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.”
“Determined?” I gritted my teeth. “More like insane. Where did he send you?”
“We were in Luxor. He sent me to Giza to find the Old Man in the Pyramids.”
“The who?” I snapped.
“The only person in the universe who knows how to raise a . . . a terrible creature. The Black Pullet .”
The Black Pullet. That sounded familiar. Then I remembered some of Elijah’s final words: I’ll go back to Egypt. I’ll resurrect the Black Pullet, and we’ll live in wealth for the rest of our days, and everything will be all right.
“And did you find the Old Man?” My voice was a low snarl. “Was this mission that kept you from saving Elijah at least a successful one?”
Oliver’s head shook once. “I couldn’t find a bloody thing, and by the time I got to New York to meet Elijah, he had already left for Philadelphia. He was probably already dead.”
I
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