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“Maybe we can question his corpse?” I ask Rowan when she runs up to us. Whew. My voice is finally steady.
She shakes her head. “I need something left of him to resurrect.”
A necromancer dressed in red rushes past us in the direction of the house. Behind him is a group of about twenty zombies, also wearing red.
“The fire brigade,” Rowan says, and indeed, the zombies are already tossing buckets of water and bags of sand at the burning house.
Once the fire is out, we go over to assess the damage.
There are no discernable pieces left of Exozar, nor can we locate the flask with the vampire blood, or Koshmar sprayers, or any other evidence.
Rowan kicks a charred and mangled soup pot. “I guess we have to hope the Parliament takes our word on this.”
Stanislav clutches his chest. When he notices me staring, he jerks the hand away.
Puck.
“Are you having heart palpitations?” I ask cautiously.
“Isn’t everyone?” he replies gruffly. “We were nearly blown to pieces.”
Dylan eyes him worriedly but lets it slide.
“Let’s go back to the Parliament,” Valerian says. “The sooner we explain what happened, the sooner we can go back.”
Assuming we can go back. I don’t say it, though, because it’s clear from everyone’s grim faces that they’re thinking the same thing.
As we walk to the Parliament building, I tell everyone what Rowan and I discovered.
“I’m not surprised Icelus pre-vamps are behind the spread of the virus,” Valerian says. “Vampires and pre-vamps hate necromancers, so they have an extra motive to want to destroy this particular world.”
“Let’s hope the hatred is mutual,” Ariel says. “It might increase the odds that the Parliament goes after Icelus for us, even though we can’t provide any evidence.”
“Oh, it is mutual,” Rowan says. “But can I ask a dumb question? What is Icelus, exactly?”
Valerian tells her about Collywobbles and how Icelus are an organization that worship him, while the Overtaken are people who were taken over by him while they dreamed a very specific nightmare. He then warns her about letting people share their dreams with her.
“We should spread that advice through as many Otherlands as we can,” Felix says. “Talking about nightmares might become as impolite as showing off your toenail fungus at the dinner table.”
Dylan chuckles. “I’ll mention this to Maxwell the next time I see him in my dreams. Assuming he’s not reached the same conclusion independently.”
We enter Decagon Square and march into the Parliament building.
“Take the helper masks and clothes off,” Rowan says. “They might not like the disguises.”
We comply, leaving everything in the corridor before entering the meeting chamber.
Rowan strolls into the center of the room and confidently gives her spiel.
Immediately, Keyser begins shouting, while Shegan speaks in a calmer voice. The rest of the Parliament fall somewhere in the middle. When the most vocal Parliament members settle down, Rowan speaks some more, and the reactions repeat.
“My husband-to-be clearly hasn’t taken his afternoon nap yet,” Rowan says to us when the Parliament quiets again. “He’s pricklier than a hedgehog cactus.”
Dylan rolls her eyes. “What she’s trying to say is he doesn’t believe us, nor her for that matter.”
“Shegan does, though,” Rowan says. “Some of the others might also.”
I don’t like where this is heading.
“Why would we lie?” Ariel asks, exasperated. “More importantly, why concoct such a story?”
“Don’t forget the blown-up house,” Felix says.
Rowan sighs. “I raised all those points. Let’s hope that helps us when they vote.”
I knew it.
Another vote.
Shoot me now.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Keyser stands up from his chair.
I grit my teeth.
A long second passes.
Keyser looks around in confusion.
Not a single other Parliament member stands up.
Rowan grins from ear to ear and says something in Necronian.
Keyser’s giant collapses back into his throne and monologues for a couple of seconds. Then his limbs hang lifelessly, as if a puppeteer had given up control of a marionette.
Rowan rolls her eyes and addresses the other giants.
Shegan gives her a curt reply, and they go back and forth for a few minutes.
“Let’s go,” Rowan says to us and strides for the door.
“We’re not getting killed, right?” Itzel asks.
Rowan waits until we’re in the corridor. “Not only are we not getting killed,” she says proudly, “but after Keyser had his tantrum and left, I got a chance to negotiate on your behalf.”
“She got them to make Icelus their top priority.” Dylan looks approvingly at Rowan. “She then gave them some sensible quarantine procedures to follow while they wait for the cure, and she even got us access to the Parliament’s own personal supplies for our trip.”
Rowan has her zombies hold the doors for us, and after we exit, she says, “I assume we want to travel to the hub without stopping?”
Dylan cuts her eyes toward Stanislav. “Time is not our friend.”
Nodding, Rowan leads us to a storage facility, where she recruits particularly strong-looking zombies and gets us a raft-like platform twice the size of the one Nulen used to bring us to Necropolis.
