Dirt #5
“Losing life force comes with a price!” Poppy shouted back, anger glittering in her eyes.
“One of your victims tried to kill himself. His death would have been on your head.” She forced herself to stiffen her spine but grunted with the effort it took to do so.
“I’m trying to help you, Reggie. It’s not too late. You haven’t killed anyone yet.”
“It is too late,” he growled. He jerked his jacket sleeves up, baring his wrists.
Tattoos swirled over his skin. Chains edged with runes. I didn’t recognize all of them, but I recognized enough to guess what they did.
“They’ve bound my power,” Reggie bit out.
Poppy’s face paled. “Reggie…I’m sorry. I thought…I thought you would have a trial.”
“Oh, I’ll have a trial. They have to go through the motions, don’t they? But the prosecutor has assured me that with your testimony, I’m done. Zero tolerance.”
The entire time they’d been talking, I’d been looking around. Trying to find some sign that would tell me what was happening to Poppy.
Though I had a good idea already.
Poppy’s voice had been growing less and less vibrant, her eyelids drooping.
Like Lauren. And Gabrielle.
Someone—or something—was draining her life force.
“Poppy,” I said suddenly. “Where’s Jenkins?”
Poppy looked at the fresh grave a few feet away. “He’s fine, he’s right—”
She stopped talking, her entire body going completely still.
Then I saw it.
Jenkins sat on the dark, freshly turned earth, his tiny furry face tilted up adoringly at his mistress. But the patches of fur on his undead body were sparser than I remembered. His eyes more sunken.
I didn’t look too closely, but I was pretty sure some of his tongue was missing.
Poppy was a much better necromancer than that.
This time when I looked at the grave dirt, I could see it looked a little too thick. Less like dirt and more like tar.
“Everyone is always so impressed with Jenkins,” Reggie said softly. “But I can see him for what he really is. A liability. Your own sentiment and foolishness are going to be your downfall.” He took a step toward Poppy. “What kind of fool binds themselves to a dead dog?”
Reggie was focused completely on Poppy now, enjoying the horror that came over her face as she realized what he’d done.
Jenkins was sitting on a spell. Probably the same ensorcelled grave dirt the witch had used with Lauren and Gabrielle.
I would have bet my last set of double-A batteries that the pouch had held that dirt.
Reggie had obviously given it to Catherine when he enlisted her help after he’d been bound.
That’s why Poppy had recognized it, known it wasn’t Catherine’s.
The full weight of what Reggie had done hit me all at once.
Poppy had used her life force to animate Jenkins.
And now Reggie was draining her life force through the little terrier.
“Don’t even think about sending the pixie to free the dog,” Reggie said, speaking to me without looking at me. “That spell is quite…sticky. It will take Peasblossom just as easily as it took Jenkins.”
I glanced at the terrier. Poor Jenkins sat in the trap, completely oblivious to the fact that he was being used against his human mom. The one who literally gave him life.
The one who loved him so much, she hastened her own death to keep him with her.
My throat constricted, making it hard to swallow. Poppy was getting weaker, her body sagging toward the ground.
And still she didn’t let go of Jenkins. I didn’t know if she could break the bond between them.
In any sense of the word.
Hot anger rose inside me, turning my pain into fury. I faced off with the smirking necromancer. I was standing on the other side of Reggie now. He stood between Jenkins and me, stopping me from getting to the terrier or the tar. Probably to stop me from attempting to dispel it.
I smiled.
Perfect.
I pointed my palm at Reggie without moving my arm, trying to move carefully so as not to draw his attention. Red energy flowed down my arm, my magic writhing as it took the form of the spell I pictured in my mind.
Reggie heard me take a breath.
He turned.
“Ventus!” I flung an arm out at Reggie, releasing the spell.
A gust of wind shot from my palm with the strength of a battering ram. I held my breath, keeping control of it, softening the power. I didn’t want to send him hurtling through the graveyard.
I just wanted him to fall a few feet…
Reggie grunted as the wind hit him in the chest, his arms windmilling to keep him from falling. Like a golf ball struck by a putter, he slid back a few feet—and fell.
Right into the grave dirt.
Jenkins exploded into furious yips and barks as Reggie landed beside him, his skin immediately sticking to the spell like flypaper.
Reggie tried to raise his hands to protect himself from the infuriated dog, but his arms wouldn’t move.
“You have a choice, Reginald,” I said, raising my voice. “You can tell me how to counter your spell, or you can die for your revenge.”
Reggie let out a wordless scream of pure rage.
“That’s not an answer,” I said evenly.
He screamed again, then let out an impressive stream of curse words that made me look for Peasblossom with the urge to cover her ears.
When he was done, I let out a deep sigh and sat down on the ground, ignoring the way the frozen earth immediately sucked the warmth from my body.
My heart pounded despite my impressively calm voice.
If he didn’t tell me how to disenchant that grave dirt, I’d have to figure it out myself.
And I was no necromancer, so that would take time. Time Poppy might not have.
I needed Reggie to answer me.
“This is just a guess,” I said casually. “But I’m betting the spell will drain you faster than Poppy, what with its connection to you being direct and the connection to Poppy being through a proxy. So you go ahead and have a good long think about how you want to handle this.”
Reggie clenched his teeth and pressed his lips together.
“Jenkins,” Poppy wheezed, her eyes almost completely closed. “Get him.”
Jenkins bared his tiny teeth and lunged for Reggie.
He was too stuck in the tar to move his lower body, but fortunately Reggie was close enough.
Jenkins bit him on the nose.
“Jenkins isn’t just a dog,” Poppy said, lifting her eyelids enough to give Reggie a rather disturbing look. “He’s an extension of my magic. And your spell is draining…your life force. A step away from life…is a step toward death.”
I had no idea what she was saying.
But apparently, Reggie did.
“I’ll tell you!” Reggie screamed.
Jenkins released Reggie’s nose and sat down, trying to wag his tail. Bits of fur stuck to the tar, but it didn’t seem to bother the happy terrier.
Poppy’s threat was all the motivation Reggie needed. He couldn’t share the method of disenchantment fast enough, and thirty minutes later, the ensorcelled grave dirt was just dirt, and he and Catherine were tied to a tree while we waited for the Vanguard to come and get them.
“Good boy,” Poppy cooed, holding a hand out to Jenkins.
The little terrier yipped and barked, his tail wagging so hard I worried it would detach from his little zombie body.
Poppy beamed as Jenkins pressed his head into her hand. “Time to go back to sleep now.”
The terrier obediently dropped to the ground, resting his head on his paws. His eyes closed as Poppy withdrew her power from the tiny dog, the magic draining away to leave Jenkins a pile of polished white bones.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked Poppy.
“I’ll be fine,” Poppy said, sounding a little breathless.
She scooped up the dog bones and gently placed them back into her backpack.
After she fastened the skull to her bag, she pointed at the pouch in my hand, which held the remnants of Reggie’s spell.
“I’ll feel a lot better if the Vanguard can figure out a way to give me back my life force.
If I have to heal it myself, that will mean no necromancy for at least six months. Maybe a year.”
I sat on the ground beside her. “If that happens, what will you do?”
Poppy’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “Actually, I’m learning exorcism now.”
“Of course you are.” I shook my head. “You are an interesting woman, I’ll give you that.” I paused. “What were you going to do that scared Reggie so bad?”
Poppy leaned closer and lowered her voice. “It was a bluff. For now. But technically, the closer he got to death, the greater the chance I could flex my magic over him.”
I stared at her. “You mean…”
“Puppet him like a zombie.” Poppy sighed and rubbed her temples. “I’m almost sorry I didn’t get a chance to try.”
I put a hand on her shoulder. “Poppy, is there anything I can do for you? Anything that will help?”
Poppy’s expression turned serious, almost begging. “Yes. Can we stop at the gas station down the road and get me some peanut butter cups? I need a dozen of them.”
I grinned and shook my head. “Fine. We’ll get you some peanut butter cups.”
“If they have them, can we get the—”
“The hearts.” I pushed myself off the ground. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”