Page 166 of Dead Vengeance

I open my eyes, and I’m in the graveyard. In the graveyard, but… I’m surrounded by people. So many of them, staring at me. But not normal people… they’re…

“What d’ya think’s wrong with ’im?” one of them says.

“What did you say?” I whisper.

“Look ’ere! ’e ’eard ya, ’e did,” another shouts.

“What?”

“’e’s another one of them whatchamacallits,” says a third. Then he claps his hands together. “Necromancer!”

A trembling fear shakes my whole body.

Surely not…

I scramble back, directly into Jem. My head turns, and there’s Archer, sprawled on the ground. Then Simon, bright as day, and by his side, out of nowhere… “Fabian?”

He gives me a smile and a nod. “You can see me now?”

“I can… but… are you…”

“Very dead,” he confirms with a grin. Then he adds, “I think you’d better make with that sacrifice. And fast.”

“Kraa!” screams Edgar, who flaps down onto my shoulder. He lowers his head in the direction of Marsden, pinned to the trunk of the tree, whose mouth opens in an appalled expression of horror that surely mirrors mine.

Sacrifice Marsden?

“I can’t do that.” The words come dry and crackling in my throat. “I’m not…” I look down at my hands, sticky and red with Archer’s blood.

But maybe that’s what I am now.

A necromancer.

And a killer.

Because if it’s Marsden or Archer, the choice is clear.

How do I do it? How do you sacrifice a crooked cop in order to appease a god?

I search around for a weapon, but I can’t see anything. Nothing but a dirty shovel on a pile of earth on the far side of the open grave.

I guess it will have to do.

Tezcatlipoca wants blood? I can make blood.

Even if the thought is pure horror to me.

I lean forward, crawling over to Archer’s body, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Did you ever have to do this? Is this how it works?” I lean down to kiss his lips. “I just don’t think you would ever do this. Murder someone. God, I hope you can forgive me.”

“Darling.” The word rings in the air, and it takes me a while to realise it’s directed at me. I look up at Simon, a grin pulling wide across his face. “No one ever said you had to do the sacrificing.”

It’s the slightest twitch of his hand, and Marsden goes flying through the air, slamming down on his back right next to Archer. All the air is crushed out of him, and he lies there gasping like a fish. My brother—my real, flesh and blood, living brother—slams a foot down onto his stomach.

Simon and Fabian take their places either side of Marsden, and “Kraa!” screams Edgar. With that, he swoops down onto Marsden’s face and dips his beak into his eye socket. A scream rips out of Marsden, echoed by my own, as Edgar plucks an eyeball clean out of his face.

“Oh my god!” I cry out, appalled at the sight.

“I’m sorry!” Marsden screams, writhing in agony. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”