Victoria Cage Necromancer BoxSet

by Eli Constant

  I nod. “I’ve been thinking about that too.”

  “You were lucky, Victoria.” He looks at me sincerely, but there’s something else there in his eyes too. Not just sincerity, but something deeper. I had a feeling his grief would be even worse if something bad would have happened to me.

  I don’t say anything in response. I was lucky, I definitely was, but I had a feeling my luck wouldn’t last. Blackthorn would be back. At least I didn’t have to worry about Sausage Fingers. Little blessings.

  Kyle clears his throat and stands up, changing the subject as he does. “You know, dad didn’t even have a license to ride the Harley. Or training,” he says it with what sounds like a half chuckle, half sob caught in his throat.

  “He didn’t?” I feel a bit astonished. Jim always seemed proficient on the motorcycle.

  Kyle laughs then, and only corners of the sound are ragged and sad. “Nope. He taught himself and just got lucky. I guess everyone just figured he was the type of guy to have a Harley and never questioned it.”

  “That sounds like him,” my voice is touched by both laughter and sadness. Jim wasn’t just my friend… he was fatherly. We cared about each other in our own odd sort of way. “I’m going to miss him, Kyle.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Kyle says, the laughter completely gone from his features. He shuffles his feet and then looks at me intensely. “Hey, can I go get you anything? I can’t seem to relax, no matter where I am. I need to keep moving.”

  “The coffee here is awful.” I point to the mobile table that still has the remains of my late lunch on it. The small teacup is still full of cold, weak coffee.

  “Good coffee here I come.” Kyle heads for the door and when his hand grips the knob, he turns around. “I’m glad you’re okay, Victoria. I really am.”

  “Me too.” I hesitate, bite my bottom lip. I love how my name sounds when he says it, but it really is so formal. “Seriously, please call me Tori. Everyone else does.”

  “I don’t want to be like everyone to you. Victoria.” He says my name separately and with emphasis, putting heat into it like he’s a fire destined to burn me up. Normally, that sort of forwardness would be off-putting to me. In this case, I find myself squirming in a good way. I like Kyle. In fact, I think I really like Kyle.

  Seconds after Kyle has gone, Darryl stalks into my room. “You shouldn’t have any visitors, Ms. Cage. You were the last one to see Mr. Dougan alive. We should be treating you like a suspect, not a victim here. There wasn’t even any sign that anyone else was at that bar.”

  “Aside from the complete wreckage of the bar and the blood spattered all over the liquor bottles?” I speak sarcastically, looking Darryl full in the eyes until he drops his gaze and shuffles his feet.

  “Your word and no one to back it up,” he looks like he wants to step closer to me, take things to a physical level. His face looks sallow today, stretched and pale. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to be moved from ‘I dislike the guy’ to ‘I fucking loathe the guy’ on my humanity rating chart.

  “Forensics will back me up.” I cross my arms and I manage not to wince at the way it pulls my side. “That blood all over the countertop and on the floor isn’t mine and it isn’t Jim’s.”

  “I don’t like you, Cage. I never have and I never will. You shouldn’t be sticking your nose into police business. You’re not a cop.”

  “It’s because of cops like you, Darryl, that I do need to stick my nose in. Thank God for the entire fucking world that most cops are like Goodman. You’re the kind that gets people killed because you can’t admit you’re scared. Get the fuck out of my room. You’re paid to be a glorified doorman at the moment, not a conversationalist and certainly not my fucking judge and jury.” I can usually hold my dislike of Darryl inside, for Terrance’s sake and because I know there’ll always be another soul needing my help. And often that help involves the police. But I don’t have the mental strength to keep the words tied tightly against my tongue this time. I just don’t.

  Darryl is bright red again, sputtering mad. He reminds me of Elmer Fudd’s face after once again missing his shot at Bugs Bunny.

  “I reckon it was you that got Mr. Dougan killed with your damn meddling,” he says, his mouth downturned in disgust. Even for Darryl, the spite level in his words is record high.

  “Look, Darryl. We don’t like each other. Fine. I’m not a cop. True. What I am is a decent human being that wants to help people. So that’s something we have in common, right? We don’t have to go at each other’s throats all the time.” I pause, take a deep breath and look down at my hands which are lying palm up on my lap. “I also just lost a very good friend. One of the only ones I have. So give it a break, will you?” I can’t keep up my hard-girl routine, because deep down, I know that there are some truth to his words.

  He doesn’t say anything, but when I look up he’s leaving my room. His feet stomp a little harder than necessary and he slams his great mass back into the wobbly metal chair the hospital has provided.

  We never get along, but this is worse than it’s ever been.

  I turn on the TV that’s mounted above the white message board that sports a pain chart and the saying-“Smile if you’re happy, frown if you’re a 10!” No one is ever a 10, especially if they claim to be a 10. I frown though, not because I’m a ten, but because the TV comes to life and there is Terrance’s face, once again in front of the police station, offering a reward for anyone with information on the missing girls.

  I click the button to make the television screen go black once more. I’m laid up in a hospital bed, useless, and those girls are either dead or terribly, terribly scared. My hope was for scared. No matter how terrible it was.

  The room is quiet aside from the hustle and bustle of hospital leaking in around the door. I close my eyes and try to drown even that out.

  “Feeling well, Victoria?”

  My eyelids part like little rockets have gone off beneath them. Even my eyeballs tingle like they’ve been stung. Liam freaking Drake is standing, looking like personified sex, in the middle of my hospital room. My gaze darts over to where Darryl is sitting outside the room. He’s not there. He’s gone. Dammit. He’s gone.

  Liam notices where I’m looking and he smiles, then walks forward and pulls the privacy curtains together. “Yes, I sent your little bodyguard on an errand for me. He won’t be long. We only need a little time together.”

  “I want you to leave,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, do you?” He’s still smiling, looking like he knows everything about everything and I’m about as intelligent as a tomato.

  “Just… Ugh. What do you want?” My indignation melts. He looks so good, pacing around the bed, his expensive clothes clinging to him like wet paint. Liquid and luscious. And if there was one thing I had learned about Liam Drake it was that he would get his own way no matter what I said. His proximity was making my head swim, like breathing in an aphrodisiac, and the image of him climbing under these sheets slipped into my mind before I could stop it.

  “Gladly. But not right now. I’d prefer somewhere a little more… romantic.” He’s right beside me now, standing so close to the bed that his thighs brush the thin blankets and I shiver at his touch and the feeling that he knew what I was just thinking.

  What is wrong with me?

  “Although,” he lifts the topmost blanket a little, then lets it fall softly back onto the bed, “these hospital gowns do provide easy access.”

  It’s my turn to go red and sputter. “What… who… get out of my room!” I try and look fierce.

  Not something easily accomplished when you’re dressed in an open-back tied gown, IV sticking out of your arm, and bandages around your stomach and chest.

  “Not before I’ve said my piece.” Liam sits down in the chair and I hate that I like the way he looks in it, so at ease and perfect with his right ankle resting above his left knee. Not a single cognac-brown hair out of place.

  “So talk and t
hen leave.” But my voice didn’t sound like I wanted him to leave.

  “Fine. But there’ll come a time when you want me to stay, Victoria Cage.”

  “When hell freezes the fuck over.” Although, my body below the waist is shouting that there’s some truth to his words.

  “Oh, that’s a time long past now.”

  “What is?” I frown, curiosity winning me over.

  “The time when hell froze over.” His smile reaches his eyes now, amusement shining in them.

  I swallow, feeling nervous. “Just say what you want and then leave. I’ve got company coming back.”

  “Aren’t I company?” he feigns offense.

  “The unwanted kind,” I bite out, “I have someone coming that I actually want to be here.”

  His smile dies, a frown crinkling his brow and his handsome face looks instantly displeased. “That Kyle is no more human than I or Blackthorn.”

  Now he has my attention. “What the hell do you know about Blackthorn?”

  “I know that you’ve gotten in the way of his… human pursuits. I know that he’s just a lackey, that there is a far darker power controlling his movements. And you, Victoria, are in great danger.” Liam’s voice is intense, but still holding that thread of cockiness that I’ve come to expect from him.

  “I don’t understand. What is he? You said human pursuits, but he’s not human. I could feel it,” I shift a little, feeling like maybe I don’t want to know all the details. At least now, being somewhat in the dark, I can hide from reality.

  “He’s not,” Liam says, looking solemn, worry pouring from him like pollen from a tree in spring.

  “Then what is he?” In the back of my mind, I am also asking other questions- and what did you mean by ‘Kyle is no more human than I or Blackthorn’? And who is the darker power behind Blackthorn. God, how can there exist something worse than whatever the hell he is?

  “Black Fae. Some prefer Dark Fae. These politically correct days, everyone finds a reason to be offended. I’m afraid, though, that I have not yet discovered who is controlling Blackthorn.” He examines his nail beds half-heartedly, knowing that I’ll be begging for more information at any moment. Liam Drake is a tease, above all else, and right now he has me exactly where he wants me- interested and salivating for more of the thing he can give me. Knowledge.

  “Fairies. You believe he’s a fairy.” I almost feel like laughing, even though I realize he’s, once again, listened to my thoughts as easily as he can hear my voice speaking. Fairies are for storybooks, not life. “They don’t exist.” Yet something in me doesn’t believe my own words. If I can exist, then what else is out there? Blackthorn definitely hadn’t been human, of that much I am certain.

  “Up until The Rising, people would have said that necromancy wasn’t real.” He shrugs. “The Fae have existed since the dawn of time. In the time of the Vikings, we lived side-by-side with the human world. When Odin banished the Valkyries from his service, when he stripped them of their magic, he affected the whole of us.”

  “Valkyries were fae? You mean, warrior angels who took spirits to Valhalla… that sort of thing?” I swallowed, feeling heady with the desire for more knowledge. I’d spent so many years hiding my gift. Grandmother had told me everything she knew about our heritage, about the history of necromancy, but the fear of being discovered had kept me from trying to find out more. But here was Liam Drake, handing me fairy-dusted knowledge on a sexy serving platter. It was too hard to resist.

  “They were the strongest of us, the fastest and most powerful,” he says it with a flick of his tongue across his perfect freaking mouth. It sends a little shiver down my spine to tingle in my groin. I fight the urge to squirm. “Brimming with death power and dominion over the soul.”

  “Death power,” I murmured. “Like necromancy? Does that mean… God, this sounds stupid.” I swallow, and then push the words out fast. “Am I a fairy?” The question sounds absurd. I want to draw my words back into my brain even as I let them loose.

  “Yes and no.”

  I puzzled over that for a moment, hoping he’d say more, but he did not. “You said ‘us’. Do you mean that you’re one of them? A fairy like Blackthorn?” I shrink against the bed. Liam has been mysterious. He’s broken into my house. I’ve even felt threatened by him, fearful of his presence. But that’s changed now. In fact, the very opposite could be said. I desired Liam… whether I fully wanted to admit it or not.

  Blackthorn, on the other hand. I felt nothing except terror when looking at him.

  Liam’s face goes cold and hard. It is like watching metal being quenched in oil, a slow hardening that would be imperceptible if you weren’t watching closely. “I am nothing like Blackthorn. He is Black Fae. I am Light.”

  I tread carefully, not wanting to upset Liam further. “A black fairy called Blackthorn seems a bit obvious.”

  My words have the intended effect. His face softens again, tempered by humor. “Blackthorn is his given name, presented by his Queen when he first came into being. He is a traitor to our world, banished to live among humans. I thought his power was gone. It seems I was wrong. Someone must be helping him.” Liam stands quickly and it is like someone is pouring him into the new position. Fluid and effortless.

  “He had someone with him. A giant man. Huge. But he didn’t feel wrong, not in the way Blackthorn did. In fact…I felt nothing from him.” I think back, see the massive ruin of Sausage Finger’s face. I remember then, how there was no spirit leaving the body. “Liam, when I killed the second man… there was no soul.”

  “No soul?” his eyes narrow, his face turning thoughtful.

  “When a human dies, when anything with a spirit dies, the soul is released from the body. It stays for a while, hovering in our world before crossing the veil. This man… this thing… whatever the hell it was, it had no soul.”

  Liam mutters in a language I don’t understand. It’s guttural, yet lilting like a flute’s song. He closes his eyes and then looks at me. “I know who is helping Blackthorn conduct his business. I know who has helped him keep the magic of the Fae.”

  “Who?”

  “That is for me to know. I will do my best to protect you, Victoria Cage, descendent of Bager, inheritor of the blood magic. You must embrace your gifts though. You must become what you are.”

  “I do. I am.” What more can I do for the world? I help spirits with their unfinished business; I aid the police in solving murders. What more can I do to make up for the sins of those who shared my gifts?

  As if he has read my mind, Liam comes to kneel by my bed. His hands snake across the linens until they find my fingers. “You are not only a necromancer, Victoria. You are the heir to the Blood Throne. You have powers that go beyond the bounds of death magic.”

  I snort out a laugh, but when Liam doesn’t budge from his conviction, I stare wide-eyed.

  “Blood power is death magic. They go hand in hand. I learned a bit from my grandmother who learned from a Shaman in the old country.” I squirm a little against the coarse hospital sheets. Liam’s expression is heavy, full of things that pass unspoken between a man and a woman. “She would have told me though, if I was some heir to some preternatural throne.”

  I feel doubt creep back into my brain. Maybe he’s just fucking with me. That would be peachy.

  But Liam shakes his head, then leans over and kisses my hand. His lips linger against my fingers and I want them to stay there. They are velvet against my skin. When he speaks, hot breath rushes against my skin and sends heat rocketing through my body. The hair on my arms stands up, electrified by his touch. “You were taught wrong, Victoria. Blood power is different than death magic. One calls to life. The other speaks to death.”

  “But blood has to be spilled to raise the dead.” I try to pull my hand away from his touch. I’m all at once confused. Part of me would be okay with him taking me, right here and right now.

  The other part of me is… afraid.

  Liam smiles. “Yes, b
ut blood is more than that. Especially your blood.” He kisses me once more, in the same spot, his lips lingering again. This time, his mouth is not velveteen. It is hot, smoldering embers of orange-red in a dying campfire. His gaze moves from my hands to look at my face. “We’ve been waiting for you, Victoria. Longer than you can even imagine. I will be gone a short time. There are ones who must know this new information.”

  There’s a knock on my hospital door and this time, I do pull my hand away. I glance away from him towards the curtains, which are fluttering as if disturbed by a sharp breeze. I hear the door open with a creak and Kyle’s voice follows the sound. “Hey, your prison guard seems to have abandoned his post.”

  I don’t answer back. My heart is racing. For some reason, I don’t want Kyle and Liam to see one another. I look down, wondering what to do.

  But Liam is gone.

  I cradle the hand he has kissed. The memory of his lips still lingers. It’s lovely and enticing. Looking down, I see a glowing, so subtle that it shimmers in and out of reality. It’s a symbol, fading quickly. Like three stars have fallen from the heaven to gather on my skin.

  Somehow I know, Liam has placed it there for my protection.

  Chapter Twenty-Four.

  “I went a few streets down and got Star—” Kyle parts the curtains with a flourish, one hand supporting a drink carrier, and he stops talking when he sees my face. “What’s wrong?”

  Quickly, I reposition the covers to hide my hand. “Nothing.” I take a deep breath. “No, that’s a lie. Darryl, I mean Officer Tenney, he and I don’t always get along well.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” It’s easy to tell that Kyle’s being sarcastic, although he says the words with zero inflection.

  “So what did you get me?”

  “Choice is what I got.” He points to the to-go cups one by one. “Dark roast black, no frills. Blonde roast black, no frills. One with all the frills. A.k.a. something they call a pumpkin spice latte, and last, but not least, basically a glorified milkshake with a shot of espresso. I’ve got sugar, honey, and cream on the side. I wasn’t sure if the way you took your coffee at home was your norm of if you’d want something a bit more indulgent since you’ve been subjected to hospital food hell. I’m a honey guy myself.”