Poor Timmy. “What do you think he meant about the devourer?”
“All necromancers augment their power. Some more than others. There are many ways to accomplish this. Using ink purchased from stronger bloodlines or sigils crafted by better practitioners. Bonding with a wraith or multiple familiars.” She hummed. “Staring at the sky is not enough for some practitioners. No, they reach up, pluck the brightest stars from the heavens, and burn as they fall back to Earth. They seek more power than they can wield, and in so doing become wielded themselves.”
A shiver tightened my skin. “I don’t understand.”
“Are you familiar with what happens when the last rights aren’t performed on a powerful necromancer after death?”
The Culmination was the sacred ritual the Grande Dame had used to excuse the blood on my hands the night I was hauled to the Lyceum to face justice. Witnesses claimed I showed up drenched in Maud’s blood, as tradition demanded, which supported Detective Russo’s account. But shock and time and drugs had corroded the truth of my memories until I had no idea what to believe. Except that I was innocent. I had to be. I could never have hurt Maud. Not only because I loved her, but because she was Maud. No one was more powerful, especially not in her own home.
“Their spirits become shades.” I had fretted over such a wretched fate for Maud, but the silver box on my mantle was proof someone had laid her soul to rest. A similar case held Mom’s, yet another treasure lost to the basement. “Shades are the necromantic equivalent of ghosts.”
Ghosts belonged only to humans. Shades only to necromancers. Terms like poltergeist and wraith were classifications within those groups.
“Just so,” she agreed. “Shades are imbued with the magic of their former life, and that makes them dangerous. That’s why we perform the Culmination, to snuff out that spark and send the soul to its eternal rest. When it is not performed, the soul, that seed of potential, is left to drift. Unlike ghosts, who fade once their energy has been expended, shades can absorb other magics. Their hunger, over time, bloats them on power until they grow strong enough to possess the living.”
Humans could be possessed. Necromancers, not so much. Our innate magic gave us a natural barrier, Low and High Society alike. “Are we talking voluntary possession here?”
“The necromancer must be open to such an arrangement, yes.”
“So, the voluntary joining of a necromancer to a shade creates this...” I rolled my hand, “…thing? This devourer?”
A nod sent the beads in her hair clacking. “The dybbuk.”
Though I could guess the answer, I asked her all the same. “What are the odds of one roaming the streets of Savannah?”
“The Society chose this city as its American seat of power for a reason.” She removed her glasses then gazed into her teacup as though scrying for the answer. “The atmosphere is rich with old magic, the ground steeped in old blood, and the old grudges between classes carry more weight here.”
Meaning there was a large candidate pool and the means to fatten them up before approaching potential victims.
“What you’re telling me is a possessed necromancer is prowling the streets of Savannah, preying on its supernatural energies.” I wondered if he got off on calling himself Ambrose. “Ghosts only?” That would explain why the Society wasn’t in an uproar. “Is that as high up the food chain as they reach for victims?”
“Oh, no, bébé.” Without the magnification of her thick lenses, her squinted eyes appeared lost among her wrinkles. “The more powerful ones will hunt rogue vampires too. That’s where the hunter legend originates.”
“Huh.” That was news to me, which, honestly, ought to be my motto. “Are they dangerous to necromancers?”
“Only if a necromancer opens their heart to greed.”
Well, that was a yes. Necromancer was synonymous with greed.
While I turned over what I had learned in my head, I revisited one final topic while I had time.
“What should I do about Russo?” I wiggled my toes against the cushion. “I mentioned her to Linus.” There was no way to avoid it since Cletus had been present during our confrontations. “The Society will bury her if they think she’s a threat, but if she knows how Maud really—”
“Hush.” She flapped her hands. “Do not give voice to treason. Not here.” Her eyes darted around the room. “I am watched as often as I watch. Remember that.” Lifting her teacup, she took a sip and grimaced as she swallowed, the contents having gone cold. “Boaz is with the Elite, yes?”
“Yes.” The hot rush of blood in my cheeks tattled on all the things I hadn’t told Odette, namely about my date with one Boaz Pritchard. The odds were too good she had glimpsed a possible future for us, for him, from the corner of her eye while delving into someone else’s life. This thing with him might go nowhere, or it might go everywhere. Wherever it went, I wanted it on our terms. “Do you think I should report her?”
“Yes.” Odette didn’t mince her words. “There are three types of humans. The type content to believe there are no monsters under the bed, the type who are content to pretend there are monsters under the bed as long as they aren’t real, and the type who will grab a flashlight and climb under the bed to hunt down the monster and make sure it can’t scare them again.”
Thanks to my years working as a Haint, I had seen all types, and I had to agree with her analysis. “You think Russo is carrying a flashlight.”
“I do.” She hesitated a moment. “You should also ask yourself if this Cricket is a pretender or a hunter.”
“I would have lumped her in with the hardcore nonbelievers until Russo.” I unfolded my legs. “I’m still not sure what to think. I had no idea she cared I had gone missing. She’s not the touchy-feely type. But, if she sought out Russo a second time, years later, there must be a connection.”
No bones about it. Someday soon, I would have to confront Cricket and get her side of the story.
“Talk to Boaz,” she urged. “He has access to resources you don’t.”
“I’ll do that.” I got to my feet. “Do you want to go for a walk?”
“You heard my heart singing for the ocean, did you?” She laughed, delighted. “These walls can no longer contain me. I must have sand between my toes and the spray misting my cheeks to feel alive.”
Happy to listen to her prattle on about her conversations with the sea, I walked beside her until it was time for me to go. I left her standing ankle-deep in frothy water, smiling up at the moon, blowing kisses to the gulls who cried out overhead in welcome.
Amelie was beat. I didn’t have to ask how her night had gone, it was etched into every line on her face when she showed up at the Cora Ann. I took pity on her and drove us on our rounds in her car instead of forcing her on Jolene, but the plush seats and the ability to recline weren’t helping. I had to pinch her every few minutes to keep her awake.
“Why are you so tired?” She had plenty of reasons. I just wasn’t sure which to blame.
“Finals, remember?” She flung her arm across her eyes. “My life is studying and tears.”
“I hear you.” For once, I knew exactly how she felt.
She glanced toward me. “How are things going with Linus?”
“They’re going. We’re making progress.”
She snorted. “Give me all the juicy details, why don’t you?”
“There’s nothing to tell. He works me until my brain starts smoking, then he sends me packing with homework.” I belted out a sigh. “He’s also started watching my training exercises with Taz.”
“I wasn’t aware it was a spectator sport.” She sounded far too interested in joining him.
“It’s not,” I grumbled before she got any ideas. “I’m so ready to be self-sufficient.”
Her gaze touched on the side mirror. “Where’s your tail tonight?”
“He’s around.” I hadn’t spotted Cletus since I left Woolly, but he was never far.
She grinned at me. “Is he cute?”
“Uh, no.” Sorry, Cletus. “He’s bony and…no. Not cute.”