by Andre, Becca
“I have given him until early spring to accomplish it.”
“What game is he playing?” I whispered to Rowan.
“No telling.” He laid his hand over mine. “Perhaps we should get the clandestine part of the visit over with while everyone’s distracted.”
“That would be—” I glimpsed golden blond hair moving through the crowd. Had Ian gotten inside so quickly?
I took a step forward without thinking and the crowd parted at that moment. I was staring at Doug’s angry countenance.
“Shit.” I turned away from the room and grabbed Rowan’s hand.
“What is it?” Rowan asked.
“I saw Doug. I hope he didn’t see us.” I pulled Rowan down the hall, and we left the crowd to be enthralled with Xander’s public speaking skills.
No one stopped us or even questioned what we were doing in the kitchen. It was as impressive as the rest of the house, the room huge and lined in black granite countertops broken up by stainless steel appliances. It was also a very busy place with a dozen of the servants in the black and burgundy livery rushing around the room. I couldn’t help but wonder how many of them were dead.
There were three people in white chef uniforms unpacking food from warming boxes and laying it out onto trays. I suspected these people worked for a caterer. Perhaps the dead didn’t make good cooks.
Staying close to the wall and out of the way, we walked across the room, aiming for the doorway opposite. Another hall opened beyond it. I smiled as a servant stepped out carrying a box with several wine bottles poking out the top. We were headed in the right direction.
We had almost reached our destination when a pair of men emerged from the hall. One was Ian.
“What do you mean none was provided?” the other man demanded of Ian. Like the rest of the servants, this man also wore black and burgundy livery. “Hutchins is always very thorough about seeing the staff appropriately dressed.”
“I’m new,” Ian said. “And—” He looked up and saw me.
“Excuse me,” I said, stepping forward. “The Deacon has told us of his marvelous wine cellar, and I wondered if one of you might give us a tour.”
“Shall I?” Ian asked his companion. “Since I’m not properly attired to serve the guests?”
“That would be marvelous.” I gave Ian’s companion a big smile, then looked up at Rowan. “If we like what he’s done, perhaps we can do the same in our wine cellar.” I twined my fingers in his.
“Perhaps,” Rowan agreed, a faint smile on his face.
The man turned to Ian and his brown eyes faded to white. “Take care of this. Perhaps I can track down your livery by the time you finish. It is an honor to serve the Deacon. Remember that.”
A muscle ticked in Ian’s jaw, but he dipped his head in acknowledgment.
“Enjoy your evening,” the man said to us, then turned and walked away.
Ian glared at his back.
“The wine cellar?” Rowan prompted.
“Certainly, sir,” Ian replied. “Please follow me.” He led us into the hall off the end of the kitchen.
I was relieved to find it empty and hurried forward to catch Ian’s arm. “I failed to consider some bozo necromancer giving you a command. Is everything all right?”
“Yes. That was the first bozo I encountered.” Ian gave me an amused glance and I smiled in relief. “Why the wine cellar?” he asked.
“The compass points toward the middle of the house,” Rowan said. “We thought we would try the basement.”
“Ah.”
The door at the end of the hall stood open a few inches, letting the dim light inside spill out. Not hesitating, Ian pushed it open and headed down the narrow wooden steps.
“Not what I expected,” I said, eyeing the rough plaster walls and rickety steps.
“This home was built in the last century.” Rowan walked down a couple of steps. “I would imagine that the upper floors have been modernized and remodeled several times, but there was no need to renovate anything down here—so don’t get any ideas for our wine cellar.”
I snorted and stepped down. The risers creaked, the sound echoing in the cave-like space.
Rowan turned and held out a hand to me. “Watch yourself. This isn’t the best place to be wearing heels.”
“I can’t think of any place where it’s good to be wearing heels.” I took his hand.
“I can think of a few.” He lifted his eyes from the steps to flash me a grin.
I shook my head and followed.
The floor at the base of the stairs was cement. The old kind that looked like it had originally been smoothed with an uneven toothbrush, then left to crack over the years. The small room was an oddly shaped rectangle, three of the walls lined with dusty wine racks. Only one held any wine. Unfortunately, the room didn’t stretch far enough in the direction the compass indicated.
“Dead end?” I asked.
“Interesting word choice.” Ian crossed the room and stopped at the corner where the two empty wine racks met. Gripping one, he tugged it aside. The heavy wooden legs screeched across the floor, and I cringed, wondering how many people had heard that.
Ian slipped between the two wine racks and, without hesitation, walked into the arched doorway he had exposed. The single bulb in the wine cellar didn’t reach far into the dark tunnel beyond the opening.
I exchanged a frown with Rowan. “Ian?”
A clank of metal on metal answered me, followed by the heavy sound of something else scraping across the rough cement. I stepped up to the opening and peered into the dimly lit space. Ian had found an old wooden door that looked like it might have been here since the house was built. A final tug, and the door stood open, revealing darkness beyond.
“Anybody bring a flashlight?” I asked.
Rowan stepped around me, turning his shoulders to fit into the space. He reached past Ian and flicked the switch by the doorframe. A clink and lights flickered to life in the room beyond.
“Or you could do that,” I said.
Rowan didn’t acknowledge the quip, he was staring into the space he had illuminated. He straightened and turned to face Ian.
“Catacombs,” Ian said.
“What?” I pushed up between the two men. A large room, the distant walls shrouded in darkness, stretched before us. Three bare bulbs—only two currently working—dangled from the ceiling in a straight line down the center of the room. The bare wire and porcelain fixtures looked like they had been installed not long after electricity was invented. But that wasn’t the only feature that had been here a long time. Arranged around the room on foot-high pedestals were close to two dozen stone sarcophagi.
“Xander has bodies in his basement,” I said. I had expected something, but not the magnitude of this collection.
“I don’t think he placed them here.” Rowan gestured at the closed tomb. “That fellow died in 1892.”
I squinted at the sarcophagus he indicated and noticed the name and dates carved on the side. Bartholomew Nelson, 1846 - 1892.
“The Nelson Family has always had many rivals,” Ian said. “They wouldn’t leave their dead where they could be easily taken.”
“So, they buried them in the basement?”
“Yes.” Ian turned to Rowan. “Do you have the compass?”
Rowan dug it out of his pocket and balanced it on his palm. We stood in silence, waiting for the needle to stabilize. A light scuff whispered from a dark corner of the room.
I crossed my arms, moving closer to the two men. “Did you hear that?” I whispered.
“There is nothing animated down here,” Ian said, “but I would imagine there are rats.”
“I’m not sure which I prefer.”
“The compass points to the back l
eft corner of the room,” Rowan said.
Ian nodded and moved that way.
Rowan slipped an arm around my shoulders. “Cold? Do you want my coat?”
“No, I’m just creeped out. Why do I seem to end up exploring crypts with you?”
“I admit, it’s not the romantic end to the evening that I had anticipated.”
I was tempted to ask what end he expected, but he would probably tell me, and I didn’t want to make Ian uncomfortable. Besides, if we were tracking George and Henry, I should probably keep the banter to a minimum.
I followed the guys as they made their way to the back left corner, upping my estimate of the dead entombed here. The room was larger than I realized. When we got to the corner,we found nothing obvious. Deep indentions had been made in the walls. They resembled man-sized shelves, and by the shrouded forms lying within, that turned out to be an accurate description. Had Xander’s ancestor run out of sarcophagi?
More light scratching came from somewhere behind us. I turned to face the sound and glanced up at Ian when he did the same.
“You don’t think that’s a rat,” I whispered.
He frowned, but didn’t answer the question. Instead, he walked toward the sound.
Not certain I wanted to see what had drawn his attention, I followed.
He didn’t walk far, stopping before another sarcophagus. I didn’t see a name or date—at least not on this side—and the design was different from the others. The lid was much more ornate. Bands of metal had been worked into the design. Molded to look like chains, they draped over the sides and reached all the way to the floor. It was hard to tell in the shadows, but it looked like large locks had been molded at the base of the chains. I reached out with my foot and nudged one. The light clank of metal on metal answered me. The locks were real.
The scratching began again, louder and closer.
I pressed a hand to my mouth when I realized it was coming from inside the sarcophagus. Then I saw movement along the crack between the lid and the base. A pale stick protruded for a moment, then disappeared inside. No, not a stick. A finger bone.
“Ian!” I faced him. “I thought you said there was nothing animated down here. There’s someone in there.”
Ian sighed. “Animated, no.”
I considered his words as the scratching continued. “A lich. Oh God. He was buried…alive.”
“Yes.”
“You could tell the valets were dead from a hundred yards away, yet you didn’t know this was here?” Rowan asked, his tone skeptical.
“Unlike your grim, I do not see souls. I sense death or necromancy in use. This,” he waved at the sarcophagus, “is just another dead body to my senses.”
“We can’t leave him in there,” I whispered.
“Whatever was human, no longer is,” Ian said. “And I don’t mean the body.”
I hugged myself, knowing he was right. There was no way this person could be sane. “I can’t walk away.”
“Shall I end him?” Rowan asked.
I looked up, meeting his eyes. They didn’t yet glow—he was awaiting my answer. It always humbled me when he did that. As if I were in command of his gift.
I nodded.
Rowan’s eyes flared to light between one heartbeat and the next. Gold crackling across his suddenly orange irises. A whoosh within the sarcophagus preceded a flash of blue-white light along the crack beneath the lid. Then silence.
The orange receded in Rowan’s eyes until it was only a thin ring around his pupils.
“Thank you.” I hugged him, pressing my cheek to his chest as his arms came around me. The heat of his body radiated through his clothes, warming me, though it was only a physical warmth. My soul still felt cold. I couldn’t imagine the hatred and cruelty it took to bury someone alive. But that’s exactly what Alexander had done to Ian.
“It was the right thing to do,” Rowan said against my hair.
“No it wasn’t,” a new voice said.
We all turned to face the corner we had just left. A figure reclined in one of the recessed shelves along the wall, his glowing red eyes focused on us. He rolled off the shelf and rose to his feet, loose bones clattering to the floor. “You took away my plaything.”
“Gavin,” I whispered.
“Hello, alchemist.” He walked toward us, his stride easy, confident. He was completely naked, as always. Naked shape shifters had become so common in my life, I hardly noticed anymore.
Rowan and Ian stepped up to either side of me, but neither spoke.
“What are you doing down here?” I asked.
“My master sends me here when he has nothing for me to do.” Gavin curled his upper lip, exposing his animal-like teeth. “It is the only place on the mortal plane I’m permitted to be.”
That was a relief. At least Gavin wasn’t out rampaging on his own. I assumed Neil chose this place because no one came down here anymore, and to other necromancers, Gavin would blend in with the dead.
“You broke James’s brothers out of their jail cells,” I said. Or rather, Neil had commanded him to. “Where are they?”
“Somewhere safe, far from here. Did you think they would be left where they might be killed? They are the last of the line.”
Did that mean James and Gavin would be exiled from the mortal plane if George and Henry died? And if Henry wasn’t here, why did the compass—
Then it hit me. Ian had made the compass with Henry’s purified blood. The alchemical process of purifying the blood isolated the power, not the essence of the person. Did Gavin still possess Brian’s Hunter power? I remembered Clarissa saying something about the body’s magic remaining after a grim soul rips it. And Brian had been soul ripped.
“You shine so bright,” Gavin whispered, drawing my attention to him. The pupils in his red eyes shrunk down to pinpricks. He licked his lips. “I want to taste you.”
I took an involuntary step back. He was just as creepy in human form as his true form.
“Stay away from her.” Rowan moved to stand in front of me.
“Element.” Gavin gave him a wide grin. “You walked with my little brother through death and survived.”
I assumed he referred to the time James and Rowan fought, and James jerked Rowan into the land of the dead. The trip had nearly killed Rowan.
“I did,” Rowan agreed. “You would do well not to underestimate me.”
“You wick power from death, but your soul is mortal.” Gavin cocked his head. “There is power there—I’ve tasted Elemental souls—but that power is not visible to me, not like the alchemist…or the girl. She let me taste her, to free my brother.” He tipped his head back and groaned. “I would not take her soul, even if it would free me. I would do as my brother: keep her, taste her, again and again.”
“Stay away from her,” Ian said, his voice almost a growl.
“Necromancer.” Gavin lifted his lip, exposing his teeth. “You cannot bend my will to yours, but I feel it when you try. You are as strong as my master.”
“Stronger. Once.” Ian took a step toward him.
“The pride of the Death Master.” Gavin spoke the words as if they were a title, his tone dripping with contempt. “The magic in the body is fleeting; the soul is where the true power lies. Consuming yours and the Element’s may give me enough to break my master’s hold.”
“Or I could break it for you,” I spoke up.
Gavin’s creepy gaze shifted to me. “How?”
“The same way you were bound: alchemy.”
“He soul bound me.”
“But he bound this mortal form first, correct?” Elysia had told me that Neil gave Brian a potion before he forced James to soul rip him. Neil himself had bragged to Xander about binding Gavin with alchemy and necromancy.
“I don’t know.” Gavin shrugged. “He offered me a body and I took it.”
I frowned. He was probably telling the truth. He had been trapped in the land of the dead until he took Brian’s soul-ripped body. “Neil set you up. He used alchemy on the body he gave you. It was a trap.”
Gavin snarled.
Goosebumps rose on my exposed skin. I wanted to run, but gritted my teeth and held my ground. “I can free you.”
“Addie.” There was a warning note in Ian’s voice. “Don’t make deals with the devil.”
“Silence, necromancer. I was talking to the alchemist.” Gavin gave me a smile. “She is going to free me.”
“Technically, I only said I could.”
Gavin lifted his lips, exposing his teeth.
“Let us go, and I will brew you your freedom.”
He snorted. “I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid.”
I crossed my arms against the chill. “You have my word.”
“Words cannot bind, or find. Give me your blood. A taste.” The glow in his eyes brightened. “Then I can find you and collect.”
“No.” Rowan stepped between us.
Gavin snarled and lashed out at Rowan, forcing him to jump back. Ebony claws glinted at Gavin’s fingertips. Claws that could rip out a soul.
“Addie, run!” Rowan shouted, then he attacked. He ducked another slash from Gavin, then rolled to the side, kicking out with one leg. The move knocked Gavin’s legs out from under him. He landed on his back with a grunt.
Rowan sprang to his feet and caught my hand, pulling me toward the crypt door. I stumbled along beside him, trying to run in my stupid heels. If they weren’t strapped to my feet, I would kick them off.
Ian’s footfalls sounded behind us as he followed. Drawing closer with each stride.
Gavin’s snarl was all around us. He leapt across the sarcophagi to our right, his movements impossibly fast, and landed in front of us.
Rowan released my hand, leaping to the side to dodge Gavin’s claws. This time, Gavin jumped in the air, avoiding Rowan’s kick. Rowan’s momentum spun him away from Gavin, which if he had been fighting a mortal, would have worked fine. Gavin wasn’t anything close. He moved so fast, he was waiting for Rowan by the time he finished his turn.