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𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 : 𝐀𝐌𝐘

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I learned during my exhausting night trapped in a dirty motel with Crow that there can only be one necromancer alive in order to kill the devil. That the necromancers of our time draw their power from others and when they die, that power is gifted upon another.

I also learned that not even Crow knows the truth about the prophecy but he knew Cage did, along with my mother. They knew what it meant and what was at stake and they told no one, which made sense since what my mother had written in her journal about it had been scribbled out like someone deliberately marked out her words for no one, not even me, to know.

The night had been pretty restless after that. My mind was in a constant state of worry because I didn't want to die, but I knew what the cost was if there were more necromancers alive. It meant that I wasn't the one, that I had to die. Or, it meant that I had to kill them and either way, my options sucked.

Crow told me that there was a way to figure out if there were any more necromancers out there. That Cage had a list of them, ranging back when they first started working together and up until his death.

I marked this as funny because it was just so like Cage not to tell me, which only infuriated me more.

We planned to find the list and hunt down each name, and it seemed just as hard as it sounded. I could contact Cage, demand he tell me where the list was, or I could just pray my mother wrote about it somewhere in her journals, which I had yet to finish.

My little break from the world of ghosts and demons during that solitary month would've been a great time to finish the journals, if only I had been that smart.

Now, it was a new day.

I stepped out of the hotel, finally back in the clothes I had worn the day prior. Still slightly damp in the thighs of my pants, but otherwise wearable. My wounds had been licked and healed and I felt an ease at what was to come.

The air had a calm chill but the earth had shown its fury with what it left behind.

The ground was littered with broken branches and twigs, leaves clumped in the gutters and against the windshield of Crow's fabulous car. There was a lightness to the air, like the feeling of waking up to the sun against your skin.

"Before you take me to your cabin," I said, looking over at him from my spot on the sidewalk. He opened his car door and stopped, resting an arm against the hood with a smile. "There are some things I need to take care of."

~

I went to school.

Obviously, it wasn't what I needed to do but I needed to keep up appearances and apologize to Blondie for not looking over the notes she gave me. My only excuse to her was that I had to take my car to the shop and accidentally left my school work inside.

Which only prompted me to ask Crow to have someone bring my truck to his place so I could finally get my homework done.

At the end of the day, he picked me up from school. I expected some snarky comments, maybe even a ridiculously flirty one, but the car ride was silent and it gave me the opportunity to plan out what was going to happen once I got inside my house.

It wasn't like I could waltz in through the front door, since I'm supposed to be dead somewhere in the woods. But, the more I thought about it, it would be hilarious if I just walked in, as if nothing happened. As if I was fine and not traumatized by being buried alive. Not like I'll have nightmares about clawing my way free for the rest of my life or anything special.

He stopped the car a few houses down and spoke for the first time this afternoon. "Call me once it's done."

I nodded, unbuckling my seatbelt.

Before I could leave, he reached out and grabbed my arm. Our eyes met and he said in a deeper voice, meant only for me, "You can do this. Remember what she did to you."

I nodded again and sighed, opening the door and stepping out. I watched him drive off and I settled my nerves by taking a deep breath before walking towards my house.

There was a time, when I was younger, that I had run away.

I was maybe seven or eight, and had gotten into a petty argument with my mother about something that only pertained to my childish head. I packed a small bag of random clothes and some of my most treasured dolls and took off after they put me to bed. I made it to the end of the street and was too terrified to keep going because, believe it or not, I had been afraid of the dark. The night was so big and empty that it terrified me to leave the sanctuary of my neighborhood. I walked home and found both my parents waiting for me. They had been watching me from the porch and I hadn't even known it.

Walking this similar path made me envious of my childhood. The one I had rushed through, eager to be old. I wished, from time to time, that I could go back. Just for an hour. To forget what all had happened to me. For a moment of peace.

I walked up the steps and opened the front door and realized I would never get that calm back, not until I was dead.

Amy choked on his cereal as he saw me enter. Coughing with milk dribbling down his chin, he stared at me with wide eyes.

I gave him a smile and a little wave, acting like nothing was wrong. "You okay?" I laughed, walking into the kitchen and grabbing the cereal box. I ate a few and bit back my grin as I said, "It looks like you've seen a ghost."

"You-" He swallowed and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "-you didn't come home last night."

You weren't the one to bury me?

The lies came easy. "Didn't I tell you? I spent the night with my friend, we had to work on our end of the year project together."

He nodded slowly, a wary expression across his eyes and face as he watched me go to the fridge. I opened the door, peering in and noticing that he hadn't bothered to even restock. I frowned, playing my part of the unfazed roommate as I closed the door.

Amy was the same as always. Hair pulled up into a bun, still wearing the same clothes he came to me in, but his skin was paler. There were subtle bags under his eyes, like he hadn't been able to sleep for the past few nights.

"So, have any luck finding Tobias?" I asked casually, walking behind him as if I was getting ready to go up the stairs.

He didn't speak, keeping himself facing forward with both arms braced against the counter. His shoulders were tense, even his jaw was locked.

"Oh, Amy, what's got you so spooked?" I cooed, creeping closer. I hoped he could smell the lasting effects of the earth on my skin. "Afraid of something?" I smiled into his hair and his eyes darted to look at mine and at how close I had come to him. I reached up and grabbed the back of his neck, applying just light pressure so she knew I wasn't backing away.

"What's going on, Blaire?" he asked with a nervous laugh.

"You're really not going to admit it, are you?"

He smiled, softly. "Admit what? I didn't do anything, did I?"

I pressed down harder on the back of his neck and he sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. "Lying doesn't look pretty on you, Amy."

"Come on, Blaire, you know me--"

"Do I?"

He scoffed now and I noticed his hands moving. "I would never hurt you, you're my friend!"

"I've always hated liars."

I slammed his face forward as fast and as hard as I could, his skull cracking against the counter. His cereal bowl flipped and milk went flying as I wrenched his head up and then back down until he was limp.

Twenty minutes later, I had him tied up in the tunnel. I had drawn a poor excuse for a pentagram on the ceiling to seal him just in case he tried to escape. It was intricate and had multiple different symbols inside, as I copied it from one of my mother's journals. One of my family's only foldout tables was set up against the wall next to me but far enough out of his reach and of the trapdoor above us.

Last night, Crow taught me how to make my own holy water. It wasn't difficult, just combining water and salt and either saying a blessing or even exorcising it all together. I admit, I looked most of it up online and just prayed it'd work.

I had a kitchen knife and then Spiorad, laid out like I was preparing for a big presentation. I wasn't as nearly as nervous as I would be if I was getting up in front of a class to speak, I was strangely calm. My heart beat smoothly, my hands weren't shaking, and even my mind felt clearer.

I set up multiple big lanterns I'd found in Cage's things and set them up around the tunnel, casting a warm yellow hue over the stone walls. The tunnel gave off its usual draft, the air a good few temperatures colder.

I nudged Amy with my foot and he groaned, rolling his head from side to side like it weighed more than him. There was a thin trail of black blood that had dried on the side of his face, black and glittering in the dim light. When he finally opened his eyes, he grinned.

"So," he croaked, flexing his hands and pulling lightly on his restraints. I had tied both hands and ankles to the chair in hopes to keep him held down while we spoke. "You figured out it was me, huh?"

"You didn't make it that hard," I said with a shrug, crossing my arms as a small tremor reached them. Now that he was awake, it made things more real.

Amy licked his lips, laughing softly. "What are you going to do to me?"

I shrugged again. "If you answer my questions, I'll make it quick."

He laughed again, struggling against the restraints for a second time with a grunt. His voice had gotten deeper, no longer masquerading as the girl he had stolen. It made me wonder who that girl had been before, how long ago she had been taken from her family and home. I hoped she didn't suffer for long. "What would you like to know, O' great necromancer?" he said, looking up from his hands to meet my cool gaze.

"Who do you work for?"

"John."

I ran a hand through my hair, smoothing out my ponytail. "Who do you really work for?"

"John, sweetheart."

"Somehow, I just don't believe you," I said, letting out an exacerbating laugh. "How many times have you lied to my face since we met? How much of this–" I motioned between the two of us. "–was a lie?"

"I like you, ghost girl, a lot more than I had anticipated. But, you do what you have to for the job, it just has to feel real."

I ignored his comment. "Who told you to kill me?"

"My boss."

I sighed, loud. "And who might that be?"

His lips curled back to show me all his teeth. He looked feral, psychotic with his grin. "He's risen, you know that don't you? He's been here, walking amongst us, waiting for you. Waiting for your powers to reveal themselves, for you to grow to your strongest potential before he strikes. He will make your blood sing for him, he will spill it across the earth as it was made for."

Amy threw his head back and laughed loudly, cackling into the echoing tunnel. I reached behind me and dipped my hand into the holy water and flicked it at him and watched the droplets hit his skin and sizzle and his laughter stopped. He jolted in his seat, hissing as his flesh burned across his cheek in perfect little dots.

"You keep annoying me like that, and I'll pour the whole damn bowl over your head."

He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything else, his laughter died in his throat.

"Who buried me alive?" I asked, resting the bowl on my hip and it made me feel strangely motherly. "I know it wasn't you."

It was easy to figure out it wasn't Amy who did the initial burying, since he had given me his word through a blood oath not to harm me. It didn't mean he couldn't find someone else to finish the job, though. I did know, however, the blood oath didn't seem to affect him even though I know it was him who knocked me out with the silly trick with my car. It wasn't him deliberately bringing a blade over my head since it had been my car's doing since what knocked me out what in the vents.

I guess blood oath's had their loop holes.

He looked away, running his tongue against his teeth. "They said not to tell."

"That hardly seems fair," I cooed, smiling. "You do all this work for them and you don't even get to flaunt it? You almost killed the necromancer, have a little pride."

"How did you even get out?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," I said, throwing his words back at him, the one he had used when we first met. I kept my distance from the pentagram, stepping right to the edge as I asked, "They said you weren't allowed to tell me anything, but what happens if you do?"

"They'll kill me."

"See, okay, I get that, but you're going to die anyways, so you might as well tell me."

"And give you the upper hand?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "Fuck off."

I dipped my hand into the bowl and flicked again, watching the smoke rise up from melting skin. Even with the burns, he healed almost instantly, leaving only flecks of dried blood. Drench him, the voice in my head chanted, laughing with glee.

I cupped my hand and answered their call, watching with a horrible satisfaction as Amy let out a howl, body flinching backwards as he seethed. A patch of skin burned away, black and red and oozing, only to heal after the smoking had stopped and the flesh had stilled. The tremors in my limbs had stopped, coaxed into the calm my heart wanted. I wanted to watch him burn down to the bone because I knew, somewhere deep inside me, I knew he had something to do with Pandora's death. If not a direct cause of her death, he played a desperate role. He was associated with the people who hurt her and I wanted to watch them all be peeled away by the skin.

To reveal the blackness inside them would put me at ease.

"Do you know who killed my friend?" I whispered, surprised to find myself asking the dreaded question.

You know who it is, you know who did this.

"Didn't sweet lover boy already confess?" Amy sneered and my grip tightened on the bowl as he noticed, tensing. "What makes you think he didn't do it?"

"Gut feeling."

He rolled his eyes but stayed aware of the holy water. "The death of your friend was a tragic one, something I was glad not to be a part of."

"You know who did it, then?"

He nodded. "I-I'm not allowed to say but you'll find out in time."

"Is that some kind of warning?"

"Think of it as you will, but there will be worse things to come than just the death of your friend."

I flung the bowl out, my arms having a mind of their own as the liquid doused him. He opened his mouth and let out a pain wail that hurt my ears and sent my heart drumming happily. His skin melted, eating away at his nose and lips, charring and chapping the flesh like the onset of rot. Even parts of his hairline began to recede and burn.

The smell of burning flesh was not one I had anticipated, the odor sweeping through the air. It stung my nose and made my eyes water in disgust, my stomach churning but never lurching.

Holy water dripped from his chin and burned streaks down his neck and past the collar of his shirt where I knew it had to sting. Even as his face began to heal, the muscle slowly fading away, the black blood stayed. Smeared and sticky.

"Oh dear," I sighed. I placed the bowl on the table and picked up Spiorad, this would end soon enough. "What a mess you are."

He fought against his restraints, the chair rocking back and forth. But as he neared the boundaries of the pentagram, he was repelled back, chair screeching against the floor. "You bitch!" he roared, thrashing. "You goddamn bitch!"

"Keep screaming," I laughed, shaking my head as I tapped my knife to my lips. "It won't do you any good but it sure will make me laugh."

He huffed, growling.

Kill him, my heart sang.

He deceived you. He tried to have you killed, he deserves no mercy.

"You won't win this war, Blaire Lake," Amy said in a low voice, his eyes crawling over my skin. "Give yourself up and you'll be the last casualty. No one else has to die."

"Why does he want me?" I asked, hands on my hips. "What does he think he'll get from me?"

"Besides power?" he laughed, shaking his head. "Your blood will raise the dead, your blood will bring on the end times. All his loyal subjects will be free, hell will open up like it was always supposed to."

If I can even raise the dead, I thought to myself miserably. I'll have to find the list, determine whether or not it's really me or some other poor fool.

"What do you get out of it?"

"Freedom."

"I could've given that to you," I murmured. "I would've been happy to have done that before you got me buried alive."

"You think your word means shit to me? You think I want to align myself with someone as weak as you? You can't even raise the dead, you won't stand a chance against the devil and his reinforcements."

I rubbed my thumb over Spiorad, feeling the comforting hum the blade gave off in my palm. I needed a moment to myself, to think about how all this was unfolding. The devil had apparently already risen and he was out to get me, just now starting to rebuild what he needed in order to kill me. Yet, only I could stop him, if I ended up being the last true necromancer. How was I supposed to know if I was the last one when there was a whole world of people out there?

"Amy, tell me what they won't allow you to say," I whispered, praying he'd just admit it all. I needed the upper hand he so desperately didn't want me to have. I needed something to help myself, to give me more time. "Tell me who helped you bury me alive, tell me who killed my friend."

"I can't."

"I think you can," I snarled back and felt a tug in my gut. I raised my free hand, feeling a surge go through my arm as a tingling sensation. "Ego voco super frigidum et sit hoc glacies frigore."

(I call upon the cold and let this ice freeze.)

The air dropped to a dangerous chill and I watched it creep across the ground like a living animal. Amy struggled in his chair, trying to kick his feet away as the ice grew and circled up his left leg. He let out a cry, either for help or out of pain. His leg stilled as the ice grew and encased it in a sharp cocoon, through the chunks of frost, I saw the beginnings of black blood from frostbitten skin.

"I could shatter your leg," I smiled, cocking my head to the side like a predator looking at its prey. "How would that feel? To no longer have the flesh that binds?"

I will kill you, I will kill you, I will kill you--

Amy kicked with his other leg, true terror crossing through his eyes. "I can't tell you, I'm sworn not to! I physically can't!"

"Not good enough."

I clenched my hand together and muttered, "Recedant."

(Away.)

The ice crept away but I stepped forward and into the pentagram. Spiorad hummed happily in my fist as I towered over the demon. He titled his head up, jutting out his chin and giving me a show of flashing his black eyes.

"Tell your devil I'll find him," I whispered, reaching out to force him to keep his eyes on me, gripping his jaw. "That they messed with the wrong necromancer."

Spiorad slipped happily through Amy's tender flesh, lodging itself in his gut with a sickening pop and grunt. "By the way," I cooed into his ear as he gurgled, spewing black blood, "I renounce our blood oath." 

A roar spat out from his throat and he began to shake, violently before the golden light encased us both. It burned all over, my hands stinging with the rays.

But, as quickly as it started, it ended. Nothing left of the demon but a sizable pile of ash that was easily discarded with a kick of my boot.

I didn't allow myself to cry until I had left the tunnel and sat alone on the steps. I didn't allow these emotions to take over once I was sure it was over, that I had what answers I could get. I was disgusted with myself while that small part of me was proud, that it wanted more and more.

Amy had been a friend. A lying one, but a friend in the beginning.

I didn't know until now how desperately I needed a friend.

I dropped my head into my hands and cried until the sun sunk low and the night came slinking in. 

_____________

ok so,...blaire be going thru it lmao

this book is definitely about her losing her control and really trying to overcome her losses, so....we might get some psycho killer blaire in the future

comment/vote or amy will come back to haunt u