The Awakening (Darkest Powers 2)

I bent. The corpse looked so normal that it seemed to be only sleeping. My conscience could live with temporarily returning the spirit to this body. I started to kneel, then leaped up.

“It’s not dead. ”

“Sure it is. ” He nudged it with his toe.

“No, it’s mov—” A maggot crawled from under the bird’s wing and I stumbled back. “Could we get one without hitchhikers?”

Derek shook his head. “Either it’s going to be like this, with maggots, or too decomposed for maggots. ” He bent to peer at it. “They’re first stage blowfly larvae, meaning the bird hasn’t been dead more than—” His cheeks flushed and his voice lowered another octave. “And that’s more than you need to know, isn’t it?”

“Right, you did a science fair project on this, didn’t you?” When he looked up sharply, I said, “Simon told me about it when I was checking out that corpse in the abandoned building. He said not to mention it to you, though, because you only came in second. ”

He grunted. “Yeah. I’m not saying mine was the best, but it was better than the winner’s, some eco-fuel crap. ” He paused. “That’s not what I meant. There’s nothing wrong with stuff like that, but the kid used junk science. Got the environmental vote. I won the people’s choice award, though. ”

“Because, apparently, people are more interested in checking out maggoty dead things than saving the environment. ”

A short laugh. “Guess so. ”

“Back to this particular maggoty dead thing…I guess I should get to work, trying to make it undead. ”

I knelt beside it.

“We’ll start with—” Derek began.

He stopped when I opened my eyes.

“Shut up, right?” he said. “I was going to make some suggestions for a, uh, testing regimen, but I guess you can

do that. ”

“Having only the faintest clue what a testing regimen is, I’ll save myself the embarrassment and graciously turn that part over to you. When it comes to the summoning, though…”

“Shut up and let you work. ” He sat cross-legged. “You said with the bats, you were summoning a ghost you couldn’t see. So it was kind of a general summoning. You should start by doing a specific one. That’ll tell us whether you still raise a nearby animal if you’re trying to raise a specific person. ”

“Got it. I’ll try Liz. ”

I figured if we were being all scientific about this, I should use some kind of control measures. I’d start with the lowest “power setting”—just mentally saying “Hey, Liz, are you there?” I did that, then checked the bird. No response.

I pictured Liz and called again. Nothing. I imagined pulling Liz through. Nothing. I tried harder, still clearly focusing on her image. I kept checking the bird and kept looking—hoping—for any sign of Liz herself.

“How hard should I try?” I asked.

“As hard as you can. ”

I thought of what the demi-demon had said about raising zombies in a cemetery two miles away. I was sure she’d been exaggerating. And yet…

“Try as hard as you’re comfortable with,” Derek said when I hesitated. “We can always do more another time. ”

I ramped it up a little. Then a little more. I was closing my eyes after checking the bird again when Derek said, “Stop. ”

My eyes flew open. The bird’s wing was twitching. I stood and moved toward it.

“It could just be the maggots,” he said. “Hold on. ”

He got up, took a branch and was reaching it toward the bird when his chin shot up. His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared.

“Der—?”

A distant crack cut me off. He lunged and hit me in a football tackle. I toppled over. Something stung my upper arm right above the bandages, then whizzed past as we dropped. It hit the ground behind us with a thwack and a geyser of dirt. Derek quickly lifted off me, but stayed over me, like a shield…or more likely making sure I didn’t jump up. He glanced over his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked. As he turned to me, his nostrils flared again. “You’re hurt. ”

He plucked my sleeve. There was a hole clear through a fold in it.

“I think they shot a dart,” I said. “It grazed me. It landed over—”

He’d already found the spot. What he dug out, though, wasn’t a tranquilizer dart.

Forty

AS DEREK HELD UP the bullet, my heart slammed against my chest. I took a deep breath and pushed aside thoughts of the Edison Group.

“Are we on Andrew’s property?” I asked.

He nodded.

“But it could still be hunters. ”

Another nod. He shifted off me and surveyed the forest. All was quiet.

“Crawl that way,” he whispered, “into the thicker bushes. I’ll get closer and take a look—”

The long grass at our feet erupted. Derek threw himself over me again with a whispered “Stay down!” like I had a choice, with a two-hundred-pound guy over me.

A horrible squawking echoed through the forest, and we looked down to see the dead bird on its feet, wings drumming the ground. I’ll point out, with some satisfaction, that I wasn’t the only one who jumped.

Derek scrambled off me. “Release—”

“I know. ”

I crawled to the other side of the clearing, far enough that I didn’t need to worry about the bird trying to jump on me.

“Hear that?” a voice called between the bird’s cries.

As the bird screamed, I concentrated on releasing its spirit, but all I could think was Shut it up. Shut it up! Another crack. We both hit the ground. A bullet zoomed over our heads, hitting a tree trunk in a rain of bark.

Still lying on my stomach, I closed my eyes. Derek grabbed my arm.

“I’m trying,” I said. “Just give me—”

“Forget it. Come on. ”

He propelled me forward, hunched over, moving fast. Behind us, the bird continued to scream, covering the sound of our retreat. When it stopped, we did. I could hear something thrashing in the undergrowth—the bird or our pursuers, I couldn’t tell. After a moment, the bird started again, its cries taking on an edge of panic that made my skin crawl.

I closed my eyes to release it.

“Not yet,” Derek said.

He led me farther, until we found a cluster of bushes. We managed to get into the middle of them and hunkered down. The bird’s cries subsided, but I could hear it moving.

“What the—?”

It was a man’s voice, cut off by a pfft that anyone who watches crime movies recognizes as the sound of a silenced gun. I was pretty sure they didn’t make silencers for hunting rifles…and that hunters didn’t carry sidearms.

The bird’s cries got louder. And the man’s curses got louder still. A couple more silenced shots, then a crack, like he’d tried the rifle, too. The bird’s screams turned to an awful gurgling.

“Jesus, what is that thing? I practically blew its head off and it’s still alive. ”

Another man answered with a harsh laugh. “Well, I guess that answers our question, doesn’t it? The Saunders girl found those boys. ”

I glanced at Derek, but his gaze was fixed straight ahead, in the direction of the voice. I closed my eyes and focused on the bird. After a moment, those pathetic sounds finally stopped.