Ola and I traveled to the address on the piece of paper. The necromancer resided in the area controlled by the Elves, in an apartment that used to be Shockoe Bottom.
The area was still thriving as humans mulled around like it was a normal day. This used to be my stomping ground when I’d leave the university for a drink at the local brewery overlooking the river.
Where were the supernatural beings that once lived here? Surely, Midgard used to be protected.
We made our way up the elevator to the penthouse. Whoever this guy was, even in these dark times, he lacked nothing, as he was one of the few who could still touch the sky. He had to be someone. The nobodies were relegated to the hovels below ground, while the middle class could walk on the streets without persecution, and those of the one percent could truly touch the sky and had very nice unobstructed views.
They gained an amazing view, to only then see the sky falling.
“I think this is a bad idea,” I whispered to Ola. “What if he isn’t here?”
She nodded but remained mum. She moved to turn the doorknob and found it unlocked.
“What are you doing?”
“The apartment is protected by runic and elemental magic, Sif,” Ola said. “Trust me to know what I’m doing.”
I was beginning to understand that Ola wasn’t anything like I thought she was.
“Whatever you do, follow my lead. This will be tricky as he is Lady Hel’s son and—”
“Lady Hel’s son? So, we have to deal with her son to resurrect Chi?”
“Don’t forget you are sleeping with her father, so just think of keeping it in the family.” Ola laughed, and I elbowed her in the ribs. The pantheon and the family connections thereof were small.
I couldn’t begin to understand why Lady Hel hated me so much, but it didn’t matter. I just wanted Chi back like she was supposed to be—alive.
The apartment was sparsely decorated, nothing here really to make it personal. It would have made more sense if maybe everything was painted in black. But instead, it had generic white walls, and even the furniture seemed to be right off the showroom floor. No photos of what this necromancer was supposed to look like, either. All that hung on the walls was an old framed map of a place called Thule, and on the opposite wall, that of a multicolored dragon.
“Okay, the only thing I’m getting from this place is that this guy shops from a catalog and has the personality of a wet rag. Heck, there is nothing here that even individualizes the space.”
“Some call it minimalism.”
“Blech. With such a view of the river, I’d think he’d have something made of diamonds to sparkle. Maybe even a real grass putting green on the balcony.”
I finally spied what Ola was concentrating on in the shape of a small altar that rested on the table before the dragon painting.
I watched her pull out a rune stone from her jeans pocket and place it on a wooden altar situated in front of the painting. Ola was a wielder, one who could pass through the realms. I assumed the runes were the coins she’d have to pay like that given to Charon on the River Styx.
Whatever the story there might have been, it was ongoing, and carried with it a lot of emotion—more than I could bear. I pushed back at their onslaught.
“He’s not here.”
“Yes, he is.” I turned at the male voice and came face-to-face with a tall, broad-shouldered man with slicked-back salt and pepper midnight-colored hair, and shadows beneath his wary, bloodshot silver gaze.
“Mr. Naldoson,” Ola said. “I hate to intrude, but we found your address—”
“Whatever it is you want, know that I do not do freebies, gifts, or anything of that nature. All magic comes with a cost, and I must be paid.” He sounded like a tired and overworked stockbroker who spent too much time guzzling down coffee. He rubbed his untrimmed beard. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. For one living so close to the sky, which said that he had to be of the social elite. Calling him unkempt was nice talk. For a demigod, I expected him to look like he’d walked right off the cover of GQ, and not P.U. I tried not to breathe through my nose just in case the looks off him was a promise of his stench.
“We don’t have any of that stuff,” I said.
“Well, you risked coming here for nothing. If you want my help, you have to pay the fee.”
It didn’t look like he needed the money from what I could see. He wasn’t peeing in a jar to stay warm at night or trying to filter drinking water with dirty socks, a soup tin, and a hope and a prayer.
“Listen, I don’t know what’s gotten your designer boxers into a bunch, but first, we’re getting Hell from your mother, pun intended, and now having to face off with you acting like a douchebag. I mean, I know your family is fed up, but that’s not an excuse to be a dickwad.” I crossed my arms and gave him the stare of a thousand stares, the same one I’d been giving since I was five, and my mom would tell me to fix my face.
“My mother?” His hardened jaw relaxed, to only then start to tick. Yep, he had Mommy issues.
“Yes, your mother helped kill one of my best friends, and I’ve been told that you have the skillset to resurrect her. Now, I know there are probably more rumored necromancers in this overrun city, but I’d like to think that the one who is having issues with Mommy dearest might be willing to stick it to her and raise my dear friend from the dead.” I paused to take a breath. I’d had a bad day; screw that, I’d had a bad couple of months. Nothing in this new world made sense, and it was like I was in an urban fantasy Dungeons and Dragons game or cosplay and didn’t know it. Next thing you know, someone was going to jump out of the closet with their hand in the position of a gun or blaster and start making “pew, pew, pew” sounds.
The man stood as still as a statue until he started to pace as if my words jump-started him. Maybe he was weighing the pros and cons of what it meant to double-cross his mother, or maybe he was ensuring that he had all of the ingredients for his evening martini. For such a rich and dapper guy, I could smell the alcohol leaking out of his pores.
Who said money brought happiness?
“If your friend has not departed to the afterlife, there are only so many conclusions.” He paused and tapped his foot as if was thinking.
I couldn’t help the loud sigh. This was like an endless shopping list of tit-for-tat.
I didn’t trust him. A loud humming rang in my ears, almost sounding like an alarm. What was this? My skin started to prickle. I reached out for Ola’s hand. We needed to get out of here. Something was deadly wrong.
“Okay, I can do that,” he finally said, “but you have to do something for me since you can’t pay.”
Ola wasn’t picking up on how hard I must have been squeezing. She ignored me.
“Let me guess,” I said, “you want us to find a way into a secret lair, drug the bad guy, and steal his heart?”
He gave me a confused look and Ola interjected.
“Excuse her. She’s had a bad day. What is it that you’d like to know?”
The wary look on his face changed as quick as a finger snap. His eyes filled with anger akin to bloodthirst. Heck, I didn’t come here to fight, but I would.
“The only one who can find that book is one who’s connected to Lady Hel, as it is from the family athenaeum. How’s it that you were able to find it, and how’s it that you can pay with the rune of Hagalaz, which requires me to appear? Who are you, really?
Before I could answer, he removed a sword, hidden behind his back, and pointed it at my throat.
“There are books that are cursed, grimoires,” Erich said, “And one that I need to free…”
It was what he didn’t say that gave me pause. The grimoires were not just books that could be checked out at the local library. These books, often time-bound with the skin of their human sacrifices, harbored unbridled powers. Rumored powers that could tip the scales in our favor.
I raised my hand and touched the blade, pushing it to the side.
“If you are a necromancer, one who can raise the dead, why would you need a grimoire?” I asked.
He lowered his blade. “Some of the grimoires could enact curses. The Codex Gigas is famous for the negative energy it holds. Words have power, and people can imbue their works with such energy. The monk who’d been entombed while alive for breaking his sacred vows, wrote it. But I’m looking for the Grand Grimoire. The original text was locked away in the Vatican’s secret archives, but with the invasion, and the Vatican now under the control of the Dark Elves, the book has been removed from the shelf.”
Everything I thought I knew about the invasion was wrong. I’d assumed it was localized, and that we could simply overthrow it, but it was cantankerous, insidious even, with its roots dug in and spreading like a virus.
“But the border?”
“That is a lie, an illusion to placate. Those who can see into the world of Spirit know it to be so.”
My shoulders sank.
There was no one size to topple it.
He frowned. “You weren’t here when they came?”
I nodded, unable to vocally utter that I still had no idea what was going on.
Ola squeezed my hand. “When they arrived, the military was prepared to defeat them, but they were powerful and easily overwhelmed us. It was like fighting with pre-Civil War weapons against modern laser technology. Laser weapons that could even melt the eyeballs of pilots, cut planes in half, and the speed of their weapons, some could even hit Mock 20.
“Those who could survive had only two options: get out of the city and hope it would pass or fight back. They expected us to fight back, too.
“It was a bloodbath like no Hollywood movie had ever depicted. They weren’t here after our water—we were the resource. They fed on us, used us to fuel their technology.
“’We saw them invade here in Richmond, but the larger cities were wiped out. But they didn’t come from the skies as we’d believed, but a portal taking the Rainbow Bridge to us. They didn’t come for anything, except us.”
The legendary Rainbow Bridge was how I’d been able to travel back from Asgard. It had to have been their way to bring everything in, too.
“First they struck capitols, military strongholds, government entities,” Ola continued. “They used an electromagnetic pulse, and everything electrical failed until we went back to what felt like the nineteenth century. The cities failed, and those who could survive had to surrender in order to do so.
“And then they rebuilt, creating a society where they ruled, without question. Those loyal to the cause rose, and the dissent was quickly quelled through the illusion of normalcy.” Ola tilted her head. “You’ve been using magic to help create the mirage, right?”
Erich ran his fingers through his thick hair and collapsed into the leather armchair. “We all do things we don’t want to, to survive.” He picked up a golden picture frame of him and a beautiful woman and stared at her. “I’d do anything to make this right.”
I had no idea what or who he was talking about. “Care to explain that?” I pointed at the image.
“Things happened outside of my control, and I haven’t been able to make it right.” He took a deep breath, and a small smile spread across his face. “Nothing has worked, but you might be the way for me to fix it.”
“And you will help us then, help us to raise my best friend, Chi, from the dead?”
“If Chi has not moved on, then surely it is because either my mother or one of the death gods has willed it so she cannot move into the hereafter. But without the grimoire, my hands are indeed tied.”
“The shopping list continues, it seems.” I’d wasted enough time and turned to leave.
“But time is also of the essence. You’ll need to retrieve it, to tether her to this world soon, or she will not be able to find her body again. I’ve something that can buy you some time, so all is not lost.”
He moved into the kitchen, loudly opened cabinet drawers and doors. I heard him rattling around in there, to only return with a satchel of herbs in a small canvas bag tied with a leather cord.
Ola stretched out her hand. “You will need to find her body and place this on it.”
“How much time will it give us?”
“A fortnight, max.”
Would that be enough time to raise my best friend from the dead? But even more, how was I supposed to get to the Vatican when I was in Richmond, Virginia, and the Vatican was still in Italy?