by Kaje Harper
Powered by Ghosts
(Necromancer Book 2)
Kaje Harper
Copyright © 2020 Kaje Harper
Cover Art © 2020 Kaje Harper
Proofreading by Ashley VanBuren
Formatting by Beaten Track Publishing – beatentrackpublishing.com
License Notes
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission of the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted is a model.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Content warning: For adult readers over the age of 18 only. This book contains explicit sexual situations between two men.
An untrained sorcerer and a reclusive necromancer face a ghost-infested town.
Darien is free of his dead invaders, and his eyes have opened to a new reality. In a world of sorcerers and necromancers, he’s full of power and potential, but completely ignorant. Necromancer Silas, and Silas’s cat familiar, Grim, are teaching him basic skills, but danger won’t hold off, just because he’s not ready.
Silas never planned to share his life with anyone, but after a week of shared battles and shared nights, Darien has become a fixture in his home. Silas has never met anyone with more raw magical ability, or less idea what to do with it. When Silas is offered a job hunting ghosts, he’s tempted to refill his depleted bank account, but reluctant to bring untrained Darien along. Darien’s eager to help, though, and eventually Silas gives in. It’s just a few ghosts. Nothing he hasn’t handled before. What could go wrong?
Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10 – Grim
About the Author
Other Books by Kaje Harper
Acknowledgements
With all my thanks to the members of my FB group for the encouragement, to Kris and Jonathan, who made this a much better book, and especially to Kathy for a very useful suggestion that became Pip, and for an outstanding beta read. Ashley did a proofread on short notice, and Deb makes time for my formatting when I need it. I am blessed with friends whose help turns my random ideas into finished stories.
Chapter 1
The spell-structure Darien Green was building collapsed with a sound like breaking glass. The power rebound made him yip in pain and grab his head.
From the doorway, a high, amused voice said, “What do you call that one? London Bridge?”
He whirled. “Grim! Dammit.”
His mentor’s big tabby cat familiar swiped a paw across the floor, where a faint shimmer of power lingered, then inspected his spread pads. “I’d say you damned it thoroughly yourself.”
Darien snorted and pushed up off the polished floor of the study. “It was an experiment.”
“Does Silas know you’re playing around with power while he’s gone?”
Silas Thornwood is not my boss. Except he kind of was, in magical stuff anyhow. Darien didn’t have a good grasp on what their relationship actually was, although Silas on his knees last night, sucking Darien’s cock, suggested the power didn’t go all one way.
He dusted his trousers off— unnecessarily since the study floor was the one thing Silas kept clean and polished, ready to be chalked with his runes— and rotated his stiff shoulders. Instead of answering the question, he asked, “Doesn’t it bother you that he trotted off when the council called, without bringing you—” Or me. “—with him?”
Grimalkin sat down and licked his furry shoulder a couple of times, which Darien had figured out meant the big cat was less calm than he was pretending to be. “The meeting was at Necromancer Worthington’s house. His wife is deathly allergic to cats.”
“Seriously? That was their excuse?”
“This was a boring meeting anyway. All about tithes and finances. I didn’t want to go.” Grim’s pink tongue swiped across his fur again, neck cranked at an angle only cats and owls could manage.
Darien rubbed his own aching neck, then jumped as the front door banged open. A flash of fear swamped him— Crosby’s getting in— before the sound of Silas’s voice registered. Embarrassed, he yanked back down the glowing shields he’d snapped into place.
Grim was eyeing him, and his face heated, but the cat only said, “That’s not a bad reflex. Keep it,” before calling more loudly, “We’re in the study, O Thumpy One.”
There were a couple more thuds and grumbles before Silas appeared in the doorway. His dark hair was rumpled, and his thick brows were drawn down. From his lean height, he peered down at Grim, then shifted his gaze to Darien. “What were you two up to?”
Before Darien could decide whether to lie or confess, Grim said, “Wondering why you didn’t bring us along to liven up that finance meeting.”
Silas ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it into place. “I should have. Even if it would make Mrs. Worthington turn purple and expire. Serve those hidebound, cheapskate, penny-pinching old hedgewitches right.”
Grim stretched, flexing his twenty-pound body up and back, and yawned. “I take it we’re not getting paid.”
“Were you supposed to get money from them?” Darien still had only the faintest idea how the bread and butter of the magic world worked. In the week since they’d defeated a demon in the Guild’s own hall, he’d spent half his time sleeping— or in bed doing even better things with Silas— and the other half in some apparently elementary magic exercises, trying to get a handle on his newly revealed abilities.
“We were supposed to get paid,” Silas said. “You and me both. After all, we rid the council of not one but two demons. That should’ve been worth a good-sized bounty, and I figured that’d give you some money of your own.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Silas didn’t seem to be short of funds, but that didn’t mean Darien had enjoyed being taken out and supplied with clothes like a kid on an allowance. Getting paid would’ve been good. “No dice, huh?”
“They ruled that since we were among those directly threatened, and since the council didn’t actually ask us to do the job, it fell under voluntary work. Not entitled to payment after the fact.”
“I could’ve paused with that demon under my shield and passed a hat,” Darien suggested. “Pay up, or I turn him lose.”
Silas’s gray eyes lightened. “I’d have paid good money to see that. But no, we’re apparently going to have to settle for the gratitude and goodwill of the council.”
“Might be worth something?”
“Hah. They turned around and told me if I needed funds, they had a job for me.”
“Job?” He wasn’t entirely sure what Silas did, other than sending demons back to their hells with a power and force of will that made Darien hard just thinking about it. Not at the time— because demons made his balls want to crawl up inside his body— but in the aftermath, the image of Silas standing terrible and tall, with whips of pure power in each hand? Hell, yeah. “More demons?”
“By all the gods, I hope not. Two in one weekend was plenty. Routine ghost removal, it sounds like
. Anyway, I turned them down. They weren’t happy.”
“Turned them down? Don’t you need the energy? And if it pays, wouldn’t that be a twofer?” Since Silas replenished his magic with ghost energy, getting paid to feed his own power seemed like a win-win.
“It’s out of town,” Silas said, as if that decided things.
“So? You’re not, um, bound to this weird house, are you?” Some of Darien’s spare time had been spent exploring the huge relic Silas had inherited, and he was pretty sure there were rooms and passages he hadn’t found yet.
“I’ve never heard of a person being bound to a house.” Silas tilted his head, looking at Darien as if he was searching for something. “But I’d want to bring Grim, and I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“You wouldn’t want me to come?” Darien knew he was a total novice, but he’d done all right in a crisis, he thought. “I wouldn’t get in the way.” He cleared his throat and wished he sounded less like a kid wheedling his dad for a car ride.
Silas’s expression softened. “I figured you wouldn’t want to be around ghosts again.”
“Oh.” For a moment the memory of voices and slithering movement and hisses in his head made him shudder. His stomach lurched queasily. But I’ll be damned if I let that stop me having Silas’s back. He made sure his voice was deep and steady as he said, “I have good shields now. You said they’ll stop ghosts.”
“Yes. They should.”
“Then I want to come.” He went for a lighter tone. “I’m going stir crazy here, and I want to see you at work. The great necromancer, plucking ghosts out of the air and eating them like raisins.”
Silas snorted. “That’s not quite the way it works.” He paused. “Are you sure? I admit, it would be good to replenish the coffers.”
Grim said, apropos of nothing obvious, “Healers are expensive.”
It wasn’t till Silas hissed, “Shush, cat, not his business,” that Darien remembered. He was the one who’d needed a Healer, after knocking himself out running down stairs in socks.
“Did you have to pay Anya to help me last week?”
Silas opened his mouth, but took an obvious moment to come up with, “It was my cat who tripped you. My debt.”
“I’m my own cat, I’ll have you remember,” Grim said. “And the point is, we’re broke, and I have a feeling we’ll need funds soon. And here you have a job on a platter.”
“Do you have any feelings about the job?” Silas asked seriously.
Darien waited, trying to decide if Grim was having a premonition or just messing with them. It was often too damned hard to tell.
Grim shook his head. “Nothing on the job. Just a vague sense that somewhere down the line, being broke is going to be a problem.”
“Oooh,” Darien quipped. “Such wisdom. It’s not good to be broke.”
Grim trotted over and swiped at his ankle with unsheathed claws. “Respect for your elders, boy.”
Darien danced his bare feet out of cat range. “Are you older than me?” Familiars were a puzzle he hadn’t figured out either.
“I’m wiser, for sure.” That was about as straight an answer as he ever got out of Grim on the topic.
Silas said, “If we’re serious about taking the job, I should let the council know. Worthington turned it down too, and they were talking about who they could farm it out to, down the line.”
“We should do it,” Darien decided. The chance to get out of this house— intriguing as it was— and to watch Silas at work was irresistible.
“Agreed.” Grim sat down and wrapped his tail over his toes.
Silas looked back and forth between them. “I guess I’m outvoted. I’ll call and get the details. Darien, you might start packing some clothes? There’s a suitcase in my closet.”
“How many days?”
“Pack for four.”
“And don’t forget the tuna,” Grim said. “And the can opener.”
Darien laughed, his heart lifting at the prospect of getting out and doing something different for a change. “Sir, yes, sir!” He looked up, and Silas was staring at him with something soft and warm in his expression. “You do want to do the job, don’t you, Sy? Grim and me’re not, you know, taking over?”
Silas’s mouth curved up and his eyes sparkled. “I think I could resist the lure of one novice sorcerer and one imperious cat, if I wanted to. Sure. Let’s take a road trip.”
***
Eight hours later, two and a half of them spent driving the Studebaker over increasingly questionable roads, Silas was beginning to wish he’d stuck to his first plan. “This is the rooming house the Guild booked us into?” He eyed the scruffy lobby, with its mud-speckled floor, pair of mismatched chairs, and unattended, battered desk. There was a bell on the desk he’d already struck once, and he rang it again, more vigorously. Although on second thought, if no one appears, I can tell the Guild there was a problem and find a real hotel.
Of course, as soon as he hatched that plan, a middle-aged matron in pin curls and an apron swept in through the door. “Gentlemen. Welcome.” Her smile was warm in her round face, and her eyes twinkled with amusement.
Silas cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. You were expecting us?”
“Your Guild called me directly.” She looked them over, and slowly her smile widened. “Would you prefer two beds or one?”
Danger! Silas let his tone harden. “Why would you ask such a thing? We’re not so strapped for cash as that.”
“Now, now.” She set her hands on her hips. “One of my talents is matchmaking. And I can see you two have no need of it.”
“Talent.” He hadn’t expected the rooming house to be run by a sorcerer, even one of limited ability. Although that would be an advantage for Grim, who was tolerating his cat carrier with seething impatience.
“Yes, of course. As you can see.” She swept a hand around the front room. At the gesture, the dirt and scruff vanished, to be replaced by a neat little parlor with clean tiles and comfortable wingback chairs.
An illusion, and I missed it. Silas managed not to blink or show surprise, but Darien laughed. “It’s clean! That was cool.”
“A simple illusion.” The woman peered at him. “Aren’t you a sorcerer?”
“A novice,” Silas put in. And I’m a necromancer but that’s not an excuse for missing something so basic. His talents might run heavily to the dead and the demonic, but he knew spells to sharpen his perceptions of the living. I need to stop relying on Grim for a nudge on these things. He could feel the carrier shiver with Grim’s silent laughter. Setting it down and letting the smirking cat out gave him a moment to regain his balance.
Grim stalked out and shook himself. “A very neat place, mistress. Not even the faintest scent of mice. My compliments.”
“Thank you, Sir Cat.” She bobbed a tiny curtsy and laughed merrily. “Now you gentlemen still haven’t said if you’ll take one room or two.”
Darien sounded tentative. “You really don’t mind?”
“My own lover would have words with me if I did.”
“Oh, then one, please?” Darien glanced at Silas. “Unless Grim wants his own room.”
“I imagine the whole house will be Grim’s domain,” Silas said. “With courtesy to your familiar, of course, ma’am.”
“I don’t have one.” The woman looked sad. “Yet. Don’t have one yet. Sir Grim is welcome to explore. Now come this way and I’ll show you to your room.”
“Why the illusion?” Darien asked, picking up his suitcase. “Making the place look grubby?”
“Keeps out the riffraff.” She led the way to the stairs. “There’s a local gentleman who’s sweet on my Annie. He won’t take no for an answer, and she can’t very well tell him she’s taken. But he’s a fastidious sort, and now that we’re letting the place go to rack and ruin, he’s coming around less often.” She turned left at the landing, glancing over her shoulder at Silas. “I’m Clarice, by the way.”
“Silas, and he’s Darien
. My familiar is Grimalkin.” Silas followed her to a blue-painted door, which she swung open.
“This is yours.” She pulled two keys off her big keyring and handed them to him. “Front door. Room door. The bathroom’s first on your left, and I don’t have a lodger in the other guest room right now. Annie and I are across the landing, so we won’t hear a bit of noise, should there happen to be some.”
Silas saw Darien’s face color, but ten years out in the world as a homosexual man just made him deeply grateful. “Thank you.” He set his bag inside the door. “Tell me, Clarice, have you heard about a problem with ghosts in these parts?”
The amusement faded from her face. “Is that why you’re here? Are you a necromancer?”
“Yes.”
She nodded slowly. “It’s gotten bad, these last few months. Even the normals are starting to notice. The local mental hospital can’t keep staff on hand for all the money in the world, and one of the sheriff’s deputies took mental stress leave. Said there was someone screaming in the jail, and he couldn’t find them. He’d have been fired, but the sheriff heard it too. And the poltergeists are getting out of hand.”
“That’s not good.” Too much real evidence of the occult was a problem. The Great Spell for universal concealment was a powerful work, and usually it did the job, keeping people’s minds off magic and making their talents seem small and silly. But given enough ghosts, enough objects flying through the air, even ordinary people would become impressed, and afraid. That was dangerous for sorcerers.
“The flu season came in like a lion this year, but there’s no reason people dying in their beds should become ghosts instead of passing peacefully. Something’s amiss.”
“None of the local Guild noticed before now?”
“Oh, we noticed.” Clarice patted her hair into place, although not a strand had moved. “But there’s not many of us in these parts. I’m a silly woman and Jasper is a fussy man. Our nearest Guild hall is two hours away in Oakwood, and they didn’t want to pay anyone to come check it out. And our local necromancer was saying nothing.”