by Lisa Daniels
Ominous was an understatement, in Ellie’s opinion. But at least she had someone trustworthy at her side. She smiled at Mason, though her bodyguard looked taut and grim. When they left the room after she’d passed the news, Mason placed one hand on her shoulder to still her walking.
“You need to be careful, Ellie. I’ll protect you from everything I can, but whatever Zaimov’s planning… it might be too much for either of us. You understand?”
“Crystal clear,” Ellie said, grabbing Mason by the hand, just for a moment. “But don’t expect me to stand aside like a statue if trouble comes to visit town. I have an ability. I’ll use every last sliver of it if I have to.”
Although Mason nodded, he looked miserable as he did it. His hand tightened around hers. “Don’t do anything stupid, Ellie. Don’t… go rushing to the front when there’s a swarm of undead or something and hope to hold it off by a whim alone. I’ll be obliged to drag you out of there kicking and screaming.”
He could, unfortunately. A dragon could just hoist their charge into the air, no questions asked. Ellie didn’t really have a great chance of escaping him. After all, she’d fled to another state, and he’d still found her anyway.
There was no way he could’ve done that, unless… unless he had access to her private messages. The thought infuriated and embarrassed her at the same time. It would be like Regal to make sure no aspect of Ellie’s life was untouched. Except, well, clearly she’d had enough privacy to plan her escape and enact it. She let go of Mason’s hand, blushing further, turning her face away from him to avoid being spotted turning scarlet. Had she really been holding Mason’s hand like that? How mortifying. Friends held hands, of course, but she didn’t feel like a friend in that moment, gripping him that way. She almost felt—but no, she couldn’t think that. She shouldn’t even dare to go there.
“I have to do something,” she said, staring at the end of the corridor, intending to go left and outside while there was still daylight.
“Why not consider going to university, like Talia? You seemed interested in what she was doing. I bet you could make a great archaeologist. Your talents would be much appreciated, and in a legal light. It’s a good future for you.”
It did sound temping, to be honest. Ellie liked the idea of being able to continue her education after so long out of it. It would be nice to have people in her age group again. It would be fantastic, even. She knew she wouldn’t have that much time with Talia—after all, her friend would end university in two years. Yes, she did see that as an appealing career path. One that she wouldn’t be ashamed of in later years, one that sent her across the world.
But she’d never forgive herself if she had the ability to help, and just stood aside as things burned. Not that things were going to burn, of course. Though she felt distinctively uncomfortable with the reappearance of her mother.
“Sometimes, Mason, I wish life was simple, you know? That we didn’t have to worry about all the crap that happens with the Other Side, or feel bad for the kind of magic we have, or have crazies who abuse the magic and do bad things with it.”
“I wish the same.” They stopped to stare at each other, though there was a smile upon his face. Ellie had just about recovered from her former embarrassment, before he said, “I wish I could fly away to some deserted island and just live out the rest of my life there. I wish I could whisk my family away to it. I wish I could whisk you.”
“Me, huh?” Ellie battled against a fresh wave of heat in her cheeks.
“You, of course.” Mason’s green eyes were so soft. She didn’t think eyes could look that soft, like they were knowing and caring all at once. “We’ve been a part of each other’s lives long enough. You can come join the family.”
Family… Ellie’s heart froze up. “I don’t want to be in your family,” she said, much harsher than she intended, and Mason’s eyes went dark, as if a steel wall had slammed down upon the softness.
“I see.” His voice was noticeably cool. “I only meant that you would always have a place here if you wanted.”
“I’m okay where I am,” Ellie said, digging her grave deeper, but unable to rid herself of the sudden panic wracking her insides. “I don’t need a place. I can make it without having to fall back on anything.”
“You can, of course.” Mason stopped talking, and there was an awkward silence between them for the rest of the afternoon. Ellie screamed inwardly to herself that she was stupid, that she put her foot in her mouth, somehow, but she couldn’t shake away that memory of panic when Mason had so casually mentioned that she had a place in his family.
Those words were painful. They hit her like little needle blows right in her soul, and she didn’t know why. Someone like her was perfectly capable of surviving by herself. She didn’t need family.
She didn’t deserve a family like that.
Chapter Eight – Mason
There was something hollow in Mason’s heart. Something that widened with Ellie’s response to something that had been meant. He’d been reminded, brutally, that they were just client and bodyguard. Master and servant. That whatever friendship that might have developed between them over the years had only been within the service of his job—they would never have met otherwise.
He consoled himself with that, even as those branching blossoms of his heart shriveled up and curled into their rightful places.
He kept an eye on her when she went to the precinct, when they gave her specialized training that even her previous background as a deadring fighter couldn’t cover. She didn’t know, for example, the binding to stop a spirit from being taken by another necromancer, when it was supposed to be under her control. She didn’t understand how to interrogate a spirit so that it offered up information without resisting her and draining magic. Mason didn’t know about these things, either, not being a necromancer himself. All he knew were the restrictions of his culture, and the work of a bodyguard, his only true job. What did someone like Mason know of other people, of affection and love, of what made them tick and what beat at the heart of everyone who mattered?
Nothing, it seemed. Mason watched as Ellie tentatively began filling in an application to try and get into Talia’s university. He watched as she socialized with Talia, and Talia herself attempted to give Ellie more of a life outside the mansion. Twice he didn’t follow at all, though it went against the grain for him, though he knew that she needed more independence, without him hovering like a mother dragon over her clutch of eggs. He needed to let her risk some danger in areas where she could have fun, as long as he stuck to the main detail. After all, people didn’t necessarily identify her as a necromancer upon the street. She didn’t have any special markings that denoted her magic, and she didn’t wear any unusual uniform that showcased her as someone dark and ominous and most likely to mutter curses at skulls. For all intents and purposes, she was normal.
A normal person, raised up in an abnormal environment.
A person that he was forbidden to get any closer to, because she had made her intentions perfectly clear. He always knew there would be no crossing that professional line, but a part of him had sometimes wondered if there might be more going on between them. If Ellie looked at Mason and just couldn’t imagine a future without him.
Waking up one morning, in his comfy bed and ornate surroundings, he washed and dressed himself, and checked on Ellie, though she was already gone, joining Talia for an admissions interview at the university. He usually got up much earlier, but he’d been feeling exhausted and unmotivated for the past two weeks since Ellie submitted her application. Since she’d so forcibly rejected even his simple, friendly overture that she’d be welcome in his family.
He still meant it, but he knew that she’d never see herself as part of a family. Especially one related to her bodyguard. He still kept in regular contact with his family, but with the slipping depression sidling up inside him, he’d started reaching out to other people, too, in an effort to forge new friendships. Right now, he was d
ue for a morning drink with Janos, Talia’s own protector, who was also doing the risky thing of letting his charge wander off without him breathing down her neck.
“I can’t help but think that something awful’s going to happen, though,” Janos informed Mason. Janos was tall, confident, and Mason sensed the alpha werewolf within him, almost biting to be let out of his skin. They had a different kind of energy to dragon shifters.
“Because of what happened when you first took the job?”
“Of course. There was an attack at that very university. There was an assassination attempt on Rosen and Rickard. There’s been a few others on Rickard, but he’s more… resilient with that spirit inside him now. Walking down the streets can be risky at times. Talia is recognized, because she’s a councilman’s daughter. You don’t hide from that.”
“I can think of worse jobs,” Mason said with a shrug. “Necromancers can protect themselves well...”
“True. But nothing can protect you against getting caught with your pants down.” Both guards walked down the street towards a small café, and Mason grabbed a newspaper from a stand when headlines screamed out at him: Death in the North!
He paid, and Janos leaned over, curious about the heading as well, and the eye-catching picture of a city that looked suspiciously like Stoneshire, with cars crashed and smoke billowing out of a few buildings. It resembled what Mason had seen of the revenant attack some months back that had plagued the city. Was this another one?
Both men made it to the café, ordered something simple, and got to work reading the paper.
The death toll is yet to be estimated, the paper said, but reports are coming in that it may climb up to thousands. Stonegarden, a town only five miles out of Stoneshire, has been hit by a mass assault. Thousands of bodies within the cemeteries have risen out of their graves. The army has been deployed to tackle this force, but so far, they have been unsuccessful. Neighboring towns are being evacuated, and blockades are being set up. Reporters upon the scene say that this is a necromancer at work, or perhaps an army of necromancers. The public are denouncing them and calling for all necromancers to be rounded up, and several experts are supposedly to be consulted to figure out how to handle the problem.
The Daily Supernatural tells you, the reader, to be vigilant, watch the news, and be prepared to move. Your safety may not be guaranteed. Follow our live blog for more news at supernaturaldailyevents.com.
Mason thought this might be widely exaggerated, but one skim upon online media sites soon spoke of something opposite. People were posting pictures, spreading the story everywhere, and there were images of glowing bodies walking the streets, including one that sent a cold dose of fear into Mason’s skin: a spirit glowing red, black… and gold. A few people in the cafeteria were discussing the news with wide eyes and indignant voices, and Janos and Mason sat glumly, absorbing it, not wanting to believe it.
“What do you think this means?” Mason said, when Janos finally remembered that he had a drink. He was barely able to sip at it, though, too distracted by the chaos he had seen.
“I’m thinking it means we shouldn’t be sitting here while the people we’re supposed to protect are elsewhere,” said Janos. He was contacting Talia through his phone now, not wanting to leave anything to chance. Mason held off contacting Ellie, knowing the two women were together, and still feeling the slightest bit hurt by her reaction, even though it was irrational and he should have really shaken it off by now.
“This can’t be any worse than what we’ve been reading about in East Asia,” Mason said. “Wasn’t there something about a war between two types of supernaturals? Thousands of casualties?”
“Eh, who cares what happens there? This is our focus at the moment. Whether or not this is going to send current necromancer hate through the roof or not.”
“It just seems,” Mason rumbled, and he could almost imagine Ellie nodding along with this, listening to his every word, “that no matter how much good people try to do, there’s still enough assholes in their ranks to ruin all their efforts.”
“It’s the way of things. For every hundred good humans, there’s one bad one, and that one bad one’s such an awful example that it’s easy to start thinking all the rest are the same. Especially if all the news wants to do is hunt down exclusive stories of the bad ones and portray them.” Janos texted something to Talia, nonchalant in his manner, even as he proclaimed something so bold. “I mean, if you only read stories about supernaturals hurting humans, you’d start believing that all supernaturals would hurt them in the end.”
“True, but all the same, people should know better. It’s obvious what advances we’ve been able to make in solving crimes and finding out about the ancient world through necromancers.”
“That doesn’t stop a scared person shooting at you. They’re not going to stand there and listen while you try to explain to them why necromancers are good while one of their corpses is chewing a relative’s brain.” Janos let out a scoff. “Talia says she’s been hearing the news. Ellie’s not aware yet, she’s still in her interview.”
Mason felt compelled to stick up for Ellie, somehow. Try and reason that necromancers got a really bad rap and that it was exhausting, just exhausting for people like Ellie to constantly prove they were good people. But he also knew that Janos shared some overlap with him, and obviously didn’t want people attacking his client either.
“I used to hate necromancers for a good long while. Less nowadays, but they’re a liability to protect,” Janos said, now finishing off his drink. His yellow eyes were steady on Mason, and Mason stared just as evenly back. “You can’t expect people to change just with words. Something needs to happen to them. Right now, we’re looking at what sounds like an awful lot of deaths piling up. Possibly something to do with Zaimov, as that name keeps cropping up everywhere… but the only thing that matters right now is that we do our jobs.”
“Right.” Mason had to agree with that. He sighed, deflating. He shouldn’t feel that compulsive need to stick up for necromancers. He didn’t know enough about them, or even care about them, really. Well, any of them apart from Ellie…
But how could he not?
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Slowly, he tugged it out, expecting something from his sister, or maybe even his mother.
You can’t hide, said the message from Regal. He is coming for you, and Ellie. He knows you two are together and are talking to the police.
Mason gasped.
“What’s up?” asked Janos. Mason showed him the message, and the werewolf’s face became grimmer.
Can we talk? Mason sent back, his heart hammering faster, an uneasy sweat beginning to bead over his forehead.
Not safe, came the reply. Protect her.
Mason hesitated, then sent: Can we protect you? Can we get you out?
A few minutes passed before he got a response, and he kept checking his phone actively.
It’s too late for me.
Oh… Ellie wouldn’t like to hear that. Mason sighed. He’d have to tell her about her father. No choice.
The two bodyguards were rather grim, finding it difficult to keep up conversation when they were both worrying about their charges. That was their job, after all. To worry. To spot flaws and security risks and potential issues that might impact their immediate futures, from as small as wearing a seatbelt in a car to deciding whether or not they should attempt to bail out Ellie’s father or leave him stuck in enemy territory. If Ellie’s father was the enemy, too, then that made things every bit worse. It could be a grand trap. It could be he needed help.
Damn it, Mason thought, angry at the mess. He and Janos switched to lighter talk, just to try and take their minds off the worst of their problems. But they were always there, burrowing in the back of their brains.
* * *
Ellie’s blue eyes were shining. “We have to save him,” she said, gripping hard onto Mason’s arm. “We can’t leave him there if he’s really in trouble. And with all this!
With whatever the heckity-heck Zaimov’s doing now. I know I complain a lot but he’s my father, Mason. He’s all I have.”
You have me, too, Mason thought, but didn’t voice it out loud. That little jealous whisper had no place in this moment. “We have to consider that it might be a trap for you. We might even have to consider that your father is lost.”
Her hands balled up, and the whites of her knuckles showed. There was so much tension in her body. She was so stiff that she seemed brittle. Heat flushed her cheeks—the kind of heat associated with anger and frustration. “I don’t care. If there’s even the slightest chance that my father’s changed his mind—he wants me to be free, he’s in trouble—we have to help him.”
“We will look into it,” Rosen Grieves said curtly, stepping up behind them in the precinct. Rosen had a no-nonsense, determined set to her features, to her posture. “We need to consider all possibilities, including the fact that your father may be in a hostage situation. With the way things are progressing right now, and the way the media is scurrying over the whole incident like an infestation of rats—no stone must be left unturned.”
Lest the wrath of the media fall upon your services. Mason smiled grimly.
“It’s possible we’ll need help. We’re contacting all the friendly necromancers we know in America and across the globe,” Rosen continued, staring at Ellie. “I wonder if there are any former contacts within the deadrings that you went to that might help or not.”
Ellie let out a small, derisive laugh. “Wait. You want me to try and talk with some of the fighters?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“They don’t care, Grieves. All they want is a quick and dirty buck. Pulling them out into the spotlight will make them hide back like insects afraid of the sun.”
