How to Rattle an Undead Couple (The Beginner's Guide to Necromancy Book 9)

by Hailey Edwards

  Esteban followed the cake on its march to me, and I hugged him tight, breathing in his confectionary scent.

  “You’ve outdone yourself.” I stole a churro and shoved it in my mouth, fully intending to still blame it on pregnancy in some fashion. “Oh, my goddess.” I swayed on my feet. “This is amazing.”

  “You ruin the presentation with your snacking.” He tsked at me. “There are alternating chocolate ganache and caramel cream layers between each cake. You must eat a full slice for the full effect.”

  “I am more than willing to suffer for the sake of your art,” I said solemnly as Linus took LJ from me.

  “It will be a good hour before the steaks are done,” Lethe chimed in. “Let the woman have her treat.”

  “Thank you.” I swept out my arms. “Cake for all!”

  Proving these were my people, no one said another word about eating dessert first. As a matter of fact, I saw an eager gwyllgi dive into the coolers and produce vanilla and cinnamon ice cream while a few more scattered to locate the plates and utensils.

  Napkins could wait.

  We had priorities.

  Leaning in, LJ sleeping against his chest, Linus nuzzled the column of my throat. “Happy?”

  Gazing out over the lawn, at the faces of everyone we loved, I didn’t have to stop and think about it.

  “Yeah.” I shivered as his cool lips skated over the shell of my ear. “I am.”

  “Me too,” he murmured against my skin. “You’re my everything.”

  Pressing my mouth to his, I tasted the sweetness of his smile when I said, “And you’re my always.”

  New Series Alert!

  Perfumed with bleach, dressed in dark leggings and a long-sleeve shirt to hide my healing wounds, I climbed into a bed fit for a fairy princess and kissed Ash on her puckered forehead. Kids are smart. They pick up on cues far better than we give them credit for, but I knew one sure-fire way to distract her from the bruises and cuts I earned every day on the job.

  The job I had on paper anyway. What I did off the books wasn’t a topic for young ears.

  Reclining against her pillows, hissing when the scabbing furrows a wendigo raked down my side pulled, I played with her silver-blonde hair. The silky texture reassured me ten times over that the bright pain was worth the risk of cracking open a client’s safe at the start of my shift in order to memorize the ten bold digits scrawled on a wrinkled corner of stained paper. Ten little numbers that might change all our lives. Forever. “Do you want to hear the story?”

  A slight hesitation telegraphed her indecision. To act too cool, or not to act too cool. What a question.

  Lately, she had been putting aside childish things. Those included bedtime stories. No, The Story. I could read to her all I wanted, but she was approaching the age where fairy tales held little appeal, and that’s how she viewed the cautionary tale that was my childhood—as make-believe.

  “Yes,” she decided, snuggling into my side. “You tell it better than Dad.”

  Yes, well, her dad hadn’t lived it. There was something to be said for firsthand accounts.

  “Once upon a time, in a trailer park outside Prattville, Alabama, there lived three magical children—”

  “Triplets,” Ash corrected me in the superior tone only eight-year-olds can master. “They were triplets.”

  “Once upon a time, in a trailer park outside Prattville, Alabama, lived the Theron triplets.” I narrowed my eyes at her, daring her to interrupt me again. “Their father was a fae prince, his beauty as sharp as a blade, and it cut all who looked upon him. Their mother was a daemon princess from a land far, far away whose power was as brutal as she was—”

  “I get it.” She rolled the clover-green eyes she had inherited from her grandfather. “They were both model levels of hotness and belonged on magazine covers.” Ah, beauty. The curse of being fae. Or blessing. Perspective made all the difference. “You’re not even trying. Even Dad can do better than this.”

  “Ouch.” I clutched at my chest. “Did anyone catch the license plate on the knife that stabbed me in the heart?”

  Soft laughter intruded as the bedroom door opened to reveal a man whose presence never failed to cut me like the blade from the story.

  “Give Auntie Elle a break,” Ben chastised his daughter. “She just got home from work, and she’s tired.”

  “Sorry, Auntie.”

  “Why don’t I finish here while you grab a shower?” The brotherly affection in his gaze curdled my stomach. “Dinner’s in the microwave when you’re ready.”

  Grateful to escape the suddenly crowded room, I bolted before my niece mounted an argument.

  Thanks to the split floor plan, I had to cross the entire house to reach my room. I had offered Ben the master suite when he and Ash moved in with me, for the times when my sister was home, but he chose to stay in the guestroom across from his daughter. Nights like these, I was grateful for the distance.

  Halfway through the kitchen, a white doe crossed my path, and I yelped. “Butter biscuits.”

  Eyes glinting with amusement, Tess flicked her ears forward to ask if I was okay.

  “You scared ten years off my life.”

  Three taps on the tile from her front hoof conveyed apology.

  “Ben is picking up where I left off with story time,” I told her. “Hurry, and you’ll catch the end.”

  Ears pivoting forward, she ambled toward the room I had just left and the family that would never be mine. I was a stand-in, and maybe if I kept reminding myself of that fact, it would sink in one day.

  “Mommy,” Ash squealed behind me. “Will you sleep with me tonight?”

  Quiet stretched for a long moment where I imagined Ben and Tess exchanging a wordless glance.

  “Sure.” His false cheer made my back teeth ache. “I’ll make her a pallet on the floor.”

  Nine years since he locked eyes with his forever. Five years since the curse took her away from him. Three years since I opened my home to what remained of my family.

  You would think, after all that time, it would hurt less. But every day he and I shared a home, a life. Every day, we went through the motions. Every day, it sliced a little bit deeper, until the blade scraped bone with each new cut.

  After reaching my sanctuary, I shut the door then leaned against it, tipping my head back and closing my eyes. Memories still painted the backs of my eyelids, but they faded to blessed darkness when I squinted hard enough.

  Moist cold brushed the back of my hand, and I glanced down to find a snow-white buck with almost luminescent fur nosing me. His blue-gray eyes saw too much. There was nothing animal in them, only a fathomless sadness that radiated through our sibling bond.

  “It’s been five years and two weeks. Ash was three when she lost her mom.” I picked a spiny bur from his ear. “Do you think she remembers Tess? Or does she think all little girls have a doe for a mother?”

  Ben homeschooled her. That was his full-time job. That way, she never had to learn she was different, that her life was anything but ordinary, that her family was other than normal. Plus, it made it easier if we had to run, and in the end, we always fled.

  Will stared at me through liquid eyes, but they held no answers.

  “Are you on your way out?”

  He tossed his head toward the sliding glass door leading onto my patio, indicating the edge of the dark forest.

  William kept to the woods whenever Tess came home. He couldn’t bear to see the reflection of his fate, and the feeling was mutual. Even Ben, the kindest man I had ever known, found it hard to look at his brother-in-law. That left me the sole anchor for Will, and I hated I wasn’t allowed to be angry with him too.

  But it wasn’t his fault the girl he had been dating turned out to be a witch with a flair for curses. Breaking up with her had been the right thing to do. After he found out the truth, he had no other choice. Too bad she hadn’t seen it that way.

  Brianna had been convinced he was dumping her for anoth
er woman, and Will’s reputation hadn’t done him any favors in that department, but that didn’t excuse the way Brianna stormed into his yard that miserable day to find him swimming laps in his pool while a blonde in a bikini sunned on her stomach on a lounger. Or how she cursed them both into their wylde fae forms as punishment for their imagined crimes.

  Thanks to a flat tire, I arrived late to the planning party for Ash’s upcoming birthday. Because of that, I escaped the curse. Because of that, they didn’t. Because, if Brianna had spotted me sunning too, she might have hesitated long enough to get an eyeful of our faces. She might have remembered he was a triplet. Or, as my best friend was quick to point out, she might have cursed all three of us out of spite.

  Until I found Brianna, or a way to give them back their lives, I would never know if I had been saved or cursed in my own way.

  “See you in a few days then.” I kissed his soft forehead, right between his antlers. “Be careful.”

  I owned enough land now that my siblings could roam without stumbling across hunters, or each other. Humans had been known to cross property lines after glimpsing their extraordinary fur, but it’s amazing how much hurt a paintball gun can inflict when you know where to aim, and I hit the range two days a week.

  With a slight inclination of his head, he turned and walked into the yard, disappearing into the gloom. I watched him go, rubbing my throat like that might help me swallow the lump forming there.

  “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Ben murmured from behind me. “You can’t break the curse if it breaks you first.”

  Startling at his voice, I spun to find him standing in the doorway. “How did you know I wasn’t in the shower?”

  Stupid and wrong and hateful to—even for a second—imagine him wanting to join me.

  “I heard you talking to Will.” He laughed under his breath. “I figured it was safe to assume you weren’t prancing around the bedroom naked with your brother.”

  A hot flush chased the word naked around in my head. “No fear of that.”

  Ben was still standing there, staring at me, and I started fidgeting. “Did you need something?”

  “Do you need help washing out the cuts?”

  Another time, another life, that offer would have involved his hands on my bare skin. These days, it meant him mixing a bowl of sudsy water using his daughter’s tearless shampoo to soak my hands in before I scrubbed off the rest alone.

  “I’m good.” I flexed my fingers, and the tender skin split. “It looks worse than it is. Edgar was in a particularly foul mood today, that’s all.”

  “Edgar,” he repeated, creases lining his forehead.

  “The client from 44B? I’m up to cleaning his rooms biweekly.”

  Last week, he dumped the contents of his refrigerator on the floor the second I finished cleaning his suite. Irked beyond reason, I left him to gloat over the mess he’d made, happy to envision him living in squalor for a week. But the joke was on me. Food still smeared the floors and walls today, most of it speckled with white or black mold. Only now the wendigo had grown territorial over his rancid stash, and I had to knock him unconscious before I could wipe up the mess. Given the filth he lived in, and his nasty disposition, I felt good about lifting the numbers from the scrap of paper with blood-red ink from his safe, the only clean spot in his entire apartment.

  The set of Ben’s jaw told me he didn’t believe me for a minute, but the pity, the edge of anguish in his eyes when he saw the way I still looked at him, had him backing away from yet another confrontation. “Night, Elle.”

  “Night.”

  Under the scalding water in my shower, I rubbed until I turned pink, but I couldn’t wash off the betrayal turning my skin oily. Ben was Tess’s husband, her mate. It wasn’t her fault, or his, that fate or destiny or biology had wrenched my first love out of my grasp.

  But I had to see him every single day now. Talk to him, laugh with him, support him. Co-parent his child with him. Without holding him or kissing him or…any of the other things we used to do.

  I despised the tiny, horrible corner of my soul that was glad I didn’t have to see Tess and Ben being lovey-dovey anymore. I wished I could slice that rot from my heart. I didn’t want to be this petty when I had lost the least.

  Just a fiancé, a future.

  About to fall into bed without bothering to towel dry, I noticed a light flashing on my phone, and my heart gave a leap, wondering if the text I sent earlier had already been answered. Making my third or fourth bad decision of the night, I checked my messages.

  >> Toilet’s clogged in the penthouse. Bring a plunger.

  A sigh rustled through me, disappointment weighing me down. It was just work, not the potential answer to all my problems.

  Stupid to think, after all this time, the solution would drop into my lap at the click of a safe dial.

  I’m a maid, not a plumber.

  >> Handyman has the flu, and toilets are your domain.

  Ugh.

  >> There are a dozen girls on the waitlist who would take your spot tonight if I asked, and they would offer the special benefits packages to their clients you declined when I hired you.

  They would end up maimed or dead within five minutes of tangling with my clientele, and you know it. Don’t kid yourself. You need me. No one else is dumb enough to risk their life for what you pay.

  And I wouldn’t either if the position didn’t grant me access I otherwise wouldn’t have to a certain sphere of influence without revealing my true name.

  >> Put on your fishnets and get your tight little ass over there.

  That was the closest he would get to admitting I was right. The money was good, the tips even better, but I earned every penny of my paycheck without taking off my clothes.

  Fine. Be there within the hour.

  This was not how I wanted to end my night, but duty called.

  A quick check of my walk-in closet confirmed I had one uniform left on the rack before I endured the embarrassing weekly ritual of dropping off my dry cleaning to the raised eyebrows of whoever manned the counter.

  After wiggling into a black thong, I sat on the built-in bench and pulled on fishnet stockings that smelled like detergent from where I handwashed them yesterday. A pair of ruffled bloomers got left around my knees while I stuffed my swollen feet back into the patent leather stilettos I had kicked off with a sigh not even an hour ago.

  Wincing, I stood, allowing myself a moment to sink into the pain before tugging up my bloomers and pulling my uniform off the hook. The French maid costume frothed on the floor when I held it down to step in, and it whispered over my skin in a silken kiss as I punched my arms through the ridiculously poufy sleeves. No bra tonight. I had already taken that sucker off once, and I wasn’t putting it back on again.

  The shower made slicking my wet platinum hair into a tight bun easy, at least. With that done, I swiped on the barest hint of makeup, pulled on the black trench coat I wore over this getup no matter the season, and got in the car.

  Kiddie music filled the cabin of the SUV I shared with Ben, and I caught myself singing along to one of the reimagined pop songs. “Butter biscuits.”

  Cursing was a no-no these days, so I had been forced to get creative. Ben wasn’t thrilled with my improvisation, but oh well. I wasn’t thrilled when I stepped on Legos, either.

  Holding my stare in the rearview mirror, I said, “I am young, I am beautiful, I am worthy, I am…tired.”

  Riley would beat me to death with her feather duster if she caught me botching the mantra she wrote for me to recite each time life ground me down between its teeth. But Riley really was young, beautiful, worthy, and single. She got to spend her paychecks on pretty clothes, nights out, and other fun things. I spent mine on clothes Ash outgrew in a blink, homeschool curriculum kits, and private music lessons.

  Ben worked, but it was only part-time at a local museum. He had been the house husband who used his love of art as an outlet to socialize with other adult
s for twenty hours a week while Tess had been nose to the grindstone at an advertising firm. I had stepped into their dynamic, let him take the reins at my house and assume the role of teacher for Ash, while I changed careers under the guise of making up for the loss of Tess’s income when what I actually needed was an in the Marshal Building gave me.

  “I am bitter, I am ungrateful, I am…the worst sister ever.” And the only Theron without cloven hooves.

  The drive into the city took half an hour, and another five before the spire of the Marshal Building came into view. All the way at the very tippy top, lights burned in the penthouse. Thinking back on it, I couldn’t remember anyone ever being home when I cleaned those rooms. I had assumed the owner was too busy flying between New York and London, based on his taste in artwork, to spend much time in Louisville. Guess I was about to meet the Marshal’s resident apex predator.

  Clean a suite often enough, you get a feel for the owners’ personalities. Or so I liked to think. It was a game I played to stave off boredom—guessing facts about a client and then checking them off when or if I ever met them. Dull, yes. But when you scrubbed toilets for a living, you perfected the ability to do your job on autopilot, allowing your body to go through the movements while your mind wandered down its own path. Without the game to occupy me, my thoughts always circled back to Ben. To all those pesky might-have-beens.

  The parking deck was silent as a tomb, and I hurried to grab one of the cheapo plungers I kept in the trunk for just such emergencies. I took the elevator to the lobby, but I had to switch out there for the fancy glass-enclosed booth that rose all the way to the top. Halfway across the main floor, the doorman caught my eye through the front windows.

  Walt was a golem, basically a bag of sand enchanted to look and move and act like a person. He never left his post. Never. He didn’t talk much on account of not having proper vocal cords, but he was nice enough. I had been known to “forget” my Bluetooth speaker on the ledge near his head where it played gospel at a volume most residents would miss, even with supernatural hearing. I asked him once why that was his music of choice, and he gritted out, “It’s got soul. That makes one of us.”