The Reckoning

I only had to glance at the cemetery walls and I could see Derek’s scowl, hear him snap, “Don’t even think about training in there, Chloe.”

“She’s jealous, you know,” Tori said.

“What?”

“You can raise the dead. If she admits that, then she has to admit you’re a better necromancer than she is.”

“I don’t think being able to raise the dead makes anyone better.”

“In their world it does, because it means you’re more powerful. Everyone wants to be more powerful.” She looked around the cemetery, her gaze going distant. “It doesn’t matter if it’s good power or bad. I lived with my mom long enough to see that. Margaret might not want to raise the dead, but she wants to be able to, and she doesn’t want some kid to be better at it than she is. So she’s telling herself you can’t.”

“Okay, but I’d rather not prove her wrong.”

Tori’s lips pursed. “Actually…”

“Uh-uh. I’m not returning any poor ghost to its rotting-”

“Only temporarily.”

I gave her a look.

She sighed. “Fine. But whatever that chick’s hang-ups, her job is to train you, and you need training. We all do. It’ll be fine as long as you take it easy, right?”

True. While I couldn’t help remembering Derek’s suspicion that Tori was betraying us, I could see no nefarious advantage to encouraging me to raise the dead.

“Look, do what you want,” she said. “I’ll back you up. As cliché as it sounds, we’re in this together. You, me, the guys. Not exactly the gang I’d pick-no offense-but…”

“You’re stuck with us.”

“My advice? Take her lesson and be careful.”

I imagined what Derek would say. He wouldn’t like the situation, but I think he’d eventually agree.

I went back to Margaret and said I was ready.

Eleven

MARGARET LED US INTO the cemetery. There were some mourners under a temporary canopy, huddled around a casket. We steered clear of them.

The only graveyard I’d ever been in was the one where my mom was buried. Dad and I went every year on her birthday.

This one was bigger, with new graves at the front, where the mourners were. Margaret led us to the back, which had the old graves. It was empty there-the dead having been dead so long there was no one left to visit them.

As cemeteries went, I supposed it was nice, with lots of trees and benches. Take away the headstones and it would make a decent park, especially with the sun warming up the cold April morning. I tried to focus on the sun and the scenery, not on what lay under my feet.

Margaret stopped at one of the more recent graves in the old area. It was of a woman who’d died in 1959 at the age of sixty-three. Margaret said that was ideal-someone who hadn’t died so long ago that she’d be spooked by our modern clothes, but long enough ago that she wouldn’t have a lot of loved ones left and want messages passed on.

She told us to kneel like we were the family of this woman-Edith-come to pay our respects. Most necromancers avoided daytime summoning, but Margaret thought that was silly. Coming at night only called more attention to yourself. In the daytime, if you brought a friend-a supernatural of course-it was easy, because you could kneel at a grave and talk and no one would look twice.

“Or you could use a cell phone,” Tori said.

“That’s hardly respectful in a cemetery,” said Margaret with a sniff.

Tori shrugged. “I guess. But she could. And she should probably have a cell anyway, for when a ghost tries talking to her in public.”

Margaret rolled her eyes. I thought it was a good idea and appreciated it.

It would be great to think Tori was starting to like me, but, as she said, she’d realized how alone she was. Everyone needs an ally and I was the only choice.

I sighed. I’d never realized how good I’d had it, back in my normal life, where if a popular girl talked to me, the worst thing that could happen was she was pla

Margaret opened her briefcase and took out baggies of herbs, a piece of chalk, matches, and a little saucer. Ritual material to help necromancers summon, she explained. Tori suppressed a snort, as if to say I didn’t need that. I said nothing.

“Should I remove this?” I asked, pulling my pendant from under my shirt.

Margaret blinked. “Where did you get that?”

“My mother, when I was little. I was seeing ghosts, and she told me this would keep them away. So it’s for real?”

“Real, yes-real superstitious nonsense. I haven’t seen one since I was about your age. Necromancers don’t use them anymore, but they were once quite the hot fashion item for our kind. It’s supposed to reduce a necromancer’s glow.”

“Glow?” Tori said.

“That’s what ghosts see that marks us as necromancers, right?” I said.

Margaret nodded.

“And if this necklace makes it dim,” I said, “then the necromancer won’t attract ghosts.”

“Well, then Margaret’s right,” Tori said. “It’s definitely not working. But that’s not the same one you were wearing at Lyle House. That was red and on a chain.”

“It was red.” I fingered the blue stone. “The chain broke. But if it is real, then changing color could mean it lost its power.”

Margaret stared at the pendant. “It changed color?”

I nodded. “Does that mean something?”

“They say-” She shook it off. “Superstitious nonsense. Our world is full of it, I’m afraid. Now let’s get started. The first thing I need you to do, Chloe, is read the woman’s name, and keep that in your mind. Then, aloud, you’ll repeat what we call an entreaty. Say the spirit’s name and respectfully ask her to speak to you. Try that.”

“Edith Parsons, I’d like to speak to you please.”

“That’s it. Next we light the…”

As Margaret explained, a plump woman in a blue dress appeared behind the gravestone, her wrinkled face frowning as her bright blue eyes peered around. When those eyes swung my way, the frown vanished in a wide smile.

“Hello,” I said.

Margaret’s gaze followed mine and she jumped.

Tori snickered. “Guess Chloe doesn’t need that stuff after all.”

Margaret greeted the woman, who glanced her way, but her gaze-and smile-swung back to me.

“Aren’t you a sweet little thing,” she said. “How old are you, doll?”

“Fifteen.”

“And you can see ghosts. I can tell by the glow. I’ve never met one of you, but I’ve heard the others tell of such things. They call you a…” She struggled for the word.

“Necromancer,” I said.

Her face screwed up, like she’d bit a lemon. “In my day, they called people who talked to ghosts spiritualists or mediums. Much nicer words, don’t you think?”

I agreed.

She looked from me to Margaret and laughed. “All these years of not believing folks when they talked about you people, and here I meet two in one day.”

She reached out and tapped the air around me, my glow, I guess.

“So pretty,” she murmured. “It draws the eye…Yours is so bright, dear. Much brighter than hers. I suppose that’s because you’re younger.”

I’d heard that the stronger the glow, the stronger the necromancer, and it must be true, because Margaret’s lips tightened.

“C-can I try something?” I asked.

“Of course, doll. No need to be shy. This is a special day for me.” She lowered her voice. “It can get a bit dull on the other side. This will be a lovely story to tell my friends.”

“I’m going to take off my necklace, and I’d like to know if it changes my glow.”

“Good idea,” Tori murmured.

Margaret harrumphed, like it was a waste of time, but didn’t stop me. I lifted the ribbon over my head and handed it to Tori.

The old woman gasped. “Oh my.”

I turned to see her staring, eyes like saucers. Then there was a shimmer to my left…and one to my right.

Margaret let out an oath. She lunged over, snatching the necklace from Tori and pressing it into my hand. The air continued to shimmer, shapes taking form as I yanked the necklace back on.