by Lisa Daniels
Except… the bullet didn’t take her down. Several more bullets entered, but Elodie kept going. A terrible, inhuman snarling came from her, and Elodie, eyes now glowing a deep, crimson red, launched herself at Rosen, who dodged out of the way.
“Elodie!” Talia gasped, holding onto Janos’ shoulder. “You’re a revenant?”
Her former friend stopped her attack long enough to bark out a laugh. “Surprised you never noticed.”
“But… but how?”
“Never mind the how. I must… I must kill...” She began to writhe as Rosen leaped on her, soon piled on by several others, until they could secure the undying revenant. Talia clutched onto him tightly. There were so many people… so many smells.
But at least she was okay. At least she was alive. He hadn’t failed in his duty.
Chapter Eleven – Talia
Facing Elodie in the interrogation room was daunting. Even though the revenant was chained up and had already proven she couldn’t break free from her reinforced chains , there was still that sense she might break out at any moment. Rosen Grieve paced up and down the room, while Talia sat in one of the chairs, edged away from the person who once pretended to be her friend.
No matter what Commands they tried to place upon Elodie, she shrugged them all off as if they were nothing. But she was happy to confess, nonetheless, to everything they asked of her.
“I was bound a long time ago,” she said. “Though I didn’t know any spells. I didn’t have these powers. My… master,” she said with a twisted scowl upon her face (which had been shot twice, the non-bleeding holes lined up in the muscle of her left cheek), “wanted me back in the body he’d killed. An obedient slave to his desires. I don’t need to go into detail for that.”
No. She didn’t. Talia felt sick. She also thought of Janos, recovering in the hospital, telling her he was fine, that she didn’t need to worry about him at all. Just a flesh wound. Jesus, I thought he was going to die. The shock still coursed through her whenever she recalled that incident. Too many emotions to cope with all at once. Shock, loss, betrayal… fear, anger, nausea… and the confusion, because there was just no way to tell that a revenant was in something. Except, apparently, when it wanted to reveal itself. Elodie’s eyes were normal at the moment, but from time to time, they would flicker a deep crimson, and a malevolence emanated from her. It was like she was always perfectly controlling herself, except for small periods of time when she forgot she needed to.
“He got more than he ever bargained for,” Elodie purred. “I was angry. Furious at being denied peace. And that fury grew and grew and grew until… one day, I became so much more.” Now her eyes flickered that bloody red, glowing in that ghostly, phantasmal way. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do after I killed him. I seemed to be of an age to go to university… so I went there. Made friends. All the while, I’m plotting, wondering… what can I do? What can I do to make necromancers be hated more?” Elodie smiled at Talia, and the sickness wanted to worm out of Talia’s mouth.
How could she have not seen this? How had she never identified Elodie as a revenant? Her mind kept running through old scenarios, wondering, desperately trying to think how and why she’d never been able to recognize Elodie’s distance, her initial reaction… anything, really.
“I honestly thought you were my friend,” she whispered.
“The dead don’t have friends. We have tools. We thirst. We hunger...” Elodie’s voice rasped into silence.
“The corruption takes over their mind,” Rosen said then to Talia. “They can still act human if they need to, but there’s an overwhelming urge for vengeance they can never stop. This one, Elodie, whatever she might have been—it’s a weak soul. Hasn’t been a revenant long enough to cause real havoc.”
“She could still summon the dead,” Talia answered brusquely. “She might have done so much worse.”
“Might have,” Elodie agreed. “Should have. But you… I thought I’d leave you last. You were, after all, someone who thought me a friend. And you were kind in your own fashion. But still… still one of them...”
“You shot at me.” Talia folded her arms. “You failed.”
“More’s the pity.”
The distressing thing was that Talia didn’t see this case ever being handled well by the media. A necromancer caused something like Elodie to form. A necromancer took her down, too, but if the powers just didn’t exist… then none of this would have happened.
But you couldn’t just erase an entire force of nature from the world. There would always be necromancers. But how could anyone view her type favorably when there were revenants like this who hated them? When there were people who had directly suffered because of it?
It put her in a place she hated. Where she desperately wanted to prove to people she wasn’t as bad as they thought—but at the same time, realized they had a point, too. These powers were dangerous. Deadly.
All she could do, it seemed, was to keep trying.
“I’m sorry, Elodie, for what happened to you. Can we release you? Would you like that?”
“Not until you’re all dead...” Her expression became frightening.
“We’ll release her,” Rosen confirmed. “But we need at least three necromancers in attendance to do so.”
“Lucky we have a father then, I suppose,” Talia said, grim as she left the room with Rosen. Elodie had confessed to the attacks, but the biggest, gnawing doubt Talia felt was still lingering in her mind.
“I wish we could detect them. It seems really damn dangerous that we can’t.”
“I know,” Rosen said with a sigh, patting her sister on the back. “But it seems they know how to mask their presence. Nothing much we can do for that.”
Nothing much at all.
Their father waited for them outside, and he agreed instantly to the dismissal. They stood by Elodie and combined their powers together. Elodie gave them all a resentful stare, and her eyes sparked when she saw Rickard.
“I should have killed you. You should have been dead.”
“You won’t get another chance,” Rickard replied mildly.
Elodie had screamed against her dismissal, bucking against her chains, against their powers, but they managed, with great difficulty, to wrench her soul out of the body and make it move on. There was no more threat of her returning. But it left a heavy weight upon them to do so.
Talia still brimmed with a sense of betrayal, all the way back to her home, but her mood lifted significantly when she saw Janos waiting for her. Super healing had released him fast, and he beamed at her from the entrance into the garden. Without thinking, she rushed herself into his arms, right in front of Rickard, who simply raised an eyebrow at the exchange. He also left them right to it, apparently remembering other pressing engagements.
Talia much appreciated that.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said into Janos’ chest, her voice muffled slightly.
“I told you I would be,” he replied, grinning, hugging her tightly, seemingly reluctant to let go. “Takes more than that to kill a werewolf.”
“About that… I can’t believe you jumped in front of a bullet. Seriously!”
“I’m glad I did,” he replied sincerely, and her heart might have melted a little bit at that admission. Okay, more than a little. But after all the stress of the last day or so, she could do with a little good news.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t try to kill yourself in the line of duty again,” she admonished, but without heat. He simply chuckled at that, casually unwrapping himself from her and steering them towards the house.
“I think we should celebrate, don’t you? To a job well done. To lives saved. To me recovering, the culprit found, and whatever other reasons you can think of. Because we did it.” He headed straight to the refrigerator at the first opportunity, pulling out drinks for them both. “But don’t think that it means my job is done. Because it’s far from over...”
“I’m starting to wonder if it c
ould ever be over. There’s so much shit to deal with. I did fine when nobody knew who I was. But now they do...”
“Yeah. Well, we’ll see. Drink up, little necromancer.”
“Are you trying to get me drunk again?”
“Maybe.” Something flashed in those yellow eyes. Something that Talia by now certainly recognized. All her hesitations, her pathetic reasons for keeping him at bay now seemed smaller than ever. Worthless.
She pushed the drink aside. “You know what? I don’t want to drink at all.” The negative feelings inside her were drowned by a sudden onslaught of desire, of longing. Of finally doing what she craved, but was scared of.
“No?” Janos said, the black pupils in his eyes expanding.
“No,” Talia confirmed, reaching for his hand and tugging him to follow her. “No, I have something else in mind.”
The answering smile upon his features was wicked. He scampered ahead of her, in time to yank her into her own bedroom, and close and lock the door behind. Though, of course, that lock didn’t really work.
His lips pressed against hers with eagerness and a burst of desire, and she responded in kind, riled up, greatly encouraged by his lust.
I won’t freak out this time. I won’t stop us this time. I want this. I want this.
She pawed at his clothes, trying to free that wonderfully muscled body out of the shirt, to run her hands over bare chest, to feel the touch of skin upon skin. Their kisses turned into a sort of battle, an exchange of passion, and their breaths were heavy and shallow, their hearts racing, swept up in a whirlwind of passion.
Janos tore at her clothes with equal enthusiasm, and she heard the faint rip of something, probably her plain blue shirt, and let him throw it off her, before pinning her hard against the door, his chest pressed tightly against hers. They kicked off shoes, socks, now moving from the door, leaving a little trail of clothing.
Their kisses grew more fevered, frantic, and Janos let out a deep, possessive growl when she moved to instead lick and bite at his neck. She’d heard this to be stimulating for anyone, and wasn’t disappointed by his reaction. It seemed he found the rest of her clothes offensive, because within another moment, she was naked and helping him to tug off his own underwear.
“Are you sure?” he whisper-growled against her ear, and she laughed, delighted that he asked.
“Of course.”
“No suddenly changing your mind last moment?”
“I will if you keep going down this path...”
“Okay,” he replied, grinning, before unceremoniously pinning her against the bed. She let out a small squeak of surprise, which quickly transformed into a moan when he necked her, using his strength to keep her pinned down. His yellow eyes when she caught them were mesmerizing—haunting, even—making her shiver in desire. His eyes roamed over her body in adoration, and he planted kisses from her neck to her collarbone to her breasts. Each kiss sent a bolt of energy through her, a strong wave of desire that should have embarrassed, but didn’t in that moment. All she wanted was him. Maybe it was a little distraction… but at the same time, she didn’t really care.
Both of them had waited long enough. No more messing around. No more excuses.
She became shy when he finally teased at her entrance. With a little coaxing, with a few words of encouragement, she relaxed enough for him to test her first with his finger. When she was open and wet enough, he then positioned himself carefully, before sliding his erection in, making her let out a little gasp and stiffen slightly, before she relaxed. He placed himself close to her as the movements began, and his eyes glittered with triumph, with determination and affection, staring directly into hers. The intense contact was too much, and she found it easier to close her own, tilt her head back, and give in to all the sensations.
The tightness in her stomach grew, which turned into a small glimmer of disappointment when he reached his climax before her. However, without missing a beat, he reached one hand down between her legs, still keeping himself locked within, and gently used his fingers to pleasure her, until, after a moment or two, she tumbled headfirst into bliss as well.
It was too short, too fleeting a feeling, for them not to try again when they’d recovered. And perhaps once more after that, until the two of them were utterly spent in her bed, flopped out next to each other, too hot for close contact. Talia had cranked the window open to allow some wind to warm their damp skins, and the both of them sprawled out in a near comatose state on top of the sheets, neither having bothered to dress.
After a moment or so letting the cool breeze caress their skins, Talia finally mustered the words to say, “You had… more stamina than expected.”
“Just give me another five minutes,” he replied. “And you’ll see.”
“No. I’m dead, don’t do it,” she replied with a light laugh, rolling over to drape one hand over his stomach, before deciding that was a bad idea because he radiated heat. “I’m good for now, thanks.”
“Sure? I mean, I’m perfectly happy to demonstrate...”
She laughed when he tickled her under the chin, but squirmed away before she decided to change her mind and have a fourth session. That could wait. “I do actually have things to do. Like homework.” And other important life things.
“Sure you do.” He yawned, stretching slightly. “And I have to get back to… bodyguard duty.”
Being reminded of that dulled Talia’s mood, and the last of the afterglow vanished. “Right. You’re my bodyguard. We probably… probably shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Maybe not,” he agreed. “But I don’t think I can bring myself to care. Bodyguard or not, I think I might like you more than expected.”
Her mood improved slightly. “Is that so? Won’t your father be angry?”
“He can go fuck himself. I’d quit this just to date you,” he admitted, and her heart soared.
“No, don’t. Date me and be my bodyguard,” she said, and he smirked in response.
“Perhaps I will, then.”
Reassured, she got dressed, beaming at him the whole while, happy beyond measure. Happy she didn’t mess up this time, and that her bodyguard did like her. Even though she was a necromancer. Even though a part of her wondered if she deserved him all the same. Heading to the study room, she worked, wearing a silly grin upon her face the whole time. Her family was as safe as it could be at the moment. Her bodyguard liked her—maybe even loved her—but she didn’t dare use that word just yet.
Media response was still a little dodgy. People still flamed and hated, and others leaped to her defense. She paid little regard to online matters, preferring to keep herself content and relaxed, rather than constantly exposed to the bile that spilled onto her screen. People had mixed attitudes to her at Rosewood, and she felt sure that some people would still believe she was the one behind the attacks, somehow. But at least her father would be working hard to ensure a better future for those who were good, who used necromancy for noble purposes. She might have lost Elodie, but Jake and Nadine were still her friends, and Janos supported her unconditionally.
They had a lot to weave through when it came to their relationship, but she was determined to try.
Rickard Grieve walked into the room, and she looked up at her father, smiling… until she saw the color of his eyes.
Cherry red, glimmering with avid darkness.
“We need to talk,” he said, as she let her pen fall to the table, horror biting through her. She yelled for Janos, and her father waited patiently as Janos came bursting in, never far from her. He took in Rickard’s altered appearance as well, and growled ferociously.
This can’t be my father. This can’t…
“Before you two start eviscerating me, hear me out,” he said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.
“Why should we? You’ll only lie,” snarled Janos, morphing into his werewolf form. Talia placed a hand to stop him from lunging, because her father—the revenant, or whatever it was—didn’t make any
move to attack.
How long? She had her answer before she’d even finished the thought. Since the accident…
“I am Rickard Grieve. I was in an accident, and my mind was destroyed, my body kept alive,” he said, turning those burning red eyes upon Talia. “And I couldn’t die. Not before I’d achieved what I set out to do. To make this world a better place. I was… offered a deal. A revenant you were carrying around with you, daughter—it made the deal. That it could return me to my body, even though my brain didn’t function. That I’d still have the appearance of being alive, my thoughts, my purpose. And in return, I’d help it achieve its own goal along the way. So you could share… we’re both sharing my shell.”
Talia stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. “How could you, Father? Make a deal with a revenant?”
“Easily,” he replied. “I could not die. Not before I’d made Samhain more accepting of necromancy.”
“But this is exactly what they’ll slaughter you for!”
“Is it?” Rickard smiled oddly. “A lot of people out there wouldn’t mind the taste of immortality. Striking a bargain with the devil himself to ensure it. This is where the stories come from. Bargains struck with revenants. They give you life… but they want something in return.”
“And… and what does this revenant want?”
“The same thing as me… mostly. He used to be a councilman in this city almost three hundred years ago.”
Three hundred years…? “Anyone we know in history?”
“We don’t. They hung him and erased him from the records. He was also a necromancer. He has some… less admirable goals as well, but we will reach a compromise. I assure you, my daughter—I will not let us come to harm. I’m still the same father. Still as ambitious. Still caring. Still annoyed you want to do archaeology, but paying for your lessons all the same. Tell Rosen if you want. But I’m telling you now, because… I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, if ever my mask should slip.”
He held out his hand to her. Reluctantly, she took it. Her father’s flesh felt alive. His heart pulsed. Even Janos sniffed cautiously at him.