The next one she recognized. It was the book on necromancy that Murmur had given her to read the first day they’dstopped actively antagonizing each other. And this was the first volume of several, she saw, noting the rest of the books in the pile.
In the past, she would have dropped these books like they’d burned her, so determined was she to stay away from anything black-magic related. And necromancy was the blackest magic of them all.
But if her time in Hell had taught her anything, it was that things in life were more in shades of gray than black and white. Maybe Murmur had enslaved human souls, but he only took souls who were destined for Hell anyway, and he gave them a choice. They knew what they were signing on for when they were bound into his service, and they had no one to blame but themselves.
As for raising zombies like something in a cheesy horror flick, Murmur had scoffed when she’d asked about it, calling it a rudimentary practice, something she had found amusing. Most humans were terrified at the thought of the walking dead. But the demon capable of making them thought it was a waste of time and too easy of a task to be considered any real accomplishment.
Her throat seized at the memories, and she choked on a sob. She shook her head roughly, blocking the feelings before they exploded out of her, and grabbed the next book.
Murmur had once told her that animating a soulless being was the easiest part of necromancy, and the true masters were more concerned with souls. As she hurriedly flipped through the different volumes, organized in order of difficulty of practice, she began to understand why.
The first books focused mainly on animating the soulless dead. They were not alive, but they walked and followed their master’s command with mindless obedience. The next were about communicating with bodiless souls. And the final ones, the advanced ones, were about controlling bodiless souls, justas Murmur had done to amass his ghost army. They were soul zombies, in a sense.
A soul could only be trapped when it was in a state of limbo. Once it had passed on to its rightful place in Heaven or Hell, it generally could not be called on, though there were exceptions. But a soul in limbo who hadn’t severed its attachment to its body, clinging on because of anger, fear, or unfinished business, was free game.
As she turned the pages of the final book, she noticed a small piece of paper sticking out of the middle. Her heart began to race as she quickly opened to that spot, hoping to find another message from Murmur. Something. Anything that could delay her facing the truth a moment longer.
But there was nothing. Just that tiny scrap of unmarked paper.
Then again … none of the other volumes were bookmarked like this, and the torn piece seemed fresh, the edges still sharp. She hurriedly scanned the page it had led her to.
The messily scrawled heading read,The Truest Form of Resurrection—Reanimation by Returning a Soul to Its Body. Several pages were required to list all possible dangerous side effects and things that could go wrong, but Suyin’s eyes slowly slid out of focus as the meaning of what she was reading sank in.
Her head snapped up, and she stared at Murmur’s body. Hisdeadbody. He really was dead. The Necromancer was gone.
Then she looked down and fingered the torn piece of paper. And she knew.
He’d left her this book with this page marked on purpose. He’d wanted her to find it. He’d wanted her to find and read it because he was dead.
And he wanted her to bring him back.
There was no message. No easy assurance that he was fineand would awaken shortly. And in fact, if she hadn’t been hunting through these books in desperation, she never would’ve found that tiny piece of paper at all.
She couldn’t even think about him being gone forever; it hurt too much. But she was also furious that he’d expect her to perform complicated black magic to resurrect him after how he’d betrayed her. She seethed at him for trying to kill her, lying to her, and then going and fuckingdyingwithout giving her a chance to stab him first, leaving her alone with the agony and memories of him.
Then she started to wonder … if he’d really wanted her to bring him back, why hadn’t he mentioned it in his note? Why had he only left a tiny shred of paper? For something as critical as this, shouldn’t he have written some highly detailed instructions?
And then she remembered what she’d just read—that a soul couldn’t be controlled once it had passed on to its place in the afterlife. That meant that if Murmur’s soul wasn’t in purgatory, it would be impossible to bring him back.
Which, in turn, meant that once Belial opened the door, broke Lucifer’s prison, and the demon souls went free, the window of opportunity to resurrect Murmur would close.
Belial could be opening the door any minute now. There was no way Murmur would have allowed any delay in completing the spell’s final purpose, not when he’d sacrificed himself to make it possible.
Finally, she started to realize that he might not have written instructions because he didn’twantto ask her to bring him back. Because he understood that he’d betrayed her and knew she’d be angry.
So he left the choice up to her. He’d left the information for her to find and asked for nothing.
Allowing her to choose whether he lived again or stayed dead forever.
If that wasn’t an extremely backward, fucked-up way of asking for forgiveness, she didn’t know what was.
There she sat with his lifeless body, a detailed manual on how to resurrect him, a limited timeframe in which to do it … and a serious choice to make.
Yet in the end, there was no choice at all.
Despite what he’d done, her heart screamed with unbearable pain if she even considered the idea of him being dead. It hurt so bad, it felt like her ribs were collapsing and crushing the air from her lungs. In his own fucked-up way, Murmurhadcared for her. He’d wronged her, but in an even more unhinged way, he’d also tried to make amends.
She didn’t have to forgive him, but if she did this, they’d be even, and she wouldn’t have to face the anguish of losing him forever. He’d died so she could live.
