Shadow Deal

CHAPTER ONE I hate traveling to the spirit world. It's foggy and the air has a sulfuric smell to it. Wailing phantoms circle the sky. Hordes of demons crawl over the shifting landscape like roaches. Not my idea of fun on a Friday night. I shivered, flipped up the collar on my beige gabardine, and faced a topsy-turvy landscape of mist, rock, and grass. Legless spirits wandered across the grass here and there, like kites in a lazy breeze. Their cores shone with golden light. A rash of sparkling phantoms clustered in the orange sky, dozens of ghoulish faces twisting and contorting upon themselves in pain. Not much had changed in the seven years since I’d last been here. Back then, I was foolish enough to think I could understand this place. Tame it and harness its power. I didn't understand yet what fear truly was. I had a wife. A teenage son and daughter. A family. Necromancy took them all from me. When you practice the dark arts, that’s what happens: you lose the people that matter most, and you don’t realize how much you’ve screwed up until there’s a giant hole in your heart that nothing and nobody can fix. Yes, I'm a necromancer. Well, ex-necromancer. I don't like to talk about it. I had left the dark arts behind me, swore I'd never practice them again. Now I was here in the spirit world, battered, and with only one prayer left. I said I'd never visit this place again as long as I lived. And I’d meant it. Never say never, I guess. I stood on a rocky outcrop, looking down over an endless chasm of stars where a gray river of souls flowed down like a mighty waterfall. I could see their faces in the rush—pained, anxious, languid as sin. They brushed against one another as they poured over the rock. Somewhere far below, something laughed a chilling, bone-shaking laugh that wasn't human. The souls moaned in response, sending a wave of fear through me. The ground rumbled, nearly bringing me to my knees. “Lester Broussard!” the voice shouted. “You will die and join these souls!” Damn…I didn’t expect to run into trouble this soon. The ground rumbled again and something clawed itself up the rock. Whatever it was, I didn't want to stick around to find out. I was back to the place I said I’d never return to because I needed help. Now I had another problem. It knew me by name and it wanted my blood. “Keep standing there and you'll be breakfast,” Cecilia said next to me. She had been quiet since I arrived, waiting to speak at the right time. CeCe’s voice had a dull edge that only the dead have. She wrinkled her lips in concern as the ground shook. “I don't want to be here another minute, let alone forever,” I said. “I asked you for help. Now I need it times two.” CeCe hurried ahead, a streak of red and blue in her red shirtdress and jeans. Marble spikes jutted out of the dress at the shoulders, speckled with glittering diamonds. Her blonde hair was almost platinum in the ethereal light. She had a smooth, flowing motion in death, the kind that only a few are fortunate enough to develop. She was just as beautiful as I remembered and then some, except she was as pale as plaster. I didn't want to think of my old friend’s face as cadaverous, but it was hollowed out, making the contours of her skull more prominent. I jogged after her on stiff knees, gritting my teeth. “How hurt are you?” she asked. I dug my hands into my pockets. The cuts on my palms pulsed like stars. “I'm all right,” I said, grimacing. A deep, s******c laugh boomed across the realm. “How far do we have to go?” I asked. “Can we make it?” CeCe waved a hand. A dirt path wove itself into the tall grass, snaking off into the mist. “Shouldn't be too long,” she said. “Aside from whatever’s chasing us, your bigger problem is making sure we don't run into Halgeron. He won't be happy to see you.” “I’ll take the risk,” I said as a phantom screamed down from the sky and exploded in a dazzle of fire. I didn't want to think about the Lich King learning that I'd returned to the spirit world after all this time. I lost a bet and still owed him. I'd have even bigger problems if he showed up. I pushed Halgeron’s desiccated skeletal face out of my mind. We continued up the path as fast as we could without running. My side burned with pain and I winced, clutching it. CeCe hooked her arm under mine and I leaned against her. She smelled like wildflowers and rain mixed with rot. “I miss the old days,” CeCe said, glancing skyward where a phantom turned into a blue and white aurora. “I've missed you, Lester.” I sensed a vibration coming from her, from her soul. Pure energy, pure power hidden behind all her grace. “I missed you too,” I said. “…in a platonic way.” “My emotions have grown stronger in death, but no, I didn't mean it that way.” Maybe there had been something between us when she was among the living. But I was married then and tried to ignore it. “You're not going to ask me to join you here, are you?” I asked. “Beg me to come back to the craft?” The ground sloped upward and I groaned. This hill would not be kind to my knees. A strong tremor ripped across the grass, almost knocking us off our feet. “Lester Broussard!” the voice screamed again. “Lester Broussard! Let me flay your soul, Lester Broussard!” “What happened all those years ago was that you pissed off the wrong demon,” CeCe said, as if we weren’t being chased. How she could maintain her poise throughout all of this baffled me. “It was just a bad first experience. Aside from some wicked asshole demons, the spirit world really isn't that bad.” “You say that as we’re getting chased by a wicked asshole demon,” I said. CeCe pulled me closer as I stumbled over a rock. “I know you’re in mourning,” CeCe said. “Over your family. But I want you to know that they don't hold you responsible. Your wife, Amira, and your son, Marcus, told me—” “No,” I said, shaking my head. Just hearing their names made me want to curl up into a ball on the rocks. I stopped and scowled at her. “Don't say their names. Don't you dare. I don't have the heart to summon them. You know that.” “You've tried to forget your family, then,” CeCe said. “I see.” “Listen,” I snapped, “I can't just summon my dead family, CeCe. And tell them—what? That I'm sorry I got them killed?” I glanced behind us. A giant scorpion tail appeared over the edge of the rock, followed by huge claws that staked themselves into the ground, pulling a huge brown mass upward. Like two-stories-tall huge. My stomach dropped. “You've walled your spirit off so much that they can't reach you,” CeCe said. “No one can. It's not healthy to isolate your soul this way, Lester.” “It's not healthy to get mauled by a big scorpion thing, either,” I said, pointing to the monster behind us. “Hurry up before I get dead and can’t argue with you anymore.” A piercing scream sounded in the mist. Whatever the thing was, it was on our level now. I groaned again, trying to run, and CeCe fell quiet as she pulled me up the hill. My knees screamed as we climbed. When you've had multiple knee injuries, you tend to hate hills and stairs. I pushed through the pain. A blackened, broken city lay in the distance. It jutted in and out of the mist like a nightmare. Jagged skyscrapers tore at the sky. It was my home: St. Louis, Missouri. Well, a demented version of it. This St. Louis was born of the fear and loathing in the souls of the dead, a spiritual manifestation of all the unfinished business they left behind in our world, a parallel existence that intersected with our own. We stood underneath the Gateway Arch. It was scorched and missing its exterior here and there, exposing its innards of latticed steel. The top center was missing, like something had taken a giant bite out of it. Creeped me the hell out. “What would it take to get you back into the craft?” CeCe asked. “Nothing,” I said firmly. “This is just temporary.” CeCe folded her arms. “So you're telling me that there's nothing that could compel you to take up your true calling? Nothing on Earth, in the spirit world, or in the planes?” “You said it, not me,” I said. “This is what you were meant to be,” CeCe said. “Not anymore.” “So you didn't love it?” I remembered CeCe when she was alive, the time we spent learning spells in my garage and conjuring the dead in graveyards. We were something. That was in the years before everything went to hell for me. And yes, I did love the time we spent together, sick and twisted as it was. “CeCe, I don't mean to be rude,” I said, pointing to the mist behind us, “but—” “I've had a lot of time to think about that day,” CeCe said. “The day when—” She stopped, choosing her words carefully. Her blue eyes were like Pacific waves. “You know.” “The day my son died,” I said, refusing to think about the worst day of my life. “Yeah, the hell I do know. But, CeCe, now isn't the time—” “You shouldn't blame yourself,” CeCe said. Her eyes burned with passion as she took me by the shoulders. “It wasn't your fault. Death changes your perspective. I see the entire situation differently now that I’m on the other side. That's all I'm saying.” “You made your point,” I said, understanding her scheme. Sneaky, she was. “All right, all right, I'll think about talking to my family, okay? Will you stop stalling and help me out already?” A clever smile crept across her face. “This looks like a good spot.” The monster screamed, the sound multiplying itself several times over. Rumble. Scream. Rumble, rumble. CeCe waved a hand, and blue light rippled from her fingers, washing over the rotten grass, peeling it up and rolling it back like carpet. I shielded my eyes for a moment. When the light faded, a gray pool swirled before us. Smoke billowed off the cloudy surface. CeCe waved her hand again and a metal dock forged itself out of the mist and led down to the surface of the water. “That was impressive,” I said. She seemed to brim with pride, but her smile faded. Part of me felt guilty for not wanting to celebrate her new powers, but I focused on the surface of the pool where small blisters bubbled as we approached. A few dozen souls moved in the monochrome depths, gold and gray human apparitions brushing against each other. Their movement made bubbles in the water that popped on the surface. “This your current harvest?” I asked. CeCe smiled. “They're fresh too. They haven't been tamed yet.” “Jesus,” I said. “You make them sound like animals.” “You know what I meant,” CeCe said. “Well, I never thought I'd be doing this again.” Our pursuer was closer now. I could see the scorpion tail bobbing and human hands moving underneath it with swords for nails. The hand-swords scratched against the grass, carrying the beast forward. A regular person would have had a heart attack on the spot upon seeing this thing. I don’t know what it says about me that I didn’t. CeCe tapped me on the shoulder. “Let's find you a good soul so we can create your servant,” she said.