“Go for it.”

  There was a relieved sigh. “Fair warning, this will hurt like a bitch.”

  “Go for it,” he repeated.

  He nearly jumped out of the chair when the mixture touched the first wound. “What the hell is in that stuff?” he growled.

  “I’m thinking acid, ground glass, and napalm,” she said. “I did tell you it hurt like a bitch.”

  He swore under his breath in Latin, grimacing as whatever it was charred itself into the wounds.

  “Okay, then, that really worked. The black junk dried up and now it’s flaking off. That’s amazing.”

  “Not from where I’m sitting,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Suck it up, dude. I survived it, so will you. Here goes another one.”

  By the eighth application Simon’s clenched jaw ached and he’d run out of Latin swear words. If she kept it up, he’d have to move onto the Italian ones.

  “Done.” She studied him for a moment. “I’ll go get some soap and water to wash them out. I’m thinking you’re not in any shape to stand at a sink right now.”

  She was right about that.

  “They already look sooo much better, Simon. Honest, I’m not kidding.”

  A glance at his arm showed she was right. The black goo was gone, leaving glistening reddish-pink wounds behind, the kind that would eventually heal.

  As she set off to find the supplies, Riley joined him. From her grin she’d known exactly what he’d been saying in Latin, even if Katia didn’t.

  “Impressive vocabulary. Learn that in exorcism school?” she said, her grin wider now.

  “Some of it, but not all.”

  “You’ll have to teach me a few of those.”

  Maybe not. “My sister gone?”

  “Yes, she is.” There was a pause and Riley’s voice grew quieter. “Katia told me what you did.”

  He ignored that. “What happened to her? How did she get free?”

  “You saw the inside of the factory?” He nodded. “Apparently, she climbed up the shelving and went out one of the upper windows.”

  What? “But that was sixty, seventy feet up . . . ” He shook his head in wonder. “And I was worried about her.”

  “It went both ways, my friend.”

  Katia returned carrying a blue plastic bowl filled with soapy water. A washcloth and towel lay over an arm.

  “Don’t they look great?” she said, indicating the wounds.

  “Much better,” Riley agreed. “I’m thinking you might have a few more scars, though.”

  Once the wounds were clean and treated with the ointment Tastra had used on his sister, dressings were applied. Simon already felt better. The ointment numbed the pain, and he swore he could feel those cuts healing already. And then suddenly he was supremely exhausted, whatever adrenalin he’d been running on was gone. He could tell by the dark circles under Katia’s eyes she felt the same.

  “Any chance we can get some sleep before we go to war?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light. Because there was going to be a battle once he found that damned necro.

  Riley pointed toward the house. “Beds are ready for both of you. It’ll be a while before Ozymandias is strong enough to talk strategy. Mort said the most important thing is to rest. It’ll help the healing. We need to be at our best to take down this guy.”

  Simon led the way and was pointed down a long hall by Mort’s reanimated housekeeper. Katia followed him. They reached the first bedroom when Riley called out, “Just got a text—your sister is at Summoner Canhoto’s house.”

  “Thanks,” he said, wiping that worry off his lengthy list. And then it was only him and Katia. To his astonishment she leaned over, gave him a light kiss on the cheek, and then headed into the closest bedroom. The door shut behind her.

  With a weary smile he touched the spot where the kiss had landed. God had been merciful today. He would always remember how angry Katia had been when he’d returned. How she’d been afraid she’d never see him again.

  Perhaps she cared for him as much as he did for her.

  TWENTY

  The nightmares ended when morning arrived. Somehow Katia hadn’t screamed during the worst of them, but it had been close. Watching someone you cared for being torn apart by monsters was an unholy torment, even in a nightmare.

  Staring up at the bedroom ceiling in Mort’s house, that fear drained away. Simon and his sister had survived. Hopefully, Lord Ozymandias was regaining strength as they’d need him for what lie ahead. Because no matter what, this wasn’t over.

  Yet it felt as if one of the nightmares wasn’t hers. It had been the necro, the one who had thrown them into that other world. He had been fighting something, screaming in agony, pleading for help. She shook her head. That was ridiculous. The bastard had risked their lives for some old ring.

  When Katia finally sat on the edge of the bed she found her suitcase on a chair near the door, the same one that had been at Simon’s house. Her guess was that Riley had something to do with that.

  Despite feeling like she needed another twelve hours of sleep, she took advantage of clean clothes and running water. Maybe in a few days she’d be able to shower once all the wounds were healed. The fingers on her left hand were considerably less swollen and she made a mental note to apply more of the witchy ointment after breakfast. Not that she was hungry.

  At least her brain felt less empty, and her feet moved without having to tell them to. Still, the face staring back at her in the bathroom mirror was of someone older than twenty-five. Was that a side effect of walking in other realms? Or just all the hell she’d been through over the last few months?

  “Gotta stop doing this shit,” she muttered. Like that was going to happen.

  To her immense relief she found Simon sitting in a chair on the veranda, coffee cup in hand. He still looked tired. He gave her a smile and she returned it. His phone sat in front of him. She guessed Mort must have found it at the factory. Riley sat next to him, a cup of tea in hand, and pointed to where a mini buffet had been laid out on a long table. Katia claimed her own cup of java, a few slices of orange, and some cheese. More than that she didn’t think she could handle.

  “That’s all you’re going to eat?” Simon asked as she sat next to him.

  “I’ll start with this.” She’d be lucky to finish it.

  Sounds came from inside the house, low conversation, and then Mort exited. Following behind him at a snail’s pace was his lordship. The older summoner eased himself down in a chair and then accepted a tall glass from Mort. The swirling twinkles above the glass suggested magic was involved. And yet, the glowing thing on his forehead was still dark despite all of Mort’s efforts. Sitting there he looked like a very tired, old man.

  Katia was handed a similar glass but with no twinkles.

  “More electrolyte mix,” Mort said.

  She jerked her eyes up to the summoner now. “But I haven’t been bleeding off any magic, not like I did at the cemetery.”

  “You have. You just don’t know it,” he replied. “Now that you sense it you’re automatically shoving it away from you, even if you aren’t touching the earth. Your body doesn’t care either way—it just reacts by screwing up your electrolytes. And that other world would have registered as magic to your system, so there you go.”

  While she digested that bit of news, she took a sip and let the orange, lemon, and whatever else do its thing, which didn’t seem to be much. She noticed that Simon was staring at her now, which meant she’d have to explain the “shoving away magic” thing eventually.

  After a final frown in her direction, he took a deep breath.

  “Thank you for risking your life for us, your lordship,” he began. “You paid a heavy price to do that. If you hadn’t, my sister and I would be dead. I am in your debt. I sincerely mean that.”

  “Even if the Vatican might not approve?” Ozymandias asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “It’s not their concern,” Simon replied. “You could have left us there, but you didn’t. That is the mark of a good man, even if he does wield magic.”

  Ozymandias gave a gracious nod, acknowledging the complex emotions behind that statement. “Don’t shortchange yourselves. You did well in there. Most do not survive even a few minutes, let alone hours.”

  He accepted the compliment with a nod. “My earnest prayer is that I never have to see that damned place again.”

  “May it be so for all of us.”

  “Do you guys have any idea what this is all about?” Katia asked. “Because I sure as hell don’t.”

  The two senior necros traded looks and it was Ozymandias who answered.

  “First, please tell us how you came to be in that particular realm.”

  Simon looked over at Katia, and after her nod, explained what had happened to him and his sister. Katia could just imagine it: Mr. Means at the front door, the spell being cast and then finding themselves at the factory with no clue what was going on. No wonder Dee freaked out.

  Ozymandias shifted his attention to her. “What brought you to that location?”

  “I got a text from Simon about an exorcism there.” She looked over at him. “It seemed weird since you’re on sabbatical, but why would it be a lie? I mean, it looked like you’d sent it to me.”

  “I wondered why the reanimate had my phone. The necro must have made him send the text.” Simon turned back to the others. “He came after me to use as leverage against Katia. My sister just happened to be there when the spell was cast,” Simon added.

  Mort frowned now. “Then why all those reanimations? What was the point?”

  “Means said that the necro had tried to send the dead folks into that world and they couldn’t get through. That something stopped them,” Katia replied.

  “Probably what we ran into,” Simon said and she nodded. “We were told to bring something back. A ring. The summoner gave me an old button and it worked as a compass once we were there. It was the only way we would have found it. But first we had to get past the gatekeeper or whatever it was guarding the entrance.”

  “Gatekeeper?” Mort asked, puzzled.

  Katia continued to sip her beverage and ignore the remainder of the orange slices as Simon told them about the being that had vetted them before they’d entered the other realm.

  “I wondered what had happened to your cross,” Riley said.

  Simon looked down where it had once sat on his chest. “I didn’t want to give it up, but I don’t think we would have been allowed to enter otherwise.”

  “I have encountered this sentinel, as we call it,” the older summoner replied. “It keeps those out who have no business in certain realms. I have been denied entry into others myself.”

  “I didn’t feel threatened by it,” Katia said. “It just seemed very interested in who we were.”

  “It’s not surprising a reanimate was unable to make the journey. They have enough difficulty navigating our world. Fortunately, none of them were lost that way.”

  “Thank heavens for that,” Mort added. “We’re taking enough heat as it is.”

  “Because of this, we will not be at liberty to reveal why they were stolen in the first place. The public cannot know about the other realms.”

  “That is definitely going to be an issue.”

  “Mort and I found the pale guy that everyone was talking about,” Riley said. “His name is Harry Hawkins. He might be the reason the necro knew you could go into other realms. That and a certain video at TrapperCon.”

  “Of course,” Simon groaned.

  “Oh, and we found out why Means’ grave exploded.” And then she explained the magical technique and why it didn’t happen that first night.

  “Huh,” Katia replied. “Tell me he’s in jail right now.” Because that idiot had almost gotten her and Riley killed.

  “No. There are mitigating circumstances. I’m taking personal responsibility for Hawkins from now on,” Mort replied, giving her master a quick glance. Katia noticed he didn’t ask for the elder summoner’s approval, so this was already in the works. She could be pissed about that, or just move on. She chose the latter.

  “Not all of us are capable of walking the worlds,” Ozymandias said softly. “For good reason.” He took a long sip of his drink. “Do you still have the button?”

  “Yes.” Simon dug in the front pocket of his jeans and laid the now smaller item on the table between them. The senior summoner rested his hand above it, palm down, and held it there for a time.

  “As I feared.” He turned to Mort. “We need to do an online search of the Society’s archives.”

  Their host immediately headed into the house and then returned with a large silver laptop. Once he was back in his seat, Mort waved his hand over it while murmuring something under his breath.

  “You put spells on your computers?” Katia asked, intrigued.

  “Yes, but you didn’t hear that.”

  “What happens if someone tries to steal it?”

  “Nothing good,” was the quick reply.

  After a short session of rapid typing, apparently logging onto the site Ozymandias had mentioned, he turned to his lordship. “Who do you want me to check out?”

  “Lord Chaffin. We need to see a picture of him. In particular, any that show a button on his clothing.”

  More typing and then Mort turned the laptop around so they could see an image on the screen. “Look familiar?” he asked.

  It was a close-up of an antique button, identical to the one on the table.

  “That’s it,” Simon replied.

  Ozymandias finished his magical drink and set the glass aside. His eyes seemed brighter, though the sigil remained dark.

  “You said you brought back a ring.” He looked over at Mort who had accessed another part of the image. The gold ring sat on a man’s finger, the garnet stone dark like dried blood. “Is this it?”

  “Yes,” Simon said.

  “Where was it in that other realm?”

  “On a skeleton trapped in a tree.”

  Now the image had zoomed out to reveal an older gentleman with mutton chop whiskers and bushy beard. He was clad in a black suit and a dark waistcoat. The buttons on the latter were just like the one in front of them.

  His lordship gestured at the picture. “This is Elias Burnley Chaffin. He lived in nineteenth century Boston. Before he supposedly died, he broke all the rules. Well, at that point there were no rules and he’s the reason they now exist. Though they’re obviously not working as intended.”

  His fellow summoners huffed their agreement.

  “Chaffin was the son of a prominent banker, a magical terror by all accounts. He was known to bespell his family’s business rivals, causing them to go insane and commit suicide. Sometimes he’d have them butcher their whole families first.”

  Riley gasped. “That’s awful.”

  “His final act was calling up the dead from one of Boston’s oldest cemeteries. He ordered the reanimates to march through the streets to City Hall, intending to take charge of the city. Many of the deceased had died during the Revolutionary War so the reanimation was considered an immense sacrilege. That act caused a lot of grief.”

  “You said ‘supposedly died’?” Katia asked.

  “Caught that, did you?” Ozymandias said. “Chaffin had so much power it took an extraordinary effort to shut him down. The public was told he died of a heart ailment. In truth, his fellow summoners exiled him because he was nearly impossible to kill.”

  Simon sighed at that. “Let me guess—they exiled him to the realm with the skeleton birds.”

  A nod returned. “I checked in on him every few years to ensure he was still on the other side. Even there, he was just as dangerous as ever. He’s dead now, for that was his skeleton in the tree. I found him there the last time I visited that world.”

  Ozymandias paused, then added, “I spoke with him once, while he was still breathing, and that conversation was pure insanity. He kept telling me that his time was near. If I knew what was best I’d side with him when he returned to exact his revenge. That all would pay for defying him.”

  His lordship took a breath and then continued, “Right before he crossed over the Veil, my mentor, Lord Zimmer told me all about Chaffin and warned me that he was still a threat. I honestly thought he was exaggerating until I finally visited the madman.”

  Mort studied the senior summoner intently now, as if this was a tale he hadn’t heard before. “So that’s why you kept disappearing into the other realms?”

  “Part of it. I was also searching for knowledge. It was a very bold, and ill-advised plan. It is good that the other summoners at this table have not been so daring.”

  Riley shook her head. “No way I’m doing that. My one trip to Hell was enough for me.”

  “That guy wasn’t the only body stuck in a tree,” Katia said. “There were others.”

  “One had chains around its feet,” Simon added. “Which means that’s a prison for your kind. For the really scary ones.”

  His lordship didn’t respond at first, then reluctantly nodded.

  Mort’s mouth had fallen open at this point. Riley looked just as shocked.

  “What? I thought we just stripped the bad ones of their magic and let the civilian authorities take it from there,” their host said.

  “We strip the magic of those less powerful. But for the ones like Chaffin there is no means to render them magically inert, so they were exiled into that realm. They are unable to return, and in time the realm kills them. In this case, it was one of the trees rather than one of the beasts.”

  “But why was he more powerful than the others?” Katia asked.

  “It is rumored that Chaffin sold his soul to a Fallen. That wasn’t confirmed, but it’s likely given how much power he wielded. I was lucky that Sartael wasn’t interested in mine, at least not at first. If he had survived, I suspect that would have changed.”