seattle ; monday ft

[necroslacker]

After the meeting and a couple of phone calls, everyone left the Tongue & Buckle and headed over to the Den, except for Brid, who'd left early to prepare the pack. The carpool made them the oddest entourage in the history of the planet. It would have made Sam laugh if he didn't know what they were going to do.

It was hard, standing in that clearing and knowing that was the last place Brannoc had been. Sam swallowed heavily. Everyone from the Council, as well as many unhappy pack members, watched Sam as he stood there. Now that everyone was there and assembled, Sam wasn't really sure what to do next. Ramon stood off to the side with Dessa. He'd talked Sam into letting him swing by and pick her up. She was a seer like her mom, though Sam didn't think she was nearly as sensitive, which would be a good thing in such a charged area. Her mom might be overwhelmed. Sam had argued at first, despite this, but Ramon felt she would bring something sorely needed to the table, and Sam ended up agreeing. So it was all hands on deck.

Some of the wolves weren't friendly. Sam could feel the dislike and animosity from where he was standing. He knew he was being glared at and probably growled at as well. Standing around and doing nothing probably wasn't helping especially when everyone else was moving around and doing something. Ariana was walking through the field slowly, touching the occasional patch of grass. Pello was off to the side, talking to a tree. Hopefully, the tree was talking back and Pello wasn't crazy. Ione was muttering to herself in what Sam hoped was a constructive manner. Aengus and Dunaway were talking to Bran, Brid, and the rest of her brothers. The weres appeared shell-shocked. Sean, especially, since I wasn't used to his face looking so sober.

James stood near me, his arms behind his back. He looked unconcerned by everything. He was keeping too close an eye on the pack to really be that nonchalant. Sam knew it was James's duty to watch over him, but Sam liked to think there was some genuine concern there.

Kell stood off to the side, analyzing the crowd as much as the scene. Sam had been surprised when he joined the group. He kept expecting to see the vampire burst into flames or collapse into ash, or whatever happened to vampires when they encountered sunlight. Instead he stood, somewhat anticlimactically, under a strangely masculine parasol.

Kell ambled over when he caught Sam's glance. "Nice day."

"I guess," Sam replied.

"Confused?"

"On so many levels, I've stopped counting. Why aren't you…" Sam made a sort of exploding gesture with his hands. "No offense."

He smiled. "I'm old enough that I can manage the sunlight a little. I don't like it. We're nocturnal by nature, and I don't do well in direct light, but a little sunblock and some shade, and I do all right. Modern science is amazing, don't you think?" He smiled and twirled his parasol. "You are aware that some of the pack want to string you up, yes?"

"Uh huh." It was hard not to know that.

"But you're here anyway," Kell noted.

"Yes." Sam squinted into the sunlight.

"Do you mind if I ask why?" Kell questioned.

Despite the fading sunlight, it was too hot to be wearing a suit jacket like he was. Sam slipped off both the suit jacket and shirt, leading him in a white tank top. He tossed the clothes to James.

"Because it's my job. Or maybe because I owe the pack. And because Brannoc was my friend. Pick one." Sam shrugged. "Pick all—either way, sitting here isn't helping me any."

Sam closed his eyes and concentrated. The air shifted and, with that, Sam knew that Brooke and Ashley had arrived.

"Huh," Ashley said, looking around. "You actually got Haley's plan to work. Good job, Sam."

I knew he could do it," Brooke said. She leaned over and kissed Sam on the cheek. "Go get 'em, tiger. I'm going to go over and make sure they're playing nice with Dunaway." She didn't skip over, but Sam could tell she wanted to.

Ashley wasn't nearly as chipper. She was frowning, tapping her foot, her arms crossed. "This place is weird, Sam."

"I know. Do you think it's all from … you know."

She scrunched her nose. "It's possible. I'm not sure. Some of it feels like hers, but there's something else here, too. Another layer. Either way, this soil is practically soaked in strange magic." Ashley looked over at Sam, worried. "And with that kind of unknown … I'm not sure you should be trying anything out here, Sam. Too many variables. The outcome will be unpredictable."

Sam sighed and held out his hand. Without a word, James handed him the old silver athame. Sam knew James didn't like him trying anything out in the clearing either but he stayed quiet because he'd already reached the same conclusion as Sam had. There was no choice. He had to do this. If he'd come out here and done nothing, the pack would lose what little respect left they had for him. And then they'd get angry and Sam didn't want to die. More than wanting to survive, he wanted to find out what happened here. He owed Brannoc that, at least.

"I know, Ash, but I have to try. Ione is on standby with herbs and whatnot, and I've got you with me. It's the best I can do."

She recrossed her arms with a scowl. "I understand. I don't like it, but I get why you have to do it. I'll help you this time and see if we can't get a better result."

Impulsively, Sam reached over and hugged her with one arm. "Thanks, Ash."

Ashley shoved him away with a mock growl. "Just try not to get yourself killed."

Sam let go of her and took a few deep breaths. He position his feet shoulders width apart and straightened his back. He took a few more steadying breaths. He still wasn't used to cutting himself but given the alternative (which was stabbing something else) it was preferable.

As he was preparing, Sam felt a tap on his shoulder. Sean was standing next to him. He nodded at the knife. "Given your state last time, I thought maybe I'd volunteer."

Sam blinked at him. "What?"

Sean rolled his eyes and held out his arm. "I don't want you to pass out and bleed all over our nice field."

Sam didn't like the idea. "It's silver. It's gonna take you longer to heal."

Sean shrugged. "Not as long as you, and not as long as them." He jerked his head back at some of his pack members. Sean was a hybrid, which meant his allergy to silver wasn't as severe. That didn't mean Sam was any more cavalier about slicing his friend with a knife.

Kell leaned forward. "If I can interfere for a moment, I suggest you take him up on it, Sam. Bleeding will weaken you, and Sean's willingness to volunteer shows the pack that he doesn't believe you have anything to do with this mess. I believe the current vernacular is ‘win-win.'"

He was right, of course. Sam nodded slowly. Sean held out his arm. "I'm sorry," he said. Then Sam slashed the blade. The world held its breath as Sean's blood fell. Sam's back became rigid, andhe gasped as it hit the grass.

Sometimes, a location can become steeped in death. Douglas's basement is one of those places. Sam had never really encountered it outside, since the ground is porous and more forgiving, but since Brannoc's death was so fresh, all that blood and energy was still there. It hadn't been this responsive the last time he'd tried to contact Brannoc, but it was possible that using Sean had made it worse, his blood calling out to Brannoc's. Either way, Sam was flooded, and the magic took over.

When it comes to magic, the human body is a lot like a conductor. It flows through you, and you direct it where you need it to go. Like electricity, sometimes you get a surge and it's too much for the conductor to handle. With electrical energy, you have fail-safes—breakers flip, and things turn off. It's not so different in humans. There was a power surge, and Sam's breaker flipped, only it felt a lot like getting hit by a Mack truck. Then floating darkness and a firm feminine voice telling him no. The flower lady was back, and she wasn't taking any guff from Sam.

He woke up to James smacking him. Jolting up, he desperately pulled air into his lungs. Sean was kneeling beside him, shaking his shoulder. "You scared the crap out of us."

Sam stared at him blankly. And then he turned his head when he heard a grumbling next to him. There was a big ass bear growling and Sam knew at that moment that he wasn't the only one that was out of control. Ramon snarled at someone and parked his big bear butt at my side. It was comforting.

After several false starts, Sam finally found his voice. "What?"

James had a blank look on his face and Sam was beginning to recognize that as the look he wore when things hadn't gone well. Brooke hugged me and Ashley hovered, looking pissed.

And it was the angry little Harbinger who finally spoke up. "You passed out. Then you got cold and stopped breathing. Ods bodkins, Sam, your lips are blue!"

James wrapped Sam up in the suit jacket again, and Sam pulled it close. He finally pushed the hovering crowd out of the way and scooped me up.

"James Montgomery, you're my hero," Sam chattered.

"With all due respect, you need to shut the hell up, Sam." He set me on a big boulder that had grown warm in the sun. It felt awesome. "Look around now and tell me what you see."

"Hey, you called me Sam. My actual name. Not Master or dumbass—"

"I have never in my life called anyone dumbass." James seemed offended by the implication.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Now, focus." James sounded stern.

Sam kept a hold of his jacket and covertly took in his surroundings. Brid was off to the side with members of her pack. She seemed torn between staying with them and coming over to me. Some of her pack looked worried. But a few of them looked mad as hell. There was a lot of grumbling going on, and angry faces. A few had shifted into wolves, pissy ones, and it was them Ramon was growling at.

"Great, now what did I do?"

"Look."

Frowning, Sam continued to scan. Oh. Oh, boy. Stanley, the giant undead bull elk, came up and nudged his shoulder. James had to dodge his antlers. Sam stroked the elk on his cheek and nose. "Hey, buddy."

As he stroked Stanely, Sam realized a few things. One was that Stanley was glad to see me and happy that Sam was okay. The other was that he wasn't alone. In his stupor, Sam had accidentally raised a lot of … things. That surge had to go somewhere, and his unconscious self had sent it out. The clearing was now populated with squirrels, raccoons, birds, a few deer, and worse, wolves. Sam put his head against Stanley's nose and hoped those weren't werewolves. But he didn't have high hopes on that one. What could he say? When he screwed up, he screwed up big.

"Shit."

James absently scratched Stanley between his antlers. "Indeed. You need to do something about this now."

"No wonder some of the pack look pissed," Sam said. Keeping the jacket loose around his shoulders, he stood up, leaning on Stanley for support. Even though he felt warmer now, Sam still felt tired and abused.

As he walked into the center of the clearing, Sam noticed that everyone else had backed away a bit. Unintentionally perhaps, but it made him feel like a pariah. Of course, it could have been the giant were-bear by his side, but for some reason, Sam didn't think that was it. The animals were drawn to Sam, and the few that didn't approach watched his every move. One of the wolves, a big gray and white beast, walked over, and the rest of the creatures parted for her. Sam knelt down so he could look her in the eye.

You need help. Her voice whispered in Sam's head. It was strange to not actually hear something outside, but to have it bouncing around on the inside of his skull like a Ping-Pong ball. As with everything else he seemed to do lately, it was creepy.

Yes, I whispered back. She seemed to nod and the wolves spread out, smelling and searching. Sam let them do what they do best.

One of the pack, an angry but somewhat familiar looking guy of medium build, broke away from the crowd. "This is outrageous!" He shouted the words, his red face reminding me of a volcano only a heart's beat away from eruption. Spittle flew from his mouth. A speck hit Sam's cheek, and he wiped it off with the heel of his hand. The eruption had begun.

"Eric." This from Bran, a warning tone in his voice. Brid was clutching her brother, but she remained silent.

Ah, yes, Eric. Sam's number one fan. Of course he was here. We were a thunderstorm and an industrial accident away from the best day ever. Sam wondered if he should have had Ashley run over and give him a wedgie just to complete the experience.

Not to be swayed, Eric kept his eyes on Sam, his voice pitched for all to hear. "No, someone needs to stand up for the pack. Someone needs to stand up for your family. This"—he waved at the wolves that Sam had raised—"is adding insults on top of what he has already done. If this doesn't prove that he cares nothing for us, what does?"

Okay. So, Sam had felt pretty bad over the last few days for screwing up but this time...well, this time he thought he was actually doing something helpful. So, he got angry. He got up, leaving Ramon's side and marched over to Eric.

"Look, buddy, I don't know what your freaking problem is, but has it occurred to you that I'm trying to do my damn job?" Sam waved out at the crowd of creatures. "This is what I do. This is how I help."

Eric got right in Sam's face and started jabbing a finger into his chest. "Then we don't want your help, if this is what it looks like. First you bring a human among us, and now this? I don't like your kind, and I'm not the only one. They can't be trusted. You can't be trusted." He drew the last word out, practically hissing it.

Sam stared down at the finger that Eric had jabbed against his chest. He felt rage blossom in his rib cage and spread out. Sam was typically a pretty mellow person. He tried really hard to understand where people were coming from. But, he'd hit his limits and he'd been pushed too far.

Very softly, he said, "You need to remove your hand and back away."

Or what?" And then he shoved Sam. A little push is all, the small ubiquitous shove that prompts so many schoolyard scuffles. But it was enough.

Sam felt the animals stop what they were doing and come up behind me. And he also felt the things that couldn't rise. The ghosts, the spirits, the energy, whatever. It was all there and it was all for me. When he next looked at Eric, he felt his eyes burning with wrath and fury. "Or I will remind you why I am Council and you are not." And then Sam shoved him back. Not hard. Enough to put him off balance and get Eric out of his face, but not to hurt him. Yet.

Sam advanced on him. "Do you know what that means, or do I need to break it down for you?" The wolves that he'd raised flanked him, growling softly. "It means that I work for the law, I work for justice, no matter what you want. You think I give a damn if I'm pissing you off or offending your fucking sensibilities? I don't. This is what I do. This is what I am. I won't apologize for it any more than you should for sprouting hair and drooling on occasion."

Sam jabbed him in the chest. He wanted to fight and Sam could feel it. Some of it was directed in his direction but a lot of it was just built up aggression. Everyone had such a long few weeks. But that didn't mean Eric got to take his aggression out on whoever he wanted.

Sam changed the poking to an open palm on Eric's chest. Some people had natural defenses, or a stronger will, but Eric was clear as a bell. The were was pissy on so many levels. Losing his pack leader was only part of the problem. Strengthwise, he wasn't too high on the totem pole. He wanted more of a position than he had, and he thought by stepping in like this, he might get it. And it might impress a certain redhead as well. Jealousy and anger are never a good combo.

"Oh, Eric. How little you understand your own people." Using his ability to push people with the power of his mind, Sam went about showing Eric every piece of petty anger, every little jealous thorn of his emotional welter. It's not the easiest thing to see for the strongest people. For young males, it was even harder. Packs have hierarchies. Strength, cunning, intelligence, speed—these things are prized. Strong at the top. Weak at the bottom. For a guy like Eric, tiny flaws would seem like chasms, huge and insurmountable. They would need to be conquered. Ground out. So Sam slowly revealed all of his, and then he pushed how I felt over that. Here, Sam said, here is where you went wrong. Here is where you are flawed and broken. Weak.

After a minute, he tried to fight. He twisted and smacked my hand away. "Don't touch me!" His voice had a note of hysteria in it. He kept trying, though, Sam had to give him that. "You!" He didn't jab Sam's chest that time, but poked at the air instead. "You freak! I don't care who you are. You raised her, damn it!".

He pointed a shaky finger at the big gray-and-white wolf, the one he'd talked to earlier. She was sitting calmly behind Sam. He looked at her in question, but she was regarding the whole scene with faint amusement.

What's he going on about? Sam's voice a whisper in her mind. Spoooooky.

She snorted. That was even weirder than having someone talk in his head. Eric, same sniveling pup. I had hoped he would grow out of it. I was fond of his mother.

He's had a rough week, even if he is being a total dumbass. Now that Sam was talking to her, he felt the anger dissipating. Sam would have put money on the fact that she'd been a force to reckon with when she was alive.

Now, you, I like.

Thanks? Sam wasn't sure if that was something to be thankful for.

Sam felt the grim smile in her words. Tell the pup this: how dare he interfere with the investigation into the death of my mate? It is my right to assist. Does he presume to tell me how to channel my grief? I may not call the shots anymore, but that doesn't mean I'm outranked by that whelp. This is still my pack, death does not change that, and he should kindly understand his place in it.

Along with the words, Sam was given a visual of how to deliver said words. Right now, Sam could see where Brid got her feisty behavior.

Sam walked calmly up to Eric, who'd backed away at this point, and punched him right in the gut. The move surprised him and while he was gasping, Sam leaned down and whispered the words from the wolf in his ear.

"Now, I admit I don't know the lady as well as you, but even I know she wouldn't have showed up if she damn well didn't want to." Sam shoved him away. He cowered, unmoving. Sam knew they were never going to be friends. "Now, shut the hell up and let me do my damn job."

Sam walked away. No one moved as he did. The she-wolf padded over to him.

Too much, wasn't it?

With some people, you just can't be subtle.

Sam sighed. Thank you for everything, Mrs. Blackthorn.

You're welcome.

Sam returned to his rock and sat down. Eventually, Dunaway joined him, a small half smile on his face. He sat down in the grass next to the rock and looked out at the animals.

"That's pretty impressive," he said.

"Mmm." Now that he'd calmed down, Sam was starting to feel the drain of it all.

"Can you explain what you did that pissed off everyone so badly?"

"Are you going to charge me with assault?"

Before he could reply, Bran said, "He had the temerity to do what we asked him to do, just not in the way they expected. Next time we ask him to call the dead, we'll be more specific."

Dunaway shook his head. "Has to be more than that. No way I was the only one here that knew what he could do."

"No, but they hadn't really seen Sam at his impressive best." He tilted his head to the side in thought. "You shouldn't be able to do that, you know. We burn our dead. But you did it all the same." He looked over at his pack. "They haven't thought of that yet, but when they do…" He shook his head as if to clear it, returning his full attention to Dunaway. "And a few of them objected to the specific wolves he chose to raise."

Sam kept his eyes out over the clearing. "But you're not mad."

"I know my mother. No way anyone could make her do anything she didn't want to do, even from the grave."

Dunaway chuckled softly. They chatted behind me, but Sam tuned them out, listening to what the animals were telling him.

Both Bran and Dunaway seemed perfectly happy to wait for Sam to finish. After a little while, the she-wolf came back over.

You're not going to like what I have to tell you, she said.

Sam stared at her derisively. Brannoc has been murdered, your daughter can't be friends with me, lawn gnomes are pissing on my sheets, and the pack is about to tear me limb from freaking limb. Exactly what kind of outcome were you expecting that could possibly be construed as even partially happy?

She cocked her head to the side.

What? Sam asked.

Are you done wallowing in self-pity yet?

Not even close. Sam told her.

Her ear twitched. I can wait all day, you know, but I don't think you can.

Sam sighed. You're right, my apologies. What did you find?

Whatever killed my husband had no scent.

That's what they've said, but everything has a scent, right? Or can it be masked or something?

If it was being masked, then we'd smell what was masking it, but there is nothing. Mrs. Blackthron told him.

Sam frowned. Nothing. How can that be?

Exactly. Between that and the traces of magic, we have come to a conclusion. The only way it could be is if it wasn't.

Sam's frown didn't dim at those words. Run that by me again?

The she-wolf continued. Whatever it is, it's not alive, and it's not dead, which means—

Which means that it has something to do with someone like me.

Most likely.

But a necromancer would leave a scent trail, and I doubt a ghost could do this.…

The she-wolf seemed to nod at him. I said you wouldn't like it.

Sam leaned back and sighed again. And yet, I still didn't think it would be as bad as it has turned out to be. I'll talk to the rest of the Council, see if we can figure this out.

Dunaway's gaze moved from Sam to the wolf and back to Sam again. "What is it?"

"I thank you for your help, Detective, but I'm not sure what you can do. It seems our suspect pool is … well, I'm not sure what it is."

"Then it seems like you most certainly do need my help. How did you put it? ‘Shut the hell up and let me do my damn job'?"

Sam couldn't help but grin at him. "Rightly so. It seems whoever or whatever killed Brannoc had something to do with a necromancer. Which brings the suspect pool down to a dead man and myself, since we're the only ones in the state of Washington. The only other necromancer I know is in Mississippi, which probably alibis her out. Oh, and I have an uncle about someplace."

Dunaway asked, "You know where I can find him?"

"Haven't the foggiest," Sam told him.

"And this other one, you're sure he's dead?"

"As sure as if I'd killed him myself." Sam said.

Dunaway's eyebrows rose. "You're including yourself on the list?"

"I would be remiss if I didn't."

He nodded. "You're in quite a pickle, then."

Bran cocked his head to the side and Sam answered his unasked question. ""If there are four necromancers, and one is dead, one is on walkabout, and one is out of state…"

He straightened, understanding. "Then right now you're the most likely suspect."

Sam nodded. "Sometimes, I hate my life."

Sam called the group over and filled them in on what he'd found out.

Ariana spoke first. "Could a spirit have done this?"

Sam thought on that a moment. Ghosts had injured him before. Douglas had sicced a whole pack of them on him in his basement. But even under his expert hand, with many of them, the most they'd done was scratch and terrify. Sure, it had hurt, but Brannoc was bigger, stronger, and there was no way they could have killed him.

"I don't think so," Sam said, looking at Ashley.

She shook her head. "There's no way."

"Whatever it was, it happened fast," Pello said.

"Why do you say that?" Kell asked with a twirl of his parasol.

"I spoke to the tree spirits. Their concept of time is different from ours, but still, they felt Brannoc's death—him being fey and all, they're a little more sensitive to him. They said it was like one moment he was fine and then, suddenly, anguish."

"We knew it had to be fast," Ariana said. "Brannoc was a warrior. To have him go without a fight…" She crossed her arms, scowling.

There was silence as we all mulled this over. Dessa cleared her throat and looked at me questioningly.

"What is it, Dessa?"

"I tried to see what had happened here, but the magical interference is so heavy—remember when you first came to my mother and Brooke was causing too much static for her to get a good reading?" Sam nodded. "Well, it's the same here. Too much death magic. But, if I had a focus maybe, something of Brannoc's, and your witch would help me?" She looked at Ione hopefully.

"Of course," the witch murmured, already reaching into the kit she'd brought with her in case Sam hd gone off into the land of the soul-drunk again. "What may I help you with?"

Dessa had the group scoot back, creating a half circle around her and Ione. Then she made some of the more upset wolves leave. Her tone made it clear that she expected to be obeyed. Dessa was a little scary sometimes. A few hesitated, but Brid backed her up, ordering the wolves away. Sam had his undead friends fall back to the tree line, getting them as far back as I could.

Ione lit a bundle of sage then, walking slowly in a wide circle around Dessa who stood, eyes closed, body relaxed. The witch sang softly to herself as she walked. When she was done, she handed the smoldering bundle to Pello. He walked it back over to us, and the smoke made Ramon give a bear sneeze.

Brid offered herself as a focus. The three girls held hands as they walked through the area again, covering all the ground inside the circle, Dessa slowly putting one foot in front of the other until she jerked to a stop, her head snapping up.

"It happened here." Her voice was eerie, and her eyes looked faraway. "There was only one—the fey—and then suddenly there were two. He came from nothing.… He is … nothing. Just power. So much power."

"But it was a he?" Sam asked.

"Yes," she answered.

"Did he leave the same way?" Ashley asked.

"No." Dessa pointed out toward the woods. "He left that way. I can taste his joy. His … excitement." She shook her head and dropped Brid's and Ione's hands before she ran to the bushes and got sick. Sam went after her, Ramon following behind him with a shuffle.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

She held her hair back in one hand, her hands shaking. "Yeah, I think so. It was just … awful, Sam. It was so awful. He enjoyed it. Killing Brannoc made him so happy—I…" She shook her head, closing her eyes. "I've never felt anything like it."

Ramon nudged her with his nose, and she gave him a sickly smile. "I'll be all right," she said. "It's just going to take a minute."

Sam left Dessa with Ramon and headed back to the group.

"She okay?" Ione asked.

"Yeah, she just needs a break. I guess we all do. So, what did we figure out?"

"Whatever killed Brannoc has to do with death magic, but there was no necromancer present, or we would have found some trace."

"So you're off the hook, Sam," Brooke said with a smile.

"Not necessarily," Dunaway added softly. "If I understand correctly, you have more than ghosts at your disposal." He eyed Ashley inquiringly.

Inky little eyebrows raised, Ashley looked at him in surprise. "You think I did this? No way, José. I may transport spirits, but I do not kill people. So, yeah, I could have appeared and talked to Brannoc, but I couldn't have stabbed him. My boss would have my ass—that's not something that gets by him. And even if I could have, then why would I run off into the woods? Why not just call another portal and disappear again? And anyway, Dessa said it was a guy." She gestured to her skirt.

"She's got a point," Kell said.

"So we're no closer to figuring out what happened than we were when we got here," Sam said, defeated.

Dunaway shook his head. "Not so. We've ruled some things out. Sometimes, Sam, canceling out a theory is the best we can do. Now we know that you didn't do it, and the other necromancers seem just as unlikely. So, what else has this death magic besides you guys?"

Everyone turned to look at Sam.

"Hell if I know, people," Sam said, soundng frustrated. "But you might be able to find out," Sam said to Dunaway. "I can give June a call—she's the necromancer in Mississippi. And my predecessor left all kinds of notes. I guess I need to hand you over to Frank, see if you can't find something."

He nodded, putting his notebook away. "I think we're done here, then," he said.

The group thanked Dunaway for his help and everyone started to break up and head for their respective vehicles.

Bran patted me on the shoulder. "Good work."

"Thanks. You think it will make the pack back off a bit?"

He scratched his chin. "A few of them, but many don't trust you, and this might be a little nebulous for them. Until something concrete happens…" He shrugged.

"Great." Sam was exhausted and sore, and it kind of felt like he'd done it for nothing.

Bran shifted on his feet. "Before you send them back, do you think you could let her come over and say hi?"

"That's up to her, but I'll keep it up a few more minutes. After that, I'm going to have to put them back." It was either that, or pass out soon.

Bran nodded gratefully and led the she-wolf over to her pack. Sam started returning the others, making sure to let them know how happy he was with their performance and how thankful they all were. He wasn't sure if they'd remember that in a few seconds, but it was important to be respectful nonetheless.

Soon it was just the she-wolf and Stanley left over. He came up and gave Sam a nudge. Apparently, Sam had made a friend. The big bull elk wanted to come home with them. His nose felt soft under my fingers as Sam patted it. "Sure, buddy, but you might have to wait until later, lest we scare the normies."

He seemed to accept that, as he sauntered off into the forest. Sam watched him go from my spot on my rock. Warm as it was, he couldn't help but notice that he sat alone, while everyone else had formed into knots of people. Family surrounded Brid. The rest of the Council had vamoosed. But not a single person was over by the spooky kid. He hated the self pity but he couldn't help it at this point.

James joined me. "You need sleep," he said. "And food. You've been spreading yourself thin."

"I need a lot of things," Sam told him, sighing.

Ashley came over with Brooke. "Look," she said, "I have to go—I'm late for an appointment, but I'll return when I can." A portal opened up behind her, a kind of swirling mist. Sparrows flew out of it and picked her up. Tiny wings making no noise, they took off and the vortex blipped out of existence.

Sam pulled on James's sleeve. "If I don't go home and sleep soon, I'm going to keel over."

James nodded. He'd take care of it and soon enough, Sam would be home and in bed.

He was so tired.

[NFB, NFI. Open for texts/phone calls/etc if needed. Taken from Necromancing the Stone. Warning for: creepiness, blood, necromancy, loooong post. Part 2 of 2.]