Silence (24 page)

She brought her free hand around, caught his, held it, and felt her hands, without the painful tingle, for the first time since she had introduced the dead to her friends.

And then she cried out, and puled both of her hands back, as if the warmth had scorched her. “Dad, no!”

“Emma, you won’t survive a week otherwise. I’m dead,” he added softly. “And in this world, that means only one thing: sooner or later. Someone is going to harvest whatever power I sooner or later. Someone is going to harvest whatever power I have. I would rather give it to you now, because when I give it to you, I’m saving the life of my very stubborn, very precious daughter.

“I can’t do anything else for you. Let me do this.”

“You can. You can talk to me. You can come to me more often. You can tel me I’m not insane.”

“Talk is cheap.”

“Fine. It’s cheap. It’s better than nothing.”

He flinched.

But she wouldn’t touch his hands again, and she realized that she had to be the one who initiated the touch. He could touch hers, but there was no actual contact. She knew this because he tried. “I’m not cold now,” she whispered, and it was true. But she felt like a—a vampire. Or worse. The cold had to be better than this.

Eric and Chase came by at 8:30 in the morning.

Had it not been for Emma’s father, her first clue would have been Petal jumping off the bed, running down the stairs, and barking in an endless loop. But even in her sleep, she was aware of Brendan Hal, and he returned at 8:00. Which was good, because on a good weekend, her mother didn’t lever herself out of bed until 9:30 or 10:00. Given the shock of seeing her dead husband, Emma expected that this would be a bad weekend.

For her mother.

Which would be useful, but made Emma feel guilty.

Swinging around the bottom of the banister she headed to the Swinging around the bottom of the banister she headed to the kitchen, checked milk, eggs, and bread with a slightly anxious frown. Al there. She also checked sugar, brown sugar, maple syrup, cinnamon, coffee, and tea. That done, she fed Petal, who was as usual slightly anxious because she’d done things in the wrong order. If he could talk, he would say feed me pretty much al day long.

It was too early to phone anyone, and she had no idea exactly when Eric and Chase would show up, so she sat in the living room, legs curled beneath her on the couch, Petal’s head in her lap. Thinking about Necromancy. About Necromancers. And about the dead, her absent, longed-for dead. It wasn’t a cheerful way to spend the time, but it was also the way she frequently spent a lot of the weekend. Except for the Necromancy part.

When Petal bounced off the couch and headed to the door, she rose and went with him. She didn’t bother to tel him to be quiet, because it never worked; instead she inserted her legs between as much of his body and the door as she could, while opening it.

Chase and Eric were almost at the front step.

“Can you guys hurry?” she said. “I don’t want Petal to wake up my mom.”

“She can sleep through that?” Clearly skeptical, Chase looked at Petal, who could be heard barking through two closed doors and a stretch of walk.

“Not for more than ten minutes.”

They hurried into the house as Emma slid a Milk-Bone into the palm of her hand. The rottweiler stopped barking and started the palm of her hand. The rottweiler stopped barking and started chewing instead. Eric crouched down and patted his head.

Because Petal was a very sweet-tempered dog, he didn’t assume that Eric was trying to steal his food, and Eric got to keep his hand.

She busied herself in the kitchen and was surprised when Eric and Chase ambled in.

“Can we do anything to help?” Eric asked.

“The answer to that is no, trust me,” Chase told Emma.

“Because I see the table is already set.”

Emma, breaking eggs, spared Chase a glance. “Oh?”

“He can set the table and dry the dishes. And take out the garbage, if you nag him. He can’t, on the other hand, be trusted with food.”

“Because he eats it?”

“Because he ruins it. I’ve had eggs he’s forgotten were in boiling water; you could bounce them off wals.”

“That happened once,” Eric told Emma.

“Because we never let him try it again.”

“Chase likes cooking because it gets him out of cleaning up.”

Chase grinned. “Also true.”

Emma looked at the two of them and laughed. Felt a pang of only-child sneak up on her, even though they weren’t actualy brothers. It was hard not to like them, even knowing what they did. On the other hand, if she needed a reality check, Alison would be coming sometime soon. She glanced at the clock. Not time to cal Michael yet.

Chase picked up an apron.

Chase picked up an apron.

“No, honestly, I don’t need help.”

“Don’t get al kitchen territorial on me,” he told her cheerfuly.

“Why not? It’s my kitchen.”

He turned enormous, puppy dog eyes on her. Petal would have been jealous, if he’d noticed. Chase’s hair was a good deal shorter—and a good deal less frizzled and sooty—than it had been the previous evening, although a tiny, red braid trailed down the side of his neck.

She laughed in spite of herself. “That’s not an answer.”

Eric leaned against the counter and stretched.

“Wel,” Chase told her, “We hardly ever get the chance to cook like this. Mostly, we fight, dril, buy ugly jackets we can modify, fight some more, bleed a lot, and narrowly avoid dying.”

“And kil people?”

“That, too.”

“Chase,” Eric said, “Don’t be an asshole.”

“What? I’m asking Emma for a chance to pretend—for, like, half an hour—that I’m a normal person.”

Eric grimaced as Emma glanced his way. “Half an hour is the most he can manage.”

“You’re better at it?”

“Mostly. Sometimes I forget my manners.”

“Your manners are good.”

“Yes. Often too good.”

She thought about that for a minute, and nodded. “Fine. Make the pancakes.” She regretted this about two minutes later, the pancakes.” She regretted this about two minutes later, because apparently Chase had strong religious issues about using an instant pancake mix. He also had some issues with the lack of bacon, and when Emma said “Nitrates,” he snorted and sent Eric to the store.

Emma caled Michael after breakfast and asked him to wait for Alison. She caled Alison next and asked her to pick Michael up on the way. Eric, who was standing beside the phone, handed her a folded piece of paper. She opened it. It was an address.

“What’s this?”

“Maria Copis’ address. Her phone number’s unlisted.”

“How did you get this?”

“Don’t ask.”

She set the phone down almost hesitantly.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid.”

“Of what, exactly?”

She waved the address in the air. “We don’t know what we’re doing,” she told him, as if this needed saying. “And if we go and get Andrew’s mother, and drag her to Rowan Avenue, and we can’t even reach her son, we’l have hurt her for no reason.”

“And if you can reach him, somehow, and she’s not there, there’s no point?”

“Something like that.”

“I think you’re taking too much of a long view.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to need to get her there first. Work on that,” he added.

“I think we can only get her there once.”

Chase appeared from around the kitchen. “Eric, dishes?”

“Don’t worry about the dishes.” Emma told them both.

“What? I cook, he cleans. Those are the rules.”

“You didn’t have to cook, and he doesn’t have to clean.”

“If I don’t want to listen to Chase bitch about this for the rest of the week, I do.” He headed back into the kitchen. Emma started to folow him, but Chase positioned himself in the arch.

“Chase, I helped you cook. I can help him clean.”

But Chase’s expression had shifted, the smile that accompanied his banter deserting his face so cleanly it was hard to imagine that it had been there at al.

“I understand what Eric sees in you. In al of you.”

“And that’s a bad thing.”

“For us? Yeah, it is. It reminds us of the life we don’t have.”

His face tightened, jaw clenching a moment as he closed his eyes. “My sister,” he said, eyes stil closed, “would have liked you.” Something went out of him, then. “Alison reminds me of my sister. Same unexpected temper. My sister would have said the same damn thing she said last night. But,” he added, slowly opening his eyes, “she would have smacked me.”

She swalowed. “Chase—” Reached out to touch him, and then puled back. “Your sister’s…not alive.”

He shrugged, shirt creasing and draping again in a way that suggested silk. “No.” He turned, and then turned back. “You’re suggested silk. “No.” He turned, and then turned back. “You’re right. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know.”

“What you don’t know? It can kil you.”

Remembering the heat of the fire, she nodded.

“It can also kil anyone you take with you. Your friends.

Michael. Alison.”

“Amy?”

“I don’t think anything can kil Amy.” He grimaced. “Look, you’re what you are. I can’t talk you out of it—and I’m not Eric.

I’m not going to try, because unlike Eric, I have no hope. But Michael and Alison are not what you are. You drag them into this, they have no protection. You might think on that,” he added, “because you seem to care about your friends.”

“They—they want to help.” Her mouth was dry.

“A toddler wants to play in the middle of the road, too. I’m not teling you what to do, Emma. I’m pointing out that it has costs.”

“But you and Eric aren’t Necromancers, and you do this al the time.”

“Emma, what you’re going to try? We’ve never done that.

We’ve never tried it. And what we are? This is our life. If Michael and Alison had led our lives, they wouldn’t be your friends.” He swore. “And it wouldn’t make it safe for them anyway.”

“So…you’re saying both you and Eric are at risk.”

“Anyone there is at risk.” He looked as if he would say more, but he didn’t, and this time when he turned and headed into the but he didn’t, and this time when he turned and headed into the kitchen, he didn’t turn back.

Michael and Alison arrived less than half an hour later. Petal was al over Michael two seconds after the screen door opened— Emma knew this because she counted. She had to nudge them both out of the doorway so that Alison could actualy get into the house without having to step over the huddle of rottweiler and Michael, but Emma took a minute to watch them. Michael would probably have a smal fit if someone walked up to him and licked his face, but he barely grimaced when Petal did it. And she knew what her dog’s breath smeled like.

Stil, watching Michael with Petal was normal. She needed a bit of normal.

She handed Alison the piece of paper that Eric had handed her; Alison knew what it was immediately. She also had the same concerns that Emma had. But she had more faith in Emma than Emma did at this particular moment.

“Are you worried about getting her there?”

“No. I can do that.”

Alison didn’t ask how. “It’s not just Andrew, is it?”

“Mostly.”

“Em.”

Emma grimaced. She had learned, over the years, that she could lie to Alison about little things—probably because Alison didn’t care enough to pick at them—but never about anything big. Why she stil bothered to try, she didn’t know. “Chase thinks you’re al in danger if we do this.”

“We probably are. So?”

“Life-threatening danger.”

“Emma Hal, do not even think of leaving us behind. You promised Michael you wouldn’t,” she added.

“I know. I just—I shouldn’t have promised him that. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Yes, you were. You were thinking that you go through enough alone as it is. You don’t need to prove anything. You don’t know what you’re doing, and neither do the rest of us— but we’ve always managed to come up with something when we work at it together. Besides, you’re going to phone Amy and tel her you don’t need her help?”

“Chase says that nothing can kil Amy.”

Alison laughed. “Probably not.”

Amy caled at 10:00. She dropped by the house with a loaded SUV at 10:30 and honked, loudly. Emma, flipping the drapes back, saw the big gray vehicle they affectionately caled the Tank, and motioned for everyone to head out.

Amy was not, however, alone. In the passenger seat, elbow hanging out the open window, was Skip. He looked better than he had the last time they’d seen him—he was at least conscious —but not by much.

“This is not a fucking barbecue,” Chase muttered under his breath.

“Hi, Skip!” Michael said. He was cheerful in part because “Hi, Skip!” Michael said. He was cheerful in part because Chase’s comment and Skip’s presence seemed entirely unrelated to him. “Emma, are we bringing Petal?”

“No.” Emma headed over to the driver’s side of the car and glanced pointedly at Skip. Amy shrugged. “He wouldn’t give me the car keys unless I brought him.”

“If we were the secret service,” Emma said, “the country would be doomed. How much does he know?”

“Enough,” Skip replied, before Amy could—and given it was Amy, that was impressive, “not to have to be talked about in the third person.”

Since ignoring Skip was a bit of a specialty, Emma said, “We always talk about Skip in the third person.” She didn’t, however, stick out her tongue.

“I’m coming along to keep you guys out of trouble.”

“Oh, like that ever worked.”

He grimaced. “Fine. I’m coming along because I’d like proof that my sister has lost her tiny little mind. I have a camera. I’l take pictures.” When Emma hesitated, he added, “I’m going, or the car and the ladders aren’t. You can take Amy.”