The female necromancer raises an age-blackened sword, and I scream a warning as I run. Lysander’s too focused on Meredy to react. The necromancer lunges, her blade aimed at the bear’s ribs. With a casual swipe of his massive paw, he knocks her clean across the clearing and into a tree, never taking his eyes off his fallen master.
As we reach the clearing and surround them, the male necromancers raise their daggers. The woman struggles to recover her sword with a bloody arm, breathing hard as she drags herself toward her blade.
Jax swings his sword at her, but she lifts hers with a strangled shout at the last possible moment. The screech of steel on steel cuts into my thoughts as I rush at the shorter man with my sword drawn, Simeon at my side. I hesitate to attack the taller man—it seems wrong, somehow, since he may not see me coming. But then, he can surely sense me. I get the feeling I shouldn’t underestimate him.
I catch sight of Meredy out of the corner of my eye. Lysander’s licking the many wounds that gape like sad red mouths on her pale skin. A thin trail of scarlet leaks from her lips and pools on the ground.
“Vane, do it now!” the female necromancer shouts as she clashes with Jax. “Call your Shade!”
I don’t know what she means, but the tall Shade-baiter with the misty blue eyes—Vane—nods in understanding. Whatever he’s planning, he’s not going to get very far, because he’s about to feel the bite of my blade. He deserves a taste of the pain he’s caused, and Simeon can handle the other man on his own.
I sprint toward Vane as he rasps, “Come here, my pet!”
As if on command, a Shade staggers from the shadows on the opposite side of the clearing, its bony arms dragging on the ground, its dark eye sockets fixed on me. Drool cascades over its pointed teeth—it’s hungry, always hungry—yet it doesn’t charge.
A chill envelops me as I narrow my eyes at the monster that seems to be following the rogue necromancer’s orders.
But necromancers can’t control Shades. That’s impossible.
Or so I thought.
It’s a young Shade, newly made, which means it has more flesh on its bones, more wisps of hair clinging to its skull, and its mouth can’t yet stretch wide enough to swallow a deer or a cow. But it could still do plenty of damage.
Vane raises a hand and cries, “Now! Time to feed!”
Grabbing a vial of liquid fire from my belt, I leap between the Shade and Meredy. I hesitate with the potion held aloft, trying to gauge which way the Shade will move when I toss it. I only have a few vials, so there’s little room for mistakes.
I’m still close enough to stab Vane with my other hand. I swing my sword, but he must hear it coming. He stumbles back, daring me to move with him. To give the Shade a clear path toward Meredy, assuming it doesn’t go for me instead. Shades aren’t picky, just hungry. I stand my ground and snarl at the man just out of my blade’s reach.
Behind me, someone shrieks a piercing death note. If I take my eyes off the Shade a second time to see who just died, it could be the last thing I do. “Everyone all right?” I shout instead, trying to control my racing heart.
Vane turns and flees into the dark woods. I spit at the spot where he stood. It’s no surprise a murderous rat like him would abandon his companions the moment he knew they were losing this fight.
Simeon calls out a breathless, “They’re getting away!”
“Stay and help Sparrow!” Jax growls. “This should be quick.” Dead branches crack under his weight as he chases after the wounded Shade-baiter.
“Jax! Get back here!” I scream. I need my friend where I can see him, or at least hear him. Not out in the dark woods with two armed rogue necromancers who can summon a Shade on command.
If anything happens to either Jax or Si, I won’t be able to live with myself.
But Jax doesn’t heed my call, and the Shade across the clearing doesn’t seem compelled to follow its master into the woods. It throws back its head and releases a cry loud enough to strip the leaves from the trees.
Fury at the rogue necromancers and every Shade that’s ever roamed the Deadlands sizzles in my blood. I throw a vial of fire potion at the Shade right as it darts forward on all fours, and it collides with the glass vial a moment later. It must be even younger than I thought, one of the Dead turned into a monster just today, to be moving so slowly.
That means the rogue necromancers created this Shade that’s burning to ash in a blaze before my eyes. They pulled a shroud from one of the Dead so he or she would become a monster and brought it here. Why else would Vane have called it his pet? And they were going to feed Meredy to it, to help it grow stronger. This wasn’t just about killing for money and leaving the victim in the Deadlands. This was bigger.
Shivering, I watch the Shade burn until all that’s left is its head and a pool of bubbling black goo, wondering if it was someone I knew.
“Sparrow!” Simeon cries, tearing my attention away from the Shade. He’s crouched beside Meredy, stroking her wine-red hair. “She’s been trying to talk,” he says urgently, “But I can’t understand her. She’s looking at you.”
As I hurry to her side, a crunching sound draws my gaze to the edge of the trees. Lysander’s cleaning up the remains of the dead male Shade-baiter, and the bear grumbles in deep contentment as he rips off the corpse’s leg and takes a huge bite.
Somehow, I find the disgusting sound reassuring, but I’m still on edge. I don’t like that Jax isn’t back yet. Kneeling beside Simeon, I urge, “Go look for Jax. We’ll be fine here until you get back.”
With a glance at the burning Shade, already reduced to cinders, he nods and heads for the trees with his blade in hand.
Meredy mumbles something I can’t quite make out. I bring my ear closer to her lips.
“She didn’t want to come,” Meredy whispers. Even now, in her pain and her grief, her eyes are resolutely dry. “I came all this way, and she didn’t want to return with me. At least now I can join her here.”
I shake my head. “No. You can’t, because Evander wouldn’t want that. Firiel doesn’t want that.” I take her icy hand in mine and squeeze it. A faint scent of vanilla wafts toward me, like I always imagined the Deadlands flowers would smell, or perhaps sweeter. “Hang on just a little longer, Meredy. Lysander needs you. Elibeth needs you. Your mother needs you. You have to hang on.”
Fumbling with my belt, I finally find the honey and tip the glass vial to her lips. A golden drop stains her mouth, but she doesn’t try to eat it or wipe it off.
She just stares up at the sky, unmoving. I slap her cold cheek to startle her into taking a shallow breath. “Meredy. I know it’s tempting to give up. Believe me, I know. But for Evander’s sake, I won’t let you.”
Her shoulders shake as she makes a wheezing sound that might be laughter. “Too little, too late, Sparrow.” More blood trickles down her chin. “If you were going to come all this way for me,” she rasps, “you could’ve just taken my money when I offered it. You would’ve done us both a favor.”