In the Teardrop Palace, Bethany Clayton is revealed as the Paradox
Heart, and the necromancer chooses a new vessel: June Lash. Now it
turns its attention to the pit of bones: the place of its power. The
place in which it was born. The place in which it can be destroyed.


THE NECROMANCER SAGA # 5
"THE BROKEN CIRCLE"
[8F-224] [PW-68]


-------------- SECRET CIRCLE --------------------

MAILE AKAKA, age 20. Aeromancer. Injured.
Once the top field agent of The Company, she orchestrated her own
abduction and memory wipe to defect to the circle. She now serves as
its leader.

AZABETH "BETH" COLLINS, age 37. Oneiromancer.
The circle's co-leader, recently awakened from a long slumber.

DAVID COLLINS, age 31. Mnemonomancer.
Husband to Beth, brother to Claire Belden, unlikely wielder of the
ancient blade Thirteen.

JUNE LASH, age 47. Ailuromancer. Deceased.
Maile's spymaster, commanding dozens of feline agents around the
globe. Slain by the necromancer, now his vessel.

SARAH AVERY, age 25. Evocamancer.
An engineering genius, she refuses to use her demon-summoning magic.

TREVOR JEFFRIES. Robot.
A sophisticated robot built by The Company to infiltrate the circle.
Retooled by Sarah, and equipped with sonic weaponry.

PINKY MURDER, age 23. Apparamancer.
Teleporter. Recently escaped from a formless hell. This also resulted
in Samson's escape, and in his transformation into the necromancer's
vessel.

--------------- DAYLIGHTERS ---------------------

Bethany Clayton (KNOCKOUT MOUSE), age 32.
Leader of the Daylighters. Now revealed as the Paradox Heart. A friend
of Maile's.

--------------- THE COMPANY ---------------------

CLAIRE BELDEN, age 31. Metamancer.
In the pit of bones, preparing a ritual that will end the necromancer.
But she is also the reason for its return.

TRINITY TRAN, age 35. Haematomancer.
Once a fugitive, working for The Company in return for their
protection; now, the head of the dominant faction within The Company.
Pregnant with David Collins's child.

-------------------------------------------------

The thicket of bones, clattering and ravenous, finally starts to get
thinner as they push deeper into the pit. It was touch and go there
for a long while, constant fighting, always in danger of being drowned
in a roiling, protean sea of undead.

But then something breaks. There is less of it. Fewer in number,
lesser in intensity. Their attacks become sporadic and half-hearted.
David feels like he can actually catch his breath between skirmishes,
and even then he is actually holding his own.

And those skirmishes get farther and farther apart, until they stop altogether. The last quarter-mile of the party's descent is made in
anxious silence, waiting for an ambush that hasn't happened.

They reach what looks like the end as the walls curve into an
earthen floor. But in its center there is a hole, large enough for a
child to squeeze through, too big for an adult.

"It will stretch," says Claire, reaching for it with her hand. As
if in anticipation, the hole puckers and opens. Like a sphincter. Like
an orifice. Like it's alive and rotting.

Claire steps off the wall to the floor. The moment she does, David
feels himself falling from the wall as a more traditional gravity
asserts itself. He picks himself up and frowns. "I take it we're going
in?"

"Age before beauty," says Claire with a wave of her hand.

"We're the same age," says David. Their mothers gave birth to them
on the same day. He's remembering that for the first time; he hadn't
known that before. "Or is one of us a few minutes older?"

"Exactly the same moment. Not quite twins, but close enough for
gods and witches. But you're going first. I'm putting a buffer between
us and Samson."

"Just in case?" says David.

Claire bites her lip, shakes her head. It's an expression of
vulnerability that is unnerving. David's pretty sure he liked her
better before she had access to her emotions.

"The Teardrop Palace is breaking," says Claire. "I can feel it,
just like Shallow House. He will come before we can fully complete the
ritual. We will have to fight him. I am buying us minutes. Seconds.
Time that you are wasting."

This at least seems like Claire, and thus comforted, David
tentatively hovers one foot over the pulsing hole. It opens, wide
enough and quick enough for him to lose his footing, and then greedily
pulls him in. He feels himself being wetly squeezed, and then he
falls. It's not a terribly long fall, but it's long enough that it
breaks his foot.

Then quite suddenly Claire and Trevor are in front of him, Trevor
concerned but annoyed, Claire annoyed but concerned. She touches the
side of David's face, and explains that he's gone into shock, and that
that's quite enough of that. She snaps her fingers under his nose, and
the sound of it (crisp, sharp, distinct) has a smell (crisp, sharp,
distinct). The smell of the sounds fizzes in his nostrils, fizzes in
his brain, and suddenly he finds himself quite lucid, quite aware.

Here at the bottom of the pit of bones there is a little room, a
little chamber that pulses like a heart. It's small and cramped, made
all the more-so by the stone table in its center. For Claire to move
from one side to the other, David and Trevor need to step around the
table as well, getting out of her way.

From her sack she pulls a handful of small weird things. As is
usually the case with magic, the small weird things hurt to look at,
and David can't quite remember what they were once he looks away from
them.

Claire looks up from the table, distracted. Like she's suddenly
heard an insect buzzing in the distance. She holds up her hand,
fingers held just so, and neatly makes two circles with a spin of her
wrist. There's a puff of jasmine, sensual and rich, bringing Pinky and
Sarah into the crowded room.

"I imagine you were having trouble finding the place," says Claire.

"The necromancer," says Pinky breathlessly. She starts to pitch
forward, but Sarah catches her.

"We know," says Claire. "Samson's on his way."

"Not Samson. June."

"Cat magic." Claire flinches. "Then we need to work quickly. Boys,
stay alert. Girls, help me with the ritual."

David looks at Trevor, trying to think of something to say. But
Trevor beats him to it. "It's not June," he says softly but firmly.
"June died to save us. Whatever this is, it's not June."

()

Pinky and Sarah immediately set to work, and it isn't until they've
already begun pinching powders and spreading entrails that Pinky
realizes she knows exactly what she's doing. She glances at Sarah, who
is equally surprised.

Claire looks annoyed. "Obviously the answer is magic. You should be
used to this by now."

"The answer is you," says Sarah pointedly. "You put this in my
head. Months ago."

Claire nods. "And Pinky's."

Pinky is startled. "But why us?"

"Oh, don't feel too special," says Claire. "David knows. So does
the rest of the circle. Most of The Company. The Daylighters. And some
others. As many people as I could. Didn't know who exactly would be in
the room with me, so I covered my bases." She smiles at Pinky. "For
example, I really thought you were dead. Pleasant surprise. Glad to
have you with us."

"You thought I was dead, because you thought you killed me."

"Well, yes," says Claire. "But Sarah saved you."

"At Shallow House?" says Pinky.

"No. In Texas. When I used her magic to swallow you and Samson up.
She fought it. Fought to keep you both alive. To minimize the harm."
She turns to Sarah. "You have more control over them than you think.
If you wanted to use them."

"I don't," says Sarah.

"I know. Which is why I'll leave you two to perform the ritual."
She steps away from the table and flicks her wrist. Her sword appears
in her grip. "She's almost here."

Claire steps gently into the air and begins floating toward the
orifice. She curls a finger for Trevor and David to follow, and they
too begin to levitate.

"But, but," stammers David. "I broke my foot."

Pinky is surprised by the sadness in Claire's voice. "I know what
I'm asking of you, David. I am still asking."

He nods, a little shaken, and then the three of them disappear.

()

A brief flourish of geomancy improvises some defensive terrain: a line
of sharp caltrops, a half-wall for cover. Claire positions herself to
take best advantage of this, and puts Trevor in a position to block
the orifice. David is assigned a position that's much less protected.
Given his performance so far and his injury, he asks Claire why.

She tells him why in a whisper, but he forgets it as she's saying
it. When he tries to remember it, it makes his brain bleed a little.
So he stops trying to remember. He stands, squatting and leaning
awkwardly to avoid putting weight on the bad leg, sword at the ready,
and waits.

He doesn't wait long. He can feel the necromancer at the edge of
the pit. He shoots a glance to Claire, as if asking for confirmation.
She nods.

June leaps into the pit. Not scaling the walls like they had, just
a straight jump down. It would kill her if she wasn't already dead. It
would mangle her body beyond recognition if she didn't land on her
feet. Cat magic.

Her eyes are closed, her teeth are red, her neck is broken. David
can't look at her. Whether that's the usual magic thing, where it
hurts to look at it, or whether it's because he's looking at what used
to be his friend, he can't say. When he tries to force himself to look
again, she's gone.

"Cats and shadows," she sing-songs in a rasp. It sounds like it's
coming from just over his shoulder, but when he turns his head,
there's nothing there.

"Cats and shadows," she says again, only now the sound is coming
from behind Claire's outcropping; and again, only now it's behind
Trevor.

"You're not June," says Trevor.

"Didn't say I was." David hears her whisper in his ear, but sees
the June-shape standing next to Trevor, pressing its body next to his.
"Didn't say I wasn't."

What is he doing? He should attack. Now's his chance.

"But what if it's both?" The whisper is so close that David can
feel her cold lips against his earlobe. He sees her grin out of the
corner of his eye. He turns, slashing the empty air with his sword.

He catches glimpse of her again, now standing quite apart from any of them.

"What if I am sweet, gentle, loving June? What if sweet, gentle,
loving June wants you to hurt? Wants to pull you apart like a ball of
yarn?"

She tugs with one of her fingers. David couldn't see it before, but
there's a thin wire of metal and flesh wrapped around it, pulled taut
across the chamber. He knows what it is before his eyes follow it to
its source. To Trevor's face.

The thread unravels violently, instantly, pulling him apart into
wires and circuitry, blood and coolant, skin and metal. The mess of
him collapses into a surprisingly wet pile, then oozes and drips into
the orifice.

And the thing that scares David the most isn't how quickly it
happened, but how Trevor just let it happen. As if that was his answer
to the question, what if sweet gentle loving June wants you to hurt?

"You expected me to go for David first," she whispers to Claire in
his ear as he watches her let the Trevor-thread drop from her finger.
"The weakest of you. Broken leg. Can't fight. The coward. The fuck-up.
Given to me on a silver platter."

("Why am I out in the open?" he asked Claire. She told him, but he
can't remember. It hurts to try.)

"Is he a sacrifice to buy you some time? Or bait for a trap?"

("I know what I'm asking of you," Claire had said. "I'm still asking.")

Claire's body suddenly flings itself against the wall. Her sword
clangs to the ground. June presses against her, fingernails in her
shoulders, breaking the skin.

"No," says Claire, choking. A spray of blood spritzes from her
mouth like perfume. "I knew Trevor would be first."

"Because you know June?"

"Because I know you. Never pass up a chance to twist the knife."

(That's why she'll come after me first. To make you watch. To make
you feel powerless.)

David remembers. David remembers this before it happens, remembers
Claire pinned against the wall by the necromancer. Distracted. Only
paying attention to his sister. She's the bait. He's the trap.

He remembers what happens next. He remembers running the sword
through the necromancer, through Claire. Sacrificing herself. This was
the plan all along.

But the necromancer is in his memories. The moment he remembers,
the necromancer knows it. Knows what's going to happen. Drops Claire
before he can act. Turns and whirls and is upon him, mouth-knives and finger-knives. Too fast for him to react. Too fast for him to think.
Too fast for him to fight.

That's when Claire cleaves June's head off. A second stroke tears
the arms and shoulders from the torso. As the cursed blood buckets
over him, David at last scrambles free. Claire continues to
dispassionately hack away.

"That was the trap," he blurts when she's done.

She looks at him disapprovingly. "You didn't think I was going to
let you run me through with a sword, did you?" She offers a hand,
helping him hobble to his feet. "Made her think you were just bait, so
she'd come for me, memory comes back, she'd think I was the bait, come
for you, then, you know, snicker-snack."

"But what if she killed me?"

She stares at him like the answer is obvious. "Then you'd be dead,
and I wouldn't be having this tedious conversation." She hesitates,
then softens. "I would probably feel bad about it."

"Probably?"

She shrugs. "Now, help me find her heart."

()

After removing it from one of the dismembered chunks of June's body,
Claire wraps the heart in cloth, hands it to David, and then passes
him through the sputtering wet orifice. He represses the urge to vomit
as he slithers past the mechanical tendrils of one dead friend while
clutching the insides of another to his chest.

Pinky and Sarah are waiting for him soberly. They take the heart,
placing it upon the altar.

He watches as they complete the ritual, but he doesn't remember any
of it. It hurts when he tries. It will always hurt.

()

Claire borrows Pinky's magic to teleport them to the surface. It
smells more of rosemary than jasmine.

She takes David's Thirteen.

Pinky dares a smile. "Gee, lady, you got enough swords?"

"I hope so," says Claire grimly. Then she's gone.

David will never see her again.

()

They try to call to arrange a pick-up, but there's no reception near
the pit of bones. Pinky burns those words into her brain: there's no
reception near the pit of bones. What a strange sentence. What a
strange world she lives in.

Sarah's first instinct is to venture ahead. David's in rough shape,
what with the leg, so she wants to leave Pinky behind to watch over
him. But before she can even say the words, she sees the look in
Pinky's eyes and decides against it.

So they each take one side of David, propping him up on their
shoulders. Slowly, and with frequent rests, they make the slow march
away from the pit. Pinky is terrified to look back at it, but also
wants to. The way Orpheus looked back at Eurydice. The way Lot's
salt-wife looked back at Sodom.

She expects corpses to be crawling out of it, clattering after
them. She expects it to be gone, like it was never there. She expects
a dream of fairy tale. But when she finally looks back, the pit still
yawns against the open sky. It remains a real place, where real things happened.

()

They get reception, and they call Beth Collins. She'd been trying to
reach David through their mental connection, but found it especially
hazy and disorienting. David, for his part, doesn't remember that.

Sarah starts to explain that the thing is done, but Beth already
knew that; she starts to explain about Trevor and June and Claire, but
Beth already knew that, too.

"Nothing to explain, then," says Sarah, and they make arrangements
for travel.

()

That night, they arrive at the safehouse. Maile is waiting for them.
Beth is with her, as is Trinity Tran.

"I'm glad you're alive," Tran says to David. In response, he nods
dumbly. Then, he retreats, child-like, into Beth's arms.

Without asking, Tran immediately sets to work healing his broken
leg. "Don't get used to me patching you up," she says to the room.

Maile nods. "Only a few days until the solstice. Then the truce
ends, and we can go back to trying to kill each other."

Tran scoffs. "You're in no shape for a fight. Your spymaster's
gone. Your robot's gone. Shallow House, gone. Your demon summoner
won't summon demons. All you've got left is a dream witch and," she
sighs and waves her hand, "David." She says his name with a mixture of
disdain and affection. If he notices, he doesn't react.

"The circle is broken," she continues. "You're not really a threat
to The Company right now. Lay low. After the solstice, make sure
you're not in any place we know about. Stay out of our business, and
we won't come after you. You get to live."

"Until you destroy the world," says Maile.

Tran doesn't respond. Instead, she turns her head toward Pinky.
"I'm assuming you're defecting?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Good. They'll need a teleporter to keep off our radar." Finished
with her healing, she stands up, a hand on her full belly. The baby
kicks hard.

"You're pretty far along," says Beth.

"Any day now." But that's a lie. Trinity Tran knows the day. Knows
the hour. And she knows that she will give birth to two children. Not
quite twins, but close enough for gods and witches.

()

The remnants of the circle don't take any chances; they move that
night to a new safehouse provided by Bethany Clayton and her
Daylighters. Bethany and Maile enjoy a cup of tea: the taste is
fragrant, floral.

"Sorry about your glove," says Maile.

"It's going to be an adjustment." Bethany stares at her right arm
and palm. "Though I'm more concerned about the thing where I'm some
kind of cosmic destroyer."

"Sorry about that, too."

"Thanks."

"Beth," says Maile suddenly. "You've lost people?"

"People under me? Yeah. These your first? June and Trevor?"

"Yeah. How do you live with it?"

Bethany's face tightens. "Hard. You live with it, hard. Like a
stone inside you, under the skin, hurting."

"It feels like it's my fault."

"It is," says Bethany. "Just like everyone I lost was mine. That's
what you take on." She finishes her tea, sets down her cup. "But you
get the other things too. June went down real brave at Shallow House.
That's on you, too, just as much as the dying.

"You saved the world, kid. Sometimes there's a cost. And that's
gonna hurt." She's about to say something else when Sarah raps on the
door. Bethany looks back and forth between them. "You two need to
talk? Need me to skedaddle?"

"Actually," says Sarah, "I kinda want to talk to both of you."

"What's up?" says Maile.

"I want to work for the Daylighters. Robots, gadgets, et cetera."

"You do good work," Bethany agrees. "I wouldn't mind borrowing you."

But Maile knows better. "She's not talking about being borrowed."
She looks to Sarah, pained. "You want out."

"I never wanted this, you know that. If I'm around magic stuff all
the time, caught up in this war, then there's always going to be times
when people need me to use my magic."

"I never asked you to. Told you I would never ask you to."

"But I did," says Sarah. "I did, in Shallow House. To save Pinky. I
made that choice, and I'm glad I did. But it felt like a betrayal.
Went against everything I want to be. If I stay in this world, I'm
going to keep being put in situations where I'm going to make that
choice, over and over again, and I can't. Because if I do, there won't
be any of me left. So I'm asking you, as your friend, to let me go."

"Of course." She gives her a tight little nod and a smile. Sarah
thanks them both and leaves the room.

()

Sarah shares her news with Pinky.

"Feels like I'm chasing you off," says Pinky. "Is little Miss
Murder that bad of a kisser?"

"The kiss was nice," says Sarah. "We can do it again sometime."

"Be still my beating heart," mugs Pinky.

Sarah's expression turns sour. "I told you I was aro ace."

"I know, I know," says Pinky. "It was a dumb joke, I'm sorry."

"I like you, though," offers Sarah. "I trust you. I barely know
you, but I trust you. And I do enjoy kissing and, uh, other things,
once in a while. With someone that I like and I trust."

"I'd like that."

"Just don't fall in love with me or anything," says Sarah.

()

Sarah leaves with Bethany. That night, the rest of them sleep in a
single room on the floor. Some of June's leftover cats scurry about,
curling up on stomachs and attacking toes through the sleeping bags.

A small black cat insists on climbing in Pinky's bag. She turns
onto one side to make room for her, and as she does, she notices that
David is also awake.

"Crazy day, huh?" she whispers with a weak smile.

He returns it, eyes wide. "I feel like I should be relieved.
Because it's finally over. But."

"Yeah," says Pinky. "There's this knot inside that just won't loosen."

"Yes." He trembles. "I'm scared it never will."

"Me too." She hesitates, then reaches out with her hand. He, too,
hesitates, then reaches out with his own. She gives it a squeeze. "It
feels like this whole thing is my fault. They tell me it isn't, but
that's not how it feels."

"And it's not actually helpful to hear it," says David.

"Right." The black cat decides quite suddenly and definitively that
it doesn't want to be inside Pinky's sleeping bag after all. As it
wiggles in protest, she pulls back her arm, letting it out.

It immediately wanders over to David. Pensively, he gives the cat a scratch.

"It's nice that you get it," he says after a moment. "And you were
at The Company, so you get that, too. I tried to explain it to
everybody, what it was like, and they listen, but they don't
understand. How it hurts, why it hurts." He stops himself from crying.
"Why the knot won't loosen."

"I think we both need therapy."

He laughs in agreement. "I miss that about The Company. Good
benefits. Glasses, dental, therapy. All covered."

"Hell, they were going to pay for my bottom surgery."

He gets extremely awkward at the mention of this, but not in a
prurient way. And not in the way cis people usually do, either. It
reminds her of herself. Before.

"Hey," she says. "I figure we got stuff in common, then we both
have someone we can talk to about it, right? We can talk about that
knot."

"Yes," says David. "Yes, I'd like that."


COPYRIGHT 2023 AMABEL HOLLAND

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