The Necromancer's Betrayal (The Final Formula Series, Book 2.5) (6 page)

They had reached the rooms over the funeral parlor. Here, in the original part of the building, the halls were wider and the decor grander. This particular home had been in the Family ever since they had left Cincinnati.

She stopped outside Gram’s office door. This wasn’t going to go well; she could feel it. She lifted her hand to knock, but the door swung inward before her knuckles touched the wood.

“Ely Grace, where have you been?” a familiar male voice asked.

Shocked, Elysia stared up into Doug Nelson’s bright blue eyes.

He smiled at her surprise, his cheeks dimpling, before he pulled her into a hug.

Chapter
7

E
lysia pulled out of Doug’s embrace, stepping back to put some distance between them. “Hey, Doug.” She forced a smile.

He grinned at her. It had been months since she had seen him, but he hadn’t changed—neither in attitude nor in appearance. Thick-shouldered and handsome, he looked like a Nordic prince with his snow-blond hair and blue eyes.

“Your grandmother has been worried sick about you. What happened?”

“We had car trouble.” She used the same excuse she had given Livie.

“We?” Doug’s gaze slipped past her to where James stood, then his blue eyes went white.

Elysia felt Doug’s gift shroud the bond, and to her horror, she could no longer feel James.

James’s eyes sprang to light and his growl gave her chills.

“Doug, stop that.” She smacked his arm.

Doug laughed, and his eyes immediately returned to bright blue, though he continued to study James. “So, you really found him. Your Grandmother told me, but I had my doubts.”

“He’s mine.”

“Possessive.” His attention returned to her, his smile becoming a frown. “Do I want to know why those pretty brown eyes are the color of warm cocoa?”

“Don’t be a pervert,” she whispered.

“Well, are you coming in?” Grams called from inside.

Elysia raised an arm, gesturing for Doug to precede her into the room.

His smile returned, and he gave her a nod that was closer to a bow before walking in ahead of her.

Elysia glanced at James. “Join me?”

“Who is that?”

She hesitated. He wasn’t going to like it. “Doug Nelson, the next Deacon.”

James glared at Doug’s back. “He seems to know you well.”

“At one time, we were engaged.”

James met her gaze, then stepped past her into the room.

“Elysia!” Grams hurried around her desk to wrap her in a hug. “I was so worried.”

“I’m sorry. I should have called.”

Grams stepped back, but continued to hold her by the shoulders, looking her over. She wore a new red suit-dress, her salt and pepper hair pulled up and styled primly. Had she dressed up for Doug? The poor country cousins putting on their best for the Deacon’s boy.

Elysia glanced over at him. “Doug, would you excuse us?”

“Elysia,” Grams whispered.

“It’s fine, Judith,” Doug said. “You two need to catch up. I’ll let Livie give me that tour.”

“Thank you,” Grams said.

Doug nodded, though his gaze was on Elysia. “We’ll catch up later, Ely.” She remembered well the look he gave her. “Do you want me to watch the dead guy while you ladies chat?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Doug shrugged and headed for the door, eyeing James as he passed. James watched him with that unblinking intensity until the door closed behind him.

“I wish you wouldn’t be so rude to him,” Grams said.

“Why is he here?”

“To bear witness. You found the grim.”

“The grim has a name. It’s James, and he’s a sentient being.”

Grams’s frown deepened as she looked at James. “He’s dead, Ely.”

“Yes, but he has a will of his own and should be allowed to keep it.” Elysia took a breath. Grams wasn’t going to like this. “He’s not evil. I want to free him.”

Grams straightened. In her heels, she stood a few inches taller than Elysia. “You can’t let him go. He can rip life from the living.”

“That’s an excuse. The only reason you want him is to impress the Deacon.”

“Elysia—”

“Besides, if you’re going to use that argument, I can bind the living to their own corpse. That’s some damn nasty magic. Maybe I should be bound.”

Grams’s frown fell away, replaced by astonishment. “You can create a lich?” she whispered.

Shit. “You know I have the power.”

“I knew it was a possibility, but you’ve actually done it? Your eyes—”

“It took a lot of juice to bind James.”

“Just binding him?”

Elysia opened her mouth, then closed it. Was Grams implying what she thought she was? “I am
not
a necrophile,” Elysia whispered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw James stand straighter. Yeah, he had no idea how deep the necro crazies could go.

“I’m worried about you.” Grams’s brow wrinkled with concern, her voice sad. “Out in the world, alone. We cling to family for a reason, Elysia. You should know that better than anyone.”

Because her mother had been a loner—before she became too crazy to care for Elysia properly. But that was the last topic Elysia wanted to discuss. “I want to unbind him. Will you help me?”

The compassion faded from Grams’s features, replaced with the all too familiar frown. “It can’t be done, not from someone like you—and certainly not by someone like me.” Grams crossed her arms. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“You would rather suck up to Doug and his dad.”

“We have been pariahs for centuries. And whether you choose to acknowledge it or not, you are the Family’s way back in. You’ve been selfish long enough.”

“I’m selfish? You’re asking me to give up everything so that you can get in good with the Deacon.”

“This has nothing to do with me. I request this on behalf of the Family. Do you think I haven’t made sacrifices?”

“I don’t believe you were forced into an arranged marriage.”

“Arranged?” Grams gave her a sad smile. “Doug took an interest on his own. I was as amazed as everyone else. And his interest must be true if he has waited this long.”

Elysia crossed her arms. “Yet my interests don’t count at all.”

“Considering what some have done to keep the Family intact, I don’t think many would see marrying Doug as such a hardship. He’s good-looking and wealthy. Or do you intend to pour drinks for the rest of your life?”

“I get it.” Elysia had always known that Grams put the Family above everything, but to hear her come right out and say it hurt. Apparently, Elysia’s own hopes and dreams mattered little. In the necromancer world, it always came down to the Family.

Elysia turned away. “James, let’s go.”

“Elysia Grace, don’t you walk away from me, from us.”

“I don’t see myself having any choice.”

“The bank forecloses on this funeral home in two weeks. You must know we lost two others earlier this year.”

Elysia bowed her head, but didn’t face her grandmother.

“How am I going to send Livie to mortician’s school? Or afford Uncle Stephen’s care? Maggie’s already asking me to place her granddaughter, and the girl’s only twelve. Not as bad as you, but—”

“Grams.” Elysia closed her eyes.

Grams heels tapped the hardwood behind her, then her hand gripped Elysia’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t ask if there was any other way, but we need his help.”

Doug’s help. The Deacon’s help.

“Please, Ely. Doug’s not a bad guy. At one time, I think you actually loved him.”

At one time, perhaps. Then she figured out where his true loyalties lay.

“Stay the weekend,” Grams squeezed her shoulder. “Tell me you’ll think about it.”

What could she say? “I’ll think about it.” She rolled her shoulder out of Grams’s grip and led James from the room.

“Are you really considering… this?” James asked as soon as they were alone in the hall.

Elysia didn’t want to rehash it with him. “It’s none of your concern. Let’s get our things. There are plenty of guest rooms. A hot shower and—”

He touched the back of her elbow, stopping her. “You’re here because of me. That makes this my concern.”

She turned to face him, her frustration boiling over. “I screwed up. I bound you, and I will free you.”

“But—”

“No buts. Drop the subject. Go get your things.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he turned on his heel, heading for the stairs.

Elysia rubbed the back of her neck, watching him go. Nice one, Ely. Snap at the only person who has shown you compassion.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. But he had already disappeared down the stairs.

Elysia scooted back on the worn leather couch and opened the photo album she held on her lap. She was grateful she had the den to herself. The shower hadn’t helped, so she turned to memories. The Family photo album. These pages showed what Grams was trying to save. Elysia respected that; she really did. But was it worth sacrificing herself?

She traced a finger along the edge of the page, her eyes drawn to the snapshot in the center. It had been a bright summer day when the Family had posed on the front steps of this house. A big smile creased her three-year-old face as she sat on her mother’s hip. Her mother held her close, her mouth open in a laugh. It was a wide-angle shot of over fifty people, but Elysia could still pick out the paleness of her mother’s once blue eyes. Elysia remembered her eyes. What she didn’t remember was her laugh.

She turned the page, revealing more photos taken that day. It had been a Family reunion, the weather had been gorgeous and the turnout excellent. Glancing over the photos of cousins, aunts, and uncles, some distant, some close, she found herself picking out those who had eventually gone insane. Some, like her mother, already showed signs, while others had lost it with little warning.

Another page turn revealed a photo of herself holding a disheveled bird, her brown eyes nearly white. She had been a source of wonder then. If people knew what she could do now, she still would be.

She felt him enter the room before she heard the snap of the latch as he closed the door behind him. A moment later, the couch shifted as he sat down beside her.

“When I got out of the shower, you weren’t in your room. Are you okay?” James asked.

“If I said yes, would you believe me?”

“Probably not.”

“I’m sorry I… lost it with you earlier.”

“Hardly lost it, but it’s okay. I knew it wasn’t me you were angry with.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“Maybe not for you, but it is a reason for me to keep my temper in check.”

She smiled. He truly was a good person. As considerate and thoughtful as he was powerful. But no necromancer would ever see that. They would stop at powerful. James was a thing to be controlled—or little more than an object to win the Deacon’s favor.

“Is that you?” His voice interrupted her thoughts, and she glanced down at the photo of her and the bird.

“Yes.”

“I assume it’s common for necromancers to take pictures of their kids holding dead animals?” A smile colored his voice.

“Not that common. Most kids can’t consciously animate anything until after puberty.”

“You once told me you weren’t a normal necro.”

“None of my line is. My mother was the same, as was her mother.”

“So Grams is your father’s mother?”

“No. No one knows who my father was. Grams is actually a cousin, but she raised me, so…” She shrugged, letting the sentence hang. “That’s the way it works. The way it’s always worked. My line is cursed.”

“How so?”

She closed the album. “My mother wasn’t the only one who has gone insane. Every member of my female line goes crazy before thirty.”

“Because you’re so powerful?”

“We’re powerful because of the curse.”

“You’re not using the word figuratively.”

“No. The one who cursed us was an alchemist, the founder of our line.”

James snorted. “How ironic. My curse is much the same. My ancestor wanted to be a hunter without peer—so he traded his brother’s soul.”

She turned to stare up at him. “How?”

“He visited an alchemist.”

“God, I hate alchemists.”

He frowned and looked away. Had she offended him in some way? Before she could ask, he continued.

“Are you going to do as your grandmother asked?”

She ran her finger along the top of the old album. The leather cover had worn away exposing the rough edge of the heavy cardboard.

“Elysia?”

The bond tightened and they both gasped. She clenched the edge of the album.

“That’s really not supposed to happen,” she whispered.

“Why not? The same thing happens when you say my name.”

“But I bound you to me. You’re mine. When you say my name, it feels like…”

“You’re mine?” he asked.

“That’s disturbing.”

“Yes, it is.” His gaze held hers, as if he searched for some truth.

She didn’t know what to tell him. There was no way she could be bonded to him. He had no soul to bind her.

“You cut yourself,” he said.

She didn’t understand until he touched the back of her right wrist. She turned her hand over and saw the gash on her index finger. The edge of the photo album was sharper than she realized.

“Do you need a bandage?” His voice was soft, but much too intense for the casual question.

She looked up and met his gaze, suddenly aware of how close he sat. The musky scent of his cologne wasn’t one she could name, but she liked it. A lot. She remembered being aware of it in the car, last night right before he healed the cut on her arm. She had been a bit out of it, but she did remember kissing him, and liking that, too. She wanted to do it again—which was nine kinds of crazy.

“No, I don’t need a bandage.” She tried to tell herself that this was wrong, but that didn’t seem to matter anymore. After all, she was nothing more than a sacrificial lamb.

She held up her finger, offering it to him.

He held her gaze for a heartbeat, then leaned forward and ran his warm tongue over the pad of her finger.

It stung, and she pulled in a breath through her teeth.

He licked it again, never breaking eye contact. On the third pass, he pulled her finger into his mouth. He closed his eyes and growled, the sound deep in his throat and just audible.

Goosebumps rose on her arms. Weird that the sound scared and excited her at the same time. Or maybe it was the warm wetness of his mouth and the brush of his tongue across her sensitive fingertip. She licked her own lips as she watched him, her heart beating faster.

She had found him attractive from the beginning, even when she thought he was nothing more than a dead man. She had been so certain that her interest had been the first steps down the dark road to insanity. Now she knew him better. He wasn’t a lich, but he was still dead. Perhaps this was madness, but she no longer cared. He pulled her finger deeper into his mouth, and she groaned.

He opened his eyes, the green on full glow. Fascinated, she pulled her finger from between his lips, then rose up on her knees to taste his mouth.