Michael Scott - The Necromancer

The mouthwatering scent of life.

The tingle of a powerful aura.

Calling to her. Calling, calling, calling.

Running and falling, crawling and walking, on limbs that had not been used in millennia, Coatlicue moved toward the light, toward freedom.

“Coatlicue…,” Josh rasped, his voice hoarse.

The smoke from the blades on the floor before him had solidified into a thick brown sheet. He thought he saw something move behind it.

He was still trying to work out what he’d do with the Magic of Necromancy… but wait, hadn’t Dee called it an art rather than a magic? What was the difference? And were there rules to necromancy? It had to be fueled by his aura, which meant that it probably followed some of the basic rules of the magics he’d already learned. So he’d have to choose very carefully before he decided to bring someone back from the dead. And how long could he keep them alive? Was there a time limit…?

“Coatlicue…”

Josh squinted. There was a definite shape moving behind the gauzy smoke.

He’d bring back Leonardo da Vinci, who was supposed to be buried in Amboise, France. And he’d love to talk to Mark Twain and Einstein and…

The brown smoke rippled; then two hands appeared and pulled it apart like a curtain.

Coatlicue emerged.

And she was beautiful.

“Where is he?” Sophie screamed, frustration and panic churning inside her.

They had fought their way up the stairs. There were no staff in the offices, only a scattering of uniformed guards, and they fell quickly to Aoife’s nunchaku and Niten’s lightning-fast fists and feet.

“We’re on the top floor,” Niten announced as he drove a foot through the plate-glass door. The lock snapped and he stepped into what was obviously Dee’s private office. He moved swiftly around the room, checking the small side corridors. “Nothing. A bathroom, a kitchen, a small private elevator. No sign that Josh has even been here.”

Aoife spun around to look at Sophie. “You said he was here. You felt him.”

The girl nodded. Her head was starting to thump with a sick headache.

“You said he was upstairs. Think. Where is he now?”

Sophie breathed deeply and concentrated on her brother. Then she frowned in confusion. “Downstairs.”

With Niten in the lead, they raced down the stairs, leaping over the bodies of the unconscious guards. “Twelfth floor,” the Japanese immortal called. Standing in the middle of the stairwell, Aoife turned to Sophie. “Where is he now?”

Sophie visualized her brother’s face… and then blinked. She raised a tentative finger and pointed to the ceiling. “But that can’t be right. It feels like he’s upstairs now.”

Niten grinned and looked at Aoife. “Secret floor,” they said in unison.

Josh stared at Coatlicue. She was the most elegant and beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life. She was tall-seven, maybe eight feet-and looked like she’d stepped out of a painting on the wall of an Egyptian tomb. Jet-black hair cut in a straight line across her forehead hung in a silky curtain to her shoulders, and her eyes were outlined in kohl. Her skin was copper and her eyes were a deep lustrous brown. She was wearing a simple white robe and was barefoot. When she looked down at Josh, she smiled warmly, and although her lips did not move, Josh clearly heard her voice in his head. You called me and I came. I am Coatlicue… When she stretched out her hand, he noticed that her fingernails had been painted in a snakeskin pattern.

Without even thinking, Josh took a step toward the creature and raised his right hand.

A solid sheet of flame blossomed in front of Josh, crisping his hair, searing his eyebrows and sending him staggering back. He shouted as he slipped and fell to the floor, voice high-pitched with terror, and he heard Dee roar and Virginia scream. He rolled over, and through the dancing flames he saw his sister standing at an open door on the opposite side of the room, fire still curling off her fingers.

“Sis?” Confused, disoriented, he climbed to his feet and then grunted as someone hit him from behind, sending him staggering forward, into the flame, toward Coatlicue. He threw up his hand to protect himself from the fire-and the flame instantly winked out, and he fell on his hands and knees at Coatlicue’s bare feet.

“Josh!” Sophie screamed.

Your name is Josh? Take my hand, Josh.

Immediately, Josh slipped his hand into Coatlicue’s.

Sophie watched in horror as Josh stepped toward the creature trapped within the square of swords. Coatlicue had a body that was vaguely female, but with the claws of a crocodile and two serpents’ heads coiling from a thick neck. A long robe composed entirely of writhing snakes covered her body. Dee’s companion, the woman who had to be Virginia Dare, stood behind Josh and shoved him forward-toward the fire and into the sword square on the floor.

Instinctively, Sophie uncurled Perenelle’s whip and lashed out with it. It keened through the air and laid open a long stripe across Coatlicue’s back. One hissing snake head darted toward Sophie and spat a shower of white liquid at her. It fell short, bubbling and burning into the floor, giving her an inkling of what it could do to her skin.

Niten drew both swords and leapt toward Dee. A blade of smoking sulfurous yellow appeared in the Magician’s hand and struck at the Japanese immortal. Niten easily countered the blows, sparks exploding where his metal swords clashed against Dee’s burning blade. The Japanese immortal closed in on Dee, swords whirling, while the Magician desperately backpedaled, flailing wildly with the blazing longsword.

Sophie’s silver armor bloomed around her body as she strode toward Coatlicue, whip cracking and whistling as she lashed the creature again and again. “Let my brother go!”

Aoife was darting toward Josh when Dare reared up in front of her, a wooden flute in one hand, a tomahawk in the other.

“You think that can hurt me?” The warrior sneered at the crude tomahawk.

“No, but this can,” Dare said, and brought the flute to her lips and blew a single note. The warrior instantly dropped to the ground, writhing in agony, hands pressed to her ears. Virginia stood over Aoife and twirled the tomahawk loosely above her. “I’ve never killed one of the Next Generation before,” she said lightly. “First time for everything, I suppose,” she added, then raised the axe.

Josh watched in horror as his sister lashed out at the beautiful young woman with a long screaming whip. Coatlicue opened her mouth and shrieked, and the sound was heartbreaking. She turned her huge eyes on Josh and her fingers tugged him forward, toward the swords, toward her. “Why?” she moaned in pain.

Josh didn’t know the answer. He shook his head. This was wrong, so, so wrong. Sophie shouldn’t be whipping Coatlicue. He turned and watched Niten savagely attack Dee, his swords blurs of light as he slashed and cut, driving the Magician back against the wall. Only Virginia seemed to be holding her own. The red-haired warrior was lying at her feet. He grinned: maybe the great Aoife was not so great after all.

Josh turned to look at his sister. Her armor had fully formed around her, giving her an almost alien appearance, and she was lashing out mercilessly at the defenseless Archon.

“No!” he whispered, then shouted, “No!” He tried to raise his own armor, but he was drained from calling Coatlicue. “Stop,” he croaked uselessly.

Sophie ignored him.

And then Josh’s toe touched the stone blade at his feet and Clarent pulsed, throbbed, called to him. Of course! It would renew his aura, give him the strength he needed to protect Coatlicue. Kneeling, Josh closed his hand around the hilt of the warm stone sword.