Ward Against Darkness (Chronicles of a Reluctant Necromancer) (3 page)

Chapter Three

Celia perched on the ledge outside the window to Ward’s bedchamber. The breeze chilled the still-damp shirt and pants she’d changed back into and brought with it the heady aroma from the rosebushes two stories below. Inside, Ward sat on the edge of one of the overstuffed chairs, his rucksack by his foot, ready to go. In the light from the single candle on the table before him, he looked pale, almost ashen. He needed rest and food. Except, even if she wanted to consider Allette’s invitation to stay, their situation had become more complicated. Their host was an Innecroestri—the tiny gold hoops in his ear a sure giveaway—and the last time they’d encountered a dark necromancer, that woman tried to kill them…or rather kill Ward, since you couldn’t kill a dead person twice, could you?

Celia cleared her throat and stepped into the room. Ward leapt to his feet and whirled around to face her, his hands balled into fists.

“Thank the Goddess.” He blew out a breath. “You can’t possibly be entertaining the idea of staying. We’re not safe here,” he said, his voice so low she had to strain to hear him.

“We only need to stay long enough to fill our packs. Exactly as planned.” She scanned the room, checking the corners for anyone hidden in the shadows. No one. Good.

He scowled. “I thought you said plans were meant to be broken.”

“I needed to say something.” The large window she’d just entered presented an optional means of escape if the door was blocked—although, it also offered a way for trouble to enter. “And why are we whispering?”

“If you hadn’t noticed, Macerio is an Innecroestri and has six Rings of Habil on one ear alone. His monsters could be listening. We shouldn’t even stay long enough to get food. Who knows what Macerio would do to us if he caught us stealing?”

“Leaving without supplies is not an option.”

“Not an option?” His voice cracked, and she bit back a smile. There was the Ward she knew. “The last time we faced an Innecroestri, I took a four-story dive from a balcony, and you almost got turned into a shadow walker. I have no idea how powerful Macerio is, but he’s got at least half a dozen vesperitti and who knows what else under his control.”

“Just think about this for a moment.”

“Think about what? There are no options when vesperitti are involved.”

“Ward—”

“The name from the old Susain language translates to ‘soul devourer.’ They survive on the soul magic within a person’s blood. Even if their hunger isn’t insatiable like the myths claim, I doubt they’d think twice before deciding we’re their next meal.” He grabbed his rucksack and slung it over his shoulder. “Every moment we stay is a moment we’re in danger.”

“We can at least grab a few things on our way out.” Although, if even a fraction of the myths were true, they needed to leave now.

“Grab a few things? I’ve already introduced myself to the girl Allette with my real name. She knows I’m not this Quirin person. What makes you think she isn’t telling Macerio who I am right this very moment?”

“Because she didn’t correct Lyla’s assumption.” So they were good there, at least until Allette revealed her reasons for lying. They’d be long gone before then. “Perhaps she really wants to help, and letting Lyla believe you’re Quirin is the easiest way to do it.”

“You don’t really believe that.”

No, but she’d hoped Ward would.

“We can’t risk getting caught. We have to leave.”

She couldn’t argue with his logic—as much as she really wanted to. Macerio was a greater danger than the bounty hunters and starvation combined. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“Really?”

“You think we should discuss this further? I might change my mind.”

“Nope, now is good.” He rushed to the window and looked down. “Roses? Really? What are the odds we can sneak out through the front door?”

“There’s a servant in the hall. She’ll probably alert Macerio if it looks like we’re leaving.” Dropping two stories into the rosebush had little appeal, and Ward didn’t have the skill to scale along the wall until it was safe to jump down. “However, we might be able to use the front door if we just look like we’re going for a walk.”

“With you dressed like that and me with my rucksack?”

“I’ll have to change. But if you drop your bag out the window, all we’ll need to do is get outside. Then we can make our way back to it.”

“Do we think Quirin would go for a late night walk? Particularly since he just arrived?”

“If we can get out the door before the servant tells Macerio, hopefully it won’t matter.” She brushed past him to the window ledge. The brief contact between them tingled through her, and she clenched her jaw against the sensation. “Give me a few minutes to get back into that dress, then come to my room.”

Relief flashed across his face before melting back into exhaustion. Goddess, how she wished she’d already taken care of the remaining bounty hunters and this place was safe.

She climbed back to her window and hopped into her room. A soft thump and rustle of dry leaves indicated Ward had dropped his rucksack into the rose bushes. Now, all they needed was to saunter away. She changed out of her old clothes—tossing them and her sword out the window to join Ward’s bag—and pulled the dress back on. A knock on the door a moment later, and Ward entered.

She turned her back to him, revealing the untied laces of her bodice. He stepped close, his fingers brushing her bare back as he reached for the ties. A shiver swept over her. The memory of his deft fingers bathed in multicolored light tracing the veins in her hands flooded her, and the feel of him checking her lacerations with a feathery touch burned across her cheeks. They had kissed. Twice. But she didn’t know what that meant, and there hadn’t been a good time to figure it out since they’d left Brawenal City. It seemed the time would never be right.

Perhaps that was the way it should be. The nature of her existence made things complicated, and the nature of who she was, or rather who she’d been, made it worse. Ward gave life. He might have power over the dead, but life was his true skill, his calling. Hers was death. She even embodied it now.

She wondered what kind of spell he’d done to her. If there were a way to figure out how long it would last. Or if he could do it again.

He tugged the laces tight, closing the bodice, and she concentrated on the restriction to her ribs and breath instead of the myriad questions. She would close up all thoughts of Ward and what she was until… Until she didn’t know when.

Bound, physically and emotionally, she gripped Ward’s arm and they headed out the door. The servant didn’t stop them, and they slipped down the stairs. Music drifted from the great hall. The muted roar of dozens of conversations mingled with a lively tune. The party was still going on even though it had to be approaching dawn.

A woman laughed, the bright sound cutting through the ruckus, reminding Celia of carefree days. Although, really, her days hadn’t usually been carefree. The activity that had filled her with joy was the thrill of the chase, the challenge of an assignment. She hadn’t thought it was normal, just the way she was. But now the chase wasn’t so thrilling, not when Ward’s life was on the line.

They passed through the pretentious white and gold antechamber and out the front door into the chilly summer evening.

Almost there. As easy as breathing.

She’d never been this high in the Red Mountains before, and while she knew it got cold at night, even at the height of summer, she hadn’t anticipated just how cold. For a heartbeat, she wished she were back in Brawenal City. But home was an impossible dream now, a seven-day hard run from here. She could never return, just like she could never go back to what she’d been.

Ward had changed everything.

Which wasn’t really true. Her father had changed everything by murdering her. Ward— gentle, intelligent, determined Ward—had just opened her eyes to that terrible truth.

She glanced at him. So unassuming, so much more than what anyone saw at first glance, so much more than even he realized.

And so damned distracting. She’d become as bad as he was, lost in thought in the middle of doing something important. But there were too many unanswered questions more difficult to ignore every passing day, hour…at this rate, every passing minute.

Their footsteps crunched on the gravel. Steady, relaxed. They couldn’t look like they were fleeing. Ward’s pulse raced under her fingers. He wanted to run, and she couldn’t blame him, but they needed to play their part for a little while longer.

She led him down the lane. The gravel trailed off into a rutted and weedy path and presumably to a road. They needed to get far enough away that if someone glanced from one of the windows they wouldn’t notice Ward and her. Then they’d double back, get Ward’s rucksack with his illegal surgical implements and her weapons.

Almost there.

Just a few more steps.

Something snapped a few feet ahead, and a man-sized shadow eased away from a lone tree guarding the lane. “I thought you said you were tired?”

Macerio. She’d never met anyone with a voice like that. Silk on a sword’s edge and much older than he looked.

Ward froze beside her. She couldn’t blame him. In the darkness, Macerio’s menace became clearer. The man she’d seen back in the house had been a pleasant façade hiding his true nature.

“We are tired, but with the excitement of arriving here and meeting you…” She hoped he’d fill in the rest himself and not end up with, ‘we were running away.’

“It can be quite thrilling to take the next step in your destiny.” He stepped onto the path. “But remember, even though you come with a recommendation from Lauro Allard, you’re not the only one vying to become my apprentice.”

Ward’s arm trembled under her hand, and she hoped he didn’t bolt right this minute. The last thing they needed was to add an Innecroestri to the troubles chasing them. “Quirin is more than ready to prove himself, again.”

Macerio’s gaze never left Ward, as if he’d spoken and Celia hadn’t. “You do know how to make a first impression, although your spell is rather unusual. I’m sure the other hopefuls are trying to figure out how to create their own pet as we speak.”

“I’m sure they are,” Ward said, his voice surprisingly even given the shaking under her fingers.

Macerio took another step toward them, and the muscles in Ward’s jaw clenched. “You haven’t told me everything, though.”

Ward hadn’t told him much of anything, and Celia intended to keep it that way. “All Innecroestris have their secrets.”

“But this isn’t something you should keep from your host.”

“And what’s that?” Ward asked.

“Unwanted guests.” Macerio sliced a nail through the palm of his hand, drawing blood, and barked a string of harsh words. Magic tingled across Celia’s skin, and he stretched his hand toward them.

Celia shoved Ward aside. He stumbled but didn’t fall. She brought her hands up, ready to fight—as useless as it probably was to combat an Innecroestri without a weapon or magic. But Macerio wasn’t looking at them. Instead, he stared at the grass a dozen feet behind them. Two men, bounty hunters by their appearance, lurched out of the waist-high stalks and staggered toward them.

“You should have told me you ran into trouble getting here,” Macerio said, his voice more sword than silk. “I protect what’s mine.”

“We thought we’d eluded them,” Celia said. And Ward was not going to belong to anyone.

“Apparently not.”

The bounty hunters shuddered to a stop before Macerio, grunting and whining as if they couldn’t control their mouths to form words. They writhed with desperate movements that did nothing to free them from Macerio’s spell.

“Why are you here?” Macerio demanded.

The bounty hunter on the left gasped. His trembling increased, his right hand clenching and unclenching. The other man, shorter but broader across the chest, twitched and growled.

Macerio flexed his fingers, and the man on the left moaned, his face contorting in pain. “Why are you here?”

“To kill the necromancer and the girl.”

“See. That wasn’t so hard. Who sent you?”

The man jerked and gulped air. Celia couldn’t allow him to tell the truth. She slapped the bounty hunter—trying to look more like a girl and less like an assassin—making him stagger into his accomplice. “Because of me. Because of what I am.” She grabbed the front of the man’s filthy shirt and shoved him, knocking him to the ground. “Tell my family to leave us alone.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t allow that.” Macerio knelt and caressed the man’s cheek with a delicate finger.

The man shuddered. He opened his mouth and a strangled gurgle came out. His face contorted in agony, and he clutched his stomach. Black veins shot across his hands, up his neck, and across his face. The gurgle turned into screams. His eyes widened even farther, and the flesh around them peeled back, black and rotting. The stench of decay burst around him, choking the air with suffocating fumes. More skin on his face blackened. His hands cracked, his fingers falling away and turning to dust. Screams shook the quiet night. He collapsed, oozing black liquid and a reeking dust cloud.

Celia stepped back, bumping into Ward. He grabbed her arm, his grip so tight her fingers started to go numb.

The bounty hunter’s body continued to rot, his clothes crumpling, leaving his head, his wide eyes, and his shrieks. Even after his eyes burst, he screamed. One last nauseating wail that turned into gurgles and finally, thankfully, he went quiet.

Macerio turned to the remaining bounty hunter, who gasped around whatever spell constricted his throat. He panted, the vein in his neck pulsing with rapid, useless desperation.

“You, on the other hand, have magic in your soul. I think it’s time to start the competition for my apprentice.” Macerio brushed the bounty hunter’s cheek. The same sickening caress.

The man burbled. Blood dribbled over his lips and welled in his eyes like tears. With a blink, they streamed down his cheeks. He sagged to his knees, a crimson bubble forming between his lips. With a moan it burst and frothy blood oozed out his mouth and poured from his eyes, nose, even his ears. With a strangled grunt, his eyes rolled back and he tumbled to the ground.