by Anna Abner
He’d never cast with another necromancer before, not the way he had with Talia. Their power mixed and merged in a way that had his skin dancing upon his bones.
Talia made him feel real again. Solid and real.
He pressed her against the wall, wrenching her knee up against his hip. He groaned as his cock recognized her cleft even through his jeans and her capris.
“Cole,” she panted. “You felt it too.”
It wasn’t a question. And now that they had, the only way to appease it was to screw it out of each other.
He kissed her. Hard. A searching, possessive kiss in which he took as much as he gave.
With a whimper, Talia tore his shirt open, buttons flying and pinging across the floor. Cool air whistled across his overheated flesh, and he shuddered.
As her hands hungrily explored his chest and shoulders, he jerked her strappy blouse down to her elbows and ducked his head to taste her pink, exposed flesh.
“Cole,” she groaned, hugging his head to her breast. “Please. If you don’t get inside me, I’m going to scream.”
He lowered them both to the floor, removing their pants as they went. Talia sat in his lap, her sexy legs curling around his waist, and grasped his length in her hand.
A moment of clarity hit him upside the head. “I don’t have a condom,” he warned her.
“It’s fine.” Her fingers dug cornrows through his hair. “I’m on the pill. Just shut up and kiss me.”
His lips met hers as she enveloped him within her warm, wet core.
His eyes rolled up, and he momentarily lost control of his senses, but as she initiated a quick, aggressive rhythm, he cupped her face and kissed her. Desperately. Like she might be the one thing on earth holding him together.
She twisted upward, sat down hard, and came. Her cry was swallowed up in his mouth, and with a final thrust, an orgasm ripped through him. He held her through spasm after spasm.
Gently, Talia caressed her fingers over his ears and then down his back.
With a sigh, he dropped his forehead upon her shoulder and just breathed, feeling utterly drained and spent.
She pulled away first. And good thing she did or Cole would have sat there the rest of the day simply holding her and listening to her breathing.
Fumbling for her clothes, some of which no longer held together the right way, she stood on wobbly legs.
Reality returned like the clanging of a bell. Couser had surfaced, overcome his instincts, and forced Cole to take advantage of Talia. Holy shit. He hadn’t meant to do that.
Well, he’d wanted to. Desire wasn’t the problem. But when he slept with Talia he wanted to be the man at the controls and right then, with their combined magic making him fuzzy-headed, and the memory of an orgasm more powerful than any he’d felt before, he wasn’t sure he had been.
She must be disgusted with him. God, they hadn’t even known each other for twenty-four hours. He preferred to believe he was too evolved for reckless hook-ups with random strangers.
“I’m sorry about that,” Cole said, fussing with his clothes.
Mixing his magic with hers and Couser’s had completely overwhelmed him. He’d acted on instinct. She must feel used.
“Oh.” Talia covered her breasts and finished dressing with one arm.
“I got carried away.” The more he said the worse it sounded. “I’ve never felt magic like that.”
“Me either,” she admitted. With a little hop, she got her capris back on. And then she scurried away.
The moment she was out of sight and out of earshot, Cole rolled flat onto his back and hit his head against the floor. “I’m such an asshole,” he groaned.
* * *
Sorry about that? Talia hid in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the old-fashioned tub with her face in her hands. Sorry about that?
She’d been through a lot of crap recently, but this hurt worse than most.
She’d opened herself up to Cole, let him inside, and he’d blown off the experience as a symptom of strong magic.
She’d never been so insulted. Or embarrassed.
Furious with him and herself, she wiped an angry tear from her cheek.
He was sorry? Fine. She wasn’t there to fall in love. She was there to get Sylvester back. End of story.
Minutes ticked by and Cole didn’t search her out, didn’t try to make it better. Maybe he didn’t think anything needed fixing, which only infuriated her more.
He was lingering in the serial killer’s childhood bedroom studying his book of black magic. She knew because she’d strolled past the open door several times, pretending not to care what he was doing, but peeking at him from under her lashes.
Without any busy work of her own, Talia dug her tablet from her purse and plopped on the foyer floor. She opened a note app on her phone.
Harvey had repelled her through the air with a single word. Lapsus. She typed it onto a fresh page and then leaned back against the closed front door wracking her brain to recall the marks he’d drawn on her stoop.
She just dove in and sketched everything she remembered. An arch, a bell, and an X. The fourth glyph remained out of reach.
“Ugh,” she groaned, frustrated and annoyed and tired and sore. She couldn’t handle being in the murder house another minute, and she pushed to her feet and ambled outside. There, staring her in the face was another powerful spell she’d never seen before and didn’t understand.
Cole had transformed the entire Couser house into a spell circle by drawing glyphs on the walls at the four compass points.
Frowning at the unfamiliar markings, Talia turned on her tablet again and took photos.
“What are you doing out here?”
She looked up. She hadn’t heard Cole step onto the rotting balcony above her head.
“Nothing,” she said, focusing all her attention on her tablet even though she couldn’t remember what she’d been doing.
God, just his voice caused a reaction in her body. A tiny, tickly quiver.
“I go through all the trouble of putting up a barrier,” he grumbled.
Now that Talia was aware of him, she was intensely aware of him. His footsteps crossed the bedroom and then thundered down the staircase. The front door opened and slammed closed.
“It’s not safe for you out here by yourself,” he announced. “Especially when I don’t even know you’re out here. What if some rogue caster drove by and snatched you? I’d have no idea what happened.”
Like Sylvester. The thought pissed her off. “I’m not a child,” she snapped. “I don’t need a chaperone.”
Some of the thunderclouds behind his expression seemed to drift away. “I don’t think you’re a child. I was worried about you.” When she refused to answer, he asked, “What are you doing?”
“Copying your spells.” Talia briefly flashed him her screen. “I keep track of new magic.”
“I didn’t take you for a nerd,” he said, chuckling softly.
She bristled. Just one more insult. One too many. “I am not.”
“Look at you,” he nodded toward her tablet, “taking notes to study later.”
“I’ve never seen these marks before,” she said as her skin overheated. “I’m curious. That doesn’t make me a nerd.”
“I didn’t mean any offense,” he assured. “I like nerds.”
Cole’s eyes twinkled, and Talia’s resolve weakened.
Oh, no. This was not happening again. “We should stick to the plan and stay professional. I think it’s for the best.”
He stood very still for a second, not showing any reaction at all. And then his expression closed down. “Of course. I agree.”
“Okay.” She exhaled, relieved he was on the same page. Now, to get her body with the program. “Good. Thank you.”
“Right.” He shifted as if to leave.
“Wait,” she called. “Do you remember the glyphs Harvey used in his spell circle?”
“Yes.”
She arched an ey
ebrow. “Can you tell me?”
“Sure. An arch and an X, both to connect our two planes. A bell for power. And the symbol for Virgo or dual forces.”
Of course. “The symbol for Virgo,” she repeated with glee, sketching it into her tablet.
When Cole chuckled under his breath, presumably at her nerdy nature, she grumbled, “Don’t start, Burkov.”
He laughed even louder. “Anything else? Or can we go inside now?”
“Wait. Can you teach me this spell?” She gestured to his glyphs on the house.
“The barrier spell?” he asked, frowning.
“Yeah, see, you’re the only person I know anymore who casts.” The only caster she still sort of trusted. “Everyone else was part of the cabal, and they pretty much all want to torture me, so if I’m ever going to learn it I need you to show me.”
What a disaster her life had become. It wasn’t fair that the DC wanted to use her simply because she was born different. Or that Sylvester was involved in battle plans he didn’t have anything to do with. Or that Cole thought she was disposable.
“Sure.” He waved at the spell mark above their heads. “Do you have it all copied down?”
“Not yet.” She hurried around to the rear of the house, snapping pictures as she went.
“Casting,” Cole said, following at a slower pace, “is part intention but mostly willpower. If you want it badly enough you can make anything happen.”
“Not true.” She knew this from experience. “I really wanted to open the back door of your shop, but it didn’t open.”
“You’re a young caster,” he said. “You’ll gain strength and confidence over time.”
Talia stopped in her tracks. “I am a born necromancer. There’s nothing young or new about my power. I’ve been casting longer than you have.”
Only a few days ago, the Carver had told her how special she was to be blessed at birth with magic. Made it sound like she was special. Chosen, or something.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said, giving her a tiny smile. “I mean on the experience spectrum, you’re still learning.”
She snorted her disbelief.
“Do you cast every day?” he prodded. “Do you try harder and more complex spells? Have you cast with lots of different spirits?”
Ah, crap. No, no, and no. “You do those things?”
“I do.”
She rounded the house and photographed the fourth and final glyph. “I never had anyone officially instruct me how to be a caster.”
“A lot of casters don’t. It’s normal. Most of us either hide our abilities or suppress them.”
Talia stepped onto the front porch, waiting for him to join her. “I guess I got lucky. Hugh had been with other necromancers before me. He taught me the basics.”
“But a spirit can’t show you everything there is to be a caster because he isn’t one,” he said. “That’s why the Raleigh coven is so important to me. We’re gathering necromancers and witches and supporting each other as a community.”
“Hmm.” She’d never considered herself part of a larger caster community. Maybe Cole was on to something. “Is that when you learned to cast in Latin?”
He nodded. “I discovered this incredibly fascinating history of casters, and Latin is part of connecting to that larger experience.”
“Wow.” She seriously needed an intro to necromancy class because she’d never heard of any of that.
“You saw my glyphs,” he said, switching back into professor mode. “You heard the Latin I used.”
“Integumentum,” Talia recalled.
“You can practice casting a barrier around your car. I was thinking about doing that anyway.”
“Okay. Sure.” Though she feigned confidence, she felt anything but. Her spells tended to be on the iffy side. “Hugh, will you assist?”
“It would be my pleasure, miss.”
She drew a spell circle in the dirt in front of the porch, adding Cole’s glyphs. Taking a deep, cleansing breath she stepped within the outline.
“Integumentum,” she said.
Absolutely nothing happened. No sparks of power. No whoosh of air. Just awkward silence.
“Do you feel the spirit’s power inside you?” Cole asked, edging closer.
She nodded.
“Control it.”
She shot him a look. What did he think she was doing?
“I picture it condensing into a ball of light in my chest,” he said, “and then I fire it at my target the way Tony Stark’s suit shoots lasers from its palms.”
“I don’t really know what that means,” Talia admitted, “but I’ll try.”
Another deep breath, but this time she waited to cast until she recognized the familiar sting of electrical energy in her limbs.
“Integumentum.”
There was a definite spark that time.
“Did you feel it?” she asked, grinning. Cole smiled back, and she experienced a completely different emotion. Her smile fell away, and she cleared her throat. “It was better, I think.”
“Good. Now, imagine absorbing the power. Collect it inside you before releasing an extra strong pulse. I’ll bet Hugh doesn’t send you half of what he’s capable of.”
“It’s okay,” she assured Hugh. “Go ahead.”
The tingle in her limbs vibrated at a higher rate, and the electricity in her chest crackled.
In her mind, she imagined Hugh’s power as a current of blue light rising and diving through her skin. Rather than let it flow free, she forced it to come together as a single storm around her heart. It stung like a thousand wasps, and she cringed in pain.
“It burns,” she cried out.
Immediately, the power washed out of her.
“That is enough.” Hugh stared imperiously at Cole. “I refuse to be a part of your schemes.”
“Why are you keeping her small-time?” Cole shot back. “Why don’t you want her to gain power?”
“You are not instructing her. You only wish to shame her. I will not participate.” He vanished.
“He’s not usually so defensive,” she said, frowning at the last spot her spirit had occupied.
“Keep practicing control,” Cole said and headed for the house. “How about some dinner?”
She hurried to follow, but stuttered a step. Little Zachary, finally looking like the child he was and not the monster he pretended to be, stood on the porch.
Chapter Twelve
Cole sensed the rage and fear rolling off Zachary’s spirit in waves. The emotions had obviously been building for years. Thirty-six years exactly if Cole was correct about the boy’s identity.
“Hi,” Talia said, approaching slowly. “How are you feeling?” The child’s spirit didn’t answer. She tried a different tack. “Zachary, have you been hiding in the house?”
“Do you know where my mommy is?” he asked, his large blue eyes ready to break Cole’s heart.
Something primal, something feral, shifted inside him.
Cole sensed Couser struggling to the surface of his consciousness, as if he was fascinated by the child’s presence. But Cole suppressed him. Being around the ghost of Couser’s first victim was bad enough. He couldn’t handle that and Couser’s gloating, too.
“No, little one, I don’t.”
“I’m waiting for my mommy to pick me up,” he continued. “I’m hiding from Milton. I don’t want to play with him anymore. I just want to go home.”
Cole pictured this sweet-faced cherub trapped with a sociopathic playmate and wanting to get away, but losing the struggle on the second floor balcony. Helpless rage built inside him. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.
And with the upswell of emotion, Milton Couser resurfaced. Cole felt him in his limbs, in his mind, in his throat.
“No,” Cole groaned. With effort, he crammed the maniac into the darkest corner of his soul.
Talia sent Cole a confused glance, and then told Zachary, “I’m sorry, baby, but you’re dead, and she is
n’t coming back.”
“You’re lying,” he shouted, a tear in his voice. “Just let me inside so I can wait for her where it’s safe.” But he’d lost a lot of his fury, and he wavered before disappearing completely.
“Zachary, wait.”
But he was gone.
Despite his early, violent end, it was unconscionable that Zachary existed in such a state. Hiding. Scared. Wanting family and comfort. Cole would do whatever it took to help him come to terms with his fate.
Talia rounded on him. “We have to help him. I don’t know how, but we have to do something.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Come on.” He held the front door open for her.
The training session with Hugh as well as the encounter with Zachary had shaken him. Talia appeared equally as unsettled, though Hugh, freshly returned and hanging out near the car, was as unflappable as always.
Cole didn’t trust the British spirit. He may have been Talia’s mentor for most of her life, but he didn’t strike Cole as a particularly caring or generous soul. More like opportunistic. Maybe he’d been grooming Talia for an eventual future, rather than training her to master necromancy. He certainly didn’t care about increasing her skill.
“What is there to eat?” Talia asked, following him into the kitchen.
He checked the refrigerator and then the cupboards. As expected, all depressingly empty. His stomach growled, loud enough for her to hear.
“We’ll order something,” he announced. “Have it delivered.” Grabbing his disposable cell phone, he ran a search for nearby restaurants. “Know of anyone who’d deliver way out here?”
She thought about it. “That pizza place on the highway, maybe.”
“Good idea.” He found the number, but hesitated to hit send. “What kind of pizza do you like?” And then he pictured her devouring a gooey, cheesy slice. “No, wait. Let me guess.” He grinned, delighted when she smiled back. She was beautiful when she smiled, sweet and kind of sparkly. “Um. A thin crust veggie deluxe.”
“Actually.” She paused, her smile widening as she left him hanging in suspense. “That’s my favorite.”
He laughed, and it felt good, like shaking dust off an old pair of boots. “What else would a smart, young nurse choose, right?”