Chapter 1

1

C hloe has a problem: she needs to die.

Sure, there are probably other ways to solve her demon problem, but when one has access to two Necromancers, this seems like the best way to go about it.

Others are less convinced.

“Absolutely not,” Gurlien says, crossing his arms over his chest. His face is healing, a pinkish red scar above his eyebrow that pulls when he scowls. Chloe had teased him, saying it made him look dashing; he’d ignored her for a whole day afterward.

He paces in the small library the five of them had commandeered in the compound. The other team of magicians had graciously let them stay there, but they all felt the same pressing need to have some space away.

It’s awkward, to say the least.

The library’s nice, of course, with red velvet couches and ornate rugs and too many breakable things that look old but are actually cheap reproductions.

Next to Gurlien, the person Chloe really wants the opinion of, Ambra, cocks her head at her, narrowing her red eyes. If the demon stuck in a human body thinks it is a good idea, then it has to be solid.

If Chloe gets Ambra on her side, she could deal with Gurlien.

“There are easier ways to see demons,” Ambra says, brushing an idle hand against the shaved side of her head, and Gurlien scowls at her. “The other alchemist—” it still amuses Chloe how much Ambra dislikes Axel “—had some sort of fix onto glasses, into an earpiece.”

“And glasses can be broken and lost, I want this fix to be permanent.” Chloe shifts from foot to foot, as if movement could rid her of the restlessness.

Ambra nods thoughtfully, leading to a scoff from Gurlien, but she reaches out a hand to him and idly grabs at his palm anyways as he paces back towards her.

“The theory is there,” Ambra says, which Chloe knows already. Chloe wouldn’t ask something like this if she had doubts about the theory. “Alette says…”

“Alette had other advantages,” Maison chimes in from across the room. The Half Demon is sitting on the fanciest of the red velvet couches, his leg propped up, still more injured than not. “She had a lifetime of being around an insane genius, no offense,” Maison says to Delina, who’s lounging next to him.

She shrugs her blonde hair off her shoulders, unconcerned, but Chloe can see the little bit of interest in her eyes.

Chloe isn’t worried about convincing Delina.

As a Necromancer, Delina has had little ability to practice raising the dead, and Chloe knows the eagerness to stretch out muscles previously held back just fine.

Delina would absolutely raise her from the dead, no questions asked. Probably heal her sore shoulder, too.

“And there are spells,” Gurlien interrupts. “There are spells and protections and runes and ointments that you could put on yourself until you find what you’re looking for, and then you can take them off and not have to worry—”

“Some worry,” Ambra murmurs, and he turns to her, almost aghast. “Spells aren’t perfect, the good runes have awful side effects, and they’re all hard to look at.”

Chloe’s not quite sure what that means, but she needs to actually be able to work with demons on this one.

Because whoever it is that has access to the spirit fox, has access to a demon, and whenever she finds traces of her friend, she finds indisputable evidence of a captive demon as well.

And she can’t fight, can’t outsmart, something she can’t see.

“As the only person in this room who’s actually died,” Maison drawls, “it’s not exactly fun.”

“You could already see demons, it’s not fair,” Chloe quickly shoots back. “This is about as low risk as it gets.”

“Unless she can’t finish bringing you back,” Gurlien mutters, and she knows that’s his fear. “Unless an actual demon—no offense—comes in and kills her before she finishes.”

Despite holding his hand, Ambra bares her teeth at him for that comment, and Chloe definitely doesn’t understand their relationship but is still massively amused by it.

“Well, there is another Necromancer,” Delina starts, and Maison sighs and shuts his eyes. “And she practices within circles, and we have Ambra, and we have Maison.”

“I will definitely be anywhere else but here,” Ambra shoots back at her. “I am not signing up to be around Necromancer stuff.”

“I was gonna ask you for the easiest injury to heal,” Chloe says, almost wheedling, and Gurlien scowls at her once more, despite the interested look his girlfriend is giving her. “I figured you would know better than all of us.”

“Absolutely not,” Gurlien interjects, and Ambra shrugs in return. From what Chloe’s been able to gather, Gurlien can no longer control her in any way, but Ambra tends to take his word at a much higher consideration than literally anything else.

Considering how Ambra makes Gurlien smile, actually smile, Chloe thinks it's charming.

“I’m sure Alette or Lyra would know the best way,” Chloe says, forging onwards with an encouraging smile to Ambra.

“Why is this so important to you?” Ambra asks idly, and both Gurlien and Chloe immediately fall silent. “That’s what nobody has explained to me.”

On the couch, Delina and Maison exchange glances. The two of them don’t know either, but they at least have more social grace than to just ask aloud.

“It’s her research,” Gurlien answers for her, saving Chloe the internal agony of trying to put it into words. “She can’t figure out a way around this block without it.”

“If you’re going after demons, you should take his gun,” Ambra says offhand, as if the same gun hadn’t caused her horrific injury. “A deterrent, at the very least.”

“Oh my god,” Gurlien mutters then rubs his eyes, and for a split second, she glimpses exhaustion in her best friend.

And for a split second, Chloe feels bad.

But he masks it quickly, letting her weasel out of the uncomfortable emotions going along with this request.

The other team has even less issues than her friends, the other Necromancer not going to turn down such a perfect training opportunity for Delina and Alette agreeing with her basic premise, if not the entire method.

“I mean, it is still insane,” Alette says, as if she isn’t practically radiant with wild magic and a collected sense of inhuman power. “The world is more frightening than you think once you cross that barrier.”

As if Alette’s existence hadn’t been the thing to give Chloe the idea. As if Chloe poking around the compound with the spellweaver while waiting for everyone to heal hadn’t given her clarity in how absolute a change it would be. As if Chloe hadn’t seen it in her interactions with the world around her, hadn’t marveled at how easy a fix it would be for her inevitable lack of ability with demons.

And if she’s going to save the spirit fox, after her friend , she needs it.

And they waited an additional two days for decent weather, during which Gurlien refuses to speak to her, and Ambra threatens her a few times to not hurt him.

Delina speaks to her, at length, but never about the idea, and Maison tries to warn her in his own way that does nothing but hardens her resolve.

They don’t understand the knot behind her chest, the fear and hope pushing her to make this leap.

It’s been four years since she’s seen her friend. It’s been three and a half since she broke out of prison.

Three and a half years of no hints. Three and a half years of spinning in place, of doing what she can to remain hidden, desperately wanting something to reveal itself to her.

Three and a half years without her research, without the ability to do anything.

So they all tromp up to a cracked and overgrown helicopter pad on the property, grimy snow crunching underneath their boots, and Chloe huddles inside her puffy jacket, the slick fabric generating just enough static electricity to distract her.

It’s a good theory. It’s a great theory. According to the other Necromancer, a quiet woman named Lyra that Chloe’s only spoken to a few times, everyone she’s brought back could see demons and Wights and all sorts of spirits almost immediately.

Lyra’s brought back way more people than Delina, so having her around is another bit of reassurance.

Sort of.

Still, all of the thoughts crowding through Chloe’s mind fizz somewhere between fear and excitement, leaving little room for alternate ideas.

The sun shines weak through the stubborn mid-morning clouds of December, and Gurlien still scowls at her, even as the rest of the group advances to craft a rune circle on the helicopter pad.

Ambra eyes the two of them, then follows behind Maison, skirting distant around the Necromancers. She’s still wary of them.

“You sure about all of this?” Gurlien asks, crossing his arms against the chill, despite a rather nice wool coat across his shoulders.

“Of course,” Chloe lies, though her heart pounds. “It’s risk free, it’s permanent, and then I’ll be able to track her.”

Gurlien doesn’t remark on the pronoun, just raises a critical eyebrow.

“I’ll be able to leave tomorrow once I have that piece,” Chloe forges on, and he scowls more. “Get out of everyone’s hair. Maison and Delina can go off hunting down her properties and seeing what to keep, you and Ambra can go traipse around the world, seeing whatever libraries or random cities you want, and I can be useful again.”

“Chloe,” Gurlien starts, then rubs his face. “How many times do I have to say…”

He trails off, but Chloe’s already shrugging. Sure, people can say she’s not in the way, not keeping people back, not keeping them from doing what they want to do, but if she’s not helping them then she’s just dead weight.

She’s been dead weight too much in her life.

“And maybe I’ll get some closure,” Chloe forces out, bouncing on her toes as Lyra instructs Delina on the runes under Maison’s watchful eyes. “Find out exactly what did happen, why exactly they came down so hard on me.”

“I don’t like it,” Gurlien says finally, after another minute of scowling at the proceedings, and they’re finally getting to what her best friend really wants to say, after all the arguments and debates over whys and hows. “What’s going to happen if they can’t bring you back?”

“Eh,” Chloe says, because somehow, she’s the least concerned about that. “You’ll be fine.”

Across the circle, Ambra jerks her head up and glares over at Chloe, like she somehow heard that.

He huffs, and his breath makes a puff of air around his face. “Do you think it’s worth it?”

“Yes,” Chloe replies automatically, without thinking. Of course it’s worth it. Almost any sort of risk is worth it.

“Facing the possibility of permanently dying, of altering your very self, for a pseudo-sentient spirit creature,” Gurlien asks, and thankfully, he’s not being dismissive. He’s stating the facts, like he’s hoping she understands all of them.

A lot of people think that Gurlien’s talking down when he speaks like that, and Chloe would bet money that it’s just her and Ambra who understand that he’s not.

“Hey, pseudo-sentient spirit creature that saved my life, get it right,” Chloe remarks, as idly and casually as she can. Gurlien’s also the one person who knows about her friend, about exactly what the friendship means, which means she could be flippant about it.

Anyone else she would need to be serious.

He scowls at her, as they tromp through the woods, which Chloe guesses is fair. She’d have a similar reaction if he’d do this.

“But…” she trails off. “This is a chance. An actual chance. I have a chance of finding her and a chance of making things right.” She has to take it.

But then Lyra is waving Chloe over, and her heart jumps again.

Does she think this won’t work? No. Does she think this is exciting? Yes.

Do all of her instincts tell her all of the sudden that she should run?

Yes.

Gurlien must read it on her face, because as annoying as he is he also knows how to actually comprehend her expressions.

“You’re insane,” he says flatly, with a scowl. “How long have you had this idea?”

“Longer than you’d be happy with,” Chloe shoots back. “About two hours after we got here.”

“I’m shocked you waited until I got back,” he grumbles, and it’s enough to push Chloe past the adrenaline surging through her system to step forward.

“You can back out of this!” Gurlien calls after her but doesn’t follow her into the spray-painted circle.

They meticulously cleaned it of snow, scraping all the ice and grime away from it, until all that remains is the broken concrete and the half-faded gold spray paint of circles past.

Lyra and Delina had sprayed over all the old ones, a twisting series of runes completely outside Chloe’s expertise. Something demon, something warped magic, something she can’t even begin to read.

And Chloe can read a lot.

Her breath hitches at another hint of what’s to come. At the unknown she’s facing.

Whatever sort of circle it is, it's not one that affects Chloe, and besides a slight shiver, she can step across it without any problem.

Maison and Ambra avoid it, obviously so. Maison’s leaning heavily on a cane, his knee still in a bulky brace, and Chloe catches Delina glancing down at his leg whenever he shifts.

Everyone around her remains silent, watching her, so Chloe shakes out her arms, tossing the group a wide smile.

“This isn’t that bad!” she says, as cheery as she can make it, earning only a few wan smiles in return. “Seriously, guys, I’ll be okay.”

If she says it enough, maybe others will believe her.

“You can absolutely back out,” the other Necromancer, Lyra, says kindly, almost suffocatingly.

“I’m cool!” Chloe says, as if speaking louder will convince them all. “I’ve thought about this a lot!”

She’s had to say it so many times these last few days.

So she glances out at the group, shifting from foot to foot. At the new faces she just recently met and the ones she’s known for years, and it sits oddly in her stomach.

“We should just do this,” she says, “get this over with, make everyone feel less anxious, get rid of the tension.”

Finally, Delina cracks an actual smile, and Chloe can almost always count on her to understand her want to break all the awkwardness. “Yeah, sure,” she says, and they all ignore the pure venom glare that Gurlien shoots her.

Chloe widens her stance, as if that’ll help, and Lyra coughs politely.

“Sitting down will help,” she says, as if Chloe’s embarrassing herself. “You don’t want to hurt yourself when you fall over.”

Right.

Almost scrambling, Chloe sits cross legged in the middle of the circle, and even with all the ice scraped away, the chill of the concrete almost burns through the seat of her pants.

Alette had warned her that coming back was brilliantly painful. Maison had warned her it was disorienting, that the entire world is unreal afterwards.

All of these things Chloe can deal with.

In the discussion, they had determined that Alette would be the best person to actually strike the killing blow. She’s precise, she’s powerful, and she’s not affected by all the demon protections necessary for the high level of Necromancy.

And she already doesn’t get along with Gurlien, so she doesn’t mind royally pissing him off.

As it is, Alette steps forward, her dark braid long and heavier looking than Chloe thinks is strictly comfortable, and another shiver winds its way up her arms when she crosses the circle. The winter breeze has torn some hair from Alette’s braid, leaving her far less put together than Chloe had seen before.

Chloe’s under no pretense that she definitely looks less than polished. Her own black hair is shoved under a baseball cap, and her cheeks always flush bright under this sort of cold, chapping.

“We had Delina practice with some squirrels in here,” Lyra says, as Alette stares down at Chloe through her gold wire rimmed glasses. “So the circle won’t prevent anything.”

Chloe just smiles sunnily at Alette, whose face settles into a frown.

“You’re sure about this?” Alette asks, her voice hushed, as if she’s giving Chloe an out that others won’t hear. “You’re crossing over something to a permanent change.”

“That’s the idea,” Chloe replies, then gives her two thumbs up.

Finally, she gets a twitch of the lips from Alette, some sort of amusement, before magic swirls into her hands, sudden and wild, and—