Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [83]
I poked my chest. “Samhain.”
The girl snorted. “I should have known. New-age Celtic-loving hippies, making my life hell.” She continued to type, her face brightening. “Right, there you are. Samhain LaCroix.” She looked back up at me. “You think you can get yourself out of that kinky love cage you’re in and talk to me? I’m on a tight schedule.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Little girl, do you think we want to be in here?”
“You seemed happy to be there when I showed up.”
“Touché,” Brid murmured.
I glared at her. “Hey, how ’bout you stop with the smart-ass remarks, and maybe we can get out of here?”
The girl studied the cage door, her gray eyes tight with concentration. “No can do,” she said.
“Of course not,” I said, resting my forehead against the cold bars. The symbols buzzed in my head, sharper and more in focus than they had been before. Nothing else had been easy lately, so why should this be?
“Why not?” said Brid.
The little girl pointed at the symbols. “These wards have been drawn by a necromancer,” she said.
“And?” Brid and I said in unison.
The girl rolled her eyes. “Duh, a necromancer’s power kind of handles all the death stuff, right? You know, power over souls and all that business.”
I rolled my hand, motioning her to continue. “Well, I’m a Harbinger. You can’t get more death and soul than me.” She flicked the bars with her finger. “So I can’t open this.”
“Death and soul?” Brid asked.
The girl tapped her foot, impatient. She pointed to herself. “Dead. As in a doornail. I took a dirt nap, pushed up some daisies, reached room temperature, pined for the fjords—”
“Pined for the fjords?” Brid said.
“Monty Python,” the girl and I both said at the same time.
“Oh.” Brid gave her a sympathetic look. “Sorry.”
She hit some more buttons on her BlackBerry. “Yeah, well, cancer’s a bitch.”
“Well said,” Brid responded solemnly.
The girl smiled. “Sorry if that came off snarky, but when you’ve been dead awhile, the self-pity thing gets old quick, the horror wears off, and you sort of get over yourself. At least, I did anyway.”
I banged my head once into the bars. “I have to ask. I don’t want to ask, but I have to. What’s a Harbinger?”
“I guide souls from this plane to, well, I can’t tell you where.”
“You’re Death,” I said, giving her the once-over. “In saddle shoes.” I don’t know why I was so surprised. It wasn’t any weirder than anything else I’d been dealing with.
“Kinda,” she said. She looked at Brid. “I like your shirt. Batman is my favorite.”
“Thank you.”
“Not to be rude,” I interrupted, “but can you maybe tell me why you’re here, since you can’t get us out of the cage?”
“June called in a favor. Wait, I better do this right.” She straightened her skirt and adjusted her blazer. Then she pulled herself up to her full height. “Hi, my name is Ashley, and I’ll be your Harbinger today. I will be acting as an interim instructor for all your necromancy needs.” She flashed her best stewardess smile and gave a little Vanna wave.
“Ashley, as delighted as I am to meet you, don’t you think it might be hard to teach me? I’m in a cage that you can’t get into. Oh, and—” I grabbed the bars with both hands, “I’m a little distracted right now by the fact that I’m being held by a psychotic killer.”
Ashley cocked a single eyebrow, a look of mild amusement on her face. “Geez,” she said, looking at Brid. “Is he always this big of a drama queen?”
Brid grinned at her but didn’t answer.
21
Make a Little Birdhouse in My Soul
Ashley hovered cross-legged in front of me, ignoring the empty air beneath her, rapt as I caught her up on the last few days. I had just finished with the bit about going to my mom’s and learning about being bound.
“Man, I really wish I had some popcorn for this.” She made a face. “That sounded a little insensitive, didn’t it? I just meant, you know, you’ve had a lot going on.”
Brid lolled on the floor next to me. “That’s okay,” she said, her chin in one