No Humans Involved

As for getting some idea of what they were capable of, the only spell Brendan had seen them cast was the weakening one. When he finished, I turned to the older man-Murray.

"So you were killed after Brendan?"

He nodded, his head down. A hell of a thing to put someone through, but I had to do it, so I pushed on.

"How were you approached?"

He hesitated. "I-I don't remember. It's all very foggy. I was at work and then… That's all I remember from that day. I woke up here, like Brendan."

He shot a furtive glance at the boy, as if worrying about what effect his death had on him, but Brendan said, "I didn't see it. I was blacked out. It happens a lot when they're doing magic in here."

I relayed that to Hope. During Brendan's account, she'd barely seemed to be listening, but now she went still, as if struggling to pay attention.

"So he was sacrificed?" she said. "Like the boy?"

"Right."

I gave her a quick recap of Brendan's story. She looked confused, but waved for me to continue questioning Murray. She listened as I relayed the story of his death, his tale almost identical to Brendan's, offering no new insight.

As he finished, Hope moaned and began writhing on the floor. I knelt beside her. Her face was ashen, eyes rolling back.

"They-they must have done something to me," she whispered. "I-I feel sick. Something…"

Her voice dropped and I had to lean closer.

"He's lying," she whispered.

"Wha-?"

"Shhh. The older one. Murray. He's lying."

Her voice was so low I struggled to make out the words.

"He wasn't burned. They stabbed him in the back. He was one of them. They turned on him." She swallowed. "I'm sorry I'm not much help. I'm… having a hard time."

I squeezed her shoulder. "You focus on blocking the visions and I'll get us out of here."

Her gaze dipped, cheeks flushing.

I couldn't imagine what it was like for her. Seeing ghosts in their death bodies was nothing compared to seeing them in their death throes. I'd never complain about seeing a death body again.

Death body…

I turned to Murray. "I know something that might tell me more about the magic these people have. As ghosts, you can revert to what we call your death body, how you looked at the moment you passed. If you can do that for me, maybe I can take a closer look for signs of magic."

"I don't know how," Murray said quickly.

"I'll tell you."

"Sure," Brendan said. "Whatever helps."

"I don't see how it will." Murray crossed his arms. "They used gasoline and matches to kill us, not magic."

"Humor me."

He shook his head.

"Why? It's not as if you're lying, right?"

His expression chased away any doubt.

"Wha-?" Brendan began.

I shot him a look and he went silent.

"Are you ever pla

"Of course."

"So then what? You waltz up to the higher powers, say 'My name's Murray and I was a human sacrifice' and expect them to take your word for it? You've got some serious bad karma to undo, and not a lot of time left to undo it. I'd suggest you start now."

His eyes said he wasn't convinced.

I imagined Eve at my shoulder. Bluff, damn it. He's human. What the hell does he know about our world? Bury the bastard in bullshit.

"Do you know what I am? A necromancer. You can see a glow around me, one you won't see on regular people like her." I waved at Hope. "My job is to act as a mediator between this world and the next, and to do that, I have a partner on the other side. That woman I was summoning? I called her a ghost… among other things. She's not just any ghost. She's a direct link to the higher powers. Every necromancer is assigned one."

"Cool," Brendan said. "Like a guardian angel."

I imagined what Eve would say about being called an angel, but kept a straight face as I nodded. "Something like that. One of a necromancer's jobs is to ease the passing of spirits. "When we escape here, I'll turn you over to her and she'll take you to the higher powers who will decide where you belong. When she hands you over, she'll make her report. What you do in the remaining time you have on this side will have a big impact on that report."

Hope's strained voice floated over. "And if Jaime doesn't get out of here alive, then she can't help you cross over, meaning you'll be at the whim of the first necromancer you meet when-if-you escape."

"But I don't know what I can do," Murray said. "I can't get you out of here-"

"You can help by telling me about them. The group you were a part of before they killed you."

Brendan turned on Murray. "What?"

"Yes, he was part of that group, but he changed his mind after hearing what they did to you. He wanted to turn them in. That's why they killed him."

Murray nodded emphatically. I doubted that was how it happened, but Brendan was mollified enough to relax.

"Now," I continued, "tell me everything."

THE DEMON WITHIN

THE GROUP HAD BEEN STARTED almost fifteen years ago by May Donovan and another man, Don Rice. Don was also in the Ehrich Weiss Society, but otherwise the groups were separate, on May's advice. As we'd suspected, she and Don had used the society to research new occult groups and to track rumors of their own.

"And Zack Fly

"Who?"

"A reporter for the L.A. Times. He's part of the Ehrich Weiss Society."

"I think May's mentioned him. Just a kid, right?" A moue of distaste. "We don't allow young people in our group. We're serious practitioners."

Had Jeremy and Karl realized their mistake, left Zack and gone back to Brentwood? Or had they teamed up with Zack and used his co

Hope's face was red and beaded with sweat as she was swept into another vision. That jolted worries of Jeremy aside. He could take care of himself.

I continued grilling Murray.

Three years ago, after over a decade of trying, the group had found the so-called "key" to unlocking the mysteries of the magical world.

Human sacrifice. Or not so much the act itself as the by-products. They cremated the victims' organs and used the ashes in spellcasting.

The ritual they'd used must have bound the spirits to the earth so the magic could draw on their energy, draining them as their ashes were used. That's why Brendan was fading. He was disappearing as his energy was consumed in spellcasting.

Even with that ingredient, their success had been limited to a few spells in a select number of books-simple magic from real grimoires, I'd presume. The spell they'd used to knock me out was a fairly recent addition, and the strongest thing they had.

When I asked about the children, he said that over three years, they'd killed six children and buried them in the garden down the road.

"But their spirits aren't here," I said. "Were they killed here? In this room?"

"Some. But that was before May performed the encircling ritual."

"Encircling ritual?"

"To protect this room from…" he fluttered his hands, "evil spirits. Nosy neighbors. Who knows? May was getting paranoid. Kept worrying that we'd conjure up some demon or tap into something ugly."

"Did something like that ever happen?"

"Not to us."

"But to May?"

He glanced around, then lowered his voice, as if he could be overheard. "May is different. The magic always works better for her. Comes easier to her. Some of us can barely cast the simplest spells. May's always first and best. It makes some of us wonder…" He shrugged. "There'd been grumbling. About what else May might be able to do. What she might be hiding from us."

"Which would explain the 'encircling' ritual. If she did something that spooked her. So presumably, this ritual is what keeps you two in."