Libeza watched the basement door bang shut, and then she grumbled, “That was dramatic for Simon. I remember him as being cool under pressure.”
“Do you blame him?” Casey snapped. He didn’t Libeza. Something about her set his Gift to twitching and his temper to rising. It wasn’t that she was a cop; that identity felt like a disguise. She was cosplaying a human officer because it suited her own purposes. It was something deeper, more integral to who she was. why she felt like fingernails on a chalkboard to his Gift was difficult. All he could say was he didn’t trust her and didn’t want to be her friend.
“Holy ,” Shana burst out suddenly. “That was a fucking . Holy. Fucking. Shit.”
“A ghost of Simon’s mother,” Casey clarified, in case it hadn’t been obvious. “I missed the connection, damnit, when we talked to her last week, but I think Simon knew. He never said anything. He keeps a lot to himself.”
“You should go after him,” Shana jerked her chin upwards.
“No,” Casey shook his head. “Simon’s compulsion to answer my questions is too strong. Avery, will you—”
“Yeah, you and Shana deal with all this.” Avery waved his hand around the room. “I mean, not the mess the ghost made, I’ll help later, but deal with her,” he shot a wary look at Libeza, “and the magic shit, and I’ll go chase down Simon.”
“Be careful,” Shana said.
“Why? He’s not going to stab me a second time,” Avery said as he hurried for the stairs. Pointedly, he left his blinged-out bat’leth on a table next to Casey’s drum set.
“Not that.” Shana, at the foot of the stairs, said, and Avery stopped beside her to wait for her following words. She bit her lip, then added, “Be , Avery. For once.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Avery briefly rested his hand on her shoulder as he walked by her.
Shana looked at Casey after Avery left, one eyebrow arching up until it disappeared under her yellow and green curls. “You sure sending that dumbass after the emotionally constipated elf was wise? I could have gone.”
“The dumbass and the elf will be good for each other,” Casey said, not especially concerned. Avery always meant well. Simon was a very forgiving man who was also good at intuiting what people meant rather than what they had just said. There was little chance for real conflict between them, in Casey's estimation.
He turned his attention to the cop. “Libby, I appreciate what you’ve done here today, but a little discussion and warning about what you had planned would have been helpful. That was how I would have wanted Simon to reconnect with his mother. And you—!” he turned abruptly to the Book and the ghost that was bound to it.
She was still there. He couldn’t see her now, but he could sense her exhausted presence. He demanded, “How could you do that to your ”
Libeza, next to him, opened her mouth. He knew she was about to speak. He spun to face her and pointed at the basement’s exterior door. “—It’s time you leave.”
She rocked back on her heels, eyes narrowing. “I’m here to offer help.”
“And you were very helpy. I appreciate the ID for Simon. We’ll be in touch if we need you.” She was , selfish, and irritatingly confident in her own righteousness. Casey just wanted her gone.
Libby glanced over at Shana. Shana’s expression was frigid.
Impatiently, Libby fished her wallet out and handed him what he hoped was a perfectly ordinary business card, and not some sort of weird magical spell hidden in a litle rectangle of cardboard. “call if you get in over your head. Which you will.”
Then, she turned and stalked stiffly out the indicated exit.
Shana said after the door swung shut, “Told you not to let her in without a warrant.”
Casey glanced sideways at Shana. She held her hand out; he passed the business card to her while saying, “You know how Avery can hear a song or see a dance once and then absolutely nail it? Like, he saw part of Thriller for the first time when he was four years old, and then he moonwalked across the living room while singing what he’d heard, pitch-perfect?”
That had actually been the moment they’d all realized Avery had real talent. Casey had been seven, and he still remembered the excitement as Annette had dug through her DVDs to find one with several more Michael Jackson music videos. Avery, not even old enough for kindergarten, had very quickly figured out Jackson’s signature moves, accompanied by a reasonably credible imitation of Jackson’s voice, given he was just a four-year-old boy.
He had always envied Avery’s abilities. Casey could play the drums passably, but every song he learned took endless practice — and to his frustration, sometimes Avery would casually pick up the sticks and offer a friendly correction, even when Avery had never personally played that song on the drums even once. It was as if he had a superpower for remembering rhythm and key.
“Yeah?” Shana said. She held Libby’s business card in her palm, pointed her cell phone camera at it, snapped a quick picture, then handed it back to Casey.
“When Nadria opened the portal, I how she pulled the power.” Casey fished in his pocket for his keys as he walked towards the cage door. “It was like a whole world opened up to me. I saw to pull power from the leys, and it felt very natural. But I’ve been struggling with Simon’s lessons because I’ve never seen anyone else do the things he’s teaching me... plus there were things I understand in what Nadria did, in how she shaped the magic. But, I think, maybe, pulling Power for me is like music for Avery. I hope the rest, the shaping and forming of it, will come as I practice.”
The book was open on the desk. As he approached, he saw Power shimmer around it. Words appeared on the page.
“We can work together."
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He
It wasn’t as neat or tidy as Libeza’s spell. The edges were ragged and crackling with unbalanced Power, and he didn’t know how to fix that. Despite that, he wrapped the power around the ghost and and then she stood before him, eyes wide. She had not wished to return in a quasi-physical form, but he gave her no choice.
"Necromancer,” she said. “Impressive. With some training, you could make the dead walk the land.”
"No different than your sister.” He pressed his lips together. He know that for sure, but his Gift told him he was on the right track. There was so much he needed to learn.
"Very different. She fed Power to me, and I was able to manifest of my own volition. You bring me forth against my will.” She watched him with wary green eyes. "As I suspected from the moment I first sensed you, you are the one the prophecy spoke of. In the Eastland language, that phrase implies Simon would be your servant, and his power, yours to direct. In English, and in Elven, the same sentence is ambiguous as to Power it is. I would note that the Seer wrote the prophecy in Elven, a language he does not speak, and then had to have Libby translate it for him. He said he scried the future, and saw the sentence written in a book.”
"Ah. Libeza your sister?” It was a point that needed clarifying.
"Half. We share the same mother. Libby was raised at court, the bastard daughter of a literal royal — and the first elf to ever carry the title of Lady, granted by her grandfather, the king. She’s always been remarkably good at earning the respect of those in power, though, as I think you’ve already discovered, she’s hard to love as a leader.
“Her future was bright until Lady Ellia accused her of bestiality with a geasbound grimalkin mage, and many believed it.” The ghost sighed, an unearthly sound. “I’d counter it is not bestiality to love someone with nearly the form of a man, and the intelligence and emotions of the same.”
“So she’s Simon’s aunt. She was his tutor. Yet, he did not even know his real name."
“She was forbidden from teaching him our ways, or even discussing our lineage with him. The king wished him to know nothing of the elven world so that Simon would have connections only to humanity. It might have worked had he been treated as a cherished child rather than resented, even hated, by Yienry’s his stepmother and brothers. He never even knew they loathed him."
“You can scry him." There was a growing weariness behind Casey’s eyes. His vision blurred. The amount of energy that he was using was enormous, and it came slowly and unevenly from the leys, which felt churned and chaotic. He hadn’t yet found a limit to the energy he could tap, but he was beginning to realize there was one.
Her expression softened. “I watch him always, and often. He is my son. All the focus I need to find him is the blood ties we share. He is a good man, Casey, but not one who always assumes positive intent, as I’ve heard your people explain the concept. Had I forced him here without a binding geas to control him, he likely would have killed you both on the spot. My actions could easily have been construed as hostile."
“They hostile.”
“I do not see it that way.”
He very narrowly avoided calling her in reaction to that statement. The word was on the tip of his tongue. Had she always been so implacably and wrongly righteous, or had being bound to the pages of a book driven her insane?
He pointed out, “He still nearly killed Avery.”
“Mm. He fought the spell longer and harder than most. That was unexpected. He is very stubborn and self-aware. Most men fall to their knees as loyal thralls immediately.” She seemed proud.
He growled, “I wonder where he got that stubbornness."
The look she gave him was genuinely amused. He’d meant it to be a cutting insult. Still, her features were so like Simon’s that it made him wonder what Simon would look like with a real smile on his face. Would the corners of his eyes scrunch up the same way? The man was attractive under the worst of circumstances; he’d be truly stunning if ever let his guard down for a genuine moment of joy...
“Your point’s taken about Simon being dangerous when he’s terrified and furious, but you can lift that geas now.” He kept his voice smooth despite his growing anger. “Pretty sure we’re friends, at this point.”
"I cannot — and I will not. Casey, Simon has been profoundly unhappy for years, and all I could do was watch. He has experienced trauma after trauma, none of it his fault, despite his best efforts to simply live a peaceful life. I can tell simply by watching that he struggles.”
Casey said shortly, “Fine. He was miserable. He’s probably got a whopping dose of PTSD. He can join the Crazy Queer Club. He’ll have lots of company.”
“Simon is happier now than he’s ever been. The spell allows him to love, trust, and life with people who will be good to him, rather than living a life of constant vigilance and cool reserve. I just want what’s best for him."
“Consent’s a thing, bitch," Shana hissed at Casey’s side.
Casey elaborated, in case the point wasn’t clear, “Simon is pretty clear that he wants to be free of the spell. It might be harder, but it’ll be a lot less fake if he finds happiness on his own.”
He recognized her recalcitrant look. He’d seen it on Simon’s face a few times. Their chins jutted out when they disagreed with something, their eyes narrowed, and their lips pressed together until they were a hard white line. She said, “I’m not wrong. How is a spell different than the medication that Avery takes on a daily basis? Like Avery, he suffers emotionally without it."
“Avery to take medication after understanding his options,” he snapped. “He is never forced into it, and his meds don’t take away his free will. If anything, they allow him to make decisions with a clear head, because he’s not fighting anxiety every minute of every day. They don’t make him a slave to anyone else. You want Simon to have a happy life? He’s exactly my type. I’m to date him once he can meet me as an equal, without an imbalance of power. I categorically refuse to even entertain the idea of a relationship with a dude who can’t say no to me who, currently, relies upon me for his entire existence.”
“He’d never give you a chance. He’d never give a chance.” She was implacable. “He never has in the past. He’s broken at least two hearts that I’m aware of. One was a young man I believe he was truly attracted to.”
It sounded like she’d been spying on Simon without his knowledge for most of his life. Reading between the lines, that likely included private moments between Simon and a potential partner. Casey said, “Deciding he’s not ready for a relationship, even if he’s got the hots for someone, is his !” He was angry enough that he inadvertently sent more power her way than intended.
Eyes snapping with anger, she flinched in pain and waved a hand. He belatedly realized that, while she had little power of her own, she could use what he was sending to her own ends. She’d just cast a spell.
A bubble of... nothingness surrounded them. It was eerily calm within. The energy needed to sustain the ghost’s visible form had been akin to water rushing over his skin and through his nerves as he’d pulled it from the earth; he could feel it and manipulate it, but it had been of no consequence to himself.
Now, he was blind to everything. Shana stood beside him, but it was as if she was not there. He could not feel the buildings around him, the power in the land, or the shape of the weather. He was in a soundless, lightless, empty bubble devoid of all sensation.
Yet, somehow, he could see and hear... it took a moment to realize that she’d blocked that sense that had always been woven into his awareness of the world... without it, even with just sight and hearing, he felt somehow blindened and deafened. Until this very moment, he had not realized how much of his reality was shaped by things beyond normal human perception.
Nadria rapidly faded from view; whatever she’d cast over Casey had cut off his control over her. Voice whispery now, she said, “I will tolerate being bullied by a rank beginner. I free Simon, but only after you two have stopped Todd. Libby suggested I show you a null ring — congratulations, enjoy the null ring. It’ll wear off in a few minutes.”
A chill wafted over the room as she disappeared completely.
The book, formerly open, flopped closed.
“Fuck you, bitch!” Casey didn’t like losing — and the ghost had just won this round.
