It was after midnight and I sat in my bedroom, going over Sawyer’s necromancy books. Sawyer had been a necromancer married to a Fate, but I’d liked him. And Nona was the least objectionable of my aunts.
Naomi’s dad had been a nice guy, despite belonging to the House of Hades. He’d also fathered a daughter, Wren, with Hecate, the Fates’ worst enemy.
I was sober, mostly. I needed my wits about me to understand what I was reading. Naomi had given them to me after he died. I’d made my way halfway through the stack and was on a chapter dealing with possession. The gruesome details weren’t helping me fall asleep. I kept picturing Willow suffering as Hecate gradually took over her body until there was no room left for anyone else.
There was a brief mention of a necromancer using an elixir to reverse a possession, but the book didn’t yield any other clues.
I turned the page and a photograph fell out. Sawyer, Nona, and a much younger Naomi beamed up at me. From the birthday candles on the cake in front of her, Naomi must have been about seven.
“I love that photo,” Sawyer said. “What I wouldn’t give to go back to that time.”
I’d gotten used to him sneaking up on me. Almost. “I’m going to hang a bell on you,” I said. “How long have you been here?”
“Not long,” he said. “But there are lots of new souls milling about in Asphodel. What happened?” Asphodel was the part of the underworld where ghosts congregated. Asphodel flowers took their name from the place they grew. Even Hecate avoided that part of the realm.
“Your ex happened.” Hecate was on a killing spree and I wasn’t sure how to stop her.
“Hmm.”
“That’s it? Your wife and daughter are next on the list and all you can say is ‘hmm’?”
“I’m not the one you’re really mad at.”
“I’m mad at everyone,” I replied. It was true, but mostly, I was mad at myself.
“Anger isn’t going to get you anywhere,” he said. “Get your keys. I want to show you something.”
I did as he asked, but was still half-asleep when I started the Caddy. Sawyer’s voice provided directions and a running commentary as we headed a few miles outside of Minneapolis.
“We’re heading back to the wildlife preserve?” I asked.
“Shut up and drive,” he said. “It’s not exactly easy to stay in the world. I need to concentrate.”
I pulled up in front of the same conference room where Hecate killed the members from the House of Zeus.
Instead of heading to the conference center, Sawyer directed me elsewhere. “Take that hiking trail and follow it.”
Stumbling around in the dark didn’t seem like a plan. “Illuminate,” I said. A sparkling silver light lit the path. After walking a long time, I heard the sound of running water and a waterfall came into view.
I inhaled. “Someone should have written a poem about this place.”
Sawyer’s voice was amused. “Someone did.”
“Why are we here?” I said, looking around.
“You said you wanted to defeat Hecate,” Sawyer said. “This is where Wren was born.”
“She wasn’t born in the underworld?”
“The Fates hadn’t defeated Hecate when Wren was born. Hecate roamed free, tormenting the mortals as she saw fit.”
“You think that’s why she slaughtered the naiads and satyrs here?”
“No,” he said grimly. “I think she slaughtered them because the House of Zeus refused to help her when she was in labor. Wren almost died before she was even born.”
Hecate was an evil crone, but Wren had been an innocent baby. What was that old saying? Know your enemies? But guilt seemed to be Sawyer’s motivation.
“You want me to feel sorry for her? Wren had a choice. She slit my throat because her mother told her to.”
“Nyx, I want you to promise me you won’t kill Wren,” he said.
He wasn’t trying to help me. He was trying to protect his daughter. I’d cared for Wren once and she was Naomi’s sister.
“I won’t, Sawyer,” I said. “Not unless I have no other choice.”
“Don’t… have… time… for…” Sawyer’s voice sounded like he’d entered a tunnel.
“Sawyer, are you there?”
“I’m back,” Sawyer said.
“Any hints about how I’m supposed to dial up a specific dead person to talk to?” Thanks to my aunts, almost everyone I loved was dead.
My question hung in the air, unanswered. “Sawyer, are you listening?”
“I’m busy, Nyx,” his voice finally replied.
“So am I,” I said. “You know, trying to prevent the apocalypse in the form of one pissed-off goddess.”
“And?”
“Tell me what you know,” I said. “Anything that might help stop her.”
“I don’t know how your aunts trapped her last time,” Sawyer admitted. “They didn’t trust me enough to tell me, but I know Deci came up with the solution.”
“Deci’s dead.”
“Then find another way,” he said.
“I’m trying,” I said. “Do you remember anything about the three items of power the Fates took from Hecate?”
“There is a legend that one of the harpies grew a feather.”
“Not exactly earth-shattering.” They were bird women. Feathers came with the territory.
“Let me finish,” he said. “It was a magical silver feather that gave the owner unimaginable power. It was said that one of the minor goddesses took the feather and became even more powerful.”
“Hecate,” I said. It would explain her attachment to the harpies. She was probably hoping they’d grow a second feather. Or a whole pillow full of silver feathers.
“Nyx, you can’t…” His voice faded before he told me what I couldn’t do.
“Sawyer?”
But he didn’t answer. He’d given me something to go on, though. Deci.
I had a couple of old books of my mother’s, but I’d read them a thousand times looking for clues to find my thread of fate. There was nothing there to help me with my current situation.
That is, until I really looked at what I had thought were doodles along the margins.
There was a sketch of an asphodel and a list of ingredients. The flower had been heavily inked in.
When I was little, I had found a dried asphodel pressed between the pages of one of my mother’s books. I showed it to her and asked her what it was. “A memory,” she replied softly. “But it is also a rare black asphodel, which you can find in only one place.”
“Where?” I was curious.
“Somewhere I can never go again,” she said. Tears welled in her eyes and I stopped asking questions.
I’d lost my mother. I couldn’t lose Willow, too. I closed the book and finally fell asleep.
In the morning, I had a shift at Eternity Road. Talbot wasn’t there, but Ambrose was in his office. I told him I’d been chatting with my dead uncle, which elicited a raised eyebrow. “How long have you been able to speak to the dead?”
“Not long,” I said. “Know anything about how that works?”
He shrugged. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”
“Why can’t I hear anyone else?” I asked. “Only Sawyer. Not Jasper, or Deci, or…” My voice broke, though I tried to control it. “My mother.” If I could talk to Sawyer, maybe he wasn’t the only one from the realm of the dead. Maybe I could even speak to my mother. I had so many questions for her, but mostly, I wanted to hear her voice.
“Maybe you’re not listening closely enough,” he replied. “Try mediating.”
I snorted, but he was serious. He marched me to an empty storage closet and shoved me in. “Try it, Nyx,” he said. “Try talking to someone you loved and see if you get a response.”
“What about my shift?”
“It can wait,” he said. “Now try. Sometimes you need to let the dead speak.”
I felt like an idiot, but I started by saying her name. “Lady Fortuna. Mother?”
There was no answer. I tried several times, but my mother didn’t answer. I almost gave up. There weren’t many people, living or dead, whom I’d loved. But then a name came to me.
“Amalie.” The name of my dead girlfriend.
I said her name what seemed like a thousand times. Death was cold, but the room grew almost unbearably warm the last time I said her name. Sweat poured off me.
Her perfume permeated the room and her voice sounded in my ear. “My love.”
“Amalie?”
“You called and I came,” she said.
“I didn’t expect you to,” I said. “It’s my fault you’re dead.”
“Still the same old Nyx,” she said. “Blaming yourself for the actions of others.”
It hurt to hear her gentle voice say my name, but it was a welcome pain. “I’ve missed you.”
“And I you,” she replied. “Your powers have grown.”
“What makes you say that?” Talking to the dead was a skill I wasn’t sure I wanted. Could I talk to my mother? Did I want to know her secrets?
“I have never been able to hear your voice before.”
“I didn’t know I could call to you,” I said. “Are you at peace?”
“I am,” she said. “But why did you call me?”
“To say I loved you. To say I’m sorry. To say good-bye.”
I felt a cold kiss on my lips. “I already knew. Farewell, beloved.”
“Good-bye, Amalie.”
And then she was gone.
Talking to the ghost of my dead lover had shaken me more than I wanted to admit. I made it through the rest of the day in a daze. I could summon the dead.