A Darkness Strange and Lovely (Something Strange and Deadly #2)(17)

“Enough,” I snapped, sitting taller. He was definitely getting too close to topics best left alone. “I don’t care one whit about your grief or your supposed demon feelings. I want to hear how you knew

Elijah. Now talk.”

The muscles in his jaw twitched, but he didn’t argue. “As I was saying, I was simply existing.

Then one day, a few years ago, I was summoned. It’s like . . . like a tugging in your gut. One minute I was watching the universe unfold, and the next I was being yanked into a dingy hotel room in London.

Suddenly I had a body and a skinny young man standing in front of me.”

“And from where did the body come? Is it yours?”

His nose wrinkled up. “Of course it’s mine! I didn’t take some poor person’s corpse, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Well, how else does one get a body?”

“It’s . . . it’s like water and ice,” Oliver said. “Phase changes. On the spirit side I was water. Then as I stepped through the curtain into the earthly side, I became ice.”

I broke off more toast, considering this. “So was it you hiding in the shadows downtown?”

He stared blankly—clearly clueless as to what I referred, which could only mean I had seen

Marcus in Philadelphia. But then a new question occurred to me. “Why are your eyes yellow?”

He ogled them at me. “That’s pretty standard for anyone whose natural form is raw energy.”

Meaning Marcus’s true form was pure soul—which it was, since his body had died years ago.

“Does this phase change happen to everyone? Because Marcus—the spirit who stole Elijah’s body—

crossed from the spirit realm, yet he stayed in his spirit form. A ghost.”

“As for that, I’d guess it’s because he was dead.” Oliver guzzled back more rum and then wiped his lips. “Basically, this fellow’s body and soul were separate. When he crossed the curtain, he stayed in his spirit form because that was all he could be. However, if a man still possesses both a body and a spirit, then he would change phases. For example, if you”—he tipped his head toward me—“went to the spirit world, you’d change into a watery soul form.”

I grunted. It made sense. “So you had a body and then Elijah bound you? Why did he need to use the locket?”

“The guardians,” Oliver drawled, as if that was the most obvious answer in the world. “The ones who keep unwanted humans out of the spirit world—they also do a rather good job of keeping demons and spirits in it. When a necromancer calls something over, he has to hide it from these guardians right away. Hiding is done by binding; and to bind a demon, you have to use an object of significance.

Elijah chose this. It binds me to your world, hides me from the guardians, and keeps me completely powerless.”

“Powerless?”

“Yep.” Oliver ran a finger along his chin. “I can’t do any magic. Only Elijah can use my power—

at least until our agreement ends.”

I leaned forward. “But Elijah’s dead.”

He twisted his face away and took another pull of rum.

“So,” I said, forcing Oliver to look at me again. “Does a spirit or demon have to be called by a necromancer? Because Marcus crossed over without a necromancer’s help.”

Oliver’s eyebrows jumped. “The guardians didn’t sense him? He must be very strong then. Of course, yellow eyes would suggest that too.”

I fidgeted in my seat. My emotions were stewing in a way I knew best to avoid. Anger seemed the best approach, and if there was one feeling I could summon easily, it was rage. “First Elijah hid you from the guardians, then he made you his slave, and now you can’t use your magic. Plus, your master died.” My lips curled back. “Why, I’d say you’re not a very good demon, are you?”

Oliver cringed.

“And,” I continued, “I have to wonder why you weren’t in Philadelphia with my brother. Why didn’t you protect Elijah?”

Oliver screwed his eyes shut. “It was his necromancy that killed him, wasn’t it? He must’ve done something stupid and . . .” His words faded, fresh tears welling in his eyes.

For some reason, this only infuriated me more. “So you could have saved him? Why didn’t you, then? Why weren’t you there? If you really are—no, were—his demon, then why weren’t you with him when he died?”

Oliver flinched as if I’d slapped him, but his eyes stayed close. “E-Elijah sent me away. He knew he had to give me some impossible task so I’d be out of his way and couldn’t interfere.”

“That is quite a convenient excuse,” I said sharply, my voice rising. “Why, exactly, would he send his demon away?”

Oliver’s eyes snapped open. “He knew I’d try to stop him. I didn’t like what he wanted to do—the killing, the black magic. We argued. A lot.” He dabbed at his eyes and then guzzled back more rum, swishing it around in his mouth.

“You know what I think?” I watched him from the tops of my eyes. “I think you were careless.

You didn’t want to save him or be with him—”

“No,” Oliver breathed. “El, he gave me a direct command. I couldn’t disobey him—not while we were bound. I told him—so many times—that there was nothing good in Le Dragon Noir. I told him any ghost in the spirit realm should stay there, but Elijah . . . he was determined to resurrect your father.”