Finn Fancy Necromancy by Randy Henderson Page B

felt a sinking feeling in my stomach.
    â€œOh yeah, that, and e-mail, and plays music and stuff. The camera’s pretty weaksauce, though.”
    I could see why Sammy laughed at me. I glanced between my Commodore and Mattie’s phone. I couldn’t even imagine the code it would take to make that thing work. It was like a supercomputer in the palm of her hand.
    â€œHow about a nice game of global thermonuclear war?” I muttered.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œSorry. Nothing. I just—I could really use some time alone now.”
    â€œOh, of course. I should go check on Papa G anyway.” She moved to the door. “Good night, Uncle Finn. Welcome home.” She left.
    I stared at the closed door. What now?
    Three days. Three days to figure out who was after me or it was exile with a side of brain scramble.
    The first step was to give my enemy a name. Things were always easier to deal with when they had a name. Enemy, I name thee … Romulans? The Gamalons?
    Legion of Doom. Yeah, that worked.
    So, I needed to figure out who the Legion were and stop them from ruining my life. But what could I do that the enforcers and the Arcana Ruling Council, with all their power and ability, could not?
    Well, I could launch my own investigation into what really happened twenty-five years ago. The ARC might consider that a closed case, but I knew better, and the enforcers didn’t know about Felicity’s death, at least not yet. Surely the two attacks were related.
    But where to start?
    Mort. I could dig a little deeper into what my brother was up to. He was my only potential lead at this point. Well, other than the Króls, but I wasn’t eager to chase after a clan of vengeful witches if I had another option.
    Three days.
    The room felt suddenly too small, the walls pressing in. I opened the window, took a deep breath of the cool night air, and finally turned to look at the floor. A throw rug covered the spot where Felicity had laid, no bloodstains to be seen. But I could still see her unconscious body, my memory filling in a ghostly image of it.
    â€œWho attacked you?” I whispered. “And why frame me for it?”
    She wouldn’t answer. I could try Talking to her until I felt as if my head would explode like in Scanners . But I knew from experience there was no Talking to a warded spirit.
    Tears burned at the back of my eyes. I paced the small space of my room for a minute, trying to shake the growing fury, and finally plopped down at my desk. Maybe a quick game of Wizball would make me feel better, help me feel a little of the joy of homecoming. But I found myself rearranging my books and notebooks in order of size, as my mind fixed on Mattie’s tiny little phone computer. A computer that fit in her hand. Amazing. And for some reason, it was the straw that humped the camel’s dam.
    â€œWHY?” I shouted. I leaped back up and paced rapidly, my thoughts scratching at me like an angry cat demanding attention.
    Twenty-five years, gone. My father, my family, my life, so many changes. Raw emotion boiled up inside me. All of the anger I’d pushed down, told myself wouldn’t help anything, it all erupted back up into my chest now. Twenty-five years. I’d convinced myself it was a good thing, dreaming of a life with Heather, a life free from the magic that had become a curse, and of the ARC who’d thrown me into exile to be fed on by the Fey. Free, and in control of my own life.
    Except now I was back, and I realized how much I’d lost. I realized how much my Other Realm dreams were lies I told to keep myself sane. My obligations and choices were the same as they ever were, but I would have to struggle even harder to make my place anywhere, to find happiness anywhere. Assuming I wasn’t mind-humped and sent back into exile in three days, of course.
    If my room weren’t so small, I might have danced the Footloose anger dance, punching at the air, literally