Page 31 of Court of Heathens

“I know, right? Maybe a rug? Even some artwork would be fine.” I know we are chattering out of nerves, but we can’t seem to stop. When we reach the bloody altar, we both turn silent.

“See? Creepy,” he whispers.

“Creepy,” I agree. “What did it do?”

“I don’t know. It felt . . . wrong and dark. It was different from me, but powerful. I tracked it all the way here. Whatever they are, they are using some seriously strong dark magic. The only thing that could get through the barrier is?—”

“Death magic,” I murmur. “You don’t think . . .” I glance at him just as there’s a loud bang, startling us.

We both let out a scream at the sudden noise, and before I realise what has happened, the demon jumps into my arms and I’m holding him up as we face the threat.

Which happens to be a pigeon, cooing in the open doorway where it flew in and knocked over a metal post.

“Really?” I look at the demon as I grunt under his weight and drop him. He poofs away in midair, reappearing next to the pigeon and looking down at it with an unreadable expression before glancing at me.

“No,” I say straight away.

“Why not? It could be a cute pet, and you already said no to the crocodile,” he snaps. “Look how cute—no! It flew away. Come back and let me love you!” he shouts after the bird that is flapping away.

“Smart bird,” I mutter.

“I just wanted to love it. I could have got it a little hat with matching horns. It could have flown into battle with me or shit on people I don’t like. What we could have been.” He sighs wistfully.

“If you’re good and help me stop the end of the world as we know it from happening, then I will consider letting you get a cat.”

I jerk back when he appears before me, grinning widely. “Really? They are the height of indifference. I love them so much, and they are so cute.”

“Uh-huh, I know. I had to watch the presentation you made on them. Remember last year when you tried to convince me? Now, can we get back to why we are here before whoever left this suddenly appears and strips skin from our bones and wears it like a cape?”

“Okay, okay, fine, save the world first, pets after. Either way, whatever did this is long gone, but it proves one thing,” he offers.

“What’s that?”

“They knew what they were doing,” he says, looking around, “and they knew where and how to get that mask. If this is real and this is death magic, then there is only one type of person who could pull it off.” Our eyes meet as I swallow.

“Necromancer,” we both say reluctantly, as if giving life to the word will make them appear.

Necromancers are the darkest of magic users, using blood and sacrifice to reanimate the dead, often creating armies. It’s said they can even control people using their magic, though I’m not sure how true that is. There is a reason they were hunted into extinction. If one is here now, then we are all fucked.

I swear I hear something that sounds suspiciously like a . . . groan?

“Did you hear that?” I hiss.

“Stop trying to scare me. It won’t work,” he snaps before his eyes widen and he darts behind me as the noise comes again. “I heard it this time. Quick, little witch, save us.”

“After this is over, we are talking about the fact that you use me as a shield,” I warn as we slink to the front door and look out. The groan comes again, louder this time, and we head around the back of the church, only to stop. Our mouths drop open.

There are more overturned graves here, but stumbling between the headstones is a . . . zombie.

My demon groans. “A fucking zombie.”

The zombie in question is about six feet, probably well-built when it was alive, and missing one of its ears. Its skin is a decaying yellowy colour and seems to be sliding off its frame. “It looks like melted Jell-O,” I comment.

“Like when you accidentally put someone’s favourite flowery plastic plate in the microwave,” my demon adds.

“I knew that was you!” I snap, turning on him before glancing back at the zombie as it groans again, smacking into a gravestone and falling over. As it does, one of its leg bones snaps, making us both wince, but it stumbles back to its feet, dragging the bone behind it like it’s nothing.

“I mean, you have to give it credit, it’s determined. Once, when you hit your toe, you were down all day,” I remark. “But if this is the thing that stole the mask, then I expected . . . I don’t know . . . more? How did this get in and out unnoticed?”

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