Ward Against Darkness (Chronicles of a Reluctant Necromancer) (23 page)

Chapter Thirty-three

Dawn flooded the eastern horizon in full, although this edge of the valley still lay in partial shadows. It had been a good hour since Macerio had died, and Celia watched his mansion burn. The death of his vesperitti had sent the houseguests into a panic—not to mention the sudden disappearance of the magic entrancing them. It was easy to herd them down the old pilgrims’ road toward Brawenal City when Val had set fire to the east wing. Now, the entire mansion was engulfed in flames, billowing dark clouds of smoke flooding the lightening sky.

She and Ward had gone through their darkest night yet and survived. Again.

She adjusted the strap of her rucksack on her shoulder. Inside was a change of clothes, an extra dagger, food, and Macerio’s spell book. Ward had said it needed to be destroyed. Just like the mansion needed to be destroyed, since there was no knowing what other evil was hidden within it. The books, like the house, were just as dangerous. But she couldn’t bring herself to toss the grimoire into the fire.

At the moment, it was her only connection to figuring out what Ward had done to her when he’d called her soul back from across the veil, and it was more important than ever to understand what she was. Perhaps, if she knew what, she could figure out who. She no longer knew how to think of herself, what her purpose was, or the nature of her relationship with Ward. Not that they had a relationship. If she knew what she was, perhaps, Ward would know how to look at her.

But was that even a true desire? She had no way of knowing how much like a vesperitti she really was. There were too many unanswered questions. And a few she was afraid to ask.

Regardless, Ward was safe. He could continue to the Holy City of Gyja. Would he invite her to come along? Or would this be the end for them?

She bit back a growl. She wouldn’t know anything until she talked with him. Goddess, she’d never been so nervous about a conversation before.

Hugging herself, she turned her back on the flames and looked to the top of the hillside. Ward sat in the grass, surrounded by Macerio’s soul jars, freeing the captured souls and guiding them across the veil. He’d collapsed after saving Val and woke looking more exhausted than ever. It probably didn’t help that somehow his nose had been broken and his right eye was going black.

“Does he ever stop?” Val asked as he waded through the tall grass to her side, squinting in the light. Even the early morning shadows seemed to hurt his eyes.

“Not that I’ve noticed.”

“I can see why you’re drawn to him.” He ran a hand through his pale hair. He looked tired, too, but he didn’t look as if he’d been on the brink of death. Had he dined after Ward saved him? He’d probably had to. “I’m glad you convinced me to save him.”

She snorted. “So he could save you in return?”

“No.” He took her hand and turned her to face him. He would have made a good husband—if she’d been in search of a normal marriage before his disappearance. “Because he’s a good man.”

Which was what she loved about Ward. He did things not because they were easy or he would gain something from them, but because they were just. He had the courage to stand against incredible odds to do what was right. No one from her world would have ever done that.

Val raised her hand and brushed her knuckles with his lips. “You are unlike any woman I’ve ever met, Celia Carlyle.”

This was goodbye. She could see it in his eyes. She didn’t know what he was going to do or where he was going to go, but she knew in her gut their paths were parting. He couldn’t go home just as much as she couldn’t. He, like her, was unique. A creation of Ward’s unusual magic. Magic Ward still didn’t believe he possessed.

She wished she could figure out how to make Ward realize the truth. When he’d saved Val, the air had crackled with power. Invisible lightning had raced along her skin. Ward possessed incredible magical strength. She’d seen it in Brawenal and again today. She didn’t understand how magic worked, but she recognized strength when she saw it, and Ward was strong.

Val chuckled, and she dragged her attention back to him.

“Now I know what’s on your mind when you drift off like that.”

Heat seeped up her neck. She really was becoming like Ward, getting lost in her thoughts.

“He’s a lucky man.”

“More lives than a cat.”

Val brushed his lips across her knuckles again. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

No, it wasn’t. “Keep safe.”

He looked up at the hillside and Ward. “You, too.” His meaning was clear. Both of them.

Yes, she would keep him safe. It was her only purpose now and one her heart wouldn’t allow her to deny. It didn’t matter what the nature of their relationship was. She could hope for more. Perhaps, someday, she’d work up the courage to ask for more.

Ward rubbed his face with his hands. Pain lanced through his nose and between his eyes, and he jerked his hands away. Quirin’s punch really had broken his nose. Around him, Macerio’s soul jars lay empty. With the last of Ward’s concentration, he’d guided the final soul to the veil to be free and at peace. One of the few good things to have come out of that evening, or was that morning? A powerful Innecroestri had been brought to justice and his imprisoned souls freed. Although two masterless vesperitti remained.

Quirin did not remain. His corpse still lay a few feet away. Val said Macerio had shattered Ward’s soul chain and the magic keeping Quirin’s soul in his body had burst apart. It hurt that Ward couldn’t save Quirin in life and couldn’t save his soul in death. The two fundamental things he was supposed to be good at.

He glanced at the burning mansion. Two figures stood close together, outlined by the blaze. Celia and Val. They were a better match than Celia and him. They had more in common, like Brawenal’s court and their unlife. He forced himself to smile, but it felt more like a sneer. He wanted to be happy for her. He should be happy for her.

Given her unusual existence, it was almost impossible for her to find someone who’d accept her. Val did. It was clear in how close they stood together and how they looked at each other. Who was Ward to stand in their way? Besides, he wasn’t even sure if Celia and he had been friends.

He forced that thought away. He was tired of feeling sorry for himself because the woman he wanted was unobtainable.

Something rustled in the grass behind him. The instinct to turn, face trouble, flashed through his mind, but he was exhausted. Instead, he glanced back.

Nazarius strode toward him. Wonderful. Well, if the Master wanted Ward to do another job, he was going to have to wait. Once he was rested, he had unfinished business with Allette.

Nazarius picked up an empty soul jar. “You know, you’re supposed to take care of yourself as well as everyone else.”

“They’d suffered long enough.”

“Pietro would be proud.”

Ward tried to raise an eyebrow, but it made his face hurt. “So he really is a Thalonist.”

“I didn’t lie to you in Brawenal. If you couldn’t have saved his body, he needed a necromancer to guide his soul across the veil.” Nazarius offered a wry smile. “And he is my brother.”

“Through the brotherhood of the Quayestri.”

“When you put your life in someone else’s hands, they become family.” Nazarius set the soul jar on the ground with the others and offered Ward a hand up. “You’d do anything for Celia.”

“Please tell me this isn’t another threat from the Seer. I’ve kind of had a busy night.”

“No. I’m just pointing out the truth.” Nazarius reached into his pocket and pulled out Ita’s locket. He tossed it at Ward who—much to his surprise—caught it. “Recompense for a job well done.”

Ward turned the locket over in his hand. It glowed ever so slightly for a heartbeat, then the light faded.

“The Seer suggests you don’t sell it.”

“Where could I possibly sell it? I’m in the middle of nowhere in the Red Mountains.”

Nazarius raised an eyebrow with better effect than Ward could manage, even if his face didn’t hurt. “He also suggests not to do what you’re planning.”

“And what would that be?” Celia asked, slinking through the grass, her hand on the hilt of her dagger.

Nazarius dipped into a court bow. “My lady.”

“What do you think Ward is planning?” She drew closer to Ward.

“It’s the beginning of the day. Now is the time to reveal plans,” Nazarius said.

“Actually, it’s time to recuperate. Ward?”

He could hear all the unasked questions in his name. Who was this man? What did he know that she didn’t? If he told her the truth, Ward had no idea how the Master would react.

Nazarius knelt and picked up the bowl from Allette’s spell. A small pool of her blood sat at the bottom, dark and viscous. The rest had dried and crusted up the sides. He handed the bowl to Ward. So Nazarius knew. The Master must have foreseen that Ward would go after Allette.

Any deaths Allette now caused were on Ward’s hands, and he had no doubt she would kill. She’d been trapped under Macerio’s control for too long.

“Darkness lies down this path,” Nazarius said.

“I know.” Ward purposely sought to destroy a life. Even if it was one unjustly maintained. As a necromancer, he had an obligation to maintain the balance. And as a man, he had to right his wrongs.

He’d set a monster free. He had to bring her to justice.

“What’s he talking about, Ward?” Celia asked.

“I have to go after Allette.”

She remained focused on Nazarius. “No, you don’t. You’ve done your duty here with Macerio.”

“I set her free.”

“How will you even find her?” Concern edged her voice. He wanted to give in, let her know he wasn’t going to do something foolish. But he couldn’t. He really hoped she wouldn’t tackle him again, and yet…

“There’s a spell. I have her blood, I can use it to find her.” It was one more step into the soul-destroying darkness that was blood magic, but it had to be done.

“This is your last warning,” Nazarius said.

Celia yanked her dagger free. “And who are you?”

Nazarius raised his hands and stepped back. “A friend.”

Not the word Ward would have picked. But it would do. “Tell him I’m duly warned.”

“He already knows.”

“And?”

“I’m here to help.”

Not what Ward had expected at all.

Celia narrowed her eyes. “Can we trust him?”

If the Master wanted him dead, Nazarius could easily kill him. If they could trust him, a skilled swordsman would be invaluable. At the moment, Ward was too tired to care. Wait a minute. “What do you mean, can
we
trust him? Aren’t you and Val—?”

She shrugged. “Val has his own path to walk.”

“But—” Her words muddled in his head.

“Ward.” She stepped closer to him and glared at Nazarius, who backed up a step. “Where you go, I go.”

Right. “Because we don’t know what will happen if we separate. Because of my spell.”

Something slid across her expression. He wasn’t sure what, but it was serious and sad. Then she flashed her ‘I love danger’ smile. “I’m not letting you have all the fun vesperitti hunting.”

“I’m not sure if
fun
is the right word.”

“Of course it is. Hunting a powerful creature that can only be killed by a precision strike to the heart with a silver blade. You don’t think I’d pass on that, do you?”

Ward shook his head but couldn’t keep his smile at bay. This was the Celia he’d first met. The one he’d fallen in love with. Wild, adventurous. Full of life. “You’re mad, you know that.”

“I’m only happy when I’m dodging crossbow bolts and facing four-to-one odds.”

Nazarius cleared his throat. “So?”

Ward glanced from Nazarius the Tracker to Celia the undead assassin. They were a strange group. But they had a strange goal. They might just survive their next adventure. “I really need to rest.”

“And maybe set that nose,” Nazarius said.

Ward winced, and pain shot through his face.

“You know,” Celia said, taking his hand and sending a shiver of attraction through him, “we probably should have waited a day before burning down the mansion.”

“I’ll remember that for next time.” He squeezed her fingers.

Two weeks ago, he couldn’t have imagined the turn his life would have taken. Who knew what would happen two weeks from now? Souls had been saved and a great evil had been stopped.

And Celia was still at his side. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for them.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to Liz Pelletier and the team at Entangled Publishing for their continued belief in Ward and Celia, as well as a special thanks to J. Gunnar Grey for your friendship and invaluable critiques.

To my parents, I cannot express how grateful I am for your support and encouragement. You’ve shown me how powerful a loving partnership can be.

And last, but not least, my deepest thanks to my husband for encouraging me to follow my dreams.

About the Author

Melanie has always been drawn to storytelling and can’t remember a time when she wasn’t creating a story in her head. Her early stories were adventures with faeries and dragons and sword swinging princesses. Today she continues to spin tales of magic in lands near and far, while her cat sits on the edge of her desk and supervises. When she’s not writing, you can find her pretending to be other people with her local community theatre groups.

You can visit Melanie at
www.melaniecard.com