Greywalker - Kat Richardson [125]
Out the side door, we walked back to the parking lot. Mara pushed me down into the Rover’s passenger seat while she ran back to ring the curator to close up. A cool drizzle cleared away some of my nausea with the last whiff of the organ’s stink as the night breeze blew gusts of soft rain into my face.
Mara returned, looking concerned. “Are you going to be all right, Harper?”
I nodded, taking slow breaths to hold down my dinner.
She looked at her watch. “We’ll have to make this quick. I have a class in the morning. So,” she added, turning to Carlos, “tell us about it.”
Carlos folded his hands and began to speak in a low voice. The rain brushed around him.
“It is necromantic. A much older artifact has been incorporated into the structure, behind the mirrored panel.”
“The old wood,” I mumbled.
Carlos made a small motion of his head. “That is a box. The bones and teeth have been built into the decoration, making the substance of the deceased part of the instrument.”
“What?” I asked, appalled.
His mouth quirked. “A necromantic artifact incorporates the substance of the dead, both body and spirit. The revenant is commanded by whoever controls the artifact built with its mortal remains. A door in the structure allows the spirit to enter and leave at its master’s bidding.”
“Could the mirror be the door?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s closed now, but it was open and the spirit escaped while his last master was unaware or helpless. While the spirit was at large, the artifact was moved. The spirit killed his master and stole his name, but then he became lost. Now he wanders, still bound to the artifact, unable to be free, but also unable to return unless he’s summoned or comes face-to-face with his body’s prison. There’s no one to summon the spirit, so he tries to find the artifact and become his own master.”
“But the museum owns the organ—”
“Ownership is nothing.” Carlos frowned, composing his thoughts. “The box is the original vessel, transferred from object to object, wrapped in layers of spells and wood, to hide the spirit from himself and others. He’s strong and autonomous—he was a man of power while he lived and his masters rightly feared his spirit. When the instrument came to the museum, he gained the power it absorbed from the nexus. He couldn’t find it directly, but he had the energy to manipulate the world again. He began to hunt the owners down and kill them.”
My stomach heaved. “All of the owners?”
Carlos nodded. “Every one but this one. He killed most of his masters, as well. Each time he thought he might be free at last, and each time he was wrong. His bitterness runs deep. His future plans are dark with more deaths.”
Mara put a steadying hand on my shoulder. “Who was this spirit when he lived?”
Carlos gave her a narrow look. “A mage. It would be foolish of me to say his name here. Even his adopted name is strong enough to summon him while we’re this close to his artifact.”
“Then how old is the artifact?”
“The box is about seven hundred years old. The rest doesn’t matter. The spells and rituals worked into the artifact protect the remains from degradation until they’re removed from the structure,” Carlos explained. “Then they decay at once. If all the remains were removed, the spirit would be free to leave this world. But even then, so long as a single angle of the structure remains intact, the artifact retains its stored energy, which is considerable now.
“Undirected, the energy will burst outward, like water from a dam, and destroy anything that resists it. It will blast anything that draws upon or constrains these energies. For you, witch, it would mean pain, loss of powers for a time—maybe forever.”
Carlos looked at me. “For you . . .” He reached toward me and I leaned away. His hand came close; then he jerked back as if burned and pulled away with a glare at Mara.
“You dared?”
“Yes, I did,” she shot back. “And you know it’s not against you, but that thing up there.”
Carlos nodded a sort of bow to her.
Mara nodded back. “And what about Harper?”
“I don’t