, David. I hope they have that luxury."

   "Thanks."

   She squeezes his hand, kisses his cheek. "Try not to get yourself killed."

()

There is an island in the arctic ocean that doesn't exist except for
when you're looking for it. An island that can't be found except by
those who aren't seeking it out. And here, there is a palace of ice,
impossibly tall and crystalline.

   "This is a place of old magic," says Sarah cryptically. She's
really just quoting the restless demons clawing at each other under
her skin. The old magic makes them anxious. It's too bright, too
unforgiving.

   But that brightness is why they're here. It's a few days before the
solstice, and that means that it's noon at the north pole twenty-four
seven. Shadows are scarce here, and scarcer still within the Teardrop
Palace.

   "That'll take Samson down a peg," says Bethany. "And there's old
magic here to hold him, at least for a little while." She looks to the
Company apotromancer that Trini assigned. "That's where you come in."

   Her name is Gail. She immediately sets to work activating ancient
runes, drawing lines of power, creating centers of binding and
unbinding. She does this quietly, studiously, joylessly. She's young.
Sarah guesses fourteen, maybe fifteen? Too young to have white streaks
in her hair. Too young for the sunken sleepless eyes. Too young to be
here at the top of the world, getting ready to tangle with a
psychopath possessed by some unspeakable primordial evil.

   "Hell," she whispers to Pinky once the two of them are alone. "I'm
too young to be doing this, but at least I've gone through puberty."

   "Heck," says Pinky, "you've had time to do that twice."

   "Do you know her?" Sarah gives a slight toss of her head in Gail's direction.

   "No," says Pinky. "Maybe she got 'hired' while I was indisposed. Or
maybe she was there all along. I didn't really go out of my way to
socialize." She looks embarrassed. "I, uh, I want you to know, I
didn't choose this."

   Sarah stops her. "You don't need to explain it to me. They came
after me too, remember? I mean, you were literally there."

   "Yeah."

   "And I could tell, even back then. You didn't seem like you fit."

   "Thanks." Pinky shivers. The thing about mystical ice palaces is,
spoiler alert, they're pretty cold.

   Sarah was smart enough to bring a blanket. She opens one end of it,
draping it over Pinky.

   She can feel the warmth of Sarah's body pressed against hers. "Hey,
do you think I'd fit in, you know, with the circle?"

   "Why?" Sarah whispers in her ear. "You want in?"

   "You seem surprised."

   "No, I just," Sarah shrugs. "I just don't want any part of this.
The Company, the circle, none of it. The magic." Her mancer's mark
brightens. She winces, pressing her palm against it like she's putting
pressure on a wound. "Back at Shallow House? That was the first time
I've used it. On purpose, I mean."

   "How did it feel?" asks Pinky.

   Sarah thinks for a moment. "It felt like boymoding."

   She doesn't explain any more than that, but Pinky doesn't need her
to. She understands the wrongness of it. The feeling of violation, and
the knowledge that you're doing it to yourself.

   A feeling washes over Pinky that she doesn't have words for.
"You're the bravest girl in the world."

   "I know," says Sarah. She grins, then adds nervously, "Uh, that was
a joke. I don't actually think I'm the bravest girl in the world." She
grins again. "But I am the smartest."

   "I wish I had that kind of confidence," says Pinky. "I wish I knew
what I was. What I'm good at. What I'm, you know, what I'm for."

   "I don't know," says Sarah. Pinky can feel her breath crashing
against her cheek. "But that's as it should be. You're the only one
that gets to decide who you are. Don't ever let anyone tell you
otherwise."

   "I won't." Pinky is surprised by her own earnestness. She turns her
face toward Sarah.

   Sarah suddenly becomes aware of how close Pinky is. Of how her body
is pressed against hers. Of the shape of her mouth and the color of
her eyes.

   "Are you attracted to me, Pinky?"

   Pinky flusters, wide-eyed and sputtering. She buries her face in
the blanket, avoiding Sarah's gaze.

   "I'm usually pretty bad at reading people. But I'll take that as a yes?"

   Pinky's eyes dart up, fearful as a cornered fox. She nods.

   "I ask because I don't really experience attraction myself. And yet
I find myself wanting to kiss you right now. I'm not sure why, but
it's there, and it feels worth exploring. Would you like that?"

   Pinky nods, and gets smooched.

()

Bethany is getting reports from her teams in the field, and so far the
news is promising. One of the vessels has already been destroyed, and
the last has been located. The necromancer's cultists have apparently
thrown all their eggs in that basket, so it's staunchly defended. But
that just means that Bethany can throw everything she has at it. You
throw a few dozen super-people at a problem and it eventually ceases
to be a problem.

   She's pretty pleased. "So long as we can do our thing and David can
do his, I figure we'll have this wrapped up in a hop and a skip."

   "Wow," says Pinky. It's a sincere wow; everything about Pinky is
sincere. "You just seem really nonchalant about all this end of the
world stuff. But it must be old hat for you."

   Bethany nods. "This is like the third time this year? Maybe the
fourth? I wouldn't say you get used to it, exactly. But it becomes a
job. It becomes, hmm, a problem to solve."

   Sarah perks up a bit. "Like a puzzle?"

   "Yeah, like a puzzle. That's the part that makes this magic stuff
so unnerving. There aren't any rules."

   "That's not true," says Gail. She speaks slowly, carefully,
measuring every word and every pause for breath. "There are rules.
They're just fluid. It's about intention. Will. Emotion. Creativity.
It's intuition."

   Sarah exchanges a sideways glance with Bethany. "I'll stick with
the science, thank you."

   "Me too," says the superhero.

   And maybe it's because she's never had much of a head for science,
but Pinky finds Gail's description of magic to be quite resonant. Like
she has given her the words she needs to understand it. The words she
needs to understand herself.

   But she doesn't have time to dig into that right now. The invisible
sigils that Gail has spent the last hour tracing on the ice are now
visible, glowing black. The apotromancer winces; she can feel the
sigils. Feel the intrusion. Feel the corruption, the violation. "He's
here. Quickly."

   Sarah and Pinky join Gail and Ghedi within a circle of protection.

   Samson's voice arrives before his body. "Aren't you going to run
and join them?"

   "Nah," says Bethany. "I'm good."

   Gail permits a shadow to form in one of the walls. It's enough for
Samson to step through. He's carrying June's body by the neck.

   "She thought she was good, too," he says, tossing her onto the ice.

NEXT TIME: THE OLD MAGIC

COPYRIGHT 2023 AMABEL HOLLAND