Demon and the Fox - 9. Necromancer Stuff

“Yes,” Jackson said, clinging to Kyle’s limp arm. “Do it. I’ll owe you. I’ll owe you my life.”

“You won’t owe me a thing,” Malachy replied.

Malachy brought his hands together, closed his eyes, took a deep breath.

“I’ll come back with Kyle. I promise.”

Malachy controlled himself and bit back a grin—it wouldn’t be really appropriate in the grieving siblings’ presence. But Malachy was almost trembling in anticipation. The truth was, he hadn’t been to Hell in a while. In twenty two years, to be exact. He kinda missed the old place.

He pictured Kyle in his mind; tall, muscular, brown-haired, chiseled jaw, lied to his best friend for years… It would have to do.

When Malachy felt the familiar shifting in the air, he let himself relax. Even before opening his eyes, he noticed the difference. Everything was so quiet here. No cars. No buses. Not a sound.

And as he opened his eyes he smiled. Ah, the inky black sky. Starless. Moonless. Surreal. The whiter than white snow blanketing the ground and stretching out forever. The ever lingering scent of smoke in the air.

Malachy usually hated Hell. Well, he had phases of hating it and not hating it too much. Right now it wasn’t so bad. It was just a brief visit. Malachy scanned his surroundings and spotted Kyle standing on a stage—black wooden platform, a couple of feet high—in the middle of nowhere. In the middle of an icy lake, actually, but the lake wasn’t important. Kyle was naked and he stood in front of an audience. And to add to the creepiness of it all, his audience was actually a bunch of Black Ones.

The Black Ones had many names. Soulless. Hopeless. Lower Demons. Lost Souls. And so on. Malachy called them Black Ones because they were black.

Seriously. Their clothes were like black shadows clinging to their bodies. Even their bodies seemed to be made of black shadows. As black as Hell’s sky.

“Hey, Kyle!” Malachy called as he ran over to him.

But Kyle didn’t hear him.

The Black Ones were rising and closing in on Kyle. Some of them had the shape of normal human beings, and others were elongated and contorted. Most of them were armed; swords, spears, axes, maces, bows and arrows, all black and shadowy to match their wielders of course.

Kyle seemed to be paralyzed in fear on the wooden platform. Typical.

Malachy laughed as he clashed with the Black Ones.

“Hey, I missed you guys!” He kicked one’s arm and stole his sword.

Then he turned and stabbed another. They might have looked like dark shadows, but you could actually fight them and even defeat them. It was fun, too. If you were into that.

It was too easy. As soon as they saw that Malachy was a fierce fighter, they cowered away and ran off to the woods beyond the lake. They were cowards by definition, after all. Souls that could never conquer their fears. Malachy shrugged, dropping the black shadowy sword. It fell on the ice without a sound.

“So,” he turned to Kyle, “you’re afraid of public speeches?”

Kyle was jumping off the platform’s ledge, rubbing his arms for warmth, and awkwardly trying to hide his nakedness.

“Naked public speeches in front of monsters specifically?” Malachy inquired. “Or just public speeches in general? I’m curious.”

“Who are you?” Kyle asked, frowning.

Malachy looked down at himself. He still wore his jeans and leather jacket, but he noticed the skin of his hands was paler. In fact, these were his hands. Not Nick’s hands.

Ha! Of course. Here, his true form shone through.

Malachy glimpsed at his own reflection in the ice and saw blue-gray eyes, tousled brown hair, cheekbones to die for and a wickedly handsome grin.

“Much better, don’t you think?” He looked up at Kyle.

Kyle said nothing.

“Right, well, let’s get going. Hazel and Jackson are waiting for us. I’m Nick. Hazel’s boyfriend. I’m here to save you. Let’s keep the fact that I look different right now our little secret, shall we?” Malachy pressed his index finger to his lips.

But Kyle was shaking his head. “I’ve been here before. With Hazel and Jack, and Charles and Amy. To help fight that crazy bitch Liv and her army of zombies. And Nick,” Kyle said, “looked like Nick. Not like—”

“An incredibly good-looking cheeky bastard?” Malachy finished for him. That was usually how people described him. Okay, okay, he might’ve added the ‘ incredibly good-looking’ bit. He threw his hands up in the air in surrender. “All right, all right, I got busted. I’m not really Nick. But if I bring you back from the dead, you must promise not to say anything, to anyone.”

Kyle looked very troubled. His brown eyes were wide and sparkly. “I don’t want to die.”

“You already did. But I’ll bring you back. It doesn’t even matter if you don’t promise,” Malachy mused, “because of the necromancer bond and all. I don’t think you’d betray me.”

“Necromancer bond?” Kyle’s voice was wary and strained.

“Never mind that. Are you ready?”

Malachy wished he could stay a little longer; he felt a familiar tingle down his back. Two familiar tingles. His wings were there if he wanted them. Malachy was still a Dark Angel here. He hadn’t flown in such a long time. That would be nice, he thought as he gazed at the skyline with its shimmery white mountaintops.

But Hazel was crying over her dead friend’s body, and he had promised to make said friend un-dead. He wasn’t here to go have fun by pretending to be a giant bird.

“I think so,” Kyle was saying, still rubbing his arms. “I mean, what do I have to do?”

“Nothing. Just stand close to me.”

“Can I at least have your jacket?” Kyle pleaded.

“No.”

They faced one another, and Malachy held Kyle’s shoulders.

“It’s recommended to close your eyes.”

Kyle swallowed. “I’m not closing my eyes. I’m not a coward.”

“Very well.”

Malachy closed his eyes. It helped with concentration. And besides, he didn’t give a damn if Kyle thought he was a coward, or whatever. From the guy who was afraid to give a speech in front of a bunch of Black Ones? Please.

The shifting simply wasn’t very pleasant to watch. Mostly because there wasn’t, in fact, anything to see. First the world progressively became black—or red, for the beginners, or losers that still needed to think about blood to do it—all around you, and then all of a sudden it was like you were sucked into a black hole.

And then a different world started to appear through a veil of black that slowly dissipated in the wind. The phenomenon happened right now as Malachy shifted them to the back street where Hazel and Jackson waited.

“Nick!” Hazel wiped under her eyes. “We were worried. You just disappeared.”

“I’m here now,” Malachy said. Looking down at his hands, he saw that his skin was a slightly darker shade. Nick’s body.

From the waves of heat he could feel in the air, he assumed the fire had gotten stronger inside. His ears pricked at the sound of sirens getting louder and louder. The fire fighters were coming here. He had to hurry.

Kyle was standing next to him. Well, ghost-Kyle. Hazel and Jackson couldn’t see him. They could only see Kyle’s dead body. Kyle saw it too. His own dead body, with his bleeding throat. Ghost-Kyle looked completely terrified. Seeing your own dead body could have that effect. Malachy knew from personal experience. Though when he’d been confronted with his own dead body, it was already at the skeleton stage. Which was also super weird.

Anyway. He threw Kyle’s soul back in his body. There was no elegant way to do this. Malachy just dropped to his knees, forced Kyle back in there, and waited. He made sure to keep physical contact by placing his palm on Kyle’s chest. Necromancer powers weren’t anything too crazy. No magic words. No sparks. No explosions.

It just took up a lot of energy. It was better to drink a Redbull before, or something like that. Honestly.

Malachy felt the life draining out of him and slipping into Kyle. Malachy grew weak and shaky. But that was normal. It could be frightening the first couple of times. But Malachy was used to it; he would do this a lot back in the day. Especially with the Aztecs—ironic, for a society that partook so much in human sacrifice. But Malachy had a good thing going with the nobles. Until those god damn Spaniards took Tenochtitlan and—

“It’s healing!” Jackson said.

Kyle opened hazy brown eyes. The skin of his throat was indeed mending.

“There might be a scar,” Malachy warned. He sat back, his eyelids feeling heavy.

“Who cares?” Jackson looked incredulous. “He’s alive. You did it, Nick. I don’t know how, but…”

Jackson and Hazel helped Kyle to sit up, and they both hugged him. Jackson had already gotten dressed in his now crumpled, stained suit while Malachy was gone.

“Guys could I have my clothes?” Kyle said in a groggy voice.

Hazel smiled and gave him his t-shirt and jeans. She wiped her eyes one last time as Kyle hurriedly slipped his clothes on. They all needed to get out of here; the fire truck siren got so loud that it was nearly impossible to hear anything else now.

Kyle leaned against Jackson as they walked off. Malachy and Hazel went after them.

“Are you okay?” Hazel sent him cautious glances.

They passed a parked truck and Malachy glimpsed a black cat sleeping under it. He shook his head clear.

“Yeah, sorry, I think I’m just really exhausted.”

Sometimes Malachy forgot that he was—technically—only human. As a Dark Angel he always felt invincible. And he nearly was, too. Even in Purgatory, even after all the tortures, he was still fine. No matter what Lance did to him. It was only a question of sheer will. Lance couldn’t destroy Malachy, not really, and it pissed him off.

Here, even if Malachy had a strong will, sometimes the body wouldn’t follow. But he didn’t dislike it. There was a beauty to it, Malachy thought. The vulnerability, the helplessness of giving in to his body’s needs. Like passing out on a bed when he really needed sleep. God, he really felt like passing out on a bed right about now.

But he held his ground, following the others without really paying attention.

After making a few turns they walked up a one-way street. Going North, Malachy estimated.

“Let’s get a cab,” Jackson looked at his sister over Kyle’s shoulder, “we can all go to Kyle’s apartment.”

Hazel just nodded. She looked tired, too.

Lush green trees lined the sidewalk at intervals. The strong night wind rustled their leaves and carried the hints of sweet spring scents.

They got closer to a busy two-way street. Malachy saw tall condo buildings, limitless cabs, and a stripe of green grass between the two lanes, with red flowers and surrounded by a tiny black picket fence, and he recognized Park Avenue. They hit the curb and Jackson went to hail a cab.

We can all go to Kyle’s apartment.

Or… Malachy had an idea. Oh, no. He was so bad. So bad. But he really wanted to—

“Guys,” Malachy said as a cab parked in front of Jackson. “Guys, wait.”

They waited. The cab driver waited, too.

“Jack, Hazel, you guys go to Kyle’s apartment.”

Malachy couldn’t expect them to go spend the night at their parents’ condo. Especially if their mother was there. A tad awkward.

“Kyle should stay with me,” Malachy said. “We’ll go to my apartment. I just need to do a follow-up, make sure he’s safe, you know.” He lowered his voice. “Necromancer stuff.”

Malachy was talking nonsense, but Hazel and Jackson bought it. He hated lying to them. But he was just so excited about his idea.

The siblings climbed in the backseat of the cab. The window was rolled down.

“Do you have your key?” Kyle asked.

Jackson nodded, patting his pocket. Malachy wasn’t surprised. He knew Jackson slept over at Kyle’s place a lot. They had two bedrooms there.

Malachy glanced at Hazel’s arms. The bleeding had stopped, at least.

“Take care of those arms, okay?”

Her gray eyes locked with his. “Don’t worry. I heal fast.”

He felt a burst of affection for her. “I know.”

“Text me, okay?” Hazel said to Malachy.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “Sure.”

Jackson leaned forward and gave the driver Kyle’s address in East Harlem, and then the cab took off.

It wasn’t long before another cab stopped by. Malachy and Kyle hopped in and shut the car door.

“49^th West,” Malachy said to the driver.

They drove off.

“Hell’s Kitchen,” Kyle said, “ironic.”

Malachy nodded, but said nothing. He was too tired for humor.

“So,” Kyle leaned toward him, “necromancer stuff? What was that all about?”

“Kyle,” Malachy replied, “we’re not alone.”

“Cab drivers don’t care. They hear crazy stuff all the time.” Kyle whispered. “He’ll just assume we’re tripping balls or something.”

Malachy remained quiet. He looked out the window as they drove up 5^th Avenue. They passed the public library with its columns and pointed roof top. There were always a bunch of people sitting in the stairs in front of the library during daytime, but right now it was quiet and almost deserted.

“What was the deal with those creepy shadow people? Was that real? Was I dreaming?” Kyle asked.

Malachy shot him a sideways look. Kyle’s brown eyes were wide open. Maybe he had given him too much energy. Really though, Malachy had done a pretty neat job. Kyle barely had a scar on his neck.

“Shadow people,” Malachy chuckled. “That’s a new one. I like it. You know, you could’ve ended up just like them if I hadn’t been there. You should really be more grateful.”

“I am grateful!” said Kyle at once. “Thank you! I’m sorry. I mean, I’m sorry for not saying it before. I do feel grateful. And kind of,” he whispered, “weirdly attracted to you right now even though I’m not gay.”

“Side effect.” Malachy brushed it off. “It’ll pass.”

“Okay.” Kyle shifted in his seat. “Hey, so who are you really? The part with you looking all different, that was real too?”

“Listen. Calm down. We’ll get some sleep. Eat some food. And then, I have plans for tomorrow night.”

“But tomorrow night’s the Full Moon.”

Malachy smiled. “Exactly.”