Grave Debt

by D. D. Miers

  Alexius was extremely powerful, or at least much better trained than me. He did things every day that I couldn't have done if my life depended on it. And either he was very humble or his father and siblings were equally powerful. He trained his own children and nieces and nephews, as well. He occasionally included some of the exercises he'd devised for them to practice, which looked like they would have been pretty challenging even for me. I experienced a weird pang of jealousy reading the subtle pride in Alexius's words as he described his students’ progress.

  It's probably not a surprise that as a kid I loved books about children going off to magical schools to have adventures with other magical children. These kids, my distant ancestors, experienced it. Yeah, maybe the other students were just their siblings and cousins, and the teacher was old Uncle Alexius. But still . . . We'd been strong and connected once. What had happened to leave us weak and scattered?

  The sweltering day melted slowly into an unpleasantly humid late afternoon that felt a little like being boiled alive. The sliding door opened and Ethan slipped out, yawning. Mort immediately rolled over onto his back in a lazy stretch, and Ethan obediently gave him a few pats.

  "How was your nap?" I asked, closing my book.

  "I've had enough naps to last me a lifetime," he said. He shuffled over behind my chair, put his arms around my shoulders, and rested his chin on the top of my head. It would have been pleasant if it weren't so uncomfortably warm. "I'm going stir crazy. Your aunt doesn't even have WiFi."

  I laughed, sympathetic, and leaned back against his chest. Though it was sweaty and smothering, I could hear his heartbeat, which almost made it worth it.

  "Yeah, and her cable package is all daytime TV all the time."

  "Let's get out of here," Ethan suggested, smiling down at me.

  "I told you," I said with a sigh. "I don't want to see the curators until I'm sure you're better."

  "Not the curators," Ethan said, shaking his head. "Just out. You and me. Nothing intensive or that will get us spotted by Lord Creepy Death Man. Just a few hours out enjoying each other's company."

  He leaned down to whisper into my ear. "After yesterday, I kind of feel like I owe you a first date."

  My face turned red, and I was glad it was hidden under the sunburn. I bit my lip, debating. It wasn't smart, at all. But he was giving me puppy dog eyes, and I wasn't sure I had it in me to say no.

  "All right," I said, giving in. "Give me a little bit to get dressed. I don't exactly have any first date worthy clothes with me."

  He straightened up, grinning broadly. I could practically see his tail wagging.

  "Don't worry about it," he said. "I already know what we're doing. All you need is your pajamas!"

  That was suspicious, but he refused to elaborate further. With no choice but to trust him, I headed inside to get changed. Luckily, I had packed my “nice” sleep clothes on the off-chance Ethan and I ended up sharing a bed, so I wasn't stuck with the oversized band T-shirt I usually slept in. The black silk pajama pants and lacey white camisole were flattering despite being casual. I straightened my long, blond hair and put it up in a high ponytail and put extra effort into my makeup to compensate for how laid-back everything else was. A sheer black kimono robe with baroque gold embroidery was the final touch. Another twenty minutes of “final touches” made me sure I really looked as good as possible before I left the bathroom. Ethan waited for me in a too-small T-shirt and gray sweatpants, managing to make a simple outfit look runway worthy. I was always a sucker for a nice ass in sweatpants.

  "Ready to go?" he asked. "I've already got everything in the car."

  "Yeah, I'm all set," I said, grabbing my purse. "You ready to tell me what this is yet?"

  "Nope," he said with a grin. "In fact, how do you feel about blindfolds?"

  I raised a single perfectly arched eyebrow.

  "Kinky."

  He laughed, face red.

  "Not like that. I've just got something in the car that I don't want you to see until we get there!"

  I rolled my eyes but pulled a sleeping mask that matched my robe out of my purse.

  Chapter 4

  He led me out to his Jeep with me suitably blinded. As we drove, the hot evening eased gently into a balmy night. He entertained me during the ride by demonstrating his adorably corny taste in classic rock and old, Johnny Cash-style country, singing along with a lot of enthusiasm, if not a lot of skill. I surprised him by joining in on a few of the Cash numbers I was familiar with.

  He pulled off once at the store and, frankly, it was a mighty test of my willpower to stay in my seat without looking while he ran in to buy “a few more supplies.” If I didn't think he was about a dangerous as a golden retriever puppy, I might have been worried he was up to something unsavory.

  Eventually he pulled in somewhere. We drove over dirt or grass before we finally parked.

  "Can I look now?" I asked, reaching for my blindfold.

  "Not yet!" he insisted, catching my hand. "Almost! Come on."

  He helped me out of the car and I stepped in wet grass.

  "Stand right there for a minute," he said.

  Obediently, I waited, hearing him open the back of the Jeep and a strange clatter and shuffle of him moving things, getting something ready.

  "All right."

  I jumped, not realizing he was beside me again, whispering into my ear. He pulled my mask off himself, and I blinked as my eyes adjusted.

  There was a massive screen in the distance, and a handful of other cars and groups on picnic blankets or in convertibles.

  "The drive-in?" I said with a laugh.

  "What can I say, I'm old-fashioned," Ethan said, and turned me to look back at the car.

  The back seats of the Jeep had been laid down and the whole back area covered in blankets and pillows scavenged from my aunt's house. A cooler sat to one side, full of cold drinks and one of those prepackaged cheese plates. A scented jar candle flickered on the tailgate. He pressed a bouquet of roses into my hands.

  "It's not the best," he admitted with a laugh. "I was kind of restricted to what I could get in a grocery store in less than fifteen minutes . . ."

  I looked down at the cheap ready-made bouquet and couldn't stop grinning, my heart ready to jump out of my chest.

  "It's perfect," I told him, and pulled him down into a deep kiss that stopped only when music startled me.

  "Oh, the movie is starting," I said, and dragged him toward the back of the Jeep. We settled into the pile of cushions, which reminded me of my childhood blanket forts.

  "What are we watching?" I asked, as I snuggled up beside him and grabbed a cracker from the cheese plate.

  "Double feature," he answered. "Dracula and The Wolfman."

  I laughed, impressed by the perfect irony of that.

  "The Wolf Man doesn't like . . . bother you?" I asked him, curious.

  "Do Disney villains bother you?" he asked, grinning.

  I actually considered the question for a minute.

  "I'm not sure there are any Disney villains that are necromancers," I said. "But I did get pretty upset reading more than one fantasy book series as a kid. And zombie movies. Like, all the stuff they get wrong is frustrating enough, but seeing yourself as the villain all the time . . . it doesn't feel great."

  Ethan frowned thoughtfully. "I guess it's different for me since I didn't grow up like this," he said. "It's something that happened to me, not who I am. So it doesn't really bother me to see it shown as something bad. It did kind of wreck my life." He laughs, a little bitter.

  "Isn't there a line, though?" I asked. "Between showing what happened to you as something bad and, like, treating you like you're bad because of what happened to you?"

  "Maybe," Ethan considered, looking toward the screen where the first silvery gray scenes of Dracula were playing. "Maybe it's easier not to think about that too hard."

  We were quiet for a little while, watching armadillos scurry outside Dracula's castle.
<
br />   "I wonder if things are different in other parts of the world," he said suddenly.

  When I looked at him blankly, not understanding, he continued. "About necromancers, I mean. Other cultures don't deal with death the same way we do. Mexico has the Day of the Dead, right? A whole day where they invite the dead to come and hang out and dress up as their ancestors and bring them gifts and stuff. Death and the dead aren't as scary for them, I guess. So maybe they'd be less stressed out by a necromancer."

  I'd never really thought about it. I ate another piece of cheese and watched Bela Lugosi stride dramatically across the screen, thinking about different cultures and attitudes toward death.

  "I've always kind of wanted to see the world," I admitted.

  "Might be an experiment worth doing," Ethan said.

  "But I hate traveling alone," I said with a dismissive shrug.

  "Maybe you won't be alone," Ethan said, his implication obvious. My heart skipped a beat, but I didn’t look at him. This relationship was progressing in some pretty unorthodox ways, but this was still the first date.

  "So, uh, do vampires exist?" I asked, turning our attention back to the screen.

  "Yeah," Ethan answered at once. "I mean, not like in the movies. Not even like Dracula."

  "I figured," I said with a shrug, "from a purely numbers standpoint, you could never support a big group of vampires on a settled human population and not have someone notice."

  "Exactly," he said with a laugh. "God, you're smart. I'd never even thought of that until I asked the folks at the library about vampires and they pointed it out. Apparently, there have only ever been a handful of them ever. Five, I think. They can't make more. And you can't kill them with stakes or silver. You can't kill them at all. They'll probably still be around when the sun burns out."

  "Why can't they make more?"

  "Apparently it's preposterously difficult. There's a bunch of genetic and magical factors that a person has to have to even be able to become a vampire. People who don't have the right stuff just die or become mindless ghouls or something."

  "Is one of the requirements being a virgin?"

  "What? No. Why?"

  "Just saw an anime like that once."

  "Now that is a subject to circle back to. Anyway, even if they find someone that could be turned, there are serious sanctions against it from all the organized groups in the community. Mostly the Fae courts, who you do not want to piss off. True immortality like the vampires have is super rare and fucks with the balance of magic apparently. They don't like the idea of it spreading."

  "I guess that makes sense," I said, playing with the fringe on one of the blankets, wondering what those groups made of Aethon. That might be a way to learn more about him if there were people out there who kept track of immortals. "Do they hang out in a big mansion somewhere?"

  Ethan shrugged. "No telling, really. They keep a pretty low profile. One of the guys at the library swears he met one once, but everyone is pretty sure he's full of shit. Supposedly they meet up every couple of decades or centuries or whatever and swap stories. Legend says they're writing the most comprehensive record of human history ever made and that once humanity has died out, they'll emerge to show it to whoever is left. Or preserve it for aliens or whatever comes next, I guess."

  "Wild," I muttered, shaking my head. "I can't believe I never knew about any of this stuff. What about mermaids? Are mermaids real?"

  "The answer to that is actually kind of complicated . . ."

  As Dracula came and went, we sat shoulder to shoulder, talking about magic, the community, and anything else that came to mind. He was easy to talk to in a way no guy ever had been, and I didn't think it was just because he was the first person my age I'd really been able to have a conversation with magic about. When the topic changed to music or our plans for the future or the fridge horror of medical school bills, it stayed easy. Even the things we disagreed on, like which version of “Hurt” was better, weren't points against either of us but just something to talk and laugh about.

  Wolfman began before I realized how much I'd needed this. I hadn't even noticed when the weight had lifted off my shoulders. My problems, for the moment, seemed distant and unimportant. I was having fun, for the first time in way too long. When had I become boring? I'd never had many friends, but when had I stopped talking to the last of them? God, it had been ages since I'd done anything but work or lay around at home spending too much money shopping online. Ethan was a lifesaver in more ways than one.

  He caught me staring at him as I thought about this and smiled at me warmly.

  "What are you thinking about?" he asked, tapping the end of my nose with his finger. "You've got this cute dopey look on your face."

  I laughed but I felt myself turning red. No way would I tell him the truth.

  "Nothing," I said. "I'm just really happy to be here. As far as first dates go, this is probably the best one I've ever had."

  "Don't jinx it now," Ethan said, but he grinned, clearly proud. I couldn't resist his smile. I caught him by the shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. He kissed me back, arms sliding around me. My stomach did backflips. I was filled with a giddy optimistic affection like when carbonation tingles in your nose. This was going so incredibly well. And he was so amazing. Yeah it was new, but I'd also seen him in some crazy high-pressure situations. And he'd reacted to those situations by trying to protect me and generally being kind and self-sacrificing and respectful. He was too perfect, but I hoped it was real anyway.

  Let me have just this one thing, I thought. Just this is enough. Just tonight. Even if it's only for a little bit, let me have something perfect I can remember.

  He broke the kiss for a moment to look me in the eyes, his stare so full of obvious warmth and affection, I was left speechless. He kissed me again and I leaned back into the pillows, pulling him closer over me.

  "Careful," he said, breathless against my lips as my hands slid up his back. "Remember what happened last time?"

  "No, I don't remember," I lied, smiling against his mouth as I slipped a hand under the waistband of his sweat pants to squeeze his ass. "Remind me."

  He laughed, low and warm, and left a trail of kisses down my jaw. "That's probably a bad idea," he said. "Plus, we're missing the movie."

  "Considering that I'm currently making out with an actual werewolf," I said, voice muffled by his hair, "I don't think I'm missing much."

  "Good to see that your taste in movies is as bad as your taste in men," said a voice that was definitely not Ethan's.

  I froze for a second, all the time it took for Ethan to recover from his surprise, moving to shield me instinctively from the stranger standing outside the Jeep between us and the screen. As soon as I recognized his face, my confusion only increased.

  "Cole?" I said, sitting up. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "I told you I'd be in touch," the other necromancer replied casually, shrugging. He was around my age, maybe a little younger, with spikey black hair and a style that was carefully grunge-punk to hide the fact that his “fashionably distressed” clothes were genuinely distressed by actual age and wear. Last I knew, he slept rough in an abandoned house where we'd found evidence of Aethon conducting dark rituals. Like Aethon, he was after the candle. And like Aethon I had no real idea why, though I had a feeling it had something to do with his family.

  "I remember you," Ethan said, calming down a little now that he didn't think we were in immediate danger. "You helped us fight Aethon."

  "I got my ass kicked," Cole corrected him. "So did both of you."

  "It turns out that guy has been practicing necromancy and general wizardry since before the fall of Constantinople," I said. "So, don't feel bad about it."

  "I don't," Cole said sharply. "But there is going to be a rematch. And I've got an interest in making sure it ends differently this time."

  "Good luck with that," I said, raising an eyebrow.

  "I don't need luck," Cole replied, giving
me a humorless smile. "I've got you."

  Chapter 5

  Ethan moved between the two of us again, not yet aggressive but making it clear he could be if Cole pushed it. Cole ignored him completely.

  "You're bonded to the candle," he explained. "Right now, you're probably the strongest necromancer on the continent besides him. More importantly, you can use that connection to find where he's hidden it."

  "Yeah, that's all true," I agreed, crossing my arms. "But I don't see what it has to do with you. If I want to track down the candle, I'll do it on my own. Although frankly, considering how the fight ended last time, laying low seems like the better idea."

  "Oh yeah," Cole picked up one of the throw pillows, looking unimpressed. "This is really laying low. Listen, Aethon can kill you at any time. As long as he has that candle, he's got your life in his hands."

  "But he won't," I said, a chill running down my spine. "He said—"

  "He said it would be inconvenient, not impossible. If what I know about the candle is accurate, killing its owner before the time of their natural death can cause the candle to go dormant. It'd be unusable until whatever time you were naturally supposed to die. But he's functionally immortal. Waiting a few decades is a pain in the ass, but far from impossible for him. Do you really want to risk waiting him out?"

  I didn't have an answer. I pressed my lips together as I thought about what he said and hoped he wasn't right.

  "What exactly are you proposing?" Ethan asked.

  Cole chucked the pillow back into the Jeep.

  "I can train you," he said, and my breath caught in my chest. "I've been studying for years. It's pretty obvious that you've never tried to do anything but control your powers. I can teach you how to actually use them. We work together to get the candle back."