Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(31)

Jie’s eyes were wide, and her lips parted. “Solomon and Honorius,” she repeated to herself. “Grimoires?” She pressed her fingers to her face, and the knuckles popped loudly. Then her eyes focused on me, and she dropped her hands. “Your brother, was he studying grimoires?”

“I don’t know. What are... grimoires?” The word rolled off my tongue, strange and unknown.

“Books of power. Black magic—like necromancy.” She sighed. “I don’t know much—Joseph could tell you more. What I do know is that grimoires can be bad.” She rose and stepped to Daniel’s worktable.

“What do you mean ‘bad’?” Ice spread through my chest.

She lifted a hand to silence me. Then she opened a wooden box and removed the bizarre brass goggles Daniel had worn at our first meeting. She slid them on her head and inspected the packet of letters I’d brought.

“Yep,” she muttered. “Spiritual energy. Not much, but it’s there.” She pulled the goggles back off and flashed a warning look in my direction. “If you tell Daniel I used these, I’ll kill you, yeah? He doesn’t like it when people touch his inventions.”

At my rapid nod, she returned the goggles to their box and strode back to the window.

“Please.” I leaned urgently toward her. “You said bad. What did you mean?”

“Those names—Solomon, Honorius. I know those names. They wrote grimoires for dark magic.” She hugged her arms to her chest and squinted at me as if considering how much to say.

Finally, she licked her lips and began. “Joseph had a friend once. Marcus. They studied with the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans.”

“Voodoo?”

“Yeah. Like magic to ward off spirits and methods to contact the spirit realm. But Marcus wanted more, yeah? He wanted to know magic that stops illness—that raises the dead.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He wanted the magic that kills people.”

I pressed a hand to my stomach. “What happened?”

“From what I remember,” she said, her gaze hazy as though she rummaged through her memory, “he used grimoires. He used them to learn the magic, and he started to kill people—same thing this necromancer is doing. He grew stronger and turned to darker and darker magic.”

“So... could this necromancer be Marcus?”

Her head fluttered side to side. “No. Marcus died. See, Joseph found out about it all. He didn’t know much about necromancy, but he could tell things weren’t right with his best friend. So he followed Marcus one night and confronted him in the middle of a ritual.”

“What kind of ritual?”

“Marcus was trying to bring a lotta corpses back to life. He wanted to attack the Voodoo Queen and take her strength, yeah? But when Joseph showed up, Marcus got distracted. He lost control of the bodies, and the corpses attacked. Joseph tried to save Marcus, but the Dead were too fast and too hungry.”

Fast. Hungry. Like the ones in Laurel Hill.

“But how did Joseph survive?” I asked in a hushed voice.

“The Voodoo Queen. She came just in time, and they laid the bodies back to rest.” She shook her head. “It was bad. Very bad. Joseph survived, and the guilt ate at him—like maybe he should have noticed and stopped Marcus sooner. Like his friend’s death was somehow his fault.” She frowned and stared at her hands. “Joseph never talks about it.”

“Yet he told you?”

She turned away. “Once. He spoke of it only once. So I’d understand why he does what he does, why we fight against the Dead. And so I’d understand how the spirit power can corrupt and consume.” She exhaled heavily and a silence settled on the room.

Grimoires, spirit power, and voodoo. It was more horrifying and fantastic than I’d ever imagined. And what was Elijah’s connection to it all? Why the devil would he study such dark theology?

Jie twisted her gaze back to me, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You said your brother was in New York, yeah?”

I nodded.

“When did he leave?”

“I’m not sure. He was supposed to arrive on May twenty-sixth, but he sent a telegraph saying he was delayed.” I took a ragged breath, and the rest of the telegram tale poured out of me, ending with Elijah’s arrival on or before the twenty-fifth of May and his telegram sent from Philadelphia.

Jie slouched forward and planted her hands on her knees. “Listen. The Dead were rising in Philadelphia before we got here on May twenty-fifth. That’s why we came, yeah?”

“Right,” I began slowly, “and before that you were in New York because the necromancer had been there.”

“Yep.” Her eyebrows tilted up. “So maybe this necromancer was bothering your brother in New York, yeah? Maybe your brother came here, and the necromancer followed him. And then we”—she patted her chest—“followed the necromancer.”

The door banged open. Jie and I jumped and twirled around.

Joseph sailed in. “Where is my list of volunteers?” Sweat was heavy on his face. “I need to show the Exhibition board that some of the guards are willing to train with us.”

“Aren’t you in the middle of the meeting?” Jie asked, grabbing a paper off the worktable.

“We haven’t begun yet. They wish to take tea first.” He took the list, and his eyes slid to me. “Miss Fitt, are you all right?”