Read Online Finn Fancy Necromancy by Randy Henderson - Free Book Online Page A

paintings.”
    Pete beamed at me and said, “I’ll make us some hot cider.”
    I changed in the tiny bathroom—the Speed Racer pajama bottoms had that softness that comes only from long wear, but they were a bit snug and short now that I’d fully grown. I considered just sleeping in my boxers, but I wanted to be a bit more clothed if someone attacked during the night, and I’d never been able to sleep well wearing jeans.
    As I changed, I also noticed that I’d become extremely hairy. Before exile, I wished for enough facial hair to grow even a Prince mustache. Now I had enough hair on my back alone for a small beard. Not cool.
    Once changed, I set myself up on the sofa. Pete served up the hot cider and crawled into his bed.
    â€œFinn?” Pete said. “What was it like? In the Other Realm?”
    â€œLonely,” I said, hoping he’d let it lie at that.
    â€œBut what were the Fey like?”
    â€œI didn’t exactly hang out and play games with them, Petey,” I said, irritation creeping into my tone. “I was just food to them. They came, they got what they wanted, and they left.”
    Pete’s face fell, and I felt like a jerk. Of course he still thought of the Fey as some wondrous fairy beings. And why shouldn’t he? They had, after all, begun as just that, manifested from the dreams and fears and imaginings of all those ancient shamans, oracles, and wise women whose vision quests and spirit journeys took their minds into the Other Realm. And many people still idealized the Fey, spoke of them like they hadn’t changed or committed terrible acts.
    But in fact they had long since become sentient individuals with their own petty drives and needs, dividing up by their nature into Demesnes and warring against humans when not fighting among themselves. I had wished a thousand times in the Other Realm that I could go back in time and prevent the bastards from ever being created. And I understood Grandfather’s dislike of the Fey and feybloods now, though before my exile I had just chalked it up to him being prejudiced from the last Fey-Arcana war.
    I certainly didn’t feel like maintaining the lie of Fey wonder and shininess. But I felt even less like letting my own anger hurt Pete.
    â€œWell, actually, there was this one Fey, Blobby McPheron, or at least that’s what I called him ’cause he kept telling me to not worry, that happiness was a state of mind and my mind was everything I had. He was cool for a Fey, would thank me, and tell me jokes or stories in return for the memories he viewed.” Blobby had helped me stay sane those first few years. But he’d been an exception, not the rule. “I really missed you though, dude. I’m glad to be home.”
    â€œMe too. So, did you see the Silver Halls? Or the Forest of Shadows?”
    â€œNo,” I sighed. “I was in the wilds with the shapeless Fey, in neutral territory, not one of the Shaped Demesnes.”
    â€œOh. So, what did you do?”
    I shifted on the couch, pulled the blanket up around myself. “I relived memories.”
    â€œGood memories?”
    â€œAll of my memories. The good ones, the bad ones, the stupid boring ones. The Fey would come to experience and feed off of the energy and emotion manifested through the memories.”
    Petey frowned. “Did it hurt?”
    â€œNo. I didn’t feel a thing, except what I remembered, or dreamed.”
    â€œThat doesn’t sound so bad. I like remembering. Sometimes I like to just lie on the grass and remember stuff. Especially about you, and Mother, and Grandma Ramirez, and Grandfather Gramaraye, and all the people I can’t see anymore.”
    â€œWell, I certainly remembered you, dude.” And Grandfather, since I would often feel his presence in the Other Realm. Perhaps it was just my imagination since I never felt the presence of my other family members, alive or deceased, but I