The Necromancer's Seduction

by Mimi Sebastian

  Cael is evil. The demons will use him again. You should kill him. The power sang to me. Its words seduced me onto the dance floor with a lover’s hand.

  But I balked. That wasn’t my decision to make, was it?

  The sphere’s force swirled within me, out of control, ripping apart my bond with Adam. I saw him stumble and fall to the ground where the zombies pounced on him. He was dying. I squeezed my eyes tight, saw my grandmother laughing, applying ointment to my scratched knee, hugging me. Cael killed her.

  I felt zombies clawing at my legs. I buffeted them away with an arcane wind.

  The supes will fight over who gets to serve justice while Cael sits in purgatory, no sentence delivered. He’s crazy. What life will he have?

  I no longer felt the bond with Adam. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brandon leap at me, his fangs extended and aimed at my throat. To stop Brandon I had to stop Cael.

  It took but a flick, like crushing a small insect. Cael howled and fell to the ground. Dead. Another source of energy to feed us.

  So much blood. An image of the bathroom floor, soaked in my mother’s blood, poured into my head. Why has my life been drenched in blood?

  The question returned my sanity, and I released the power. As the last tendrils slid out, I reached out to Adam lying on the floor, his body torn, ripped apart, and I restored him just before the last of the power ran out. I collapsed onto my knees and lifted a shaking hand to my nose and wiped at the hot, slick blood.

  “Ruby.” Concern flooded Adam’s voice as he bent to touch my back. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I just need a few minutes to clear my head.” I whimpered at the dizziness that displaced the floor and walls around me. I breathed and breathed until the room stopped spinning. Adam handed me a tissue to wipe the blood and saliva from my face, then helped me get my shaking body upright, bracing me with an arm around my waist. I blinked to clear my vision and saw Brandon in human form standing next to Cael’s body.

  “You kept me alive,” Brandon said.

  “I thought that maybe . . .”

  “I’d want to remain a revenant?” He regarded Adam, sorrow etched on his face. “This is no existence. This is a curse.”

  “I just . . .” My voice faltered.

  “I don’t blame you for what happened. The monster responsible is dead. You saved Matilda from a similar fate. Now let me have peace.” He looked at Adam. “I hope you find yours.”

  I nodded at his request for peace and bit my quivering lip. I bent the bond with Brandon until it snapped inside me. His body hit the ground with a dull thud. I was afraid to look at Adam. He was on the phone with Jax. Zombies lay strewn about the theater. Another wave of dizziness hit me, and I sat in one of the seats, laying my head back to stare at the ceiling.

  “Do you want to wait for the troops to come?” Adam asked. “My guess is Ewan will show up with Jax.”

  I considered his words. I’d have to face Ewan at some point, but did I want to do it now?

  A few moments later, the decision was made for me. I jerked at the loud crash that reverberated against the theater walls. I twisted to see Ewan and Jax advancing down the aisle toward us. Ewan’s face was taut, straining to contain the twitching muscles in his cheek. His power hit me, pinching my skin with its anger. When he reached us, he noted the gash on my shoulder, causing the vein in his neck to throb. His glare lasered Adam, then turned back to me. Neither of us spoke. He opened his mouth to say something, shout maybe, then closed it. Heavy footsteps signaled the arrival of the werewolves, followed by Kara’s clicking heels.

  I hauled myself up, fighting a second wave of dizziness. Ewan moved to steady me, but I waved his hand away. Kara hugged me, causing me to wince from my injury, then scrunched her eyes at me. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  I moved away from her embrace. “Good to see you too.”

  “Somebody did a number on the front doors,” said one of the weres, who was wearing a police uniform. Jax grinned at Ewan, but Ewan focused his stony stare at the zombie bodies, then at Brandon’s, at Cael’s, at Matilda’s, and finally it landed on me. Kara had followed his gaze and gasped. She ran to Matilda, fell to her knees, and stroked her hair before finally covering her with the black sheet.

  The Alpha wolf, Mark, strode to us, grim in his black leather jacket. He brushed past the cop were to stand before Brandon’s body. The cop took care to stay behind him, practically tiptoeing around him to get a view of the body.

  I moved around Ewan to face Mark. “I guess we’re good now?”

  He turned his eyes to me, cold and hard. “I’ve never liked necros,” he said, returning his eyes to Brandon’s body. “Still don’t.”

  “I’m sorry about Brandon,” I said.

  “Did you apologize to him?”

  “He didn’t want my apology. He just wanted me to grant him peace.”

  Mark took a step closer to loom over me. “Brandon was always too nice for his own good.”

  I wanted to argue with him, tell him to fuck off, but I was too drained, and no matter what Brandon had said to absolve me, I still felt guilty for what had happened.

  “You’re not being fair, Mark,” said Kara, her tone cutting through the heavy air.

  “Stay out of this, Kara.” He pointed at the bodies on the floor. “This is what happens when necromancers get involved.”

  “I didn’t kill these people,” I said, my voice low but steady. Ewan stepped in between Mark and me. Mark glared at Ewan, then told the other wolf to gather Brandon’s body.

  Ewan faced me, his expression still warring between anger and concern. “We have to go. Malthus is waiting for you.”

  My shoulders sagged. Another dreaded confrontation. I preferred the zombies.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jax stayed at the theater to handle clean up. Kara stayed to claim Cael’s body for the witches, and Adam, for once, joined forces with her.

  Once Ewan and I had settled in the Rover, I said, “I’m sorry about Lysander, but what he said was true. Nothing happened. I asked him to help me with something.”

  Ewan was rapping the steering wheel with the knuckles of one hand and didn’t answer me.

  “Ewan?”

  “What did he help you with?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  He pounded the steering wheel. “Why don’t you let me help you?” He kept his voice low, but I could see the cords of muscles straining in his neck. “First with Lysander and now this. Christ. You could have been killed.”

  “Adam was with me.” I knew it was a stupid thing to say, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. His face was a dark storm of emotion, and I turned away from the accusations in his eyes.

  “You still don’t trust me,” he said.

  “No, I do.” I rested my head on my hand and leaned it against the window. “I was going to go alone, but Adam confronted me.”

  “What made you think you could handle Cael alone?”

  I wasn’t ready to discuss my new part-demon status, unsure of how that would impact our relationship. If we still had one at this point.

  “I’m not saying you aren’t capable. I’m trying hard, very hard, to give you the space you need. I knew from the beginning that if I ever had a chance with you, I’d have to give you the time and space to figure things out, but for fuck’s sake, this was seriously stupid. Not to mention the fact that you killed Cael, knowing that Malthus wanted him alive,” he said.

  “After everything he did? He wanted me to make Matilda a revenant. What was I supposed to do? Cael had released the zombies on us. I was defending my life, other lives.” I decided not to elaborate on how the power had exerted the worse kind of peer pressure on me. I’m still not sure what had happened, but I remember Brandon’s jaws quite clearly.

  “I’m not saying the bastard didn’t deserve to fry,” Ewan relented, “but we needed him to find out who’s responsible.”

  “What does it matter? No other necro is going to be stupid enou
gh to threaten supes again. We foiled their plans, whatever they are.” I squeezed my head between my hands, hoping I’d somehow vent the pressure building in my skull.

  “I don’t think so. The breaches, involvement of the other supernaturals. This went way over Cael’s head—possibly ours too.”

  Ewan parked on the street in front of the demon lair, and I slid out of the car. He came around to stand in front of me, placing his hand against the door above my head.

  I met his gaze without blinking and said, “I’m tired of people manipulating me into doing things they want me to do. For once, I wanted to do this my way.”

  He held my eyes for a moment, then shook his head at the dark sky. When he looked at me again, the creases around his eyes had deepened. “I’m not Malthus, and I sure as hell don’t like being compared to him.” His heavy tone tried to pull me under with its weight, but I was beyond frustrated with the demon way of handling things.

  “No, you’re not Malthus, but dammit, you won’t stand up to him.” I bowed my head, and when I finally looked up again, my eyes met his and saw their surrender.

  He dropped his hands from the car and walked up the steps.

  I followed him in, ignored Gus’s probing stare, and barely made it to the study before falling onto the leather couch. Instead of celebrating saving the world from evil, I was miserable. Things with Ewan were shitty, and the witch coven was in disarray. I refused to think about the vampires. Exhaustion seeped into my bones. Maybe I’d stay on this couch for the next few days. No revenants, no zombies.

  The click of the door permeated my state of half-slumber between wakefulness and sleep. I peeled my eyelids open. I knew it was Malthus. I rolled off the couch, landing with my knees on the floor. After the dark edges dissipated from my vision, I stood, saw Ewan lurking by the door.

  “How are you feeling?” Malthus asked.

  “Like I could use a glass of whiskey.”

  Ewan made me a drink. He held onto it for a moment, looking at me with shuttered eyes, then handed me the heavy glass before taking the seat across from me.

  “Tell me what happened,” Malthus said.

  “You mean why I killed Cael?”

  He didn’t answer. He half sat on the corner of his desk and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You know we needed him alive.”

  I nodded and made sure I wore an unrepentant look. No, make that defiant. I wanted him to see defiance in my eyes. “I understand, the witches—”

  “I don’t think you do understand.” His sharp tone startled me, making me realize Malthus had been deceptively gracious up to this point. He was giving me a taste of his power for the first time, but I wasn’t going to let Malthus see my fear. I lifted my chin a notch.

  His angry gaze lessened in intensity, and the look he gave me was almost sorrowful. “I take responsibility. I brought you into this, and you took the actions you thought necessary.” He paused. “Including creating a power sphere, which I warned you against. You lost control. That’s why you killed Cael.”

  “I killed Cael because he and his zombies were on the verge of killing me and Adam.” I swirled the whiskey in my glass. “You know Cael would never have revealed the identity of his puppeteer. But I want to know who ultimately caused Cora’s death. I’ll find another way.”

  He gave me an unreadable stare while he sipped his whiskey. “I agree with you, but it’s not up to me.”

  The fear pricked at me again, but I shoved it into the cesspool roiling in my stomach where all the other crap that had happened in the past few days had settled. I’ll be amazed if I don’t get an ulcer. “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “You’ll have to attend a demon council hearing and respond to their questions,” Malthus announced. “They’ll want you to explain why you killed Cael, and how you created the power sphere.”

  “Why the hell do they care? Shouldn’t they be more concerned about the big bad demon behind all this mess?”

  “We need solid proof before accusing a demon before the council. They are more concerned with the fact that you’re a demon and a necromancer.”

  “Maybe they’ll go easy on me. You know, given my family ties and all.”

  I held out the missing pages from the journal that I’d tucked into my pocket before leaving my house. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re my grandfather?”

  Malthus stared at me, his expression pure stone. I’d expected that. What I hadn’t expected was to see Ewan jump like his chair had caught fire and grasp the edge of the desk with his hands, disbelief twisting his face.

  That answers my question on whether he knew about my relation to Malthus, but why the intense reaction? If anything, wouldn’t my demon DNA somehow make a relationship between us easier? I shook off my concern. I had to stay focused on my conversation with Malthus.

  “Is it true?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I threw the pages on the table. “Son of a bitch. Malthus, does it really come this easy for you—manipulating people? You and Cora. Why didn’t she tell me?”

  Ewan appeared to have composed himself, but I could see his jaw working, chewing on something hard and jagged. His arms were giving off that metallic glow, and his eyes warred between civility and demon rage.

  Malthus moved off the desk, regarded Ewan, and a flicker of doubt—caution even—crossed his face.

  “Did my mother know?” I asked.

  “No.” He softened his voice. “Your grandmother was trying to protect you and your mother. She knew the dangers. She also wanted you to live a normal life, something you appeared to want as well. You can’t really fault her.”

  “What about you? Did you want to tell me?”

  “Yes. Demons value family ties greatly.” Malthus sat behind the desk and leaned his back against the chair. “Honestly, I’m relieved you found out. As part-demon, you’ll have to make some adjustments in your life. And there are some complications we will have to address.”

  “Like what?”

  He straightened in his chair. His look had returned to the recognizable Malthus-in-control expression, which made my heart skip a beat. I did not trust that look. “You and Ewan have become . . . close.”

  I looked at Ewan, who hadn’t moved an inch from his rigid stance.

  “You cannot pursue, or maybe continue is more appropriate, a romantic involvement.” His words seemed ridiculous. After all these years, he’s stepping up and playing the protective grandfather?

  I was waiting for Ewan to intercede and voice his honorable intentions or tell Malthus to fuck off—either would do. But he just stood there—a statue—and I grew confused.

  “Ewan made a pact with me, with my house, his sentence for a crime. He is bonded to me for a very long time. While in service to me, demon protocol forbids him to . . . associate with my family.”

  My mind spun, trying to make sense of his words. The breath stuck in my throat, and I had to suck in some small breaths to form words. “What is he, some kind of slave?”

  “Don’t be crass,” Malthus said with a disdainful sniff.

  “Crass? I’m calling it like I see it.” I lifted my chin sharply. “How long is he in your service?”

  “In demon time, one hundred years, but in this realm that equates to about ten years. Ewan has another nine years before he completes his service.”

  I snorted. “Oh, that’s all?” I pushed off my chair and walked to stand in front of Malthus’s desk, placed my hands on its top and leaned over. “Why can’t you just release him? On parole for good behavior. I mean, what did he do? Shoplift from a demon convenience store?”

  “I’m sorry, Ruby, I can’t.” I saw what appeared to be sincere sorrow in Malthus’s eyes.

  “You can’t or you won’t?” I was surprised at the venom in my voice.

  “If I release Ewan, he will have to return to the demon realm, where the authorities will execute him.”

  I straightened, and the floor veered in front of me. Malthus jumped out of h
is chair and reached out, but I pushed his hand away, grasping the edge of the desk to steady myself.

  “As it is, Ewan will need to be punished for his transgression.” His bland tone gave the impression the punishment was some mild form of discipline, a time out sitting in the corner, but my mind conjured all sorts of sadistic tortures.

  “Punished? What is this, the fucking Middle Ages? Cael was right.”

  “Cael?” Malthus sneered. That was the first time I had seen Malthus break his composure, and I liked it.

  “I don’t know who the worse villain is. You revel in your power just as much as he did,” I said.

  “Malthus.” Ewan broke in for the first time. His voice was steady, but I could see his eyes were glassy—furiously brilliant. “I’d like time alone with Ruby.”

  “Very well,” Malthus said.

  The second Malthus left the room, I leveled my eyes at Ewan. “What did he mean, punish?”

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I wish Malthus had never mentioned it.” His shadowed eyes told me different, cementing my imaginings of stretching racks and whippings.

  “What, twenty lashes?” I laughed, somewhat hysterically. He didn’t respond. “You guys are sick bastards.”

  “Ruby.” His voice skimmed across gravel, and it took the effort of a few moments for him to continue. “Remember when I explained that demon politics are difficult, and that everything has a purpose . . . a function.”

  “We’re not in the demon realm.” My eyes stung.

  “It doesn’t matter.” He turned and leaned against the desk again, bracing himself with his hands. “Even if it were possible to break the bond without my death—” His chest heaved. “—I made a debt pact. If I weasel out of it, go into hiding, it would be a great dishonor. I would become a pariah among demons. I’d be nothing.” He turned back to me. “You are the granddaughter of one of our most powerful demons. In the demon realm, you would be treated like royalty.”

  I poked his chest with my finger. “I don’t give a shit about Malthus or about royalty.”