Necromancer Legacy - 17. Smooth criminal

Sasha was in the middle of a dream in which Nick Russell was dead, had become a Dark Angel, and was dating Cyan, when someone tapped his shoulder to wake him up.

He looked up and saw a blonde head with pale gray eyes staring down at him.

“Hazel? Oh shit, Hazel. I’m so sorry.”

Sasha blinked, wincing at the discomfort in his shoulders and clearing his throat. Hazel was lifting her phone in the air.

“I was looking everywhere for you. You weren’t answering your phone! I was worried.”

“Sorry. Thanks for waking me. I was having the stupidest dream.”

They were outside. Sasha had been sleeping on a bench. The brown brick walls of the public school he attended loomed over a grassy patch and parking lot.

“You’re early though,” he told her, sitting up straight and zipping up his slim black sweater. He felt all shivery.

She sat next to him. “No, I’m not. Are you okay?” Her voice was quiet. Concerned.

He considered the cold wind and fading daylight. His eyes scanned the almost empty parking lot. Shit, how long had he been asleep?

Next to him on the bench were his school bag and an empty coffee cup. Yes, he’d had coffee, and fallen asleep anyway. Wow… He examined the contents of the bag really quickly just to make sure everything was there. When he saw that his wallet and phone weren’t missing, he sighed in relief.

“I’m fine, just tired I guess.”

He ran a hand through his messy hair, placing it behind his ear. But the wind just made it slip from there again, so he gave up. He folded his leg, propping up a red converse shoe onto the bench.

Hazel didn’t go to his school. Her parents had money, he knew that much. She went to a private school. But she had come to meet him here after her classes, so they could hang out a bit. They hadn’t been friends for very long. And Sasha figured, if they were going to transform into canines together and spend the night running in the park like a pair of wild stray dogs, they should at least get to know each other better, because that was kind of intimate, no? That was how he felt, anyway. Except his mother, no one had ever seen his fox form—not even his father or Gabriel.

Sasha felt nervous, but the desire not to be alone on the full moon was stronger.

As though reading his mind, Hazel asked, “Do you still want to do it?”

And he knew right away what she was talking about, of course. “Yeah,” he answered simply. He reflexively felt for his necklace—the one with the feather and angel wing pendants, that he’d found in his mom’s old stuff and that he usually wore everyday—then as his fingers only found skin he remembered he’d given it to Nick.

The morning after Nick had slept over, and while Nick was still asleep, Sasha had tied the silver chain around his neck on a whim. Nick woke up and said he couldn’t accept it. And Sasha stubbornly replied that he wanted Nick to have it, and that was the end of that.

A smile trailed across Sasha’s lips as he recalled Nick’s sleepy brown eyes, ruffled hair, and his lips that were slightly parted like he didn’t know what to say…

“What are you thinking about?” Hazel asked.

He snapped out of it. Beyond the parking lot, the street lights turned green, and cars rushed by one after the other.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Were you thinking about Nick?”

“No.” He scratched his hair, shrugged. “Maybe.” He felt his face heating up. Was he really that obvious?

“Are you still avoiding him?”

“I just don’t know if I can be in a relationship with a guy, you know?”

“So? Be his friend. Take things slow.” She looked down, fiddling with the long white scarf wrapped around her delicate neck. “But take it from me,” she said, “if you avoid someone for too long, they’ll move on to someone else. And then you won’t feel too smart.”

Sasha let out a low grunt. “That guy you liked is still seeing that other girl then? Sorry I’m bad with names.”

“Doesn’t matter. And yes, he’s still seeing her. Whatever. My parents didn’t approve. My brother didn’t approve. I’ll find someone they approve of eventually.” She didn’t sound convinced at all though.

He looked at her. “Who cares about them? You should be with the person you want to be with.”

She gave him a little smile. “And you should follow your own advice.”

Sasha was annoyed with this conversation. He checked his phone. Then grabbed his bag.

“I have band practice. You wanna come?”

Hazel brightened up. “But I thought they kicked you out?”

“They’re giving me another chance.” He shrugged. “Apparently they couldn’t find a better singer. No one can compete with my sexy raspy voice.”

“Of course I want to come! Obviously!”

She laughed. They started walking across the parking lot, Sasha taking her to the bus stop.

“My friend’s parents have a basement where we can practice. Cliché, huh?”

“It’s cliché for a reason.” She slid her hands in her jeans pockets, though they were so tight that it seemed only her fingertips fit in there. “I don’t think Gabriel would appreciate it if you brought your drummer and guitarist friends with their instruments to his tiny living room.”

Hazel had come over for dinner one time. It was nice; Gabriel and Hazel got along. They talked about the economy and capitalism. And computer science. Actually, now that Sasha thought about it, he was really bored during that dinner. Pretty much thought about Nick the whole time.

Also, now Gabriel kept asking him if he was straight, bi, or gay, or what. Gabriel said it was okay no matter what, and that he would love Sasha no matter what, and that they could talk about it if he wanted to, and to always wear a condom.

“Gabriel can be annoying sometimes.”

Hazel looked confused, but she didn’t push it. They were on the sidewalk next to some other people in line for the bus. They were all listening to music, or texting, or both.

“Have you ever invited Nick to see your band practice?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He wouldn’t like it anyway,” Sasha said defensively. “He just likes electronic music.”

“So?” Hazel replied. “I like electronic music and I still wanna come.”

“Whatever.”

Again, she didn’t push it. They didn’t talk much after that. He was a bit annoyed with her.

He was annoyed because he knew she was right, of course.

Later, in his friend’s basement, they practiced their cover of Smooth Criminal. As his friends butchered the song on their guits, Sasha was having fun, forgetting about all his problems, singing, “Annie, are you OK?”

Hazel was smiling, sitting with the other guys’ girlfriends.

But Sasha found himself thinking that it would be really cool if Nick could hear him sing. Thinking that he should just grow a pair already and tell everyone he was into a dude and if they weren’t okay with that they could just shove it.

Next time. Next time he would invite Nick to hear him sing. They were playing at a shitty bar soon. He would definitely invite Nick then.

The decision made him smile. “You’ve been hit by, you’ve been struck by, a smooth criminal.”

***

On the day of the full moon Nick got a note. On a tiny pink piece of paper that smelled strongly of vanilla and roses—it reminded him of Liv’s perfume and he felt sick. The note was right next to his face on his pillow when he woke up.

‘Dear colleagues, you are cordially invited to the fight for the territory of New York City. It shall take place in a week from now, in the White River Valley. A portal will be left open for the occasion in Central Park, at The Pond, in the night of April 22^nd to 23^rd for our army and your, well, whatever you’ve got, to get through to the other side more easily. We believe this is quite fair on our part, and we’ve left you quite enough time to prepare. Farewell, friends, and see you on the battlefield.

Yours truly,

Lucas and Liv

P.S. Quite amusing, your fox spirit protecting Nick’s brother. He did a good job, we were well impressed. Best regards to Sasha for performing such magic.’

So Liv had been here. And she wanted him to know that she’d been here, too. She could’ve killed him in his sleep. Maybe she didn’t want to stoop so low. Or maybe Lucas and Liv had decided to go through with this fight. For a laugh. Their fifty-something people against Nick’s army of two.

Nick had become pretty good at sparring, and it had been a lot of fun, actually, all things considered. Rough at first—it didn’t help that Cyan sucked at teaching—but very rewarding and exhilarating as he got better at it. Nick glanced under his bed where he usually left his sword. It was missing. He wasn’t surprised. Oh, he didn’t suspect Liv of taking it. She was more into guns, as she said so herself.

“Shane,” he called loudly so his roommate would hear him across the apartment. “Did you steal my sword again?”

At first only silence answered him as he sat up in his bed, one knee propped up against his chin, waiting.

Then the reply came: “It’s not stealing if I just want to look at it!”

“You know you can just ask, right?”

No answer.

Nick sighed, kicking the duvet and jumping to his feet.

Anyway, what good would it do to be decent at sparring? Liv liked guns. Sure, he could block a bullet if he really concentrated. Time just seemed to slow down for everything but his arm and the sword, and it was amazing. Cyan had said he’d never seen anyone learn that quickly before. Said it must be Malachy’s powers living through him.

But how was he supposed to block bullets if fifty people—or who knew how many Liv had by now—attacked him at the same time?

Suddenly his eyes caught that last part of the letter, and he grabbed his phone, deciding he should call Gabriel to make sure he was okay. He went to his window, clutching the phone as it rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Gabriel, how are you?”

“Not too bad, you? Is something wrong? You sound nervous.”

No shit.

“I’m okay. Are you sure you’re all right? Nothing weird happened?”

“No. Just the usual work stress I guess. Should I be worried?”

Nick breathed out in relief, feeling his shoulders relax a bit. “No, no, everything’s fine. I’m glad you’re doing okay. Don’t work too hard, though.”

“I’m trying, but these clients, I swear, they’re never satisfied. Never go in public relations, Nick, it’s awful.”

“Noted.”

“Are you handling everything well with the… supernatural stuff?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Everything’s under control. Don’t worry about it.”

“All right, if you say so, I believe you.”

Ouch. Lying to his brother sucked.

“How’s Sasha?” Nick asked before he could stop himself.

“He’s okay, I think. He’s always a little nervous around the full moon but he’s used to it by now. How come you’re asking me? I thought you guys were friends.”

“We haven’t been talking that much. We text almost everyday, but when I call he doesn’t pick up, so I just stopped trying.”

“Sasha doesn’t really like talking on the phone. Don’t take it personal. I think he’s just really busy with school.”

“Yeah,” Nick said softly.

“Listen, I have to go to work. But thanks for calling. It’s always good to hear from you.”

“Yeah, no problem. Have a good day at work.”

“You too.”

Oh, right, Nick thought as they hung up, he had to work at Love Needles today. Not quite yet, though.

Nick looked outside his window, fingers worrying at the pale gray curtain. It was raining, which was kind of depressing. It matched his mood. He needed to tell Cyan about this note.

Well, at least Gabriel was okay.

Maybe he should tell Sasha, too. If Nick died in that fight it would be nice to say goodbye, at least.

Reaching up to touch his chest, his fingers felt for the silver chain that hung from his neck, with the feather and wing pendants. ‘I want you to have it,’ Sasha had said.

And Nick wore it all the time. He’d never worn necklaces before, but he liked the feel of it against his skin. That wasn’t the only reason, obviously. Nick pressed his forehead to the cool glass of the window. He listened to the sound of the rain rattling the building, watched as cars drove by, splashing water on the sidewalks.

Nick was suddenly yanked from his contemplative mood when his favorite reaper appeared in his room. Holding a pink piece of paper.

“So you got one, too? Lucky you.” Nick said, turning to face him and crossing his arms against his chest.

“Yeah, I did.” Cyan smiled. “Nice pants.”

“Thank you,” Nick said evenly, like he hadn’t just realized he still wasn’t dressed—Cyan was British, so pants meant boxers.

“So what are we going to do?” Cyan grabbed the computer chair and rolled it around so he could sit backwards on it.

“I suppose we have two options. We surrender or we fight.”

Cyan tucked his hair behind his ears. “Surrendering isn’t an option. Even if we surrender, they’ll kill us. Especially if we stay here. A third option would be to move to another city. But then we’d be stepping over another reaper’s territory, and the same problems might arise.” He hugged the back of the chair, sighing.

“I’m not moving, anyway.” He had friends here.

“Then we’re fighting. We have no choice, Nicky, we need more recruits.”

“Not an option, Cy. You know this.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Anything but that. We’ll figure something out. Three people in this apartment is already too much. I’m going crazy here.”

As if to prove Nick’s point, they heard the others arguing for the bathroom.

“How much time do you need to spend looking at yourself in the mirror? Get out of the bathroom!” Shane was shouting. “For God’s sake I need to pee okay? Get out or I tell Nick we have to kick you out.”

“Why would you tell him that?” Riley shouted back. “You’re a dick!”

Nick looked at Cyan pointedly.

“I do see your point,” said Cyan thoughtfully.

“Look, we’ll figure something out. Riley’s a good fighter, and I’m not too bad myself. We can teach Shane. He seems to like swords, so I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t say no.”

Cyan sighed. He didn’t look convinced, but still, he said, “I guess that’s a start.”

***

Hazel’s last name was Snow. Sasha knew it from that time she’d given him her resume at the coffee shop. But now he recalled her full name as he thought that it suited her well. Hazel Snow. Her wolf form was the size of a husky dog, with iridescent silvery white fur.

On the night of the full moon, in Central Park, Hazel showed him all her favorite spots. There was so much green and the crisp April wind carried a myriad of floral scents. Among others, some cherry blossoms remained and it smelled amazing. The transformation had been painful, as always, but now Sasha felt relaxed. It was good to spend the full moon with someone else, even though that someone was a werewolf, and his mother had always told him to beware of those. But Hazel was cool.

They were having fun, running around in the park and hiding from humans. There was something liberating about the full moon. They had to transform—it was out of their control. And sure it was painful at first for the body but then they could just forget about all that and rely on their instincts more.

All those things that people always worried about without really realizing it—being judged by others, getting harassed by some stranger in the street, getting their bag or wallet stolen, losing their phone, being late to an appointment, or simply the stress and fast-pace of the city life—all of that was gone. Just gone. They were animals. They were just like big dogs playing together, really. And it felt fun and free. All in all it would’ve been a really awesome night if it hadn’t been from that other silver wolf showing up and stalking them across the park.

They were all the way up in the North Woods when Sasha saw their stalker, his pale fur gleaming in the moonlight that slipped between the tree branches. They had strayed quite far from the path and Sasha wasn’t too sure where they were. It wouldn’t have mattered that much to be lost but that other wolf was making him nervous. It didn’t help that Hazel seemed reluctant to go toward him, too.

But she knew him. Sasha could tell. They couldn’t really communicate but they could somewhat get a feel for what the other was thinking. Hazel was disappointed right now.

Why disappointed? And it seemed she felt guilty, too. Why would she feel guilty? What was going on? Sasha glanced her way but she wouldn’t look back. She put her head down, like she was submitting to the other wolf.

As he approached Sasha recognized him. That was Jackson Snow, Hazel’s older brother. Sasha had met him a few times, but he didn’t know him that well. Jackson had struck him as elusive and distant. His scent was different right now—more animalistic—but it was still Jackson’s. And Sasha recognized his eyes. They were the same as Hazel’s; pale gray irises. Sasha felt cold despite his thick reddish fur.

Jackson approached slowly and quietly among the trees, with a fighting stance and a snarl. Why would he want to fight? Sasha was a fox, not some dog or wolf. He didn’t want to fight him.

Sasha’s instincts told him to run. But Jackson’s wolf alter ego was much bigger than he was and the smarter part of his brain reckoned he would be outrun anyway and maybe that wasn’t his best bet. He wondered what Nick would do in this situation. Nick wouldn’t be scared. He’d act all confident.

He’d say something like: ‘Jackson. Stop stalking us. I won’t ask twice. By the way, I can deflect bullets with my sword.’ But Nick wasn’t here.

Jackson was closing the distance between them. Hazel was definitely feeling guilty, but she lowered her head even more in submission. What was going on?

Telepathically, Sasha got some kind of message from Jackson. It wasn’t really words, more like feelings, but it was something along those lines: ‘Sorry Sasha, it’s nothing personal. We just need you for something, so be a good boy and cooperate…’

Sasha didn’t like this. Instincts became too strong to ignore, and they were pulsing inside him, making his four legs want to spring from the ground and run away as fast as possible. But it was too late. Other wolves approached; black, bristled, silver, brown. He became aware of them and fear escaladed quickly within him, paralyzing him. Those big wolves were surrounding him, forming a wall that circled around the two smaller animals. There was no breach.

This was a wolf pack.

There were eleven wolves in total, including Jackson and Hazel. Sasha was alone.

Hazel hadn’t told him she was part of a pack. Well first of all, she had promised him it would be just the two of them tonight. Otherwise he would’ve never agreed to it. He rarely ever trusted anyone, but he’d chosen to trust Hazel because he could tell she was a really nice person and she just wanted to be his friend. He supposed he had been wrong. Great, now he would have even worst trust issues.

The leader of the pack—Sasha assumed he was the leader—took Jackson’s place and advanced from the circle. His fur was silver, and he was even bigger than Jackson. He was Hazel and Jackson’s father, Sasha was sure of it. He could sense the assertiveness and authority in the wolf’s stare.

Wait a second. Were they angry because they thought Sasha was dating Hazel, or something? This was ridiculous. They were strictly friends. Why would they come out here and surround him and stare him down so aggressively? He was a fox, damn it, not a wolf. He didn’t want to be caught in their drama. Couldn’t Hazel’s father have come to him on any other night and just told him to stay away from his daughter like a normal person? This was crazy.

Sasha was worrying at the forest ground with his paws, wanting to hide while knowing it wasn’t possible now.

The pack leader gave off a strong vibe that said, ‘You can’t fight us. So just be a good submissive dog and come with us, and we won’t hurt you.’

Well, what choice did he have? The wolves started heading North-East and Sasha followed them. The leader was right. He couldn’t fight them.

They crossed the woods but before reaching the path, some of the wolves started digging in the ground, in between two stumps. They seemed to just be moving branches and leaves out of the way. And then Sasha saw it.

It was small, but there was an opening in the ground, that led to a tunnel. Trotting next to him, Hazel had her ears and her tail down.

Shit. If she feels this guilty about it, then it must be really bad.

Hazel crawled inside the tunnel, and Sasha went in after her, the other wolves following close behind.

What did they want with a fox anyway? Couldn’t they just ask? Or at least tell him what was going on? Give him a freaking hint or something?

Sasha wasn’t unfamiliar with using telepathy in fox form. In fact, fox spirits were much better at it than werewolves, usually. Lilya had written about that in her journal. It took a lot of concentration but it was possible, she wrote. The thoughts had to be really clear, and he had to picture the person they were meant for in front of him, as though he were talking to them face to face. It should work with most supernatural creatures, and even at great distances.

Nick was a necromancer. So he was supernatural. Sasha figured he should at least give it a try. He had nothing to lose.

The tunnel was damp and dark. Once the wolves ventured far from the opening, it was complete blackness. They kept advancing, Sasha caught in the middle of the pack, behind Hazel, in front of Jackson. He kept his head low and his ears down, just like Hazel. He had no choice but to submit.

He thought about Nick, visualizing him; gracefully tall, sleek raven hair, piercings in his ears and eyebrow, that glint he had in his brown eyes whenever they bantered—Sasha’s mind conjured up as many details as he could.

‘Nick, I don’t know if you can hear this, but I have to try. I’m in trouble. It’s those wolves… They’re taking me somewhere. I really don’t know what they want, but… I have a bad feeling. I’m scared. I… You know what? Never mind.’

Right. What was he doing? What was he thinking? What could one eighteen year old boy—half-demon or not—do against eleven werewolves?

‘Seriously, I don’t even want you to come after me. These wolves are dangerous. They could hurt you. And I don’t want that… I’m sure it’ll be fine. Maybe they just want to talk.’

The tunnel went up in the ground, and it smelled bad and there were rats, and also spiders. Gross. It eventually led to a hatch which was already open, and the wolves climbed out of it one after the other. When Sasha got out he realized they were still underground, in a basement. It was all cement, wide and empty. Completely bland, in fact, except for solid chains installed on the walls. Sasha shuddered. It was humid and cold down here, a coldness even his fur couldn’t protect him from. He figured the chains might be for young uncontrollable werewolves during their first full moons. He didn’t want to think that those were used to hold people captive.

He hadn’t noticed before but now he saw that there were some piles of stuff in one corner of the basement; clothes and shoes mostly, and some accessories and jewelry. And cell phones and wallets. This was most likely the pack’s hideout. They could come here to transform and leave their stuff some place safe. And then they could use that underground passage to get to Central Park. Clever.

Looking nervously around, Sasha wished they would’ve just asked him what they wanted from him instead of capturing him and bringing him to their lair. He didn’t belong here. Didn’t want to be here.

Stupid insensitive wolves.

Then, Sasha remembered how, one month ago, he had come up with that stupid plan to get Nick to come to his place without even explaining anything first, and he realized he wasn’t one to judge.

Something weird happened then. Two of the wolves transformed back into humans. Hazel and Jackson’s father and—Sasha assumed—their mother. They looked just like their kids, with their blonde hair and light eyes, and Sasha thought that they must have Northern European blood.

Sasha’s mom had once told him that some werecreatures had the ability to change back and forth whenever they wanted, even on a full moon. But still, Sasha was impressed. That took some tremendous control. Their transformation was pretty quick and it seemed so effortless and painless, too.

Show offs.

Then they put their clothes on. Well this was awkward. Sasha looked away; just being polite.

Hazel’s mother then collected a little box that had been left on the floor among the piles of clothes. It looked like a first aid kit. She produced a syringe and stepped closer to Sasha. His blood ran cold in his veins and a shudder ripped through him. He didn’t much like needles. Who liked needles, anyway? No one.

The wolves closed in on him and snarled at him threateningly. Just to show him there was no escape, as if he hadn’t already gotten the message. Hazel stayed back, looking all sheepish—which was kind of ironic, for a wolf. ‘I’m sorry,’ she seemed to be saying to him. Well, what good was it to say sorry now? Her mother was about to plunge a needle and shoot some unknown liquid through his skin.

Think about Nick. Just think about him.

His instincts made him twitch away from the syringe in a desperate attempt to dodge it, but the wolves got even closer. Their fangs were almost on him, ready to bite. Their claws ready to tear at him if he tried to get away. Saliva dripped from their mouths as they growled at him.

‘Nick I don’t know if you can hear me, but it might be bad after all. See, there was this tunnel in Central Park, in North Woods, and now I’m in some basement…’

When Sasha twisted himself away from the syringe—he couldn’t help it—some of the wolves clawed at him and bit him to keep him into place. One of them even sank his sharp teeth into Sasha’s neck, pinning him down to the cold cement floor. Sasha heard a noise like a pained mewl before realizing it came from him. He’d never been hurt like that before, not as a fox.

Hazel’s mother stabbed his back with the needle, releasing a cold liquid into his veins. It spread all across his body. And the stuff was pretty strong; it was an anesthetic.

He made one last feeble attempt at getting away—again, instincts. But it was completely and utterly pointless, of course. Soon he stopped feeling the pain from the claws and fangs that tore at his flesh—because he couldn’t feel anything at all anymore. Darkness seemed to spread and thicken even as he tried to keep his eyes open. His ears buzzed. He couldn’t hear the growls anymore. He couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anything, couldn’t move. And he collapsed, feeling like a prey that had been defeated.

Consciousness was fading.

‘Nick… I really don’t think they just want to talk...’