The Necromancer's Seduction (14 page)

“Was Sybil waiting for you?”

“She arrived just as I was leaving the apartment. Apparently, after I died and the
coven had my body, she’d cast a homing device on me. When she showed up, I realized
what she’d done and removed it with a spell.”

“All this time she’s been tracking you? At my house?” Anger heated my face at the
thought of her spying on Adam and me.

“It doesn’t work quite like that. The homing spell requires a specific purpose. She
probably programmed it to tell her when I showed up in the vicinity of my apartment.”

“We have to tell Kara about this later.”

He pinched his lips. “Fine.”

We left his apartment on high alert in case Sybil had decided for another go around,
only relaxing after traversing the couple of blocks to catch the train bound for the
Tenderloin. After the ten-minute ride, we climbed out of the BART station. I cringed
each time my shoes made that
schlip
,
schlip
sound as they lifted off the grime that coated the stairs.

At the next block, we swerved around a bag lady hunched over a shopping cart. A trembling
Chihuahua yipped at us from inside the cart, probably to guard their spot in line
for the soup kitchen. Despite the unsavory street corner deals and side-glances thrown
our way, I enjoyed the raw humanity on display. We turned down another street and
were greeted by an array of art galleries displaying the latest fringe art, seedy
strip clubs, and liquor stores advertising deals in English, Spanish, Vietnamese,
and Chinese on their smudged windows.

“Are you the resident expert necro?” Adam asked.

“Hardly. You’re my first.” I smiled at my own joke, but it only fetched an eye roll
from Adam. “It’s been a while since I used my powers.”

“We talking a year?”

“Longer.”

“Great. I get the amateur. Figures.”

“I raised you. My grandmother used to tell me I had natural talent for necromancy.”

“Did she mentor you?”

“More like a professor. She’d even quiz me. She was very enthusiastic.”

Before I’d disavowed my necromancy, she’d tossed book after book at me, lecturing
that knowledge was the necromancer’s most powerful resource. A few times, she took
me with her to reanimate corpses. We always laid them back down to rest after getting
what information we needed. Her enthusiasm was palpable, even for the smallest of
tasks. So was mine. When I helped her with raisings, it was easy, practically effortless,
and very exciting. The high from wielding power over death invigorated us both.

“What happened?” asked Adam.

“Shit happened.”

We reached my destination a block farther, a Vietnamese grocery store next to a banh
mi eatery. I directed Adam into the grocery store, my senses immediately assaulted
by the briny smell of sea animals and the bright greens and reds of the stacked Japanese
soda cans. We weaved through the cramped aisles, arriving at the frozen section where
I found my sticky buns.

Adam was eyeing a bag of frozen squid, disgust crunching his nose. “Even when I ate,
I never liked gooey animals.”

“You, a surfer, not liking seafood?” The lines of his face tightened. Oops. He didn’t
know I had rifled through his things. I gave him a side-glance.

“So what else did Kara tell you about me?”

I closed the freezer’s door and turned to him. I wasn’t going to lie, not when I needed
his trust. “She didn’t tell me about the surfing. I saw a picture at your place of
you on the beach. We were looking for your spell book. Sorry.”

His face darkened, and his anger threaded through my muscles, tightening them, especially
the ones around my throat.

“I stopped surfing a long time ago.” He spun on his heel and headed for the exit.
I clasped my hand around my throat and coughed. Shit. He had almost choked me through
the bond. Did he even know what he’d done, or was it some deadly reflex? I paid for
my food, went outside, and found him a block away, facing the entrance to an alley
blocked off by boards of splintered wood. He kicked in one of the boards, and it cracked
in half with a loud crunch. I darted my head around. “Jesus, what are you doing?”

He stepped into the alley, and I followed him, clutching his arm when he failed to
respond. He swung around and slammed me against the brick wall, pinning me with a
hand on my chest. His breaths came hard, and his eyes widened and glazed over in a
frightening ecstasy. “Death. Blood. It’s here, and I need it.”

Oh shit. What do I do?
Give him your blood
. The thought surged quickly, and I shoved it aside. I reached out to him through
the bond, but his hunger blocked me. “Stop. You can fight this,” I said. My head hurt
where it had banged against the wall, and he pressed harder on my chest, stifling
my breathing. He snarled and looked at me with contempt.

“It’s either you or the corpse,” he said, his voice so cruel, so distant from the
breezy California beach boy.
My monster that I can’t contain. And what have I become?

I grasped his wrist and tried to wrench it off me. “Go,” I said.

He let go and stalked into the shadows, and I half ran, half walked out of the alley
and leaned against the wall of the neighboring single room occupancy hotel, hugging
myself. The body in the alley was already dead. I knew it, could sense it, but it
didn’t make the whole scene any less repulsive. My breath shuddered out of my aching
chest.

Adam emerged, passed me, and headed for the BART. I trailed after him. When we approached
the entrance, I noticed a young guy staring at us, mid-twenties, his clothes a throwback
to early eighties goth. His mouth twisted into a sneer, but it was his eyes, feverish
against his sepulchral face, that made my skin crawl. I bumped Adam with my elbow
and motioned toward the guy with a nod. Adam’s expression didn’t change, but he took
my elbow and propelled me down the stairs.

“Adam?”

“Just keep moving.” His grip was firm, but not alarming, and I nudged the bond and
found it calm. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t escaping one monster only to wind up
in the hands of another. We reached the second flight of stairs when the sound of
sticky steps behind us sent a burst of nervous adrenaline through my body. Adam pushed
me forward, increasing our pace.

I didn’t dare look back to see our pursuer. I didn’t need the visual. My mind did
a fine job by itself, conjuring a grotesque zombie or ferocious demon tailing us with
rabid intent. And these days, reality had exceeded any terror I could imagine.

We entered the main lobby, and I noticed the BART was mysteriously devoid of travelers
in cliché horror movie fashion. Somehow the deserted polished floors and glare of
florescent lights gave a post-apocalyptic sheen to the metro, more eerie than the
dark, grimy subways of places like New York City.

Tickets in hand, we squeezed through the turnstile, footsteps still echoing behind
us. We sprinted down another flight of stairs to the train platform. We heard the
creak of the turnstile flaps opening and closing behind us. My ears suddenly felt
bionic, attuned to every whisper, shuffle, snarl, and other microscopic sound. I could
have predicted no train upon reaching the platform, but at least a couple of people
loitered in wait with us. I braved a glance down the platform corridor and exhaled
my relief to find it empty. I peeked down the tunnel and saw the distant headlights
of an approaching train. Adam continued to survey the platform for signs of our supposed
pursuer, his mouth drawn in a straight line. Did we imagine him? We never actually
saw him chasing us. Have I become that paranoid?

The train stopped in front of us, and we both moved toward the doors before they even
opened. When we sat down in the train, I scanned the car and had finally leaned against
the seat back when my blood froze. On the platform, visible through the smudged windows
of the train, was Goth Boy staring at us with lunatic eyes, licking his fingers with
his lips. The train lurched forward and left him smiling at us.

“I remember him,” Adam said. “He was present when I was killed.”

I swallowed hard. “Do you remember anything else?”

“No, but the body in the alley—” He paused and looked out at the dark tunnel rushing
by in a turbid blur. “That dude left the body. He’s a revenant.”

Chapter Thirteen

It took me a good portion of our ride to dispel the shock of his revelation. It’s
one thing to deal with zombies, but this rogue necromancer had created a revenant,
confirming he wielded a respectable level of power. Fuck me.

The train sped up, causing me to bump Adam’s shoulder. I flinched involuntarily.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t feed off his scraps,” Adam said. “Even I have my standards.”

“Are you . . .?” I paused. How do I ask if he needs to feed on flesh? He seemed to
understand, thankfully.

“The craving has passed,” he said.

When I arrived home, I placed a three-way to Kara and Ewan to tell them what had happened.
Adam returned to the Tenderloin to see if he could locate our newly discovered revenant.
I also suspect he wanted to avoid conversation with both Kara and me.

I tossed the vegetables in my wok and spoke with my cell lodged between my cheek and
shoulder. “No, I don’t need protection,” I said to Ewan for the third time, although
I almost agreed on his second try. The knowledge that another necromancer is out there
with the ability to make revenants had us all on edge.

“So you’re sure he’s not supernatural?” I asked.

“Based on the description you gave us, he’s not anyone I know,” Ewan answered, followed
by an affirmative grunt from Kara.

“Uh, there’s something else,” I said.

The line went quiet, then Kara’s voice cracked. “After near death in the demon realm
and an encounter with a revenant, there’s something else? Man, you’ve gone from cloistered
professor to danger girl. I’m jealous.”

“Be happy to switch places.” I told them about Sybil.

“That bitch,” Kara said. “I’ll tell Matilda.”

“Will she do something?”

“I don’t know. Sybil has supporters in the circle. Her family has influence. I think
Matilda wants to wait for the right moment to take her down, and I’m not sure this
is it.”

“Maybe Malthus can throw his demon weight around the circle?” I asked.

“The witches don’t give a shit about his weight, but, maybe. Ewan?”

“Malthus needs to know about this, but you’re right. I don’t think he’ll get involved,”
he said.

“She can’t get away with this,” I said.

“The coven is not going to want to stir the cauldron over this. No one was hurt. Everyone
wants to end this business with the murders and revenants without creating a bigger
mess.”

“It’s not fair to Adam.”

“Adam made his bed, rumpled it, then stained the mattress,” Kara said.

I’d decided not to fill them in on the incident with Adam and the body. Both Kara
and Ewan had full control over their power, and I didn’t want to appear the nutty
necro who couldn’t handle hers.

“Ruby, you’re too quiet,” Kara said.

“We need to find this killer,” I said.

“Let me send someone to watch the outside of your house,” Ewan said, his tone more
insistent. I visualized the stubborn purse to his lips.

“Fine,” I relented, spilling noodles onto the stove with my furious sautéing.

When we hung up, I sat at the kitchen island and dug into the Pad Thai. Too much lemon
grass. I sighed, put down my chopsticks and had just rested my head on my hand when
a knock sounded at the door. I stared at my half eaten meal. That was fast.

I opened the door, and Ewan strode through and loomed above me in the hallway.

“You said you were sending someone,” I said.

He crossed his hands in front of his chest, as if bracing for a fight. “I decided
I should come over and see to your well-being personally.”

I laughed a short, clipped laugh.

He smiled, with his mouth only. His eyes . . . yikes. The lust emanating from them
made my knees weak.

“I bet,” I said under my breath, well aware he could hear me. I wheeled about and
returned to the kitchen.

He retreated to the study while I finished my dinner. I took my time eating, delaying
the inevitable private time with Ewan. When I was done, I tossed my chopsticks in
the bowl, my jumpy stomach no longer able to digest the food.

I found him scanning the books. “Quite an interesting collection,” he said.

The shelves were filled with books about necromancy, Greek mythology, demon compendiums,
witch dictionaries, and fairy tales, both fake and real. Most had belonged to Cora,
and she could have easily opened her own occult bookstore. At one time, I’d pored
through the books, some worn, others new with crisp pages. Now they sat, neglected
spines glaring at me. Neglected until now.

I studied his profile and watched his strong hands bump across the spines.

He pulled on a paperback and read the cover, raising his eyebrow. “Demons are Forever?”

My whole face flushed. Great. “That was my grandmother’s.”

He looked unconvinced. He flipped the book and read the back cover. “She ached for
his touch, but would his sins and her distrust keep them apart forever?”

I cursed my grandmother and swore tomorrow, first thing, I would scour every shelf
and purge the study of any book back containing the words
ache
,
touch
,
love
,
passion
,
tortured
. If it has so much as the word
like
, it’s thrift store fodder.

He turned to me, caressing me with his gaze. I blinked slowly and felt the space between
us shrink. My breath grew uneven.

“I’m going to get a glass of wine.” I turned toward the kitchen, stumbling. My knee
felt much better, but the occasional twinge shot up from my kneecap.

He followed me. “Why don’t you sit down? I can get the wine.”

“I’m fine.”

“Have anything stronger than wine?”

“No, I’m not a heavyweight like you demons.”

“You know alcohol doesn’t make us drunk.”

“Then why do you drink it?”

He didn’t answer, just leaned against the doorframe, a small smile playing on his
lips.

“Anyway, no whiskey. Wine then?” I asked.

He nodded. I scanned my impressive collection of two wine bottles and picked the Malbec.
I pierced the cork with a corkscrew and twisted, driving the sharp edge into the cork.
Ewan moved next to me, close enough for him to heat the air between us. My hand twisted
to the right and split the cork in two.

“Shit,” I said.

Ewan chuckled and wrapped his hand around the bottle. The cork pieces vibrated until
they popped out of the bottle, landing on the floor.

“You’re full of little magic tricks,” I said.

“Would you like to see more of my tricks?” he asked, his voice a deep whisper.

I grabbed the bottle out of his hand and filled a couple of wine glasses. I was pretty
sure he wasn’t talking about rabbits or top hats. “Ah, so want to go sit in the front
room?”

He didn’t answer but moved his body to let me pass.

I plopped down on one side of the leather couch, tucking a leg underneath me, allowing
the leg with my bruised knee to hang off the edge. Ewan sat on the opposite end from
me, and I shifted to put more space between us. A moist breeze flowed in from the
open window and brushed against my cheeks. I looked at Ewan, finding his eyes boring
into mine. He fingered the top of his glass with his thumb.

“What do you feel when we’re together, when I touch you?” His voice grew husky at
the word touch. He wasn’t wasting any time. I licked my dry lips, then gulped down
some wine and tried to reconnect my scattered mind.

“Confused . . . surprised. It’s like my reaction to all of this—my involvement with
the supe community. I thought I’d be uncomfortable with everything, with my powers,
but it feels . . . natural, exciting even.”

“And?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but its tone was firm, demanding.

“So I feel the same sense of excitement and confusion when I’m with you.” I sipped
on the wine, keeping the glass to my lips. “But . . .”

“I’m a demon.”

I blinked a few times. Before this whole mess started, that certainly would have been
the major sticking point. Now? Ewan’s demon identity mattered less and less. I was
interested in discovering more about the man or whatever lay beneath all the heavy
layers of demon.

“I don’t know a whole lot about you. I mean, you don’t share about your demon life.
Hell, do demons have families?”

He looked at the Chinese cabinet and let a few seconds tick by. “Yes. Demons have
families.”

“Ewan, there’s something going on that affects your status among the demons. What’s
the deal? Is it a family thing?”

“Something happened in the demon realm, but it doesn’t matter as far as we’re concerned.”

I tried to see into his eyes, tried to decipher his faraway look. “You’re a complicated
demon, Marchois.”

“No.” He shifted his gaze back to me, his expression languid. “I’m pretty straightforward
when it comes to things I want.”

Every breath I took seemed to draw him closer until he leaned over me, hands braced
on the couch at my sides, his knees touching mine. My heart raced, and my breathing
grew unsteady. His musky scent invaded my senses, and coherent thoughts slipped away.
I managed to suck in a few breaths.

“What do you want?” I whispered. I fingered my necklace absently. He took the glass
from my hand and placed it on the side table behind me, not moving his eyes, which
burned into mine.

He took my head and pulled me into a searing kiss. My entire body sizzled, melting
completely at the feel of his lips, his velvet tongue exploring, teasing. He abandoned
my mouth and nibbled my chin and neck. I moaned and stretched my neck out to him,
seeking more. His deep growl sent shivers through my body. I almost wept when he pulled
away with a ragged sigh, releasing my head.

His eyes sparked gold. “Is this what you want? Because if we continue, I won’t be
able to stop.”

I could tell from his heavy breaths and his heaving chest that it had taken every
ounce of his will to stop. In that moment, I saw Ewan, really saw him, stretched above
me, magnificent, powerful. Someone who knew he could have me, but asked my permission
anyway. I wanted him, needed to feel him thrusting hard inside me, filling the emptiness
I’d carved into my soul.

I reached under his shirt, accessing the smooth hardness of his stomach and waist.
His eyes tightened, but he didn’t remove them from mine as I continued my exploration,
propping myself on my elbow. His muscles clenched under my hand, and I reveled in
the effect of my touch on him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he rasped, quickly ridding himself of his annoying T-shirt.

My eyes blazed a path down his chest to the bulge straining against his jeans. “My
God, your skin.” I gasped at the gold, almost metallic shimmer to his skin, the same
effect I’d seen at the demon lair.

“It happens when my emotions are elevated.” His eyes became shuttered. “Does it bother
you?”

Bother me? I had my own god kissing me, making love to me. Hell no.

I reached to unbutton his jeans, my hands shaking as I spread the fly and freed his
swollen cock. I ran one hand along his ass, feeling the smooth skin. I didn’t want
to stop touching him. Before I could take his throbbing length in my hand, he grabbed
my shirt and yanked it off.

“Not yet,” he said thickly. He lifted my hips and worked my khakis off, burning a
path up my legs with his mouth. He inhaled deeply, and his skin shimmered again, blazing
this time. “God, you smell sweet and spicy,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Somehow, through the lusty fog, I remembered I was wearing my comfy, cotton undergarments.
“I could go put on the sexy, lacy stuff.”

“I’d only tear it off. I’m only interested in what’s underneath.” He had my comfy,
cotton undergarments off before finishing his sentence, and I felt exposed under the
naked desire radiating from his eyes.

“Christ, I’ve waited for this. I want to look at you,” he said. “All of you.”

I squirmed and shifted my leg up. He seized both my hands and stretched my arms to
bend them around the couch’s armrest. I squirmed some more. He tasted my neck, making
his way down to circle my breast with his lips, stretching my nerves tight. When he
caught my erect nipple with his teeth, I cried out as I arched my back. He continued
to hold my hands captive while he worked on the other breast. I writhed against his
hard length, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat.

“Impatient? You’ll have to wait,” he said in a gruff tone.

He freed my arms and slowly feasted on my aching body. He opened my legs and caressed
my inner thigh, inching closer to my liquid center. He worked a finger along my clit,
and I moaned, my knees and thighs shaking. He emitted a satisfied growl from his throat,
spread my legs wider, and braced my feet on his shoulders while he explored my moist
folds with his tongue, using his fingers inside me to heighten the intensity.