seattle ; wednesday ft
Brid gave Sam a ride home on Sean’s motorcycle. He’d left the car with Haley so she could bring James back to the house whenever he was ready, and he’d made the rest of the crew follow in Gary’s van.
Once Sam got home, he went straight to the fridge. He chugged a soda without closing the fridge door, something his mom would have berated him for. But it was my damn house, and he could do whatever he wanted. So Sam leaned in and enjoyed the cold.
Brid came up to him and gave him a gentle hug, careful of his injuries. Sam appreciated that and returned the hug gingerly.
You look terrible,” she said.
“It’s good to look like one feels. I think it’s more honest that way.”
She grinned. “I need to get back.”
“Hm.”
“We’re going to keep Ramon for the night. I don’t think he’ll want to change right back, so I figure we’ll let him run.” Sam nodded and smiled at her before she left.
After she left, Sam slogged his way up to the bathroom. He didn’t have the energy for it, but he took a shower anyway. He needed to wash off the sand and blood. It felt good, but he still didn’t feel clean. Bringing about someone’s death will do that to you. Doing it a second time only amplifies the feeling.
Sam's fingers were pruney by the time he got out. Sam didn't really remember drying off or pulling on pajama pants, but he must have, because when he found myself standing in the middle of his room, staring absently off into space, he was dry and pajamaed. Absently,Sam noted that he was probably in shock and probably needed to see a doctor. He also noted that he didn’t care. Crawling into bed, Sam vowed never to leave.
Sam's window was still open, and the breeze had started to chill enough that he pulled the blanket up to his chin. The fresh air felt nice, though, so he didn’t close it. He couldn’t sleep. Sam was bone tired and emotionally exhausted, yes, but his brain was spinning like a hamster wheel.
So much had happened lately, he just didn’t know how to sort it. Sam missed Brannoc. At least with him Sam knew it was something big-death and a protective, nosy deity-keeping him away.Sam was worried about James as well. He felt bad about Douglas. A thousand other thoughts and uncertainties swirled and wouldn’t stop. He threw off the covers with a growl of frustration.
“Not easy being all grown up, is it?”
Sam yelped in surprise. Brannoc was leaning against my wall. Sam's hand went involuntarily to his neck, but the medicine bag wasn’t there because he’d taken it off to shower and in his daze had forgotten to replace it.
Brannoc chuckled as Sam tried to regain composure. Someday he’d be used to ghosts popping up out of nowhere, right? He came over and sat on Sam's bed.
“I think,” Sam said after he’d calmed down, “that I could handle either growing up or being a necromancer on its own, but the combo is a bit problematic.”
“I hear you.”
Sam sat on the edge of my bed, his fingers picking at the blanket. “I’m sorry. You know, about everything.”
“Don’t be. I hear you found my killer. That’s enough comfort for me. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”
“Bridget sure didn’t make it simple.”
Brannoc grimaced. “Don’t blame the goddess. It’s bad form. Besides, it was mostly my fault.” He looked away.
Sam examined the uncomfortable expression on his face. “You asked her to intervene so I couldn’t bring you back.” As he said it, Sam knew it was true, whether he admitted to it or not. “Why the hell would you do that?” Sam was too tired to get angry, really angry, and it was hard to attach that kind of emotion to Brannoc anyway. He’d always been such a good guy. But then again, he’d been mad at a lot of good people lately.
“Tough love,” he murmured.
Sam let that sink in. “You had to see if we could function. If the pack could do it on their own.”
He nodded. “Hardest thing to do, with kids, doesn’t matter if they’re yours or someone else’s. At some point, the training wheels have to come off.”
“And if I’d raised you-”
“They’d never have made their own way. My kids, the pack, they would have kept coming back to me every time they hit a hard spot. Never would have learned to trust their own judgment.”
“You didn’t want to drag it out. So you did it quick,” Sam said. “Like a Band-Aid.” He didn’t answer me, but he didn’t need to. “I wouldn’t have kept bringing you back, you know. Sometimes it’s just not right. I learned that with Ling Tsu.”
After Douglas had kind-of-sort-of-not-really-died that first time, Sam had broken into the zoo and laid to rest the zombie panda that he had raised. Ling Tsu had died at a rather inconvenient time, so the zoo had paid handsomely for Douglas to fix the problem. Now, Sam could have left Ling Tsu. He wasn’t hurting anybody. But he wasn’t happy, and it wasn’t right, keeping him alive like that. Sometimes what Sam did is good, but sometimes it’s toeing a little too close to the line. Ling Tsu was quickly becoming Sam's barometer for what was okay and what wasn’t.
“So, how’d we do? You know, with the being all responsible business,” Sam asked.
He patted Sam's shoulder, just like the last time Sam had seen him at the Den. When he was still alive. Sam looked at his feet, his throat suddenly feeling thick and painful.
“You did good,” he said.
“If I did so good, why do I feel so shitty?”
Brannoc patted my shoulder again, in sympathy this time. “It’s called growing pains, kid. You’ve had a lot going on the past few months. Some good, some bad, but all change. When you hit a spot like that, it hurts while you try to catch up to it. Give yourself some time to grow.”
“I’d love to,” Sam grumbled. “But it seems life isn’t giving me much time to adjust.”
He laughed. “It most certainly isn’t, is it? What’s that curse? ‘May you live in interesting times’?”
Sam pulled his knees to my chest. “I got interesting in spades.”
“Yeah, you did, and I can’t promise that’s going to end anytime soon. And I hate to add to the pile, but I have a favor to ask you, O mighty champion of the Blackthorn pack.” He grinned while he said the last part.
“Name it.”
“Keep an eye on my kids, will you? I know they’re all grown up and everything, but it’s never easy to lose someone, no matter how old you are.”
“Of course,” Sam said. Then he grimaced. “If they let me. There’s been some tension between the pack and me lately.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I know, but do your best. I know you will.” He got up to leave.
“Hey, Brannoc?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks, you know, for everything.”
“You’re welcome.” He started to fade and Sam waved. Soon, he was gone.
It was easier sleeping after his visit.
Breakfast in the morning was a little awkward. James was subdued, but no longer appeared to be a broken man. Sam's sister had crashed in one of the guest rooms and was kind enough to cook breakfast before she drove home. It was nice to have her there, and Sam told her she could claim a guest room as her own for whenever she needed to stay.
Things were tense with Sam, James, and Haley in the kitchen. He was trying to be normal and lighthearted, but there were several elephants in the room-Sam's guilt over Douglas’s death and James’s guilt over threatening Haley being the two biggest metaphorical pachyderms in the bunch. Sam wasn’t sure how to resolve it. Did he apologize to James? Did James apologize to him?
Then Haley put silverware in front of the both of htem and made them set the table. As she placed a big pile of butter knives in the center of the table she fixed Sam with a gimlet eye. “Try to not kill anyone while you’re setting the table.” Then she poked James. “And I don’t want to find these in any doors. Knives next to spoons, boys. Not in people or furniture-once is a slipup. Twice is impolite. Three times is downright rude.” She turned and went back to cooking breakfast.
For a long, drawn-out breath, no one said anything. The only sound was the snap of butter on a hot skillet. Then James picked up a handful of knives and placed one carefully by a spoon. He nudged it with one finger until it sat perfect and straight. He stepped back and examined his handiwork, leaning so Haley could see.
She nodded, pleased. “Very good. Baby steps. Keep this up, and I’ll tell you where I hid the steak knives.”
Sam couldn’t help it then-he collapsed into a chair, laughing. James didn’t laugh-but Sam could see the beginnings of a smile twisting at the edges of his lips. Haley was right. Baby steps. Leave it to his little sister to settle a complicated issue with place settings.
Ashley and Ed transported in while they were eating and Ashley accepted Haley’s French toast in lieu of the usual waffle payment. Haley makes killer French toast. Ed took a cup of coffee, but only after he explained to Sam, in full detail, how much American coffee was lacking in comparison to the kind they brewed in his homeland. After Sam was done eating, Ed asked to speak to him privately.
Once they were alone, Ed handed Sam what appeared to be a coin on a chain. “What is this?”
It’s what was keeping Douglas in his state of half life. A Stygian coin.
The coin felt cold in Sam's palm. He flipped it over. Both sides were worn down with use. It wasn’t a quarter, but that was about all Sam could deduce.
“A Stygian coin? As in the River Styx?”
He nodded. Yes. People used to be buried with silver coins over their eyes in order to pay Charon. The coins are difficult to obtain, since you have to go to the other side to get them, and many mortals, if they have the proper combination of bravery and stupidity needed to undertake the journey in the first place, don’t make it back.
“That’s really nifty and all, but why are you giving it to me?”
After much discussion, we have decided that you have earned such a reward.
Sam held up the coin. “Well, it’s shiny, I’ll grant you that. What do I do with it?”
With an amused expression, Ed took it out of Sam's hands and put it around his neck. Sam immediately felt the same curious feeling he got when I summoned a circle or offered up blood in sacrifice. “Whoa.”
Ed’s ears flicked. Ashley has told me that certain aspects of being a necromancer trouble you-namely the sacrificial part?
Sam mumbled an agreement while he picked up the coin off my chest so he could look at it more closely.
This coin pays the sacrifice for you.
Sam looked up at him. “Really? I don’t have to kill things or slice up my arm anymore?”
No. But you might need to feed it once in a while. Do I smell bacon?
Haley had made bacon for the carnivores, and unless they’d been complete gluttons, there should have been some left. Ed returned to the kitchen before Sam could stop and ask him what he meant by “feeding” the coin. He didn’t like the sound of that.
Sam tucked the coin in his pocket for now. There would be time for questions later.
[NFB, NFI. Taken from Necromancing the Stone. It's pretty much all said and done save for some minor wrap up that I'll get to in a day or so. Thank you all for reading! Nothing objectionable in this part!]
Once Sam got home, he went straight to the fridge. He chugged a soda without closing the fridge door, something his mom would have berated him for. But it was my damn house, and he could do whatever he wanted. So Sam leaned in and enjoyed the cold.
Brid came up to him and gave him a gentle hug, careful of his injuries. Sam appreciated that and returned the hug gingerly.
You look terrible,” she said.
“It’s good to look like one feels. I think it’s more honest that way.”
She grinned. “I need to get back.”
“Hm.”
“We’re going to keep Ramon for the night. I don’t think he’ll want to change right back, so I figure we’ll let him run.” Sam nodded and smiled at her before she left.
After she left, Sam slogged his way up to the bathroom. He didn’t have the energy for it, but he took a shower anyway. He needed to wash off the sand and blood. It felt good, but he still didn’t feel clean. Bringing about someone’s death will do that to you. Doing it a second time only amplifies the feeling.
Sam's fingers were pruney by the time he got out. Sam didn't really remember drying off or pulling on pajama pants, but he must have, because when he found myself standing in the middle of his room, staring absently off into space, he was dry and pajamaed. Absently,Sam noted that he was probably in shock and probably needed to see a doctor. He also noted that he didn’t care. Crawling into bed, Sam vowed never to leave.
Sam's window was still open, and the breeze had started to chill enough that he pulled the blanket up to his chin. The fresh air felt nice, though, so he didn’t close it. He couldn’t sleep. Sam was bone tired and emotionally exhausted, yes, but his brain was spinning like a hamster wheel.
So much had happened lately, he just didn’t know how to sort it. Sam missed Brannoc. At least with him Sam knew it was something big-death and a protective, nosy deity-keeping him away.Sam was worried about James as well. He felt bad about Douglas. A thousand other thoughts and uncertainties swirled and wouldn’t stop. He threw off the covers with a growl of frustration.
“Not easy being all grown up, is it?”
Sam yelped in surprise. Brannoc was leaning against my wall. Sam's hand went involuntarily to his neck, but the medicine bag wasn’t there because he’d taken it off to shower and in his daze had forgotten to replace it.
Brannoc chuckled as Sam tried to regain composure. Someday he’d be used to ghosts popping up out of nowhere, right? He came over and sat on Sam's bed.
“I think,” Sam said after he’d calmed down, “that I could handle either growing up or being a necromancer on its own, but the combo is a bit problematic.”
“I hear you.”
Sam sat on the edge of my bed, his fingers picking at the blanket. “I’m sorry. You know, about everything.”
“Don’t be. I hear you found my killer. That’s enough comfort for me. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”
“Bridget sure didn’t make it simple.”
Brannoc grimaced. “Don’t blame the goddess. It’s bad form. Besides, it was mostly my fault.” He looked away.
Sam examined the uncomfortable expression on his face. “You asked her to intervene so I couldn’t bring you back.” As he said it, Sam knew it was true, whether he admitted to it or not. “Why the hell would you do that?” Sam was too tired to get angry, really angry, and it was hard to attach that kind of emotion to Brannoc anyway. He’d always been such a good guy. But then again, he’d been mad at a lot of good people lately.
“Tough love,” he murmured.
Sam let that sink in. “You had to see if we could function. If the pack could do it on their own.”
He nodded. “Hardest thing to do, with kids, doesn’t matter if they’re yours or someone else’s. At some point, the training wheels have to come off.”
“And if I’d raised you-”
“They’d never have made their own way. My kids, the pack, they would have kept coming back to me every time they hit a hard spot. Never would have learned to trust their own judgment.”
“You didn’t want to drag it out. So you did it quick,” Sam said. “Like a Band-Aid.” He didn’t answer me, but he didn’t need to. “I wouldn’t have kept bringing you back, you know. Sometimes it’s just not right. I learned that with Ling Tsu.”
After Douglas had kind-of-sort-of-not-really-died that first time, Sam had broken into the zoo and laid to rest the zombie panda that he had raised. Ling Tsu had died at a rather inconvenient time, so the zoo had paid handsomely for Douglas to fix the problem. Now, Sam could have left Ling Tsu. He wasn’t hurting anybody. But he wasn’t happy, and it wasn’t right, keeping him alive like that. Sometimes what Sam did is good, but sometimes it’s toeing a little too close to the line. Ling Tsu was quickly becoming Sam's barometer for what was okay and what wasn’t.
“So, how’d we do? You know, with the being all responsible business,” Sam asked.
He patted Sam's shoulder, just like the last time Sam had seen him at the Den. When he was still alive. Sam looked at his feet, his throat suddenly feeling thick and painful.
“You did good,” he said.
“If I did so good, why do I feel so shitty?”
Brannoc patted my shoulder again, in sympathy this time. “It’s called growing pains, kid. You’ve had a lot going on the past few months. Some good, some bad, but all change. When you hit a spot like that, it hurts while you try to catch up to it. Give yourself some time to grow.”
“I’d love to,” Sam grumbled. “But it seems life isn’t giving me much time to adjust.”
He laughed. “It most certainly isn’t, is it? What’s that curse? ‘May you live in interesting times’?”
Sam pulled his knees to my chest. “I got interesting in spades.”
“Yeah, you did, and I can’t promise that’s going to end anytime soon. And I hate to add to the pile, but I have a favor to ask you, O mighty champion of the Blackthorn pack.” He grinned while he said the last part.
“Name it.”
“Keep an eye on my kids, will you? I know they’re all grown up and everything, but it’s never easy to lose someone, no matter how old you are.”
“Of course,” Sam said. Then he grimaced. “If they let me. There’s been some tension between the pack and me lately.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I know, but do your best. I know you will.” He got up to leave.
“Hey, Brannoc?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks, you know, for everything.”
“You’re welcome.” He started to fade and Sam waved. Soon, he was gone.
It was easier sleeping after his visit.
Breakfast in the morning was a little awkward. James was subdued, but no longer appeared to be a broken man. Sam's sister had crashed in one of the guest rooms and was kind enough to cook breakfast before she drove home. It was nice to have her there, and Sam told her she could claim a guest room as her own for whenever she needed to stay.
Things were tense with Sam, James, and Haley in the kitchen. He was trying to be normal and lighthearted, but there were several elephants in the room-Sam's guilt over Douglas’s death and James’s guilt over threatening Haley being the two biggest metaphorical pachyderms in the bunch. Sam wasn’t sure how to resolve it. Did he apologize to James? Did James apologize to him?
Then Haley put silverware in front of the both of htem and made them set the table. As she placed a big pile of butter knives in the center of the table she fixed Sam with a gimlet eye. “Try to not kill anyone while you’re setting the table.” Then she poked James. “And I don’t want to find these in any doors. Knives next to spoons, boys. Not in people or furniture-once is a slipup. Twice is impolite. Three times is downright rude.” She turned and went back to cooking breakfast.
For a long, drawn-out breath, no one said anything. The only sound was the snap of butter on a hot skillet. Then James picked up a handful of knives and placed one carefully by a spoon. He nudged it with one finger until it sat perfect and straight. He stepped back and examined his handiwork, leaning so Haley could see.
She nodded, pleased. “Very good. Baby steps. Keep this up, and I’ll tell you where I hid the steak knives.”
Sam couldn’t help it then-he collapsed into a chair, laughing. James didn’t laugh-but Sam could see the beginnings of a smile twisting at the edges of his lips. Haley was right. Baby steps. Leave it to his little sister to settle a complicated issue with place settings.
Ashley and Ed transported in while they were eating and Ashley accepted Haley’s French toast in lieu of the usual waffle payment. Haley makes killer French toast. Ed took a cup of coffee, but only after he explained to Sam, in full detail, how much American coffee was lacking in comparison to the kind they brewed in his homeland. After Sam was done eating, Ed asked to speak to him privately.
Once they were alone, Ed handed Sam what appeared to be a coin on a chain. “What is this?”
It’s what was keeping Douglas in his state of half life. A Stygian coin.
The coin felt cold in Sam's palm. He flipped it over. Both sides were worn down with use. It wasn’t a quarter, but that was about all Sam could deduce.
“A Stygian coin? As in the River Styx?”
He nodded. Yes. People used to be buried with silver coins over their eyes in order to pay Charon. The coins are difficult to obtain, since you have to go to the other side to get them, and many mortals, if they have the proper combination of bravery and stupidity needed to undertake the journey in the first place, don’t make it back.
“That’s really nifty and all, but why are you giving it to me?”
After much discussion, we have decided that you have earned such a reward.
Sam held up the coin. “Well, it’s shiny, I’ll grant you that. What do I do with it?”
With an amused expression, Ed took it out of Sam's hands and put it around his neck. Sam immediately felt the same curious feeling he got when I summoned a circle or offered up blood in sacrifice. “Whoa.”
Ed’s ears flicked. Ashley has told me that certain aspects of being a necromancer trouble you-namely the sacrificial part?
Sam mumbled an agreement while he picked up the coin off my chest so he could look at it more closely.
This coin pays the sacrifice for you.
Sam looked up at him. “Really? I don’t have to kill things or slice up my arm anymore?”
No. But you might need to feed it once in a while. Do I smell bacon?
Haley had made bacon for the carnivores, and unless they’d been complete gluttons, there should have been some left. Ed returned to the kitchen before Sam could stop and ask him what he meant by “feeding” the coin. He didn’t like the sound of that.
Sam tucked the coin in his pocket for now. There would be time for questions later.
[NFB, NFI. Taken from Necromancing the Stone. It's pretty much all said and done save for some minor wrap up that I'll get to in a day or so. Thank you all for reading! Nothing objectionable in this part!]