Sin & Surrender (Demigod of San Francisco #6)(41)

In another fifteen minutes, the duo down the hall started lodging spirits into bodies. Bria waved her hand at her collection of spirits, all of whom were standing around, waiting for direction. This was the difference between working with spirits and controlling them.

“Climb into the body of your choice,” she told them, pulling a lighter from her pocket. “I will secure you as best I can, but it won’t feel as snug as when Lexi does it. You might need to make some adjustments.”

“What if I just fastened one prong on each?” I said, biting my lip. “That’s not really helping.”

“Don’t need it,” Chad said, choosing one of the less-mangled bodies. “They won’t tear me from this body if I don’t want to go.” I told Bria what he’d said as the rest chose bodies and climbed in.

“He’s great. He was a good find.” She flinched then sucked her thumb, which she’d probably burned on the lighter.

Candles and incense lit, she shooed us away a little farther and took up residence between the lines of stones and rocks. Out came the bells, and she kneeled in place.

“If you’re in and ready, rise up.” Bria’s face turned red, and I knew she was helping them.

The bodies flailed, like turtles on their backs. I shoved my hands in my pockets, really wanting to help.

“When did you get so dramatic?” said the non-Gray Beard guy, a man in his forties and with dyed black hair and a matching mustache. He muttered something, and three of his bodies rose, shaky and jerking, very well controlled, especially because they were probably trying to fight him. “And so wild? It looks like you barely have a handle on them.”

“I am their battle commander. That’s the beauty of working alongside a Spirit Walker: she makes friends, and those friends are an extension of the team. You won’t be battling the will of one person, boys—you’ll be battling a half-dozen minds, all doing whatever they want.”

“That’s absurd,” Gray Beard said. “Commanding cadavers? Allowing spirits to think for themselves? What New Age bullcrap is this?”

“Bullshit, Jim,” Dyed Hair said. “You sound stupid when you say crap.”

Both teams were up and ready now, the cadavers staring at each other.

Jack turned back to look at Bria, his upper body randomly leaning left. “What are we waiting for?” he asked. I relayed the question.

“Them to make the first move.” Bria set up a second station, and I recognized the tools in this one. These would help her pull spirits from the bodies controlled by the other Necromancers. In a whisper that wouldn’t carry to the opponent, she said, “It gives me more time to start working on their cadavers. I won’t have to do two things at once, but they have twice as many as we do. I have to work fast.”

Their collection of bodies started forward in a loose formation, three at the top and the rest spreading out wide behind them.

“What’s the goal here?” Chad asked, keeping the others from walking to meet the challenge. “Take down the controllers, or take down the bodies?”

“If you can get through the cadavers to get to the controllers, take them down. Just don’t kill.” Bria raised her voice. “Mia, did you hear me? Do not kill. You came awfully close that last time. I know you hate magical people, but it’ll reflect poorly on us if you kill someone.”

“Child’s play,” I heard from Chad. He stepped to the front of his line, taking over, barking commands. Time to fight.

“Don’t you need them to defend you, though?” Dylan said, rising. I wasn’t the only one who wanted to help.

“No. Hopefully not, anyway. Why do you think I spent so much time on this old-school demon worshiper line?” Bria got to work, ringing a bell, muttering some words.

Thane leaned forward, trying to see. “Demon what? What did she say?”

Chad and John barreled into the first zombies they reached. They ripped and tore even as they ducked out of the way, slipping free of the next rank of cadavers. Mia disappeared, then reappeared next to Gray Beard. She grabbed his head and spun. If she’d been stronger in that body, she would’ve broken his neck. As it was, she must’ve sprained it, because he cried out, dropping the bell in his hand.

“Jesus,” Boman whispered. “She’d be terrifying if she were alive. No controlling that one, I bet.”

“She’s terrifying in death,” Jerry murmured.

Jack picked up one of the opponents’ cadavers. He lifted it up and then brought it back down, breaking its spine over his knee.

“Yes!” Donovan fist-pumped the air. “Brutal!”

Cadavers ambled toward Bria, all of them consumed by a single purpose. One of the bodies on the other side of the battlefield fell. The spirit popped out and looked around, confused. That must’ve been Bria’s handiwork, because the spirit Jack had accosted still hunkered in its body, trying to rise back into the air, controlled like a pawn.

I grabbed the spirit Bria had freed, pulled up the Line, and launched it as far beyond the barrier as I could. As it went, I felt a supreme sigh of relief. Of letting go. She was leaving this world, finally at rest.

Another popped out, and I shoved him the same way, feeling years of anger and frustration melt away in an instant. Warmth filled my middle. I was doing my job, as nature intended. I was giving people the freedom and closure they’d longed for. It felt good. It felt right.