The Necromancer's Return

By Rebecca Roland

Rose has sworn off necromancy until a college statistics assignment sends her to a graveyard. Her entire grade depends on the assignment, so she uses her magic to convince the slackers in her group to help.

When her powers don't work like they should, Rose discovers that there's another necromancer in Albuquerque whose inexperienced magic is affecting hers. Worse, she discovers there's a being called the Phantom who is devouring spirits and gunning for her and her powers.

As if statistics weren't hard enough already, Rose has to track down this other necromancer and keep herself and her family safe from the Phantom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebecca Roland
• Release date: Oct 2, 2014

Rebecca Roland

Rebecca is the author of Shards of History, The Graveyard Girl, The Necromancer's Return, and the short story collection The King of Ash and Bones, and Other Stories. Her short fiction has appeared in publications such as Stupefying Stories, Plasma Frequency, and Every Day Fiction, and she is a graduate of the Odyssey Writing Workshop. You can find out more about her and her work at rebeccaroland.net.

Book preview

Chapter 1

---

ROSE SHOULD have been happy. She was in a cemetery, after all.

Those spirits who hung around the place welcomed her the moment she neared the grounds. They touched her silently, with unseen fingers so icy that their touch burned. They didn’t seek to hurt her. They just probably hadn’t come across a living person before who could see them, hear them, feel them. It was a link to when they were flesh and blood and bound to this world. Rose preferred them by far over her two current, living companions from Statistics 145.

They stood a few feet away. Thomas sidled a little closer to Luz, trying to hold her attention, but the only thing interesting her was her phone. She bent over it, her dark hair falling around her face like a curtain, as her fingers clicked out message after message, none of it having to do with their assignment unless Luz could read all of the tombstones and headstones from where she’d been camped out for the past half hour or so. Professor Billings had assigned them this stretch of Albuquerque’s Mountain View Cemetery, and from their data they were supposed to compare life expectancies and also place of origin when it was listed. A lot of people buried here had died from tuberculosis. In the early twentieth century, the only treatment was clean, dry air, which Albuquerque had plenty of, back then anyway. The air wasn’t so clean these days.

Rose crouched in front of an old marker, the stone canted at an angle, as a massive cottonwood tree threw its shadow over her. There was a slight chill to the air while she was in the shade, although once she stepped into the sunshine she’d warm up again. She noted the name and dates on the tombstone and carefully added them to her growing list. She straightened and brushed a stray curl behind her ear. This would go a lot faster if you both collected information, too.

Luz looked up, her brows furrowed, as if she’d forgotten Rose was there. I thought we agreed I’d type up everything. If we all collect data, and then we all calculate it, but then I type up the report, I end up doing more work.

Rose’s hands tightened around her computer tablet. She forced a deep breath and counted to ten before saying, This is going to take hours if I do it by myself. Your super fast fingers will take, what, half an hour to type up a report?

She frowned. There’s editing and stuff. It’s not as easy as it sounds.

This was why Rose loathed group projects. These two didn’t care whether they passed statistics or not, or at least that was the impression they gave. Rose, meanwhile, was struggling in the class. She really needed to do well on this assignment to pull her grade up, and she needed to pass this class if she was going to keep working toward her business degree next semester. Her brother Ed had rebuilt his restaurant, La Hermanita, after a fire a year and a half ago, and now he was opening a second location in Rio Rancho and talking about a food truck. He couldn’t run everything by himself, and the guy was looking more ragged with every passing week.

Thomas gestured at the cemetery, taking in the brown grass, the gray stones, the huge cottonwoods and oaks and ash trees. What does this have to do with anything anyway? It’s just a bunch of rocks and dirt and dead people. It’s meaningless.

Cold fingers brushed along Rose’s arm, and she shivered in the sun. She hadn’t been in a cemetery in over a year, not since Roger’s funeral. She’d forgotten how comfortable she felt among the dead. She’d forgotten how being near so much death made her power hum through her body. It felt like a sweet ache, like tired muscles after a long, satisfying run. Why had she stayed away so long?

Because her necromancy had led to Roger’s death. Because her power felt so good, it had to be wrong. Maybe the lumenancers who’d tried killing her had been right about that. What did Sam say the other day? Oh yeah, even a blind squirrel sometimes finds a nut. Though speaking of nuts . . .

She said, The dead have plenty to teach us.

Yeah, Luz said, Like, don’t get tuberculosis.

The cold and shadows swirled around Rose. Show some respect, she said.

What? They’re dead, they don’t care.

The cold swirled faster, tugging at Rose’s curls, at her clothes, sending goose bumps down her legs and arms. So much power, right there for her taking. She felt like she’d been on a strict diet for a year and now someone was waving chocolate cake under her nose. These two could use a little help when it came to respecting the dead.

But she couldn’t do that. She’d sworn off necromancy over a year ago, not only because of Roger’s death, but because of the two spirits who warned her about the Phantom. The Phantom was interested in a powerful necromancer, and she was afraid that using magic would draw him to her, the way her magic had drawn the lumenancers to Albuquerque.

"Well, I care, Rose said. I care about my grade."

And we don’t? Thomas said.

Rose rummaged in her backpack. "I brought extra notebooks and

pens—"

Look, Luz said, "you collect the data, Thomas interprets it and makes all the charts, and I type up the report. That’s what we agreed on."

Rose shook her head. No, you brought it up and I nixed that idea. Thomas never voted one way or the other.

I agree with Luz, he said quickly.

"This report is due tomorrow," Rose said through gritted teeth.

Then you’d better move faster, Luz said, already focused on her phone again.

Thomas took a step closer to Luz. We can work on the report together later, at my place.

She made a noncommittal noise.

Rose should’ve worn her I’m Feeling Stabby shirt, because she certainly enjoyed the image of driving her pen through their eyes. She turned from them, studied the rows she still had to go, and groaned. Maybe she could ask Professor Billings for an extension. But he’d turned a deaf ear to her pleas to work on another project, any project but one that would take her to a cemetery. And now she was stuck with the two slackest slackers she’d ever known, and in a graveyard where all she longed to do was draw the darkness and the dead to her, and revel in her power.

Ignore the temptation. Ignore these two. Just get on with it and get away from them. She crouched in front of the next tombstone and jotted down Anna Loving Smith, B. June 5, 1890, D. February 1, 1913. Etched beneath that was ‘Missouri.’ Anna Smith had been twenty-two when she’d died. Rose was only a year and a half from that age herself. She wondered what had brought Anna out here and what Anna had accomplished in her short life. Was she good at playing piano? Cooking? Singing? Dancing? Her spirit might have hung around for a century, but it would be faint by now, nothing more than a whisper of cold against Rose’s ear if she tried to speak.

Hey, Thomas said. I guess it looks like you don’t need us out here. Shoot me an email later with the info, would you? He started gathering his backpack. Luz was already walking away, purse over one shoulder, eyes still on her phone.

Rose stood, her eyes narrowing and a growing ball of anger in the pit of her stomach. Wait. You want me to type this all up and then send it to you . . . for what? So you can add your name to it? She crossed her arms. No way. If I type this up, then I’m going to Professor Billings tomorrow and telling him I did this solo.

Luz whirled, her mouth agape. What? We’ve been out here all afternoon with you.

Nooo, Rose said, drawing out the word. You’ve been out here texting for the past forty-five minutes.

She waved a hand in the air. Fine. Whatever. I’ve got too much to deal with right now. I’ll just drop the class.

This was not going as Rose had hoped. I need help. I can’t do this by myself. She turned to Thomas, one eyebrow raised. What about you? I can help you out with another class, or, or . . . I can get you some free meals at my brother’s restaurant. She winced inwardly at that. Ed wouldn’t be happy with her giving away meals, but he’d be even less happy if she flunked this class.

I don’t know, Thomas said, his attention torn between Rose and the departing Luz. I was thinking about dropping this class, too.

Was that the reason for Professor Billings teaming her up with these two? Did he think she should just give up and drop the class, like them? Statistics made her head spin, and at the end of every class she felt like smoke was pouring out of her ears from how hard she worked trying to make sense of it. But she went to him all the time with questions, asking for help, trying to understand the material. Was he trying to cull the class? She thought that was over with her freshman year.

Cold fingers brushed her arm. Rose closed her eyes and breathed in frigid air. It wouldn’t be that bad if she used just a little power. Teensy, really, since all she was thinking of was scaring these two into staying to help. It would be done in a flash. It wouldn’t be anything like the day she’d discovered her power by accidentally animating a corpse. That was power, like setting off a nuclear bomb. This was like . . . throwing a pebble into a pond in comparison. Just a little push, to bring them back.

Spirits had helped her before, not just against the lumenancers, but also when a couple of guys had attacked her. Those guys had definitely seen and felt something, even if they couldn’t quite make out spirits the way she could.

She stepped into the cottonwood’s shade, drawing some of its darkness to her. It wasn’t like working her magic at night. Night was her most potent time. But this would do in a pinch. She reached for the spirits and silently asked, Can you make her engine flood or stall?

A few gave her affirmative answers. Then they were gone, the grass stirring a tiny bit in their wake as they made their way toward Luz’s car, an old, silver Chevy Malibu parked along the cemetery drive beneath an ash tree.

Are you all right? Thomas asked, his backpack over one shoulder and half-turned to follow Luz.

I’m great. And she really was. Using even a small bit of magic felt so good, so right.

He frowned. Well, you look strange. Pale. Faded.

She must have pulled more darkness around her than she thought if Thomas could notice the change. She pushed it and the spirits away. Go now, she thought, shooing them away mentally. Thanks for your help, but I think you need to go now.

They swirled around her and pressed closer until she feared they’d chill her right down to her heart. They were acting agitated. She stepped into the sunlight to get away from them.

Luz’s car wheezed like a smoker with bad lungs.

Thomas stepped away from Rose, his eyes widened. Uh, you don’t look so good.

Funny, Rose said. I feel better than I have in a long time.

Luz tried starting her car again. It wheezed, sputtered, died.

I should go help Luz, Thomas said. Sounds like her car won’t start.

What about the assignment?

I’m with her. I’m dropping the class. He hurried across the lawn.

A cold wind whispered through the tree. It brushed past Rose and followed Thomas.

Don’t, Rose thought. She tried to rein in her power and call the spirits back. Spirits, come to me. I’m listening.

But she’d been too greedy and had pulled too much power to her. It was like trying to stop an avalanche. She ran after Thomas, her tablet forgotten in the brown grass.

The ash tree’s shade grew darker where it touched Luz’s car, like long, gnarled fingers creeping over the surface of it. Oh, hell, she thought.

If the spirits wouldn’t come to her, maybe she could banish them altogether. Spirits, be gone. You’re done here. She reached for them and demanded that they listen. She’d never had trouble with the dead not listening to her. It was always the living that gave her problems.

Thomas reached the car and pulled at the driver’s door. Unlock it, he shouted.

It is, came Luz’s muffled reply.

He pulled harder, his biceps straining with the effort.

Rose skidded around the car. There was a layer of shadows across the door, obscuring Luz’s face like the dark, illegal tint Rose hardly saw anymore, but she could see enough to take in Luz’s wide eyes and open mouth, and her hands alternating between banging uselessly at the window and pulling on her door handle.

Rose laid her hands on the car. It was icy. Get off, she yelled at the spirits. Go back now.

The darkness swirled, and for a moment she thought it might engulf her, too, but then it receded back to the shadows. A cold wind rustled the vibrant yellow leaves on the tree, then raced across the cemetery.

Luz turned the key in the ignition. The car roared to life. She put it in drive and took off with tires squealing and throwing up tiny bits of dirt and pebbles. Rose took a few steps back, shielding her face with her arms. Then she turned to Thomas.

You okay?

He raised his hands and backed away from her. Don’t get near me. Then he turned and ran for his truck.

Rose watched the taillights wink briefly at the gate, and then the truck was gone. There was only the sound of distant traffic. A bird twittered hesitantly in the branches overhead, then with more confidence. Across the cemetery, a couple of guys were standing around a backhoe, preparing a grave. They acted as if they hadn’t noticed anything amiss. And at the very far corner, near the oldest section, a lone figure walked along, shoulders hunched. He disappeared behind the wall separating this part of the graveyard from the Jewish section. He didn’t appear to have noticed anything either.

Rose trudged across the cemetery to her stuff. The spirits were lying low. Rose dug her phone out of her backpack and called her best friend Gabby.

Hey, Gabs, she said when her friend answered, eyeing all the tombstones left to account for. I have a huge favor to ask you.

Chapter 2

---

"SO LET ME GET this straight, Gabby said as she made her way down the next row of tombstones. Rose’s best friend had shown up within ten minutes of her call, sporting skinny jeans, a red blouse that showed off her brown skin nicely, and ballet flats. She looked like she was about to go out to a trendy restaurant or bar, and yet she fit in with the cemetery. That was Gabs, at ease no matter where she was. Your professor assigned you to a cemetery, of all places, to collect data. You argued about the location."

Of course, Rose said.

The sun was descending, the shadows growing longer. They had about an hour, hour and a half of good sunlight left. The air was warm and smelled like exhaust.

Your slacker classmates weren’t into the whole cemetery-population thing, Gabs went on. Which, I totally can’t see why they wouldn’t want to hang out in a cemetery on a Thursday afternoon. So they flake, and you decided to wield a little magic to make them stay. Gabby was the only one who knew about Rose’s necromancy, aside from Ed and his girlfriend Sam.

It was only supposed to stall her car, Rose muttered. I thought she’d figure that since she was stuck, she might as well actually do her assignment.

The spirits had given her plenty of space following the debacle. Maybe they sensed she was angry, though she wasn’t angry with them. She just didn’t understand why they didn’t listen to her. Was it really because she hadn’t trained at all over the past year and a half? She had assumed magic would be like riding a bicycle; sure, the first ride after a break might be a little wobbly, but she shouldn’t go sprawling on the ground the second she set out.

Do you think they’ll tell the professor? Gabby asked.

What would they say? That shadows chased them? No, they’ll drop the class, and every time they see me, they’ll avoid me. Not that that’s a bad thing, but I hate the thought of them blabbing about it to their friends.

Do they know you did it?

Well, I sure acted weird about it.

Gabby shook her head, her short brown hair flipping back and forth. She’d come back at the end of the summer semester with a new cut, a bob, which somehow managed to look cute, sophisticated, and sexy all at once. Rose tucked a curl behind her ear. Her hair, meanwhile, was thick and bushy, and often made her somewhat reminiscent of Cousin It.

Rose cleared her throat. "So, how are your classes going?"

Pretty dull compared to yours, chicky. She shrugged, leaned over the next tombstone. They’re all right. It sucks taking everything over.

Gabby had gone away to school at the University of Washington her freshman year. She’d kept in touch, come back for holidays, and Rose thought everything was going swimmingly. But then she showed up at the end of the summer and announced that she was moving back to Albuquerque and going to UNM because, as she put it, her GPA had suffered catastrophic setbacks.

Rose was a little hurt that Gabs had never told her things were going poorly with school. A few prodding questions made it sound like Gabby spent more time partying than anything else, and since she’d come back, she’d been gone about half the time Rose had called her up. Gabby was more or less the same when they were together, but it felt like part of her was shut off to Rose now, and she wasn’t sure how to get around or over that wall.

I might have to take this class over, Rose said. I really don’t want to, though. It’ll mean postponing the rest of my business classes.

Gabby straightened and stretched her back. The ground here is really soft in some places. I keep thinking I’m going to punch right through and be up to my armpits in dirt and bones, screaming for help like some horror movie chick.

That was the other thing. Gabs changed the subject any time Washington came up, or how she was doing in school. Rose was on the verge of being blunt about it, but this wasn’t the time or place, not when she was already strung tight about finishing this assignment.

Speaking of which, Gabby said, there’s an audition this weekend for a small role in a television pilot. They’re cashing in on all the horror type of shows these days. They’re looking for Latinas, so sorry, my white friend.

Rose snorted. The camera wouldn’t like me anyway. I’m built like a basketball player, not like a model.

Ooh, that’s sort of a compliment. I’ll take it.

I’ll go with you for moral support, though.

Nah, I’m meeting some other acting friends there. She bent over the next stone.

I didn’t realize you were interested in acting, Rose said, bending down to hide her face. Was Gabs ashamed of her? Why didn’t she want Rose to go with her?

She typed in the name and dates on the stone before her. This section of the graveyard was filled with people from all over the country and the world. It sucked, having to pull up roots and move out to the middle of nowhere. Rose knew from personal experience, since she and Ed had done that very thing following their parents’ deaths.

Gabby shrugged. It pisses off my father.

There was that wall again. It was nearly as tangible as the fence surrounding the cemetery. How’s he doing, by the way? Things any better between him and Isaiah?

Gabby’s father, raised as a strict Catholic, hadn’t taken the news well when his son came out to the family.

He’s trying, actually. He told Isaiah he could invite his new boyfriend over, and Isaiah took the old man up on it. Carlos looked like he was about to have a coronary when they cuddled on the couch to watch a movie, but then my mother reminded him that they could always be off somewhere else alone doing God-knows-what, and Carlos just went to his room. Gabby swept her hair out of her face and canted her head. And you and Ed and Sam? Things getting cozy at home?

Rose’s grip tightened around her tablet. Samantha was a police officer who figured out Rose’s necromantic powers when things blew up a year and a half ago. After the lumenancers left, and things settled back down, she and Ed had started dating. And recently, Ed had asked her to move in.

I like Sam, Rose said. But it’s weird having her there. They’re kind of like newlyweds. I feel like a big, clunky third wheel.

You should come over. Carlos thinks you’re normal, and a good influence on me.

Rose snorted. Little does he know. But yeah, I’d love to come over, give Ed and Sam their space. I’d been thinking that you and I should spend more time together anyway. And not in a graveyard.

What? But this is such a great bonding experience. Seriously, true friends show up in cemeteries when you need them.

Yeah. They do. She grinned.

There’s always me, whispered a faint, familiar voice. You know you can talk to me whenever you want. The book of magic, handed down from one generation of necromancers to another. Rose had shoved it in the back of her closet after the incident with the lumenancers. It spoke to her from time to time, encouraging her to read it, or sometimes making off-color remarks about her wardrobe choices.

Bugger off, she thought at