The Necromancer's Seduction (25 page)

“Don’t worry. I’ve reserved plenty for you,” Ewan said in a savage murmur. “This isn’t
over between us.”

My throat and eyes swelled as I watched Ewan walk off, the shadows pushing him away
from me.

“Don’t worry, he’ll cool off, and things will work themselves out,” Lysander said.

“I just wonder if anything will be left behind when the ashes settle.”

Suddenly, a knot of pain tightened in my chest, almost like the bond, but as far as
I knew, Adam was at the demon lair. I hugged myself, lifted my head, and walked out
to the middle of the street.

“What is it?” Lysander asked.

I looked back at him and shook my head. “Nothing. Jittery, I guess.”

Must be a delayed reaction to the hideous scene with Ewan. I hadn’t actually believed
he would leave. I thought he’d take my hand and lead me to his place where we’d talk
and make love, but he’d simply walked off into the night.

And I’d let him.

Something in me couldn’t exonerate Ewan from the past lies, and now I’d lied to him.
Would he forgive me?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Breakfast the next morning turned into a failed experiment of runny eggs and burnt
toast. I retreated to my study and ran my hand along the shelved books, remembering
Ewan doing the same thing only a few days ago, or was it years ago?

I rested my forehead against the cool leather of the spines. Books comfort me. I love
slinking between the towering bookshelves in libraries, in my own world where no one
can find me, where I can sit on the thin, unpadded library carpet and escape.

But I have no musty carpet to sit on, only hardwood floor, and the necromancy and
occult books on this shelf provided no escape. They mocked me, telling me I was no
closer to resolving the situation with Cael and Brandon than I was to finishing my
damn research paper.

I bumped my head against the books, knocking one deeper into the recesses of the shelf.
I squinted and moved my head closer. Peeking out of a book on Necromancy in the Middle
Ages were the missing pages from Cora’s journal. I stared at the cream-colored sheets
and allowed them to taunt me a few more moments.

Cora hid them here? Why? On further thought, it made sense. She hid them in the middle
of the necro books, where she knew I wouldn’t look. Until I needed to. I moved my
hand over the slips of paper, hesitating, knowing that reading them would change everything.

I flexed my hand and pulled out the missing journal pages and read the first words
that caught my eye.

Power spheres.

Cora
had
done more research. Research she didn’t want discovered. I spread the pages with
my fingers like a hand of cards, then fell on my knees when I scanned the last sheet.
I read the words again. The only sound I heard was my heart pumping furiously in my
ears.

* * * *

“Fuck.” Adam stared at me wide-eyed. I braced for the snarky comment, the recrimination,
but he walked to me and put his arm around my slumped shoulders.

My mind was spinning. I had not seen this coming. With all the life-altering revelations
of the past week, this completely blew everything away. “I can stand here and be pissed
at Cora, Malthus, and even my mother if she knew, but I share some of the blame.”

“Uh, no.”

“I avoided this part of my life—didn’t want to
know
about it.”

“Yeah, but, supernatural aside, this is your family. Your grandmother should have
told you.”

“She was trying to protect me.”

“You’re making excuses for her.” He pulled away from me, hands grasping my shoulders,
and looked at me quizzically. “Well, I’ll be damned, literally. This means you’re
part demon. No wonder you’re so powerful. Damn, and this means I can only partly trust
you,” he said, his eyebrows raised in mock seriousness.

“Like you have fully up to this point?” I asked in my driest of tones.

Adam dropped his hands from my shoulders at the knock on the door.

“It’s probably Kara. I called her,” I told him.

“What’s with the mopey looks?” she asked as she glided into the house. Neither of
us answered right away, watching her settle down on the couch. “What’s up?”

I stared out the window. “I found the pages that someone removed from Cora’s journal.
Seems Malthus—Cora—they were hiding the fact that Malthus is my grandfather.” The
room was silent until Kara shifted on the couch.

“No way,” she said, enunciating each word, her tone wavering between disbelief and
awe.

“Oh way.” I turned to face her, then collapsed in the chair next to me, burying my
head in my hands.

“Christ. Did you see this coming?” she asked.

“Cora and Malthus having a fling? Never in a million years. I never had reason to
question the story that my mother’s dad died when she was young. Cora even had pictures,
which makes me wonder who the poor shmuck was who was supposed to be my grandfather.”

“Do you think your mom knew?”

“These days I’m not ruling anything out, but I think if she had, she would have milked
the demon connection for all it was worth.”

“The demon? Oh . . . you’re . . .”

“Part demon,” I finished for her.

“Wow, a part-demon necromancer. That’s pretty hard-core.” She couldn’t hide the admiration
that lit up her voice. “No wonder you were able to raise supe revenants without so
much as a thought.”

“Being a demon isn’t something to be particularly proud of,” Adam said. “Nor is creating
a revenant.”

“You can be such a self-righteous, insensitive prick,” Kara shot back at him.

“Okay, guys.” They were on the verge of turning my throbbing head into a full-blown
migraine.

Kara glared at Adam while he gave her a blank look. Then he turned to me, his eyes
softening. “Sorry, Ruby, that was uncalled for. It’s not your fault you’re in this
position.”

“You think Ewan knows?” Kara asked.

I shrugged. After last night, I’d decided to give him time to cool off, then call
him and talk, but now I couldn’t face him without wondering if he’d known about this,
just like he’d known about Cael.

Kara’s cell chimed. She eyed the screen and frowned. She listened to the caller, ending
the conversation with, “Shit.”

“What’s up?” I asked her.

“Sybil’s making a bid for Wiseacre.” She continued to stare at her smart phone. “Think
there’s an app for that?” No one laughed.

I clutched the pillow lying next to me. It seemed everything was unraveling with brutal
efficiency. If the coven elected Sybil as their leader, we were all screwed, especially
Kara.

“She’s been sneaking around the coven looking for your spell book,” Kara said, pointing
at Adam. “Finding the book may sway some votes her way.”

“Need to burn that damn book,” he said.

“She won’t find it. Matilda hid it using some hefty spells,” Kara announced.

“Do you know where it is?” I asked.

“No, but I’m looking. I agree with Adam. It needs to get burned.” She stood. “I have
to get back to the coven.”

Adam followed Kara to the door. I stared out the window, watching people pass on the
street, then made my way to the downstairs bathroom.

I studied the towels folded neatly over the bar. The image of Cora holding Mom flashed
before my eyes. I squeezed them shut, taking in the heavy smell of orange zest air
freshener.

I slumped to my knees and traced the gritty grout in between the cold tiles with my
finger. The blood had seeped through the pores of the bathroom floor. It took many
hundreds of dollars of remodeling to remove the stain of her death. I could still
smell the sharp copper taint of her blood, still see her sightless eyes imploring
me. My chest and throat heaved—dry heaves—in an attempt to eject the pain of her death.

Footsteps approached.

“I thought you left with Kara,” I told Adam.

He leaned against the bathroom wall next to the sink and crossed his arms against
his chest. “I changed my mind.”

I shifted from my knees to a sitting position with my back against the wall. “You
know my mom killed herself, right?”

“I know she died, but not how.”

“She tried to help Greg, the cop, catch a serial killer. My mom convinced him they
could reanimate the corpse of a woman killed by the serial killer to see if she could
identity him. My mom reveled in the power of a necro and was cocky about her abilities.
She was cocky about everything. Cora warned her not to raise someone who’d died violently,
but that only increased her determination.”

“So what happened?”

“ The trauma born from a violent death stamps its indelible mark on a person’s soul.
The minute the woman woke, she bombarded my mother’s mind with images of torture and
death. Mom quickly put the corpse back down, but the damage was done. She spent her
remaining nights and days fighting off the horrible images.” Images drenched with
blood and filled with the cries of the victim. I shuddered and wrapped my arms around
myself.

“My mom became a virtual zombie herself until the day Cora found her here.” My voice
broke. “The floor was covered in her blood. I never use this bathroom.”

My mind travelled back to that night. Cora’s sobs had awakened me and led me here.
I watched my grandmother clutch my mother’s head in her lap, caress her hair. Blood
pooled on the floor from my mother’s sliced wrists until it seeped into the hem of
my nightgown. Poor Cora. She was devastated, but she hid it, chasing her sorrow away
by traveling around the world.

“I resented my mother for trying to raise that serial killer,” I finally said. “It
was such a stupid, risky thing to do. Cora knew it too.”

“Your mom made her choices, just like we all do,” he said. “Choices we live or die
by.”

I stood. “I know. I couldn’t save her. Neither could Cora. She tried to compensate
by shielding me from the supe community. Lot of good that did. Left me conflicted
as hell. Unprepared for this craziness.”

“You’re going to search for Cael.”

How had he guessed? Even after all the time we’d spent in each other’s company, the
bond was still jarring, or maybe he simply saw the decision cross my face before I’d
even realized it myself. “He’s probably not the one who killed Cora, but I need to
stop him and find out who’s behind the madness.” I picked at one of the hand towels.
“You need to let me do this.”

“I’m not going to stop you. I’ll just tag along.”

I nodded and went upstairs to change into jeans and sneakers. When I lifted my shirt,
my silver necklace fell against my chest. I grasped the cold metal and held it for
a moment before undoing the clasps that bound it to me. Since Mom’s suicide, Cora
had kept me bound together by sheer force of will, keeping us both sane. I touched
the now empty spot on my chest. Now it was my turn to stiffen my will, to persevere,
to confront Cael, and give him what he wants. What he deserves. And I had a plan.
I just wasn’t sure it would work.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“How do you plan to find Cael?” Adam asked as we rode the bus to the Mission. This
time of day, the bus was mostly empty, just a handful of riders seated at the front.
We settled in back so we could talk about Cael and zombies without anyone calling
the police.

“Brandon. I think I sensed him earlier. The bond between us is weak because of Cael’s
interference, but I can tell when he’s close.”

“Where were you?”

“A club.” With Lysander. And Ewan. I’d realized later the jittery sensation I’d felt
was the bond—with Brandon. “It never occurred to me to try and locate Cael through
Brandon, but tonight was the first time I sensed the bond with him.”

“By club you mean the vampire club.”

“Yep.” I turned to stare at the buildings zipping by.

“You don’t think we should ask for help?”

“No. Malthus will try to manipulate the outcome.”

“Ewan?” His voice tiptoed around the conversation. I hadn’t spoken of Ewan or talked
to him on the phone, and Adam had noticed.

My vision glazed over, the buildings blurred. “Ewan’s hands are tied when it comes
to this situation . . . because of Malthus.”

Facing Cael with only Adam as backup was going to piss Ewan off even more. Lysander
had said to let him cool off, but how do you cool off a raging volcano? After tonight,
I didn’t know what slivers of trust would remain between us, but they’d be sharp and
difficult to salvage.

“I’m assuming you have some kind of plan in mind?” Adam said.

I lay my head on the metal bar of the seat in front of us. “Sort of.”

“Sort of? That’s comforting.”

“It’s good you’re coming along. You can keep the zombies distracted.”

My entire plan depended on creating a power sphere from the arcane energy I could
extract from Cael’s revenants. Hopefully, I could extract enough to defeat him. I
was counting on old legends that may or may not be true, and on my newfound but untested
demon-ness that may or may not be strong enough to harness the arcane power and make
the sphere. Sort of a plan.

“Are we going to kill Cael?”

“No,” I answered, shutting out the conflicting thoughts that scurried out at the question.
“Once I incapacitate him, I’m taking him to the coven.”

“The coven. Are you nuts?”

“No.” I jerked my head up. The vehemence in my tone surprised us both.

He inched his head closer to mine and squinted at me. “Just a figure of speech. With
the turmoil at the coven and Sybil, you think delivering Cael to the witches is smart?
Not to mention Malthus throwing a demon tantrum. Not that I care.”

“I’m going to let Kara handle it. Cael will give her the leverage she needs to assume
leadership.”

“Oh. Does she know about this?”

“Not yet. We’ll find out from Cael who’s working behind the scenes, and I’ll tell
Malthus. I think he’ll understand why I turned Cael over to Kara.”

“Wow, you really are a demon.”

“Partly.”

We stayed silent for the next few blocks.

“When you screwed up with Jenna, how did you think you’d fix things?” I asked just
as the bus stopped.

Adam stood without answering my question. Before stepping into the aisle, he turned
to me. “Some things aren’t fixable.”

That was exactly what I’d feared.

* * * *

“Well?” asked Adam. We stood next to the queue of goth wannabes and yuppies outside
the vampire club. The Neanderthal vamp guarded the door and monitored the line of
partygoers through black sunglasses. He lifted his glasses and peeked at us with his
black eyes. Not wanting to give Dominic the wrong idea, I propelled Adam down the
street, away from the club.

“I think you’re making it hard for me to feel Brandon,” I said in answer to his question
as I scanned the block filled with restaurants and bars. No obvious place for a psychotic
necromancer to hang out. The next block down, an old movie theater was under renovation.
I pointed in the direction of the theater. “Let’s go that way.”

When we reached the theater, we stopped and lifted our heads to admire the art deco
marquee. The ticket windows and front entrance were boarded up with large wood beams.

“I remember reading about the renovation of this theater and how it’s been on hold
for about a year now because local groups want the owner to keep it historic, but
he wants to modernize it,” Adam said.

“Oh.” I put my hand to my stomach. “That doesn’t feel like you.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “How do I feel?”

“Like heartburn.” I hid my grin.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “So he’s here?”

“I think so. How do we get in this place?”

Adam stepped back and peeked down the alley. “Maybe down here.”

I followed him into the alley, stepping around pieces of glass scattered from broken
liquor bottles. In the far corner, a homeless person’s makeshift shelter lay slumped
over, filling the narrow space with the smell of wet cardboard. People passed on the
sidewalk, and I wasn’t sure the evening shadows were thick enough to hide our break-in
attempt. I heard soft whispers and turned to see Adam chanting under his breath before
grasping the large plank that blocked the back door into the theater. The wood strained
against the nails holding it in place. Finally, the wood cracked, and the nails pinged
to the ground.

“What did you do?” I asked.

He jiggled the doorknob, and the door opened. “A strength spell, but I have to wait
a while before I can use it again, and I’m almost out of juice.” He flashed his wood
surfboard before tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans.

I steeled my nerves and nodded at him.

His eyes were dark, predatory. A far cry from the laid-back surfer as he asked, “Ready
for some action?”

He pushed the door open, and we entered the theater next to the stage. The place still
smelled like buttered popcorn. I lamented the plans to turn this place into a sterile,
modern movie-going experience. Large chandeliers graced the ceiling, their crystals
dulled with dust.

The door clicked shut behind us, shutting out all sound from the outside with an ominous
thunk. I wrapped my arms around myself and scanned the balcony. I swore the shadows
moved. I inched closer to Adam, whose eyes were intent on the rows of seats.

“It took you long enough.”

I jerked against Adam and peered at the dimly lit seating in the back of the theater.
Cael leaned back in one of the padded seats. As my eyes adjusted, shapes and shadows
in seats or standing along the walls, in the balcony, solidified. I felt a weak tug
in my chest and turned to see Brandon emerge from behind the movie screen. The muscles
of his face, his lips, his brows seemed contorted with an internal struggle to fight
off Cael’s control. My own stomach and chest twisted and roiled with his conflict.

Cael rose from his seat and walked down the aisle to stand across from us in front
of the stage, next to Brandon.

I squeezed Adam’s hand and spoke to Cael. “You’re right, Cael. Malthus lied to me
all along. I want to make a proposition. One that will give us the advantage over
demons, vampires, the whole community.”

Suspicion snaked from his eyes, but I’d come prepared, and said, “One of the things
Malthus and my grandmother lied about is my parentage.” I paused, watching his eyes
light with interest. “Malthus is my grandfather.”

He sucked in a breath, and the shock of my admission registered on his face. “A demon.
You would move against your grandfather?”

“He betrayed me. I owe him nothing. Just like you owe nothing to the demon you’re
working for. Think about the possibilities if we join together. I have the power of
a necro and a demon.”

He neither confirmed nor denied my reference to his demon overlord. I wasn’t sure
he was buying my act, but he decided to roll the dice. “You agree we should join forces?”
He waved to the stage. “Prove it.”

Brandon bent and pulled on a black sheet, uncovering a figure lying on the stage,
her blond hair casting a dull glow in the theater.

“Make Matilda a revenant. Bind her to me like Brandon.”

I’d prepared myself for the possibility Cael would deliver Matilda, but it still didn’t
lessen the pain at seeing her lying on the floor, limbs askew. I skirted a look at
Adam. An angry dimple had formed on one side of his pursed lips.

My heart thudded in my chest. “I can’t make a third revenant. It’s too much of a power
drain.”

“We’ll sustain them together. Your demon DNA gives you added strength.”

My furrowed brow was no worried act. I wasn’t concerned about raising Matilda. My
nerves were twitching over how to make the power sphere. I had to figure out how to
initiate the sphere before Cael figured it out. Fortunately, he’d provided the ultimate
source of arcane energy in Matilda. Harnessing the energy of a powerful witch would
be like plugging myself into a nuclear reactor. I rubbed the sweat of my palms on
my jeans. I just had to wield it without frying myself to a crisp.

Now to distract him and maybe glean some insight on who exactly is responsible for
all the excitement. “Who are you working for, Cael?”

“Nobody. Not anymore. The only thing that matters now is that I—” He looked at me
carefully. “—we’ll defeat him, and the supernatural community will answer to us.”

“An assassin from the demon realm tried to breach the portal. You were its target.”
I wanted to drive him close to the edge, make him anxious and preoccupied so he wouldn’t
overanalyze my change of heart or the futility of his ridiculous plan. As if a couple
of necromancers with some rotting zombies could somehow take over the supe community,
and to what end? I knew he wouldn’t succeed. My concern was how many of us would he
sacrifice in his quest for power?

His face reflected a moment of fear and confusion, then it twisted back to the same
old deranged fervor. He stalked over to me and snatched my wrist. “Make Matilda a
revenant.”

I wrestled my hand out of his grip.

He stared at me for a moment longer. “If you try anything, you and your revenant will
die.”

I tilted my head and sneaked a look at Adam at my side, who was now surrounded by
five zombies. The smell of death permeated the room like the rotting vegetation in
a swamp. The large theater felt cramped it was so crowded with zombies and revenants
and death.

My power pulsed instinctively inside me. I drew on it to calm my nerves and doubts
over whether I could pull this off. The only other option was death. I hadn’t exchanged
any strategies with Adam beforehand because I hadn’t known any. I could only hope
he would take the cues I fed him through the bond. I pinched the bond, and he tensed.
Then he gave me a small nod and flexed his hand, readying them for spells. I crossed
over to Matilda and sat next to her on the stage while sneaking looks to locate Cael’s
human goth revenant that Adam and I had encountered in the Tenderloin. I spotted him
guarding one of the emergency exits.

Cael grabbed my hand and cut it over the still raw previous wound. I hissed at the
pain that sliced down to my bone, my blood dripping on Matilda’s forehead in a Chinese
torture for the dead. I slid my power into her, let it merge with the blood. Instead
of anchoring it into her core like with Adam and Brandon, I wedged it, then wrestled
it back, dragging with it the energy that powers a supe’s soul.

Warm blood dripped from my nose, and the veins at my temples threatened to pop at
the strain. I bent over, using my hands to catch myself on the floor.

Suddenly, electric light streamed out of Matilda. I gasped in relief and shot the
stream into the goth revenant. He howled, falling to the ground.

Cael rounded on me. “You bitch. What are you doing?”

Tears ran from my eyes as I focused on the streams pouring out of Matilda and the
revenant, trying to connect and pull them into me. The rest was a cacophony of zombie
motion and sound. I shut out the wet sound of tearing flesh and the sick wails of
the zombies as Adam disposed of them with spells.

I jerked when something thumped my shoulder. I twisted my head to see one of the zombies,
his face appearing half-eaten off. Before I could move away, he dug his nails into
my skin, tearing and drawing blood. I screamed at the hot pain. My vision blurred
as I fought the bile that rose in my throat when he lifted his hand to his mouth and
licked off my blood.

Adam leapt from the stage and wrenched the zombie’s bloody hand away, disposing of
him with a loud crunch. Ignoring the pain that singed my shoulder, I concentrated
on connecting the streams of arcane energy.

A low growl came from Brandon, splintering my concentration. His skin was rippling,
signaling his shift into a wolf. Cael stood next to him, his brows furrowed in concentration
as he forced Brandon’s change.

I licked at the beads of sweat on my upper lip. Brandon howled in pain, his crackling
bones visible underneath skin stretched thin from the shift. Cael came toward me,
his steps heavy with menace.