Page 29 of Hijack the Seas: Tsunami

Purple Hair stared around like she might see one, too, and maybe she did.The direction she was looking in didn’t matter, as they were everywhere.Just everywhere.

“How many?”Alphonse demanded.And when I didn’t immediately answer, he shook me again.

“I...all of them.Just all of them.”

And that’s exactly what it looked like.Only I’d been wrong before; therewereother eyes to see, weren’t there?And I finally understood why so many ghosts were congregated in one area and playing nice, more or less.

They didn’t have a choice.

“Cassie—” Alphonse hissed.

“Bokors,” I whispered.

“What?”

“Necromancers!They’re all over the place!”

I saw one off to the far left with three feral-looking, prowling ghosts on a spectral chain, leading them around like guard dogs.I saw another, flying overhead, born aloft by a horde of spirits—something I hadn’t even known we could do—and probably looking for interlopers.But he didn’t see us; the cloaks proved their worth.

But many more of his kind were moving through the throng with groups of enthralled spirits in tow and their eyes glowing yellow, red, or sickly green, depending on what type of necromancy they practiced.And there seemed to be no end to those!The old prohibitions on the art, which had kept people like me from sharing information or even living at times, had apparently been lifted, and there were no rules anymore.

None at all, I thought, as a horde of decaying zombies suddenly shoved past us.

“What is this place?”Alphonse whispered, watching them go, the tattered remains of their bodies in no better shape than their clothes.

“Hell,” Topknot rasped.“It’s why we stopped coming.After they caught us trying to slip in here, along with some of the Silver Circle who were running raids on the place, they got protection.”

“And you didn’t feel likementioning that?”

She shrugged.“Thought you knew.It’s common practice to guard the living with the dead these days.”

“But not inourday.”

“No, I suppose not.”

She didn’t sound too concerned, and I saw Alphonse’s fist curl.But he didn’t do anything else, maybe because he was busy watching the zombie of a little girl savaging some piece of meat on the ground nearby, like a feral dog.Her decaying body was hunched over it protectively, her half-rotten face showed the chewing going on inside the eaten-away jaw whenever she looked up for a second, and her dead eyes darted around suspiciously.I looked away, feeling sick, but there were more horrors everywhere, and not just in the human range of sight.

Spirits dashed among the trees, clustering in some of the charred branches like strange birds.Others hovered over groups of mages, probably eavesdropping for their masters, while one was bolder, slipping inside a distracted mage’s skin as Billy Joe, my one-time ghost companion, had occasionally done.Only Billy had never made anyone run straight into a fire that someone had lit because I guessed the bonfire was taking too long, and then writhe in the flames as mage and ghost fought it out for dominance.

The mage won, but not before suffering heavy burns that left him half moaning, half cursing, as others ran to his aid.For its part, the ghost flitted back to a necro standing a little way away and chatting with several others of his kind, although the man gave no sign that he noticed.Except for a small quirk of the lips that might have gone unseen, except that someone had been looking for it.

The group the burned man had come from suddenly called up their own proxy army.A bunch of golems, their outer shells composed of various shades of red, brown, and gray-blue clay, broke off from their masters and ran forward.And unlike the more plain-looking type from my era, these were glowing with runes and strange inscriptions to make them more powerful—as if they needed it!

They didn’t since golems weren’t just animated, robot-like creatures.They were housing for something far more dangerous.I thought I saw flashes of the demons their masters had imprisoned inside as they threw themselves at the necros, strange light glinting in their eyes, or maybe that was all the sparks flying around.

Either way, this should be a short contest.

But I was wrong.The necromancers sent a mass of zombies into the demons’ path from those clustered around them, which, predictably, didn’t go well for the zombies.But I guessed the horde was only meant to buy a little time because a powerful necro swept in a moment later with a tattered cloak of spirits streaming out behind him.

It was at least a couple dozen yards long, and if I focused, I could see the ghostly faces and outstretched hands, pale and severely elongated, reaching out in supplication to anyone, everyone.Until their master detached a group of them, who flew into the attacking golems, sending them veering off crazily, their bodies twitching, falling, and rolling as they and the ghosts fought for control.And to my surprise, in some cases, the ghosts won.

A bunch of the clay shells suddenly sprang back up and chased their former masters into the night, while none of the surrounding mages did a thing about it, despite there being plenty of them.Instead, they gave the necromancer with the spirit cloak a wide berth, who ignored them with aristocratic disdain.Maybe because that’s what he was, I realized.

His clothes weren’t the ratty garb that most of the rest were wearing.Instead, he was clean and dressed in a new-looking, if rather showy, outfit in yellow and red that reminded me of a circus ringmaster: ruby trousers tucked into shiny black boots, a bright canary topcoat, and a pristine white shirt with red stitching along the seams.It looked like styles had changed since we’d been gone, or maybe stuff like that didn’t matter anymore, and everyone just wore whatever they pleased.

I noticed other well-heeled types in the crowd, standing out from the scruffy mass because of medieval-style robes in luxurious velvets highlighted by silver or gold embroidery; others looked like country squires in expensive tweeds and suedes and with fat bellies that didn’t look like they were missing many meals; and still more had on modern clothes topped with satin capes thrown over their shoulders as if they’d just finished a set at a local magic show.

But none compared to Mr.Circus over there, with his cloak of howling spirits, or another who was so engulfed by a group of beautiful girls with pale, dead faces that his clothes couldn’t be seen.A hierarchy had clearly developed among the mages, and many of those on top appeared to be necromancers, the former outcasts of the magical world, who had finally come into their own.But not all of them had dressed to impress.

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