Samson Drake has returned. The sadistic assassin has become the living
vessel for the necromancer, an ancient entity seeking the death of all
life. Pinky Murder flees Samson to warn the secret circle, only to
learn, to her horror, that Samson has followed her to Shallow House.

THE NECROMANCER SAGA # 2
"SONG OF SHALLOW HOUSE"
[8F-221] [PW-65]

-------------- SECRET CIRCLE --------------------

MAILE AKAKA, age 20. Aeromancer.
Once the top field agent of The Company, she orchestrated her own
abduction and memory wipe to defect to the circle. She now serves as
its leader.

AZABETH "BETH" COLLINS, age 37. Oneiromancer.
The circle's co-leader, recently awaken from a long slumber.

JUNE LASH, age 47. Ailuromancer.
Maile's spymaster, commanding dozens of feline agents around the globe.

DAVID COLLINS, age 31. Mnemonomancer.
Husband to Beth, brother to Claire Belden, unlikely wielder of the
ancient blade Thirteen.

SARAH AVERY, age 25. Evocamancer.
An engineering genius, she refuses to use her demon-summoning magic.

TREVOR JEFFRIES. Robot.
A sophisticated robot built by The Company to infiltrate the circle.
Retooled by Sarah, and equipped with sonic weaponry.

PINKY MURDER, age 23. Apparamancer.
Teleporter. Recently escaped from a formless hell. This also resulted
in Samson's escape, and in his transformation into the necromancer's
vessel.

--------------- THE COMPANY ---------------------

CLAIRE BELDEN, age 31. Metamancer.
Missing, presumed to have defected, pursuing her own agenda with the
help of Trinity Tran.

TRINITY TRAN, age 35. Haematomancer.
Once a fugitive, working for The Company in return for their
protection; now, the head of the dominant faction within The Company.
Pregnant with David Collins's child.

SAMSON DRAKE, age 28. Sciomancer.
Company assassin; formerly Maile's lover. Now the living vessel of the
necromancer.

-------------------------------------------------

It's raining inside the house.

Pinky looks up, expecting there to be clouds nestled against the
tall ceilings of Shallow House. But there aren't any. No clouds; no
ceilings, either. She couldn't tell you what was up there, only that
it hurt to look at it, that it hurts to think about it, and that it
was definitely raining.

Samson stares at Maile. At least, Pinky thinks he's staring. His
eyes are still closed. He grins, revealing his red teeth. "You think a
little water is going to hurt me?"

He spreads his arms wide, and the shadows of his limbs stretch to
either end of the room. When they reach the corners, they turn,
converging on Maile.

She squeezes her fists, bringing down a thunderbolt on either side
of her, striking the floor. At the flash of light, the shadow-hands
recoil.

This seems to please Samson. "That's what I've always liked about
you, Maile. Always have so much fight in you. Going to be fun to wear
you down."

Maile replies with another snap of lightning. This one buries
itself into Samson's chest. He doesn't fall over, doesn't yowl in
pain, doesn't die.

"This is what we were afraid of," whispers David. "A living vessel
for death itself. Almost indestructible."

"We'll figure it out," snaps Maile. "Pinky?"

Pinky nods, taking a deep breath. "I think I'm ready."

She's lying, of course. She can feel the magic burning under her
skin. It's not supposed to burn. Not supposed to hurt. If it hurts,
you're doing it wrong. If it hurts, you have to rest, recover. If it
hurts, the magic might tear you apart.

David's first. Something about the sword and the name locked in his
head makes him a prime target. Pinky wraps her arms around him and
forces her magic. Though the flash of pink and the scent of jasmine
quickly fade along with Pinky and her passenger, her scream lingers
and echoes.

This draws Maile's attention for a fraction of a second, and in
that moment, the shadows rush toward her. As a reflex, she responds
with several thunderclaps in succession.

This slows the shadows down, slows Samson down, but it's also clear
it won't be enough, can't be enough.

So you can imagine her relief when a wall appears between her and
the shadows. "Shallow House, defending itself." She catches her
breath.

"No," says June. She's on one knee, next to the large tomcat,
Goliath. Her fingers are at his neck, communicating with him. "It's
not defending. It's collapsing. It's dying. Even if he wasn't here
trying to kill us, we won't have much time."

"She's right," says Beth. She has that faraway portentous mystical
look that gets on Maile's nerves. "Even the door magic is gone. The
only way out is Pinky."

()

She doesn't know where they are, wasn't even consciously trying to get
here, but she also knows that this is the right place. The sofa looks
right. The windows look right.

David recognizes her confusion. "Beth put it in your head, while
you were dreaming."

"Is it safe?"

"No," says David. "But it'll have to do."

She nods, and that proves to be a bad idea. Her body lurches toward
the floor; David catches her.

"Are you okay?"

"No." She struggles to stand upright. "But it'll have to do."
Jasmine floods the air.

The smell is stronger than before. Overpowering. Less like a burst
and more like a spill. It's leaking out like blood in the water. Like
she's wounded.

When she returns to Shallow House, she feels that gaping wound rip
open. She feels it in both places, both where she's going and where
she's been. Like she isn't not quite completely in either place,
jasmine and pink and red pouring out everywhere, touching everywhere.
She feels open and exposed and bleeding and get it together, Pinky,
you're better than this. You have to be better than this. (It's your
fault, after all; better fix it.)

She focuses, brings more of herself, most of herself, into Shallow
House. It takes concentration. Takes effort. Takes pain. She can feel
the splitting pressure building up behind her right eye, as insistent
as the magic twisting and stretching her insides.

She should have come back to Shallow House just where she left it,
within the protective circle of salt. So it's disconcerting when she
sees that circle, and the people in it, at the other end of a hallway.
A hallway that definitely wasn't there before.

Sarah spots her and shouts something, and Maile starts running
toward her. Briefly and suddenly, the pounding in her head becomes
everything. Just as suddenly, it stops, and the hallway is gone. She's
in a corner now, her face up close and personal with the wall.

She turns around. She's surrounded by shelves of books. Must be the
library. As she scans the room, she's aware of something moving out of
the corner of her eye. She doesn't bother to try and catch a glimpse
of it. She knows what it is. The walls of the room, of the house,
they're shifting. The books are dancing on the shelves just out of
sight. Maybe even the pages are rearranging themselves.

Pinky becomes aware of the weight in her hands. She's holding a
book. Doesn't remember grabbing it. She puts it down on a table, and
suddenly it's a countertop. Suddenly she's in the kitchen.

Suddenly, she's not alone.

"I can smell you," says Samson. "Smell you from the inside."

The part of her that's scared? It wants to jump again. Wants to get
away, then come back, hope this time that she comes back closer to the
circle. But there's no telling how much that jump will take out of
her. No telling how many jumps she has left.

So she tries running instead, leaving the kitchen for what used to
be a common room but is now a bedroom. From the shadow of the dresser,
Samson steps into the room. Pinky feels her own shadow twisting behind
her, wrapping about her legs and arms, pinning them back, holding her
in place so he can rip her open.

Now she has no choice but to jump. But she can't. Her shadow won't let her.

"Doesn't matter anyway," says Samson, walking into the shadow of
the dresser and stepping out from under the bed. "Anywhere you go, I'm
already there. Like a bruise under your skin."

He raises his hand, his fingers like knives, and as a reflex she
turns her head. Maile is beside her. The two of them, and only the two
of them, are in a small pantry.

"I don't understand," says Pinky.

"The house is dying," says Maile. "Let's get you back to the
others, step up the evac."

"I don't know if I can," says Pinky. "I don't know if I'm strong enough."

"You have to be," says Maile.

"You're not," says Samson, slicing Maile open. She screams,
clutching at her belly, blood slipping through her fingers. Samson
reaches for Pinky.