Finn Fancy Necromancy (6 page)

“Mundies?” Grayson frowned. “Why would they be involved?”

“Because somebody set fire to Gramaraye's little feyhole.” Reggie looked at me. “Which was going to be our next topic of discussion.”

Crap. No mention of Felicity, at least, and he hadn't asked me about her before, even when I mentioned the Króls. That much had gone right, at least.

Grayson turned his frown on me for a second, though his eyes focused elsewhere. “Was the fire magical in origin?” he asked finally.

“No, it looks like a propane explosion,” Reggie replied. “But obviously—”

“In other words,” Grayson said, “you have no legal justification to further harass my friend here?”

Reggie's jaw twitched. “Not
yet,
” he said.

“Well then,” Grayson said. “Why don't we go out to the site and take a second look? I'll arrange to have some of our people in the FBI step in, give you cover as consultants or whatever you need. Then we can find what you missed, and prove Finn's innocence rather than interrogating him in his home, hmm?”

Oh crap. “Jimmy—I mean, Magus Grayson—it's fine. I completely understand why they questioned me. I mean, it's not like they're throwing me in a cell for the night. Uh, you're not, right?”

Reggie arched an eyebrow at me.

Grayson moved to stand beside me. “Finn, you and your family have been through enough already. I will not have you spend your first hours of freedom under suspicion and the constant threat of arrest. It borders on persecution.”

Reggie crossed his arms. “Persecution would be letting Zeke beat the truth out of your friend here. Mr. Gramaraye is our only suspect, after all, and the only one we can verify as present during the attack.”

“Wait,” I said. “
Are
you arresting me?”

“No,” Reggie said. “However, I'm giving this investigation seventy-two hours. If we don't have the answers we need by then, we'll take the necessary steps to get them.”

“And what does that mean?” Grayson asked.

Reggie shrugged. “Most likely, we'll go in after the changeling's memories.”

I touched my forehead. “But I thought that couldn't be done? That they were walled off by Fey magic and arcana magic both?”

Grayson narrowed his eyes. “It can be done, but it will most likely cause damage to your mind, and probably destroy your own memories.”

“Maybe,” Reggie said. “Maybe not.”

I took a step back from both of them. “But I didn't do anything!”

“You're hiding something, I'd bet on it,” Reggie said. “And we're talking about an attack into the Other Realm. You do realize what's at stake here?”

“Yeah,” I said. “My freedom. Again.”

“More than that. The destruction of two changelings and Fey wardens? And a missing ARC enforcer? Wars have started for less.”

“War?” Grayson asked. “You really think it might come to that?”

“Do you want to find out?” Reggie responded. “Under the Pax, we have six days to resolve any breach of border security before the Fey are given jurisdiction in our world, and things get messy fast.” He looked at me. “Until and unless I find solid evidence pointing to your guilt, I'm giving you three of those days to enjoy while we continue our investigation and deal with the mundies, which is frankly more generous than I'd like to be.”

I could see Grayson's frustration clearly on his face. But in the end, there was only so much he could do. Enforcers were part of the Arcana Ruling Council but not under the direct control of the magi due to the ARC's checks and balances. Just one of the many fun and exciting facts of the arcana world I'd learned during my summers at arcana school.

Grayson met Reggie's stare for a second, then said, “Very well. I'm sorry, Finn. He's right. It seems you must remain a suspect. But we shall get this whole mess cleared up as quickly as possible. Nobody is going to go tromping through your head.” He looked in the direction Zeke had gone. “In the meantime, I expect Mr. Gramaraye to be treated with the respect due an arcana, and a Talker, is that clear?”

“Of course,” Reggie said. “But if I were you, Gramaraye, I'd avoid any necromancy until this is all cleared up. If someone really is out to get you, don't give them any help.”

“At this point, I'd be happy to never touch magic again,” I replied.

“Right,” Reggie said. “Well, if you suddenly remember something new about the attack, or the trailer fire, or anything else I might need to know, contact me.”

He produced a business card and handed it to me. I wiped the sweat from my hand before taking it.

Reggie moved to the doors, and paused. “Oh, and one more thing. I'm afraid I have to impound your car. You know, as part of the investigation.” He turned and walked out.

“Finn, be careful,” Grayson said after the doors closed. “I shall do what I can to protect you, and find out who's behind all of this. But while I do, you may still be in danger, and not just from the enforcers.”

“I know.”

Grayson's brow furrowed. “If you know something, or are involved in any way, I hope you'll tell me. We all want to resolve this as quickly as possible, and if anyone can or would help you, it's me.”

“There's nothing. Really.” At least Grayson couldn't detect lies like enforcers.

“Very well.”

I walked him to the front door, and looked out into the night as Grayson stepped onto the porch. If nothing else, maybe the enforcers had scared off the Król lurker. Grayson turned back.

“If you do discover anything, or leave the house, please check in with me,” he said. “I can only protect and help you if you trust me, and keep me informed.”

“Okay. Thanks, Jimmy,” I said, protocol be damned, and held out my hand. He may have a stick up his butt, but Grayson had stood up for me, given me the support I'd hoped to find from my family. In fact, it had felt a bit like Grandfather was still alive, fighting to protect me the way he'd always fought to protect our family's safety and reputation. “Grandfather would be proud of you, and grateful you're helping me.”

A smile twitched up the corner of Grayson's mouth, and he took my hand. “He was a great man. And good to me. I'm just glad I have this chance to repay him even a little bit. Get some rest, Finn.”

I closed the door behind him and leaned my back against it, my legs a bit shaky, my whole body jangly with nervous energy. I had Zeke, the Króls, and possibly another enemy all gunning for me, and Felicity's body just waiting to be identified. And I had three days at most to figure everything out, or they were going to make scrambled eggs of my mind.

Yeah, I'd sleep like a baby tonight.

5

I Feel for You

My family surrounded me a heartbeat after the front door closed.

“So?” Sammy asked. “What was that about?”

“About the problem in the transfer,” I replied, still distracted by the confrontation.

“Problem?” Mort asked.

Crap. “Nothing major,” I said. “Some problems in the Other Realm I guess. Look,” I rubbed at my eyes, “I really appreciate the welcome home party, but it's been a crazy evening. Is it okay if I just crash in my room and we can all catch up over breakfast?”

Mort shrugged. “I still have work to do anyway.”

“I'll pass,” Sammy said. “But we'll hang soon.”

“Breakfast is my favorite!” Pete said.

I exchanged quick hugs with Sammy and Pete, and said good night to Mort.

“Mattie,” he said, “why don't you show Finn up to his room.”

As if I was a guest, or could forget the way to my own bedroom.

“Sure!” Mattie turned to me. “We should grab you fresh blankets though. I don't even want to know how long yours have been in there.”

“Sounds good.”

Mattie led the way down the hall. “Wow, this is so weird,” she said. “I've heard all about you, so I kind of feel like I know you, but it's like, I wasn't even born when you went into exile, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” I said.

I followed Mattie to the laundry room, then back to the main stairs and up to my room. On the way I learned an interesting fact—teenage girls can talk without taking a single breath. I didn't remember this from my own youth, but then neither Heather nor Sammy had been the talkative type, and I'd never felt comfortable enough around other girls to actually test their talking limits.

Bits of Mattie's continuous monologue were interesting, glimmers of the world I'd returned to, but there was quite a bit in there about some girl at school who kept copying Mattie's style, and her friend who was allowed to drive already, and other apparently world-ending facts mixed with words and phrases that I could only guess at their meaning.

One thing I did learn, however, was that Mattie was lonely. She hid it well. But maybe this was one of the advantages I had over other adults in her life—I remembered very clearly what it was like to be a young teenage necromancer, having relived all of those awful, awkward, emotional moments of my life for twenty-five years. And though Mattie was a girl, and her world, personality, and experiences all very different from mine, I still recognized something of myself in her.

She didn't even have the benefit of having my mother and father as parents—at least, not as they used to be. She'd had only Mort. From her stories, I could tell Morty gave her whatever she needed, except for time and attention. And the occasional visit with Aunt Sammy couldn't make up for that.

The door to my bedroom had a license plate with my name on it. Mattie opened it and preceded me inside. “Should be just like you left it,” she said.

Well, not exactly as I left it, I hoped. I could do without Felicity's bleeding and unconscious body on the floor. But other than that, the room was indeed as I'd left it. Posters and music magazine cutouts covered the walls, and familiar faces greeted me—The Smiths, The Cure, Talking Heads, Prince; Buckaroo Banzai,
The Terminator, Indiana Jones,
and
The Goonies.

A bed, a bookshelf, and a small desk were the only furniture. My worn and creased paperbacks lined the shelves like old friends waiting for my return. My Commodore 64 called to me from the desk, and lined up beside it stood my notebooks full of dungeon maps, character stats, and game ideas.

In fact, the room was so much the same that I felt a second of panic. Was I still in the Other Realm? Was everything I'd experienced tonight just illusion, the cruel joke of some bored Fey lord or lady manipulating my memories like their own personal playground?

I focused on the differences: the plain blue blanket Mattie swept over the bed in place of my threadbare
Star Wars
comforter; the complete lack of ants in my ant farm; Mattie herself. I'd never seen her before. I'd relived every memory of my life enough to be certain of that, and the Fey only played with the stuff of real memories.

I flipped the power switch on the Commodore and turned on the monitor. After a few seconds, the blue screen cast the room in a comforting, familiar glow.

**** COMMODORE 64 BASIC X2 ****

64K RAM SYSTEM 38911 BASIC BYTES FREE

READY.

Ah, what a beautiful sight. My fingers itched to begin typing on those plastic brown keys.

“I'm so glad you're back,” Mattie said. “Uncle Pete's always telling stories about how much fun you were.”

“Yeah, well, I'm not sure how long I'll be here,” I said. The last thing I wanted to do was lie to Mattie and set her up for disappointment three days later.

“You're not
leaving
leaving, are you?” Mattie asked. “You just got here. And we haven't even had a chance to talk or anything, not really. Ooo, and I was hoping to see what Papa G's present was for!”

I'd forgotten about the ring. I touched its outline in the little coin pocket of my jeans. One more mystery to solve.

“I'm not sure what I'm doing yet,” I said. “But I won't be going anywhere for at least a couple days, I promise.”

“You'd better—oh, sorry, hang on.” She pulled a black rectangle the size of a thick playing card out of her pocket and touched it. Light bathed her face.

“What's that?” I asked.

“Just my phone. Didn't your changeling know about cell phones?”

“Uh, yeah, I just hadn't seen one myself yet.”

“Oh, well,” she turned so I could see the phone. It had a small video screen on it.

“So it's a, uh, video phone?”

“Well, I use it mostly for texting, but sometimes I play games or watch videos, so yeah, I guess. Oh, I've so got to show you this ‘She Wants Revenge' video. The music's so eighties, like that one group … Bauhaus? And the girl in the video could totally be a feyblood. You'll love it!”

“That tiny thing, it does all of that?” I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“Oh yeah, that, and e-mail, and plays music and stuff. The camera's pretty weaksauce, though.”

I could see why Sammy laughed at me. I glanced between my Commodore and Mattie's phone. I couldn't even imagine the code it would take to make that thing work. It was like a supercomputer in the palm of her hand.

“How about a nice game of global thermonuclear war?” I muttered.

“What?”

“Sorry. Nothing. I just—I could really use some time alone now.”

“Oh, of course. I should go check on Papa G anyway.” She moved to the door. “Good night, Uncle Finn. Welcome home.” She left.

I stared at the closed door. What now?

Three days. Three days to figure out who was after me or it was exile with a side of brain scramble.

The first step was to give my enemy a name. Things were always easier to deal with when they had a name. Enemy, I name thee … Romulans? The Gamalons?