by Andre, Becca
James nodded, then pulled his phone from his pocket. “Just a minute,” he said to us, then answered the phone.
“He must have the ringer set on mouse fart,” I said.
Rowan chuckled, then walked over to sit on the bed to pull on his socks.
“Yes, she’s right here,” James said. He offered me the phone. “Elysia.”
I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hey, what’s up?”
“You got a call from Brenda at the library. She said she hit the jackpot on your research project.”
“I guess knowing Ian’s last name must have helped.”
“Yeah. So, you want me to drive you over when you get back?”
I smiled. I suspected she was as interested in what Brenda had found as I was. “That would be great.” I turned to James. “Do you have time to drop me at my place before you head to the airport?”
“Sure. You’re not wearing that?”
“Behave or I’m going to tell Elysia about your fascination with mouse flatulence.” The phone was still pressed to my ear.
“I’m not even going to ask,” Elysia said.
Elysia cleared her throat, then rubbed her nose trying to hide the smile.
“Are you about done?” I waited for her to lock her car and join me on the sidewalk.
“I’m sorry.” She tucked her keys in her pocket and turned to face me. Her brown eyes sparkled with restrained laughter.
“I shouldn’t have told you.”
“Oh, come on. You’ve got to admit it’s funny.”
“It was a brand new pair of underwear.”
She snorted. “Does this happen often?”
“He once vaporized the stitching in my shirtsleeves.”
“That must be an interesting relationship.” She turned to face the building. “Whoa. All of this is the library?”
“Cool, huh?”
“I’ll say.” She fell in beside me as I started up the walk.
Situated downtown, the Cincinnati Public Library was a massive structure spanning two city blocks. Heck, the walkway between the two buildings was four stories tall. Like Elysia, I had been just as awed the first time I came here. I pushed open the front door and led her inside.
“I could get lost in here for days,” she said as we made our way to the genealogy department on the third floor.
“I lost half a day the first time we came here. Rowan had to come looking for me.”
Elysia snorted. “That seems to be a theme.”
“I don’t get in trouble that often.”
“If you say so. What about last night? James told me about your adventure at Xander’s.”
“What? Rowan didn’t have to come looking for me. He came with me.”
“So, you’re a bad influence.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”
We left the elevator and crossed the third floor to the genealogy department. I looked around for Brenda. She wasn’t at her usual place behind the desk.
“Dear God,” Elysia whispered.
I glanced over. Was she into genealogy or had something else drawn her attention?
“This place needs an exorcism. There are close to a dozen spirits in here.”
The hairs on my forearms rose. “Why? This is a new building.”
“It could be the location. The items stored here. Or…” Elysia turned her head and I followed her gaze.
Brenda stepped out from among the shelves, her arms loaded with a pair of large books.
“It’s her,” Elysia said.
“What?”
“The ghosts are here because of her. I would guess that she’s a medium.”
“But Rowan suggested her.”
Elysia shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
Brenda deposited the books on an already cluttered table, and I led Elysia over to her. The older woman opened one of the books and fondly ran her fingers across the handwritten pages while mumbling to herself. I had noticed her doing that before, but now I suspected she wasn’t just talking to herself.
“Hey, Brenda,” I said.
She looked up, her expression one of surprise. It seemed she had been too engrossed in her work—or her conversation—to notice us.
“Addie, how are—” She turned to face me, but fell silent when she saw Elysia. She tipped her head to the side. Was it my imagination, or was she listening to something I couldn’t hear?
“Yes, I’m a necromancer,” Elysia said into the silence.
Brenda’s eyes widened.
“Nice collection you have here,” Elysia added.
“Oh, yes,” Brenda gave her a tentative smile. “We have one of the largest and oldest genealogy collections in the country.”
“I meant your friends.”
“My…what?” Brenda looked genuinely puzzled.
“The ghosts. I assume you’re a medium?”
“No.” Brenda looked at me. “His Grace didn’t mention my talent?”
“Not in any detail,” I admitted. “He only suggested I ask you for help.”
“Oh.”
“So, what can you do?”
“I can take an original document and summon a voice from the past.”
“You’re New Magic?”
“No,” Elysia answered for her. “The document is her link when she summons the spirit from beyond.”
“Spirit, no,” Brenda said. “Just the voice.”
“There are close to a dozen spirits in this room right now.”
Brenda’s eyes widened. “You see them? What do they say to you?”
“I would have to let them in, let them possess me to hear. I don’t do that. I would recommend you stop.”
“That’s not what I’m doing. I’m New Magic. I didn’t possess this talent before magic returned, and I worked among historic records for decades prior to that.”
“Maybe that’s when you noticed your talent. The acceptance of magic in the world opened a lot of eyes.”
“I only hear the voices if I physically touch the written word. Also, I feel the call of the Elements. That’s why I moved here from my lifetime home in Davenport, Iowa.”
“Seriously?” Elysia asked, her tone doubtful.
“What do you mean by call of the Elements?” I asked.
“I thought you were magical.” Brenda turned to Elysia. “Is she Old Magic?”
“She’s no magic.”
“But…” Brenda’s eyes returned to me. “You’re the Flame Lord’s alchemist.”
“No.” I made an effort not to fist my hands in frustration. “I don’t work for him. I’m not even magical. I’m a master alchemist, and I got here entirely on my own knowledge and skill.”
“I think you hit a nerve.” Elysia’s eyes glinted in amusement.
“I’m sorry,” Brenda said.
I took a breath and released it. “No, it’s me who should apologize. I just get so annoyed that everyone calls me that, as if I wouldn’t be where I am without his blessing.”
Elysia cleared her throat. “Maybe they mean his as in his girlfriend.”
“You’re not helping.”
“I saw the newspaper. Are you really?” Brenda asked.
Elysia cleared her throat, then lifted a brow when I glanced over.
“Don’t you have some dead things to go play with?” I asked her.
She grinned. “Not at the moment.”
“Since you’re staying with me, I should probably mention that I have a potion I named Atomic Diarrhea.”
Brenda snorted.
“You’re not a nice person, are you?” Elysia asked me, the twinkle in her eyes reminding me of Ian.
“Not even remotely.�
� I gave her a grin of my own.
“And they say necromancers are scary.”
I laughed and turned back to Brenda. “So what’s this call of the Elements you mentioned?”
“It’s this feeling of…discontent when I’m far from them for very long. It’s supposed to be a common phenomenon, but I understand that the stronger your magic, the stronger the pull.”
“Haven’t you ever wondered why there are so many magical people in the Cincinnati area?” Elysia asked me. “Apparently, it’s that way the world over.”
“I knew the percentages were higher here, but I didn’t know why—or that it was a worldwide phenomenon.”
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
“Don’t you feel it?”
“I’m Old Magic. We were here first.” She flashed me another grin.
“Speaking of Old Magic…” I faced Brenda. “You said you had some information on my research project?”
Brenda dug around on her table until she found a large manila folder bulging with papers. She handed it to me. “That’s every descendant’s birth and death certificate three generations from the man you asked me to research.”
“Wow, Brenda, that’s amazing. And you did all this so quickly.”
“It’s not difficult when you have all the information at your fingertips.” She gestured at the room around her.
“Was there a pun in there?” I smiled. After all, she had the ability to raise spirits from the past just by touching the written word.
“A small one. The truth is, the records you requested were very complete.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Yes, but I came across some genealogy reports that were compiled within the last decade.”
“Really?” I glanced at Elysia. “Is someone in the family into genealogy?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
I opened the folder and pulled out the papers. They were organized in neat stacks, paper clipped together.
“I grouped them by family. Each of his children, their spouses, and offspring.” She spread the five paper-clipped bundles on the table. I immediately noticed that the last three contained only two pages apiece. I pulled those to me.
“Now you see the real reason it didn’t take me long. The three youngest boys died in a house fire, the same fire that killed their father.”
“What?”
She passed me a single piece of paper. It was Ian’s death certificate. He had died on June 21, 1825. Oddly, the surname was Nelson. Perhaps because his name had never been legally changed? My eye caught on the coroner’s signature. The elaborate scroll put me in mind of Ian’s fine penmanship, but the name stood my hair on end. Alexander Nelson. I pointed out the name to Elysia.
“I don’t guess I’m surprised,” she said.
I began sifting through the certificates of the three youngest. Brenda was right. They’d all died on the same date as Ian, all their deaths attributed to the house fire.
“This is awful,” I whispered. Had Alexander burned down the house once Ian was removed? How was I going to tell Ian?
I laid aside those three small packets and moved to the next, much thicker one. Joseph Mallory Nelson. His dates matched those on his tombstone. Unlike his father, his death certificate and those of his seven children all bore the Mallory name.
I moved on to the final packet, this one not quite as large as Joseph’s. The top page was a birth certificate for Matilda Grace Nelson. I pulled off the paper clip and moved to the next page. It was her death certificate. If it was to be believed, she had died at the age of twenty-one from consumption.
“This is where it got a bit…odd,” Brenda said. “Her last name is listed as Mallory on her marriage license, but she marries a man with the surname of Nelson. Even odder that the man has the same name as her uncle. That made it hard to—”
“What?” I checked the name on the marriage license, and her children’s birth certificates. All the forms listed Deacon Alexander Nelson. Had they included his title on the documents?
“Her husband was not a local man, or he really was her uncle.”
“As in, her father’s brother?”
“Yes. I pulled his birth certificate when I noticed that the man you were researching had a twin brother. I thought you might be interested.” She dug through the papers a moment, then handed me one.
Deacon Alexander Nelson. Huh, not a title. Deacon was his first name. I found Ian’s birth certificate and compared the two. Same parents, same address, and the same birth date.
“Oh my God, Alexander was Ian’s brother?” I pushed the pages over to Elysia just in case I was overlooking something.
“Jesus,” Elysia whispered. “I now see why Ian wasn’t pleased with her choice of husband.”
“I told you, she didn’t choose. Alexander took her.” I turned back to Brenda. “Do you have any other information on Alexander? Where he was buried, perhaps?” I didn’t think it would be that easy, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.
“I could check. Do you have time?”
I glanced at Elysia and she shrugged.
“That would be great, if you don’t mind,” I told Brenda.
She got to her feet and disappeared into the shelves across from us.
Elysia leaned back in her seat. “No wonder my line is so screwed up.”
“That was nine generations ago,” I reassured her. “Besides, concentrating genes isn’t always a bad thing.”
“If you say so. Good thing I didn’t marry Doug.”
“I think you chose the right man.”
“What man?”
“James.”
“We don’t technically have a relationship yet.”
“Yet?”
“We decided to get to know each other first.”
“Before what?”
“Before giving in to our magical compatibility.”
“Do I dare ask for details?”
“Let’s just say that using my magic feels good and using it with him is…erotic as hell.”
I arched a brow.
“Yeah, it’s twisted.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s dead.”
I frowned. “That bothers you? Why should it even matter. James is a great guy.”
“James is the most noble man I’ve ever met.”
She was right. Noble. That described James perfectly.
“But he’s still dead, and to be romantically attracted to the dead…well, the sane don’t go there.”
“James isn’t zombie dead. He just lacks a heartbeat.”
“Logically, I understand all that, but magically, it concerns me.” She pulled her lip between her teeth and shook her head. “This probably makes zero sense to you.”
“No, I think I get it. What does your heart say?”
“I can’t hear it so well over the other organs.”
I laughed at her candor, but we didn’t get to continue our conversation as Brenda returned. She carried several sheets of paper.
“I take it you found something,” I said.
Brenda smiled and scooted a page across the table to me. It was Alexander’s death certificate. He had died in 1866, the cause of death listed as heart failure.
“And this.” Brenda handed me another page.
Judging by the heading, it appeared to be an old newspaper obituary. “Cool. You found this quickly. More of those already compiled genealogy reports?”
“Yes. I wish all my projects were this easy.”
I scrolled down the list of survivors and children—two sons. I didn’t see any of Mattie’s girls listed. I frowned. Had Alexander had children before Ian’s potion or…what? If Elysia’s line had fallen victim
to the potion and produced only powerful girls, then the potion had been effective. And to my knowledge, Alexander wasn’t an alchemist. He could not have undone it on his own.
“Could I ask you to research Alexander’s children?” I asked Brenda.
“How many generations?”
“Just the first. For now.”
She pulled out a pad of paper and made a note. “I can probably have you something by tomorrow.”
“That would be great.” I returned to the article and skimmed through the rest of it. “Oh, wow, here it is. He was interred at Spring Grove Cemetery.” I looked up, meeting Elysia’s gaze.
“So they told the public.”
“True.” I frowned at the article. “But I won’t be able to rest until I know for sure.”
“Road trip?”
“Do you care?”
“Are you going to get in trouble?”
I frowned. “Do you mean with Rowan or just trouble in general?”
She grinned. “Both.”
“I’m going to a cemetery with you.”
“Hm, true. I can handle anything in a cemetery. Now.”
Spring Grove Cemetery was huge. We wandered around for what felt like hours until we found the plot we were searching for. It was easy to find after we located the correct section in the sprawling multi-acre cemetery. The Nelson Family marker was a towering block of granite, the biggest one in the surrounding area. It was quite a contrast to the more humble Mallory marker in the cemetery behind Grams’s house. But the most surprising aspect of this trip was that I found what I was looking for.
“Huh. He’s here.” I stared at the name and dates on the huge headstone: Deacon Alexander Nelson, 1791 to 1866.
“He was Made,” Elysia reminded me.
“True.” I frowned at the headstone. Did he have a mausoleum somewhere? I rubbed my arms through my coat sleeves and looked around. My phone rang and I jumped. Feeling a bit silly, I pulled it out and glanced at the screen. “Rowan.”
“He’s missing you already,” Elysia said.
“Probably.” I gave her a wink then tapped the screen and brought the phone to my ear. “Yes?”