The Necromancer's Seduction (26 page)

Suddenly both Cael and Brandon’s movements slowed, and I saw Adam grimacing, his mouth
working a spell. The moment he managed to freeze them both in place, zombies reached
him and tore at his flesh. I felt him weaken. His hold on the spell slipped as my
power began to seep from his body. Cael and Brandon moved in slow motion in their
struggle to break free from Adam’s spell.

Gran, help me
. Crippling fear reached deep into my bone marrow, freezing me from the inside out.
I cried out in frustration as I again sought the bands of arcane energy streaming
from Matilda and goth boy. My vision clouded over, and I saw
her
, her mouth open in laughter, running on the beach.

Mom loved to fly kites. She liked the extreme ones that sounded like a swarm of bees
as they whipped up, down and around at her control. I loved watching the wind take
the kite away and her forcing it back, laughing at me.

She’d taught me how to pull the string, veer the kite toward the sandy beach, give
it slack so the wind could lift it up again. I held tight to keep the wind from tearing
the string out of my hands. I ran down the beach in my yellow sundress dotted with
grinning sunflowers, my knuckles tight around the string, laughing at the wind, my
mom next to me, running with me.

Mom, I’m sorry, so sorry
.

Tears coated my cheeks. A potency unlike anything I’d ever felt blazed into my heart,
my mind, my soul. It threatened to tear out my heart, a fierce wind jerking the kite
out of my hands.

I remembered Malthus’s words about the first necromancer to form a power sphere.
He wanted to create a powerful sphere and needed corpses . . . he was quite mad.

Wars have a way of turning villains into heroes and heroes into villains.
Xavier’s words countered Malthus’s and my life of caution and inaction, but was I
the hero or the villain?

I tightened my grip on the power and yanked back. I was its master.

It devoured me until I forgot my name and reason for coming to the theater. The only
thing that mattered was the power. I could see figures tearing at each other, all
inconsequential. The power swirled around me, a large arcane tornado. I felt light.
The wind was lifting me off the ground.

“Ruby!”

I ignored the voice. My body trembled in ecstasy. Visions of commanding hordes of
zombies and revenants made me laugh.

“Ruby . . . ” the voice shouted again. “It’s Adam. Listen to me. You have to tame
the power. Remember who you are. Remember your grandmother, Cora Montagne.”

Grandmother. Blood. Cael. I have to destroy Cael . . . or was it capture?

Images of zombie attacks and raising Brandon, pictures tainted with a bloody lens
passed in front of my eyelids. I pitied Cael. He was used by a powerful demon, then
discarded when no longer needed. I didn’t blame him. He was fighting for his survival.

But he had options.

He made a habit of leaving dead bodies on his quest for power. He may not have delivered
the blow that killed Cora, but at minimum, he’d stood by while she was killed. I had
to bring him to justice. To the demons. Let him answer for his crimes.

Cael is evil. The demons will use him again. You should kill him.
The power sang to me. Its words seduced me onto the dance floor with a lover’s hand.

But I balked. That wasn’t my decision to make, was it?

The sphere’s force swirled within me, out of control, ripping apart my bond with Adam.
I saw him stumble and fall to the ground where the zombies pounced on him. He was
dying. I squeezed my eyes tight, saw my grandmother laughing, applying ointment to
my scratched knee, hugging me. Cael killed her.

I felt zombies clawing at my legs. I buffeted them away with an arcane wind.

The supes will fight over who gets to serve justice while Cael sits in purgatory,
no sentence delivered. He’s crazy. What life will he have?

I no longer felt the bond with Adam. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brandon leap
at me, his fangs extended and aimed at my throat. To stop Brandon I had to stop Cael.

It took but a flick, like crushing a small insect. Cael howled and fell to the ground.
Dead.
Another source of energy to feed us
.

So much blood. An image of the bathroom floor, soaked in my mother’s blood, poured
into my head.
Why has my life been drenched in blood?

The question returned my sanity, and I released the power. As the last tendrils slid
out, I reached out to Adam lying on the floor, his body torn, ripped apart, and I
restored him just before the last of the power ran out. I collapsed onto my knees
and lifted a shaking hand to my nose and wiped at the hot, slick blood.

“Ruby.” Concern flooded Adam’s voice as he bent to touch my back. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just need a few minutes to clear my head.” I whimpered at the dizziness that
displaced the floor and walls around me. I breathed and breathed until the room stopped
spinning. Adam handed me a tissue to wipe the blood and saliva from my face, then
helped me get my shaking body upright, bracing me with an arm around my waist. I blinked
to clear my vision and saw Brandon in human form standing next to Cael’s body.

“You kept me alive,” Brandon said.

“I thought that maybe . . .”

“I’d want to remain a revenant?” He regarded Adam, sorrow etched on his face. “This
is no existence. This is a curse.”

“I just . . .” My voice faltered.

“I don’t blame you for what happened. The monster responsible is dead. You saved Matilda
from a similar fate. Now let me have peace.” He looked at Adam. “I hope you find yours.”

I nodded at his request for peace and bit my quivering lip. I bent the bond with Brandon
until it snapped inside me. His body hit the ground with a dull thud. I was afraid
to look at Adam. He was on the phone with Jax. Zombies lay strewn about the theater.
Another wave of dizziness hit me, and I sat in one of the seats, laying my head back
to stare at the ceiling.

“Do you want to wait for the troops to come?” Adam asked. “My guess is Ewan will show
up with Jax.”

I considered his words. I’d have to face Ewan at some point, but did I want to do
it now?

A few moments later, the decision was made for me. I jerked at the loud crash that
reverberated against the theater walls. I twisted to see Ewan and Jax advancing down
the aisle toward us. Ewan’s face was taut, straining to contain the twitching muscles
in his cheek. His power hit me, pinching my skin with its anger. When he reached us,
he noted the gash on my shoulder, causing the vein in his neck to throb. His glare
lasered Adam, then turned back to me. Neither of us spoke. He opened his mouth to
say something, shout maybe, then closed it. Heavy footsteps signaled the arrival of
the werewolves, followed by Kara’s clicking heels.

I hauled myself up, fighting a second wave of dizziness. Ewan moved to steady me,
but I waved his hand away. Kara hugged me, causing me to wince from my injury, then
scrunched her eyes at me. “What the hell were you thinking?”

I moved away from her embrace. “Good to see you too.”

“Somebody did a number on the front doors,” said one of the weres, who was wearing
a police uniform. Jax grinned at Ewan, but Ewan focused his stony stare at the zombie
bodies, then at Brandon’s, at Cael’s, at Matilda’s, and finally it landed on me. Kara
had followed his gaze and gasped. She ran to Matilda, fell to her knees, and stroked
her hair before finally covering her with the black sheet.

The Alpha wolf, Mark, strode to us, grim in his black leather jacket. He brushed past
the cop were to stand before Brandon’s body. The cop took care to stay behind him,
practically tiptoeing around him to get a view of the body.

I moved around Ewan to face Mark. “I guess we’re good now?”

He turned his eyes to me, cold and hard. “I’ve never liked necros,” he said, returning
his eyes to Brandon’s body. “Still don’t.”

“I’m sorry about Brandon,” I said.

“Did you apologize to him?”

“He didn’t want my apology. He just wanted me to grant him peace.”

Mark took a step closer to loom over me. “Brandon was always too nice for his own
good.”

I wanted to argue with him, tell him to fuck off, but I was too drained, and no matter
what Brandon had said to absolve me, I still felt guilty for what had happened.

“You’re not being fair, Mark,” said Kara, her tone cutting through the heavy air.

“Stay out of this, Kara.” He pointed at the bodies on the floor. “This is what happens
when necromancers get involved.”

“I didn’t kill these people,” I said, my voice low but steady. Ewan stepped in between
Mark and me. Mark glared at Ewan, then told the other wolf to gather Brandon’s body.

Ewan faced me, his expression still warring between anger and concern. “We have to
go. Malthus is waiting for you.”

My shoulders sagged. Another dreaded confrontation. I preferred the zombies.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Jax stayed at the theater to handle clean up. Kara stayed to claim Cael’s body for
the witches, and Adam, for once, joined forces with her.

Once Ewan and I had settled in the Rover, I said, “I’m sorry about Lysander, but what
he said was true. Nothing happened. I asked him to help me with something.”

Ewan was rapping the steering wheel with the knuckles of one hand and didn’t answer
me.

“Ewan?”

“What did he help you with?”

“I can’t tell you.”

He pounded the steering wheel. “Why don’t you let
me
help you?” He kept his voice low, but I could see the cords of muscles straining
in his neck. “First with Lysander and now this. Christ. You could have been killed.”

“Adam was with me.” I knew it was a stupid thing to say, but I wasn’t thinking clearly.
His face was a dark storm of emotion, and I turned away from the accusations in his
eyes.

“You still don’t trust me,” he said.

“No, I do.” I rested my head on my hand and leaned it against the window. “I was going
to go alone, but Adam confronted me.”

“What made you think you could handle Cael alone?”

I wasn’t ready to discuss my new part-demon status, unsure of how that would impact
our relationship. If we still had one at this point.

“I’m not saying you aren’t capable. I’m trying hard, very hard, to give you the space
you need. I knew from the beginning that if I ever had a chance with you, I’d have
to give you the time and space to figure things out, but for fuck’s sake, this was
seriously stupid. Not to mention the fact that you killed Cael, knowing that Malthus
wanted him alive,” he said.

“After everything he did? He wanted me to make Matilda a revenant. What was I supposed
to do? Cael had released the zombies on us. I was defending my life, other lives.”
I decided not to elaborate on how the power had exerted the worse kind of peer pressure
on me. I’m still not sure what had happened, but I remember Brandon’s jaws quite clearly.

“I’m not saying the bastard didn’t deserve to fry,” Ewan relented, “but we needed
him to find out who’s responsible.”

“What does it matter? No other necro is going to be stupid enough to threaten supes
again. We foiled their plans, whatever they are.” I squeezed my head between my hands,
hoping I’d somehow vent the pressure building in my skull.

“I don’t think so. The breaches, involvement of the other supernaturals. This went
way over Cael’s head—possibly ours too.”

Ewan parked on the street in front of the demon lair, and I slid out of the car. He
came around to stand in front of me, placing his hand against the door above my head.

I met his gaze without blinking and said, “I’m tired of people manipulating me into
doing things they want me to do. For once, I wanted to do this my way.”

He held my eyes for a moment, then shook his head at the dark sky. When he looked
at me again, the creases around his eyes had deepened. “I’m not Malthus, and I sure
as hell don’t like being compared to him.” His heavy tone tried to pull me under with
its weight, but I was beyond frustrated with the demon way of handling things.

“No, you’re not Malthus, but dammit, you won’t stand up to him.” I bowed my head,
and when I finally looked up again, my eyes met his and saw their surrender.

He dropped his hands from the car and walked up the steps.

I followed him in, ignored Gus’s probing stare, and barely made it to the study before
falling onto the leather couch. Instead of celebrating saving the world from evil,
I was miserable. Things with Ewan were shitty, and the witch coven was in disarray.
I refused to think about the vampires. Exhaustion seeped into my bones. Maybe I’d
stay on this couch for the next few days. No revenants, no zombies.

The click of the door permeated my state of half-slumber between wakefulness and sleep.
I peeled my eyelids open. I knew it was Malthus. I rolled off the couch, landing with
my knees on the floor. After the dark edges dissipated from my vision, I stood, saw
Ewan lurking by the door.

“How are you feeling?” Malthus asked.

“Like I could use a glass of whiskey.”

Ewan made me a drink. He held onto it for a moment, looking at me with shuttered eyes,
then handed me the heavy glass before taking the seat across from me.

“Tell me what happened,” Malthus said.

“You mean why I killed Cael?”

He didn’t answer. He half sat on the corner of his desk and crossed his arms in front
of his chest. “You know we needed him alive.”

I nodded and made sure I wore an unrepentant look. No, make that defiant. I wanted
him to see defiance in my eyes. “I understand, the witches—”

“I don’t think you
do
understand.” His sharp tone startled me, making me realize Malthus had been deceptively
gracious up to this point. He was giving me a taste of his power for the first time,
but I wasn’t going to let Malthus see my fear. I lifted my chin a notch.

His angry gaze lessened in intensity, and the look he gave me was almost sorrowful.
“I take responsibility. I brought you into this, and you took the actions you thought
necessary.” He paused. “Including creating a power sphere, which I warned you against.
You lost control. That’s why you killed Cael.”

“I killed Cael because he and his zombies were on the verge of killing me and Adam.”
I swirled the whiskey in my glass. “You know Cael would never have revealed the identity
of his puppeteer. But I want to know who ultimately caused Cora’s death. I’ll find
another way.”

He gave me an unreadable stare while he sipped his whiskey. “I agree with you, but
it’s not up to me.”

The fear pricked at me again, but I shoved it into the cesspool roiling in my stomach
where all the other crap that had happened in the past few days had settled. I’ll
be amazed if I don’t get an ulcer. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“You’ll have to attend a demon council hearing and respond to their questions,” Malthus
announced. “They’ll want you to explain why you killed Cael, and how you created the
power sphere.”

“Why the hell do they care? Shouldn’t they be more concerned about the big bad demon
behind all this mess?”

“We need solid proof before accusing a demon before the council. They are more concerned
with the fact that you’re a demon and a necromancer.”

“Maybe they’ll go easy on me. You know, given my family ties and all.”

I held out the missing pages from the journal that I’d tucked into my pocket before
leaving my house. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re my grandfather?”

Malthus stared at me, his expression pure stone. I’d expected that. What I hadn’t
expected was to see Ewan jump like his chair had caught fire and grasp the edge of
the desk with his hands, disbelief twisting his face.

That answers my question on whether he knew about my relation to Malthus, but why
the intense reaction? If anything, wouldn’t my demon DNA somehow make a relationship
between us easier? I shook off my concern. I had to stay focused on my conversation
with Malthus.

“Is it true?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I threw the pages on the table. “Son of a bitch. Malthus, does it really come this
easy for you—manipulating people? You and Cora. Why didn’t she tell me?”

Ewan appeared to have composed himself, but I could see his jaw working, chewing on
something hard and jagged. His arms were giving off that metallic glow, and his eyes
warred between civility and demon rage.

Malthus moved off the desk, regarded Ewan, and a flicker of doubt—caution even—crossed
his face.

“Did my mother know?” I asked.

“No.” He softened his voice. “Your grandmother was trying to protect you and your
mother. She knew the dangers. She also wanted you to live a normal life, something
you appeared to want as well. You can’t really fault her.”

“What about you? Did you want to tell me?”

“Yes. Demons value family ties greatly.” Malthus sat behind the desk and leaned his
back against the chair. “Honestly, I’m relieved you found out. As part-demon, you’ll
have to make some adjustments in your life. And there are some complications we will
have to address.”

“Like what?”

He straightened in his chair. His look had returned to the recognizable Malthus-in-control
expression, which made my heart skip a beat. I did not trust that look. “You and Ewan
have become . . . close.”

I looked at Ewan, who hadn’t moved an inch from his rigid stance.

“You cannot pursue, or maybe
continue
is more appropriate, a romantic involvement.” His words seemed ridiculous. After
all these years, he’s stepping up and playing the protective grandfather?

I was waiting for Ewan to intercede and voice his honorable intentions or tell Malthus
to fuck off—either would do. But he just stood there—a statue—and I grew confused.

“Ewan made a pact with me, with my house, his sentence for a crime. He is bonded to
me for a very long time. While in service to me, demon protocol forbids him to . .
. associate with my family.”

My mind spun, trying to make sense of his words. The breath stuck in my throat, and
I had to suck in some small breaths to form words. “What is he, some kind of slave?”

“Don’t be crass,” Malthus said with a disdainful sniff.

“Crass? I’m calling it like I see it.” I lifted my chin sharply. “How long is he in
your
service
?”

“In demon time, one hundred years, but in this realm that equates to about ten years.
Ewan has another nine years before he completes his service.”

I snorted. “Oh, that’s all?” I pushed off my chair and walked to stand in front of
Malthus’s desk, placed my hands on its top and leaned over. “Why can’t you just release
him? On parole for good behavior. I mean, what did he do? Shoplift from a demon convenience
store?”

“I’m sorry, Ruby, I can’t.” I saw what appeared to be sincere sorrow in Malthus’s
eyes.

“You can’t or you won’t?” I was surprised at the venom in my voice.

“If I release Ewan, he will have to return to the demon realm, where the authorities
will execute him.”

I straightened, and the floor veered in front of me. Malthus jumped out of his chair
and reached out, but I pushed his hand away, grasping the edge of the desk to steady
myself.

“As it is, Ewan will need to be punished for his transgression.” His bland tone gave
the impression the punishment was some mild form of discipline, a time out sitting
in the corner, but my mind conjured all sorts of sadistic tortures.

“Punished? What is this, the fucking Middle Ages? Cael was right.”

“Cael?” Malthus sneered. That was the first time I had seen Malthus break his composure,
and I liked it.

“I don’t know who the worse villain is. You revel in your power just as much as he
did,” I said.

“Malthus.” Ewan broke in for the first time. His voice was steady, but I could see
his eyes were glassy—furiously brilliant. “I’d like time alone with Ruby.”

“Very well,” Malthus said.

The second Malthus left the room, I leveled my eyes at Ewan. “What did he mean, punish?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. I wish Malthus had never mentioned it.” His shadowed
eyes told me different, cementing my imaginings of stretching racks and whippings.

“What, twenty lashes?” I laughed, somewhat hysterically. He didn’t respond. “You guys
are sick bastards.”

“Ruby.” His voice skimmed across gravel, and it took the effort of a few moments for
him to continue. “Remember when I explained that demon politics are difficult, and
that everything has a purpose . . . a function.”

“We’re not in the demon realm.” My eyes stung.

“It doesn’t matter.” He turned and leaned against the desk again, bracing himself
with his hands. “Even if it were possible to break the bond without my death—” His
chest heaved. “—I made a debt pact. If I weasel out of it, go into hiding, it would
be a great dishonor. I would become a pariah among demons. I’d be nothing.” He turned
back to me. “You are the granddaughter of one of our most powerful demons. In the
demon realm, you would be treated like royalty.”

I poked his chest with my finger. “I don’t give a shit about Malthus or about royalty.”

“I do. I’m sorry, but I’m a demon.”

My stomach lurched, and I fell back onto the chair. I couldn’t believe after all we’d
been through, the misunderstandings to build a delicate trust, it had come to this.
“Am I wrong here? I thought we meant something to each other.” The blood pummeled
my ears, amplifying my fear of his response.

Ewan straightened. I could see his muscles straining taut against his shirt. “We did,
but that was before. Things are different now.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Things will be different for you whether you wish to accept it or not. Once demonkind
becomes aware of your existence, some will seek to garner your favor, others to harm
you. You must accept Malthus’s role in your life, for your own protection . . . so
I can protect you.” He reached his hand out toward me, but I slapped it away.