The Necromancer's Seduction (11 page)

Jax popped his head in. “Uh, I see you’re making yourself comfortable.”

“Shut up, Jax, and get some tea,” Ewan grated.

“Sheesh, try not to get them in a bind,” Jax said, leaving on his errand.

The raise had torn my emotional compartments apart, and I had nothing to bind me together,
nothing except Ewan’s arms. I snuggled closer to his chest and sought oblivion, that
comatose state of mind and soul, all emotion powered off.

I woke alone on the couch in the demon study, my hand bandaged, my body cold, but
definitely not the bone marrow freeze of before. That was nuts. In all my raisings,
I’d never reacted so violently. I closed my eyes and focused on my body. The breath
caught in my throat when I detected a slight pressure in my chest. An image of Adam’s
body flashed in my mind, his eyes opening—I flung my lids open. Steam wafted from
a cup of tea on the table. I gulped down the black liquid and let the warmth seep
through my body, thawing me out.

Ewan strode into the room. He wore jeans and a black sweater, the sleeves pulled up
to reveal his arms. Oh shit. I remembered him holding me and me cuddling up to him
like some purring kitten. He poured a drink then sat on the chair in front of me.

I looked toward the fire and cleared my throat. “Where’s Adam? Was I successful?”

“Yes, quite. After you passed out, we took Adam to another room, let him work things
out. Jax is with him.”

He searched my face, but I kept it turned to the fire.

“I wanted to tell you thanks for, ah, helping me when I passed out.” My face heated
in scattered pinpricks at remembering the strength of his arms, the feel of his skin
as he held me. “My reaction was more extreme than I remember.” More pinpricks. “From
the raise.” I needed to shut up now.

He pretended not to notice the foot in my mouth. “You were in shock. You don’t have
to thank me. I rather enjoyed holding you. Seemed to me you rather liked it too.”

I almost spit out the tea in my mouth. His expression was intent, serious. I put my
mug down, clasped my hands and stared at the flames licking the walls of the fireplace,
telling myself the warmth spreading between my legs was caused by the hot fire.

He put his drink down and leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs while his
hands dangled between his legs. His closeness made the warmth drift to my center and
pulse softly. “I want to know what you felt about me holding you, about our kiss.”
He leaned closer and brushed his hand against my cheek.

“Look Ewan, I’m attracted to you . . .”

“But—” He tilted his head to the side, eyes glowing.

“There’s a lot going on right now. I’m having a hard enough time focusing on the necromancy
and my teaching. I think I’m overwhelmed.”

His expression was inscrutable. “You don’t trust me because I’m a demon.” He shifted
back in his chair. “I haven’t quite figured out why, but I think the problem is you
don’t trust yourself.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him he didn’t know what he was talking about,
but the right words failed to materialize. Jax entered the room followed by a man,
shorter than Jax, but average in size, with surfer-tossed, dirty blond hair. Adam.

Ewan kept his gaze fixed to mine and raised his eyebrow, which I took to mean this
conversation wasn’t over.

“How’re you feeling?” Jax asked as he plopped on the couch next to me. He waved his
hand at Adam. “Meet your revenant.”

Adam didn’t move from his position just inside the doorway. He looked around the room
before slanting his blue eyes at me. The pressure in my chest intensified, and I realized
it must be the bond. He looked normal enough. I expelled the breath I’d held when
he walked in the room. Maybe it’s worse that he looks normal, like the serial killers
that resemble the guy next door or the respectable businessman. Turn your back, and
you’re dead.

I had no one to ask for advice on how to control a revenant. I was alone with my monster.
The cold seeped back into my limbs. He was scared too. And pissed.

“You don’t have to look like you’re about to get hacked up by Michael Myers. Although
the thought has crossed my mind,” Adam said.

“Sorry, I don’t quite know what to say,” was my lame reply.

“How about why for starters?”

“Maybe I can provide an answer,” Malthus said as he strode into the room.

The more I stared at Adam, the more I noticed something off about him . . . well,
more than the fact that he was a reanimated corpse.

Adam noticed my stare. “What? Is my flesh falling off or something?”

“No, it’s just . . .” That’s it. “You’re not breathing.”

Adam’s hands flew to his chest, then down to his stomach where he kept them for a
few seconds. “Damn, you’re right. Creepy.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips. “Sorry, but you have to get the irony,
no?” A revenant, the very embodiment of all creepiness, disturbed by his lack of body
functions?

Adam just crossed his arms across his chest and focused his glare on Malthus. “You
were saying?”

“Adam, please sit down,” Malthus said.

Adam took one of the large swivel chairs next to Malthus’s desk. He rested his ankle
on his knee and sat back, recrossing his arms in front of his chest.

“I must first apologize for disturbing your rest. I convinced Ruby to raise you,”
Malthus said.

I pulled the blanket close to my chest in a tight swaddle, suddenly overwhelmed by
the events of the last twenty-four hours.

“She succeeded quite brilliantly,” he continued, pride evident in his tone, and Jax
patted my leg.

Adam furrowed his brows. He didn’t seem impressed, and Malthus said, “Adam, someone
is killing supernaturals. You are not the only victim, but you are the most recent.
We hope the memories of your death will help us discover the person or persons behind
the murders.”

I sensed Adam’s confusion and anger through our bond, hitting me like a combination
of indigestion and heartburn. The bond would take some getting used to.

Adam didn’t speak, apparently not willing to cooperate. I realized I could compel
him to answer our questions, but forcing him would only make him fight back. I’d raised
him from the dead against his will. He needed to feel like he had some control. I
could identify with that.

Silence oppressed the air. The urge to cry overcame me, and I eyed Adam, noticing
pain flashing across his features. Was he thinking about Jenna? He had found peace
in death, and we’d ripped it away from him. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the
sadness in our bond, and attempted to soothe the pain, like smothering a scratch with
ointment. I opened my eyes to find Adam staring at me, his eyes wide. His jaw softened.
“Cael, his name was Cael.”

“Cael is the person who killed you?” Ewan asked.

“I don’t know who killed me, but I remember that name. He was there when the lights
went out, so to speak. He’s a necromancer.”

The three demons exchanged looks. “I don’t know of a necromancer named Cael in this
part of the country,” Malthus said, his expression thoughtful. “Are you sure his name
was Cael? Do you remember anything else?” he asked Adam.

Adam’s face reddened, and his anger seeped through me once again. Too soon, it’s too
soon to drill him about his death when he is still coping with life.

“Malthus,” I said. “Why don’t we call it a night?” I yawned.

“You’re right,” he responded. “It’s been quite eventful. Ewan, can you see to everyone?”
Malthus glanced my way, gave me a small nod, and left the room.

The thought of where to house Adam occurred to me at Malthus’s words. I knew we needed
to stay close, but didn’t think an instant roommate was the solution. Seems he was
thinking along the same lines.

“So am I relegated to haunting the cemetery?”

“Probably not a good idea for you to return to your apartment,” Jax said. “Plenty
of room here.”

“Adam, is that okay?” I asked.

“Sure, back from the dead to live with the demons. Sure, everything is just dandy.”
He flicked his gaze upward to stare at the ceiling.

“I can talk to Kara tomorrow, get some ideas . . .”

He whipped his head toward me, eyes blazing. “No. I’m not staying with any witches.
I’ll help you find this goddamned killer, but don’t involve the coven. I’ll stay at
the demon cave.”

The vehemence in his tone made me squeeze my blanket tight. I wasn’t going to suggest
he stay at the coven or with Kara. I knew that was a bad idea. I sighed. Raising Adam
had been the easy part. He’d agreed to help us, and we were communicating, sort of.
We weren’t best buddies, but we’d settled upon a rocky ledge. It’d hold—until his
cravings kicked in.

Chapter Eleven

I found myself back at the demon lair the next morning, which surprised me, given
the exertion of raising Adam. I expected to pass out in bed and wake up three days
later, but I was wired, hopping. My power had simulated a caffeine injection straight
to the vein.

Gus answered the door and left me standing in the foyer, muttering that he’d fetch
Ewan. I’d come to see Adam, but explaining that to Gus was futile, so I waited, stretching
my sore knee and grunting at the pokes of pain.

Ewan strolled into the foyer wearing black suit pants and a blue silk shirt, the top
buttons undone, tie loosened and hanging down his chest. I inhaled to calm my fluttering
nerves, remembering our interrupted conversation from last night.

“You demons clean up nicely,” I said.

“I’m going to see the New York demons about the breach.”

I avoided his eyes, not wanting him to see my disappointment. “How long will you spend
in New York?”

“A few hours.”

My head snapped up. “I don’t understand.”

“The portal. We can travel around the human realm using the portal.”

Excitement sizzled my fingertips. My list of to dos today included calling one of
the few remaining prominent necromancers to ask him about Cael. He lived in New York.
I’m a firm believer in face-to-face contact.

“You want to go with me?” Ewan asked.

“It would help my research into this Cael guy.” I feigned seriousness. I’d give any
excuse to go to New York and travel through the fairy door. My inner child squealed.

Ewan laughed. “Okay, but you sure you’re up for it? How’s your knee?”

“Good enough. I won’t break, despite popular belief.”

“I know you won’t.” His soft tone caressed my ears.

I viewed his attire again. “Am I dressed appropriately to meet the other demons?”

He surveyed my body, taking his time until his eyes found mine. Knowing I might run
into him, I’d purposely chosen the snug jeans and baby doll shirt because they hugged
my curves, but I suddenly felt squeezed in plastic wrap and wanted a sack to throw
over me.

“You look enticing, as always.” His smile was lazy and his voice husky.

He was going to kill me. He really was. He motioned for me to follow him. We walked
down a short flight of stairs to a spacious basement that looked normal enough, replete
with pool and foosball tables, bar, and the slightly damp mildew smell ingrained in
the walls of all basements. Nothing that hinted at a gateway to another plane of existence.

“Take my hand. You need to be in physical contact with me from now on,” he said.

Was this a put on? I eyed his outstretched hand and raised my eyebrows.

He grinned. “I promise you my seductions are much more imaginative than hand holding.”

My hand sparked, and my breath caught when he wound his fingers through mine. He swept
his gaze over me, settling on my face. I moistened my lips, and he smiled, a wicked
smile deepening the smolder of his eyes. “Come on.”

We walked to a door on the other side of the basement, past the well-stocked bar.
He spoke in the demon tongue, and the door swung open. A narrow passageway spilled
out before us. “How exactly does the portal work?” I asked.

“Malthus learned how to bend matter at points where our realms come the closest to
converging, creating the portals—similar to your theoretical space wormholes. These
points fluctuate, never occurring at the same place, but that instability also gives
us the ability to travel to other places in your world. Like right now, the realms
have converged in New York. Next month, it might be London or the Arctic Circle. San
Francisco is the only stable point and therefore forms a permanent portal.”

“Demon wormholes, huh? Don’t want to see those worms.”

He chuckled. After a few moments of walking down the corridor, my wedge sandals sank
into the now dirt floor. I stuck my hand out to my side, feeling damp brick where
only moments before I’d encountered plaster walls as we trudged deeper into recesses
lit only by oil lanterns. We must have left the confines of the house. Of reality,
for that matter.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“I can’t explain it in normal terms. We aren’t in the world as you perceive it. Think
of this as a mental landscape.”

“Is my mind projecting all this?”

“No, mine is.”

“How can a creature from the demon realm find its way out if the way in is another
demon’s mental projection?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Demon magic works a lot with bending perception
and manipulating space and time, as you experienced with Jax after the zombie attacked
you. A demon wanting to breach the portal need only learn how to perceive its way
out. Granted, if he makes a mistake, he can wander forever, lost in the oblivion of
his own mind.”

The passageway narrowed until my shoulders scraped against the brick walls, now stained
with black slime. The oil from the lamps mingled with another smell, a deep, dank
odor that made me feel like I needed to wipe black mold off my body.

“Christ, can’t you tell your mind to make this passage a little wider and warmer?”

“It’s a subconscious projection. I can’t control it.”

“Your subconscious is a dungeon?” I said, eyeing a rusted chain hanging from the wall.
“What the hell is this place?”

Out of nowhere a large mosaic door appeared on the wall in front of us. “We’ve arrived
at the portal,” Ewan said.

The small mosaic tiles combined in a pattern of shapes and colors to form a picture
of the Golden Gate Bridge. The water of the bay shimmered before me, and the briny
scent of the ocean tickled my nostrils. I reached out to touch the mosaic, but Ewan
seized my wrist. “Don’t touch it.”

He reached a finger out to the mosaic and touched a boat bobbing in the waters of
the bay. The tiles shuffled in a flash of color similar to a tile game until they
formed a picture of the Empire State Building. The yellow taxi cabs on the street
appeared to veer around traffic.

“No shit,” I said in awe. “That is one of the coolest things I’ve seen—ever.”

“The portal is an organic, almost sentient mechanism. The closest parallel to human
science is quantum physics.”

I grimaced. “I’m an anthropologist, not a physicist.”

He laughed. “Imagine we’re taking a ride on an atom.” He squeezed my hand. “Are you
ready?”

I nodded and wiped my clammy hand on my jeans. “What will happen?”

“I don’t know what humans perceive when they travel through the portal. It’s different
for everyone. We’ll pass through the demon realm for a split second. You might get
sick.”

The mosaic flexed when we stepped through. Inky blackness greeted me. I stuck my hand
out in reflex. Slowly, light poked at my eyes until I saw images swim past my periphery
as if I were viewing mirages in a desert. The sound of buzzing cicadas on a hot summer
day filled my ears.

I couldn’t see Ewan, but his firm grasp on my hand settled my nerves and kept me from
losing myself in the sensations. A dark shadow blocked out the images. Then everything
around me blurred, and I found myself swaying on a concrete floor. I swung around,
my back to Ewan, bent over and threw up next to a wall. I’d eaten a light breakfast,
but my stomach was intent on ridding itself of its contents from the last few years.

Judging by the rounded tunnel and posters advertising Broadway shows, I was in the
New York subway. People rushed around us, impervious to our presence, thankfully.
Although this time, I wasn’t sure if Ewan was using his cloaking device or if it was
typical New Yorker disinterest.

I heard an exasperated sigh followed by a mumbled, “. . . what happens when humans
come through.”

Ewan handed me a handkerchief. “You did well. Your grandmother threw up at least three
times.”

I looked up at him in surprise. Cora had traveled through the portal?

The mumbles transformed into a gruff voice uttering words in the demon tongue. I flicked
my gaze up and up. The demon loomed a good half-foot taller than Ewan. Christ, he
was huge. Something about his leather boots, gabardine western shirt, and the way
the light gleamed off his blond hair made me think rockabilly Norse god.

Ewan responded to him, a frown marring his lips. The huge demon narrowed his eyes
at the portal, then turned to me, addressing his question to Ewan. “This is the necromancer?”

I bristled at his superior tone. “Yes, this is the necromancer,” I said. “I can raise
the dead—and talk too.”

He smoothed his blond mustache repeatedly with his fingers, his mouth twitching.

“Ruby, this is Draemavos,” Ewan said.

“You can call me Damon,” Draemavos said, his tone telling me he didn’t care either
way, and he’d probably prefer I didn’t call him at all.

Damon snapped his fingers. A small gray blob on squat legs scurried over, and the
mess deposited by my stomach disappeared. As far as I could tell, the thing had no
discernible facial features. When I leaned to get a closer look, a tiny slit in the
middle of the blob appeared. The entire front of its body opened to reveal a large
mouth. I stepped back when it hissed at me, baring rows of tiny spiked teeth.

Ewan shook his head. “I don’t know why you keep Vyx around. He’s more trouble than
he’s worth.”

A set of what I took for arms sprang from the blob. The little creature proceeded
to shake the pudgy stumps at Ewan, sputtering a litany of grunts, wheezes, and what
I took for words. Demon tongue or no, I know cursing when I hear it.

“You’d be surprised at the talents hidden inside all the blubber,” Damon said before
turning and walking down the subway tunnel.

Vyx bared his teeth a moment longer, then turned back into a featureless blob and
ambled after his hulking demon master. Ewan and I walked a few paces back.

“What Damon’s deal?” I asked.

“Don’t mind him. He’s serious about his demon persona.”

“Good thing you’re not
as bad
as him.” Demon arrogance had not escaped Ewan completely.

He lowered his head. “Or what? You won’t want me anymore?” Between his teasing eyes
and sideways look, he resembled a romance novel rogue.

I half laughed, half snorted in nervousness. “Never mind. It’s too late.”

He laughed, not in the least worried by my comment. He knew quite well my reaction
to him. Dammit.

We emerged into the imposing Grand Central Terminal carved into the Manhattan bedrock.
The green ceiling softened the austere grandness of the main terminal teeming with
people rushing to their destinations. A computer generated voice announced the next
train to White Plains. We walked outside and were immediately buffeted by exhaust,
people shouting, and the buzz of car engines. New York City.

I’ve visited New York a few times and always loved the atmosphere. The tall buildings
created an urban landscape that made me feel small, insignificant. My gaze climbed
one of the tall buildings until it met the sky, lost in its immensity. Honking taxis
brought me back to ground level.

We crossed the street. Small black orbs popped out of Vyx’s undulating gelatin-like
body and eyed the gum for sale on the newsstands. I wondered how often the stoic Damon
indulged the little creature. I couldn’t help myself. I bought some Big Red and handed
a piece to Vyx. His orbs expanded to the size of golf balls. He snatched the gum from
my hand and stuck it into his body. I assumed the smacking sound coming from within
the blob was chewing.

Both demons observed the exchange. Damon looked annoyed, and Ewan suppressed a smile.
Ewan leaned close to me. “Might want to be careful. Vyx might want to go home with
you.”

“He doesn’t seem too bad.”

“Famous last words.”

Ewan took my hand as we muddled through the throngs. Damon didn’t fail to notice our
entwined hands. He gave Ewan a crooked grin but kept silent. We passed a hot dog cart,
and my stomach rumbled at the aroma of sweet onions and hot mustard wafting from the
cart.

“Want a hot dog?” Ewan asked. He had the uncanny ability of reading my thoughts, or
maybe he’d just heard my stomach’s loud grumbles.

I gazed at the cart, hesitant. Hot dog? This early? My appetite lately seemed insatiable.
I think I was fifteen the last time I ate a hot dog. Ewan didn’t wait for my answer
and ordered three. Oh well. I’ll just jog on the beach later. Right.

“Thanks, Marchois,” I said to him when he handed me the dog loaded with onions—per
my instructions.

Humor danced in his eyes. “You prefer my demon name over Ewan?”

“They’re both fitting.” I took a bite, licking the tangy onion juice that dripped
down my lip.

We weaved our way to a grassy oasis in the middle of the bustling sidewalks and noisy
streets and found an empty bench. We sat and finished our dogs. It was then I noticed
Vyx had disappeared.

“We can drop you off at the necromancer’s place of business,” Damon said. The necromancer,
Arthur, owned an import business in Chinatown.