Regardless of whether Sani was on our side or theirs, if the Book of Samyaza was in New Orleans and if it actually contained a spell to bring forth Sawyer’s ghost, I’d go there and I’d take it. Someone had to.
In the distance, Sani’s mate called. Sani fidgeted, looking in that direction, then back at me, then into the trees again. I needed to ask my questions before he gave in to the call of the wild.
“You’re telling me there’s a spell in the book that will raise a ghost?” I asked.
“No.”
I lost it. “Dammit, Sani! You just said—”
“The time for raising ghosts is past, at least with Sawyer.”
“Past?” My voice came out faint, like a lost little girl in the night.
“Sawyer has climbed out of the afterworld with your help. Now you must raise him completely or let him wander forever between here and there. Your choice.”
“Raise him completely,” I repeated. “As in . . .” My voice trailed off. I was more lost than ever.
“The spell in the Book of Samyaza doesn’t raise ghosts,” Sani said. “The spell raises the dead back to life.”
CHAPTER 22
Silence settled over the mountain, broken only by the distant but insistent call of Sani’s mate.
“You wanna run that by me again?” I asked.
Sani blew out his breath in a huff. “If Sawyer was a ghost, he’d have come when you called, told you what he hadn’t, shown you what you needed to know, done whatever it was he had to do so that he could rest in peace. But he’s more than a ghost, just as he was more than a man.”
“So this spell would make him a zombie? A vampire?”
The coyote shook his head.
“Revenant?” The human-like zombies my mother had raised. “Ghoul?” Raised by a witch or a demon to do an evil deed.
“You aren’t listening. Sawyer would be alive again. Human.” The coyote cocked his head. “Or as human as he gets.”
“That’s not—” I paused, unable to go on.
“Possible?” Sani supplied.
“Good,” I finished. “That’s not good.”
“Isn’t getting Sawyer back what you wanted?”
In my land of impossible dreams, sure. But I’d also known it wouldn’t happen. The most I’d hoped for was one more conversation. I’d ask Sawyer about Faith, his death, the Key of Solomon, his magic, he’d tell me everything, then he’d realize he was dead and go into the light, or the dark as the case may be. But to have him come back to life— “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea to raise the dead,” I mused.
As far as I knew, only those with more than a passing acquaintance with evil dragged people out of their graves.
“Good idea or not, you’re going to need him,” Sani said, then disappeared into the trees.
I returned the way I’d come, descending first the mountain, then the ridge, then driving past the owner’s house to let her know I hadn’t fallen in a gorge and broken my neck. I toyed with the idea of staying at the same motel I’d slept in last night and starting fresh in the morning, but I had a good long stretch of daylight left so I headed for the nearest large airport, which was in Cheyenne.
I’d have to leave Summer’s car in long-term parking and probably pay a fortune to fly to New Orleans and rent another car, but I really couldn’t spare the time to drive the length of the Mississippi—as much fun as that might be.
My hands weren’t steady; I solved that by clenching them so tightly on the wheel, they ached. Then I breathed in and out until the racing of my heart matched that purposeful cadence.
There was a spell to make the dead come to life. I wasn’t sure what to think about that.
My initial reaction—that it wasn’t a good idea—was probably correct. However, Sani had said I’d need Sawyer, and I’d learned over the past few months that when a sorcerer predicted something, he or she was usually right.
I spent the four-plus-hour drive checking in by cell phone. As usual Megan made use of her caller ID to avoid one of her pet peeves, the word hello.
“Where are you? What are you doing? How’s the baby?”
“Wyoming. Driving and I don’t have a clue.”
Silence came over the line as she no doubt decided which answer to comment on first.
“Where’s Faith?”
“With Jimmy, Summer, and Luther.”
“And why don’t you know how she is?”
“Because I was stupid enough to call you first.”
“Liz,” she said, exasperated. “Moms check on their children before anyone else.”
“I’m not her mom,” I said sharply, my stomach jittering and my chest tightening. I’d never had one of my own, had no idea how to be one to anyone else. Faith deserved better.
“Just because you didn’t give birth to her doesn’t mean you can’t be a great mother,” Megan murmured. “What about Ruthie?”
“I’m not Ruthie.” Something I continued to prove with annoying regularity.
“The kid’s going to need at least one parent. You promised to take care of her, which means you’re it.”
“What if her real mom shows up?” And turns out to be a bone-marrow-sucking troll.
“You’ll deal with that when and if it happens.”