The Necromancer's Seduction (9 page)

“Can I hug you?” Kara was practically jumping up and down. “Is that true? Will he
go berserk and eat people?”

“I almost think you want him to.”

“Only if he eats Sybil.”

“Sorry to disappoint. Controlling a revenant will be tough, but I doubt a meeting
with witches is gonna drive him into a
Night of the Living Dead
frenzy.”

Kara really did look disappointed. Doubt gripped me. “Why is she so interested in
Adam?”

“I suspect she’s interested in his spells.” Matilda patted my hand again. “Very good,
Ruby. Your grandmother would have enjoyed that exchange, but I’m afraid we haven’t
heard the last from Sybil.”

Chapter Eight

Ewan and I said our good-byes to Kara and Matilda. I walked next to him through the
parking garage, both of us silent. My cell chimed, and I read the text from Steve,
asking if he could pick me up at seven. I typed okay while Ewan opened the passenger
door.

“You interested in grabbing dinner?” he asked.

My surprise almost made me press delete instead of send. I tucked my cell away, suddenly
aware of his heat radiating out and grilling my body.

“That sounds nice, but I have plans tonight.” My words sounded stale, tired, used
too many times for rejections.

He draped his arm over the open car door and gazed at me for a few moments before
responding. “Oh, right. Your date. I guess I missed that part of the conversation.”

He stepped away from the door and walked over to the driver’s side, his posture stiff.
I was disappointed. I’d enjoyed spending time with him, and the thought of more alone
time with him caused my nerve endings to itch, but I’d firmed up my plans with Steve.
Ewan had
kept
me safe, but Steve—Steve
was
safe.

Ewan kept his eyes on the road, his hands tight around the steering wheel. I racked
my brain, trying to think of something else to say, something to break the stifling
fog permeating the inside of the car, but failed to come up with something that wouldn’t
fall flat or get lost in the mist. He pulled up in front of my house, and I turned
to him.

“Thanks for the company,” I said—how lame. “I had . . . this was nice.” More tired.

He faced me, his eyes blank. “Have a
nice
date.” He said the words as if he had nasty bits in his teeth. The ones you get sometimes
when eating. The ones that make you lose your appetite.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I said, stepping out of the car, my shoulders tight.
I chanced another look at him, and he continued to stare, his eyes shuttered. Then
the SUV sped away.

My boots clumped up the stairs leading to my room. Steve would be here in about thirty
minutes. My cell rang—Kara.

“Hey, how was the ride back with Ewan?”

“Terrible. Look, I can’t talk too much. Steve is picking me up to have dinner.” I
paused. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood anymore.”

“Feeling a little guilty?” Was she psychic?

“Ewan asked me out to dinner on the drive back. I wasn’t expecting that at all.”

“What did you tell him?” Her voice was quiet.

“That dinner sounded nice, but I had other plans.”

“Ouch. Did you tell him you liked his personality?”

“I know, right?”

“Was he upset?”

“I kind of think so.” Have a
nice
date . . . “Yes.”

“Look, just go out and have a good time. It’s Friday night, for crissake.”

“I suppose. It’ll be . . . nice.”

Kara laughed as we said good-bye. She had a point, though. I really didn’t feel like
moping around the house. As I applied more lipstick, the doorbell rang. I smiled at
the mirror for a few minutes until I’d erased the lines creased over my brow.

“Have a good time and don’t think about Ewan,” I ordered my reflection.

* * * *

I woke the next morning to an empty bed. The banging of cupboards in the kitchen revealed
Steve’s whereabouts. I’d followed Kara’s advice and tried to enjoy my date, but my
thoughts had strayed to Ewan during the pauses between conversation and the moments
spent staring into my wine glass.

We’d eaten at one of our favorite sushi bars then walked along the Embarcadero, the
smell of fish and salt strong in the air. Our casual kisses along the wharf led us
back to my place.

A few days ago, a decent night with Steve would have left me invigorated and content.
Now I felt confused and surprisingly unsatisfied. I’d always enjoyed our dates, the
comfort they offered, the validation of the choices I’d made. Cora hadn’t cared for
him much. She’d never voiced disapproval, but I saw her pinched lips every time I
came home the next morning.

I threw on some jeans and my favorite ninja kitty shirt and made my way down the stairs.
My cell rang, and the display flashed Ewan. I stopped in the hall, uncomfortable with
the idea of talking to Ewan in front of Steve—which annoyed me.

“Hey,” I said, answering.

“Wanted to see if you needed anything special for tonight.” His tone was matter-of-fact,
almost bored.

“I think I’ve covered everything on my raise-a-revenant to do list.” I kept my voice
light, but the awkwardness and tension from last night hung over the phone waves.

“So when do you plan on coming?” His tone stayed the same—flat.

“How about eight?”

In almost perfect or imperfect synchronicity, Steve’s voice chimed in from the kitchen.
“Hey, Ruby, what tea do you want?”

You didn’t need to be a demon to hear that over the cell. Shit. Shit! And shit some
more. Why did I care if Ewan heard Steve? It’s not like I have any obligation toward
the man—no, the
demon
. The guilt still sliced through my gut. Plus it’s already late in the morning, right?
I glanced at the clock, the hand just past the nine. Oh, screw this. I wasn’t going
to let Ewan March make me feel guilty for living my life.

“Um, how about the Morning Thunder,” I answered, loud enough for Steve to hear . .
. and Ewan of course.

“So, anyway, will eight work?” I said into the cell.

Ewan didn’t answer right away. His pause stretched into an unnatural quiet, made especially
uneasy in a house that always creaked and sighed. I couldn’t even hear Steve in the
kitchen.

He finally broke the silence. “See you at eight.”

“Okay,” I said, forcing a smidgen of enthusiasm into my voice, before ending the call.

I stared at the screen a few minutes until Steve found me in the hallway and held
out my tea. “Something wrong?” he asked.

I placed my cell on the console table, took the mug, and whiffed the pungent steam
wafting from the black tea mixed with mate. “Some family stuff I have to deal with
today.”

His morning-after-sex relaxed expression sprinted off his face. “One of these days
I’m going to find out what you keep hidden behind those wistful eyes.”

No. You won’t, and we will never progress beyond this surface sex and easy conversation,
and I will continue to wipe those contented expressions off your face.

I forced a smile. “The mystery of my wistful eyes is far more exciting than the reality.
Trust me.”

We made vague plans to see a movie at an undefined later date, and he kissed me good-bye.
I planted my butt on a barstool in the kitchen and placed Adam’s diagram on the island
next to an interesting picture I found in one of Cora’s books.

The picture depicted a necromancer dressed in flowing robes, hands outstretched over
a grave. Various, geometric diagrams adorned his hands, neck, and face. I didn’t need
to run out and buy a Gandalf outfit at the local costume shop, but maybe I could take
some cues from the diagrams. I wish I’d sorted more through Cora’s scattered mind
and picked out information on necromancers. How long have we existed?

I flipped through the book, looking for specifics on how to structure my ritual. Every
necro performed a ritual to raise a revenant, often drawing upon the work and knowledge
of others, but ultimately the ritual was unique to the necro, a work of art. Some
were better at it than others. I was shooting for survival.

Chapter Nine

“Ms. Montagne, so very nice to see you again,” the demon butler said, giving me the
same pained smile, as if he were chewing on gravel.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

He stopped and turned to face me, his big white eyeball straining against the socket.
He returned to face front and resumed his unsteady shuffle. “You can call me Gus.”

Gus? How anticlimactic. I was used to more dramatic demon names. “Are you a demon?”

He harrumphed. “I suppose I am, if that’s what you choose to call it.” He led me up
the stairs, in the opposite direction of the study, and stopped in front of an open
door. “You will find Jax and Master Ewan inside.”

Before entering the room, I watched Gus retreat, wondering what his response to my
question about him being a demon had meant. Was he something else? With the way the
demons guarded their backgrounds, I’d probably never find out.

I stepped into a very modern room, unlike the rest of the house, blending functional
desks and Aeron chairs and oversized leather couches meant for movie watching. An
eighty-inch screen covered one wall, wires extending from its back, connecting it
to various computers and other devices.

Ewan leaned back in a chair while Jax typed away on a laptop resting on his thighs,
his feet thrown on top of a desk. Ewan cocked his head at me when I entered, then
turned back to write something down on one of the many scraps of paper scattered on
the desk.

Jax waved me over. “Check out this video.”

I felt Ewan’s eyes follow me as I leaned over Jax to watch an idiotic YouTube video.
I chuckled despite myself, then heard my cell phone. I pulled it out of my purse and
saw the text from Steve saying he’d like to come by and pick up the jacket he’d left
at my house. Bad timing. I jumped at a loud snap and turned to see a broken pencil
lying between Ewan’s fingers. He was staring at my hand still gripping the cell phone.

Jax’s head moved back and forth between us, his mouth twitching.

“I’d like to see the room set aside for the ritual,” I said to no one in particular.

I needed time to meditate, focus. I’d spent the past day trying to remember how it
felt to conjure my power, but all that came to mind were sensations. The type of sensations
the mind imprints at burning a finger on a hot stove or riding a roller-coaster with
loop de loops. I had the same nervous excitement now, sitting in the coaster waiting
for the ride to launch.

Jax glanced up from the computer at the same moment that Ewan stood. “Come on,” Ewan
said as he strode to the door, his back to me.

He led me to a back porch that spanned the entire rear of the house. It was screened
and surrounded on the outside by nine foot oleander bushes, dotted with white and
dark pink flowers, dark green leaves scraping the metal roof of the porch. The leaves
poked through the screen, little lances waiting patiently to prick the wandering hand.
When I was twelve, my mom had chased me around a park right into an oleander bush.
I’d scratched myself for days and cursed my mom for weeks.

Ewan waved me over to an empty expanse of the porch circled with candles of various
shapes and colors, casting an ominous glow that barely chased off the shadows skulking
around the room. I walked over, steering clear of the screen.

“Will this do?” he asked.

I nodded. “Where’s Adam’s body?”

“In the basement. Do you want it brought up now?”

Achieve inner calm while peeking at the dead body, worried it’ll pop up and jump
on me? Not likely. “No.”

“All right then, I’ll leave you alone.” He didn’t move. The lines around his mouth
softened. “I want to apologize for last night. I wasn’t acting very gentlemanly.”

“Gentlemanly?” I smiled. The tension eased from my shoulders. “I’d never use gentleman
in the same breath as demon.”

“Now I’m offended.” The crinkle of his eyes told me the opposite. “We demons are quite
chivalrous.”

“Chivalrous? I suppose you have a white horse hidden away somewhere?”

He’d somehow moved closer during our exchange and grazed my cheek with his finger.
“White horse,” he whispered close to my ear, “boring.”

He lowered his lips to mine but stopped short of touching them, tracing my back with
his hand, gliding it up my neck to wrap his fingers in my hair. Our bodies were close
but not touching; only our breaths met in a hot exchange. He gazed at my lips before
possessing them with his own.

I swayed and caught his shoulders to steady myself. I moaned at the electric shock
searing a path from my lips to my core. Feeling, tasting him was better than I had
ever allowed myself to imagine.

Ewan consumed me.

I wasn’t ready to be consumed.

I broke the kiss. Lust blurred my vision, but I still caught the frustration that
flashed across his face. I ran my hand down the length of his arm, feeling the muscles
clench.

He inhaled deeply and raked his hand through his hair. “Good luck with the raising.
You’ll do fine,” he said softly, then pivoted to walk out of the porch. I began to
wonder if it wasn’t safer to deal with angry, annoyed Ewan instead of teasing, seductive
Ewan, who made my legs wobble.

I needed meditation more than ever. I squatted on the floor and spent a good twenty
minutes trying to clear the kiss from my mind. The moment I’d achieved a modicum of
Zen, footsteps sounded on the porch. I opened my eyes slowly. Kara crouched next to
me and quirked an eyebrow. “You ready?”

I nodded and tried once more to clear my mind of Ewan’s touch.

“Let’s get this started,” I said. “Help me draw Adam’s diagram.” I thrust my palm
out and handed her a Sharpie.

“On your hand?”

“Yep. The same palm I’m going to cut and bleed to feed the ritual.”

Kara scrunched her nose.

“Oh, don’t act all grossed out. You witches use weird stuff sometimes,” I said.

“I’ve never used blood.” She slathered on the holier-than-thou tone, then flipped
with, “Well, human blood anyway.” She grabbed my palm and began to trace the diagram.
“Does the ritual demand blood?”

“No, any item like hair can connect the necro to the corpse, but blood creates the
strongest bond.”

She held my palm out in front of me. “There.”

“That’s pretty good, thanks.”

“You still want me here while you perform the raise?”

“Yes,” I said. “Just in case something goes haywire.”

“How will I know if something goes haywire?”

I tore my eyes from the diagram. “The usual suspects I guess—sparks, screaming, general
writhing in pain.” I made light of the situation, but I was scared. What if I totally
screwed up?

We both turned at the sound of Ewan and Malthus entering the porch.

“Good evening, ladies,” Malthus said. Ewan regarded my inked up palm but didn’t comment.

“Have you completed your preparations?” Malthus asked.

“Yes. I’m ready for . . . ah—” I was about to say body, but that seemed so vulgar.
I was about to bring a man back to life. “Please bring Adam,” I said.

Ewan sat in the chair next to Kara and texted. I did one of those double head swings
when Gus entered the porch minutes later carrying Adam wrapped in a sheet. He slogged
along in his usual manner, but didn’t appear bothered by the weight of the body. He
placed it on the floor in front of me without so much as a peek at me. A lock of sun-bleached
blond hair fell out from behind the sheet, and my mind flashed to when I discovered
Adam’s body lying in the bushes.

I clenched my hand to ward off the shakes, glad I was still squatting.

Ewan stood and turned to Kara. “Call us if you need us.” He gave me an unreadable
stare.

Malthus patted his hand over his demon heart and gave me a short nod. He and Ewan
left the room while Kara settled down in a chair on the far corner of the porch.

I inhaled, closed my eyes, and searched through the murk in my mind for the door I’d
closed long ago. Not seeing it, I panicked.

I fingered my silver necklace, inhaled again, letting the deep breath clear the invading
circus from my head. I pressed my hands on my stomach—in, out. Finally, a door appeared
in my mind. Shadows formed into a recognizable staircase and wood floor—the downstairs
hallway in my house. I concentrated on the door to the guest bathroom and wrapped
my hand around the doorknob.

The bottom of my bare foot felt warm, sticky. I lifted it, and red drops rolled off
my toes onto the floor. Blood seeped from under the door and surrounded me in a slick
pool. My limbs sagged, swollen from the hot terror that beat down on me.

I unstuck my shaking hand from the doorknob, turned, and raced down the dark hallway
of my mind toward the front door, my feet slapping wet against the wood floor, the
slap, slap echoing out to the street.

I barely realized I’d exited the demon lair in reality, my mind consumed by a red-tinged
blaze. I’d left everyone staring after me with a chaotic mix of confusion and concern
marring their faces, and I wondered if I’d be able to face them again.