“He’s dead,” he said, shaking his head, distaste seeping through his features.
“I know. So is my grandmother and now Brandon.” The hysteria rose in my voice. “I don’t see you as my bodyguard, but I’m trying to hang on to pieces of myself here, because everything else is insane.”
“I guess I’m part of the insanity?” The question hung heavy in the air between us. He stared at me a moment longer, then stood.
I searched for a response, but the right words failed to cut through my foggy mind, or maybe I was afraid of my answer. He stopped at the door and without turning said, “I would have enjoyed riding the Ferris wheel with you.” He closed the door softly on his way out.
His words hit me hard, with the force of a good sucker punch to my gut. I twisted and collapsed on top of the bed, face down. Tonight had been the most fucked up of nights. I lifted my upper body, the movement causing my necklace to sway in front of me. I’d created another supernatural revenant, this time with no preparation and practically no ritual. I wrapped myself in a warm cocoon of silk sheets. The necromancer was growing within me, and she didn’t feel strange. I should have felt more afraid, but I welcomed the power and let it comfort me.
Chapter Seventeen
I woke from a dream in which Cora had reanimated me. I remembered looking for a scarf to cover the bone peeking out of the decomposed flesh on my neck. I asked her why she raised me. Was she in trouble? She crinkled her eyes. “No silly. I need your help to bake cookies.”
That was disturbing. Cora had never asked me to help her bake anything. I’m the worst baker ever. Still in bed, I shook off the last threads of the dream. The clock read too early, way before Kara woke up. I left her a quick note so she wouldn’t think I’d skipped bail, then slipped into my clothes and left the coven’s house.
The overwhelming sweetness of the oleander blooms assaulted my nostrils when I entered the porch where I’d raised Adam. Malthus lounged in one of the large wrought iron chairs, arms spread on the rests along his sides, an emperor on his demon throne. I’d decided on the way here to give him the benefit of the doubt, figuring the word of a rational demon was more viable than that of a sociopathic necromancer.
“I’m glad to see you well. Ewan filled me in on the details of your ordeal last night,” he said.
I wandered to the spot where I’d kneeled next to Adam’s corpse before bringing him back from the dead. The tiles shined from a recent wash. I straightened my shoulders and faced Malthus. “Did Ewan tell you what Cael said? That you knew he was behind the murders, including my grandmother’s.”
Malthus didn’t blink. The only sound in the room came from the click of the ceiling fan. He formed a steeple with his fingers, elbows braced on the chair rests. “Yes, I knew Cael’s identity.”
I quelled the spasm of rage that swelled in my throat. I refused to sound like a hysterical ninny in front of Malthus. I wanted to be calm and collected in my damnation of him. “If you had told us about Cael from the beginning, we could have prevented Brandon’s death,” I said, proud of my even tone.
“Nothing could have saved Brandon’s life, and don’t worry about the wolves. I’ll talk to Mark.”
I fisted my hands. Calm and collected was not going to be easy. “What about Adam? I didn’t have to raise him to find out about Cael. Why?”
I’d spent half of last night ruminating over the implications of Malthus’s deception. The one that pounded my head the most was Adam’s totally unnecessary reanimation. Demons did everything for a reason. No matter how hard I tried, I didn’t understand it.
“Bringing Adam back was important for many reasons. He may still reveal important information about the murders. Cael is not sophisticated enough to orchestrate all the killing.” He regarded me carefully. “We thought once you used your power to raise Adam, the person behind Cael would reveal himself to you.”
“You were using me as bait?”
“You were never in danger. Ewan was to see to that.”
A slice of pain cut through my chest. “Ewan knew about your plan?”
He tapped his fingers on the armrest and didn’t answer right away. “Ewan does what I ask. He doesn’t ask questions.”
I sat on one of the chairs across from Malthus, my legs unable to support me any longer, as he continued with, “Cael is one part of a larger problem. The sooner we find out exactly what we are dealing with, the more deaths we will avoid.”
“You’re not going to explain the larger problem, are you?”
“I would if I knew.”
“Bullshit.”
“You have cause not to believe me, but it’s true. I’m trying desperately to find out what’s going on.”
Malthus desperate?
He stood and regarded the faded porch screens. “You think I don’t want to find out who is responsible for your grandmother’s death?” His voice was quiet, and I felt my anger lessen a notch. I caught a glimmer of something—something more than the domineering demon, something more than the fast-talking attorney. But it was gone, slipping from my mind as quickly as a forgotten thought. He turned back to me, his expression blank, voice back to its normal unaffected timbre.
“You’re right, Adam was not essential to locate Cael.” He paused. The ceiling fan clicked louder in the silence, clicked against my eardrums in a jarring metronome. “You see, if I had told you about Cael, you wouldn’t have raised Adam.”
I pursed my lips, trying to keep from screaming at his nonchalant expression. I bit hard on the inside of my mouth.
When I didn’t respond, he said, “You would have left our meeting that day and returned to your university nest, a shadow of the person you were meant to be.”
My body swayed slightly in the chair while my mind worked in a furious burst to process his words.
“You are a necromancer. It’s time for you to embrace your power and use it to aid us.”
I needed a chalkboard to scratch out the scream wedged in my throat. “That’s my decision to make, not yours to manipulate from me.” My throat hurt. “This whole thing was about me using my power?”
“No, but you are probably one of the most powerful necromancers to emerge in the modern age. It’s important for us to understand the full extent of your capabilities.”
My head snapped up. “The full extent of my capabilities? What do you mean?” He didn’t answer, and my rage bristled and clawed at the inside of my head, threatening to spew at him with acrimonious venom. All of a sudden I felt like a rat in a cage, forced to run an endless maze. Cael’s words rang in my head. We’re pawns. What did the demons want from me?
I wasn’t going to stick around to find out. “I’m done. I did what you asked. I raised Adam. I want nothing more to do with you, any of it.”
“Do you believe you can go back to being an academic, knowing full well the extent of your power, having tasted just a fraction of it?”
“The full extent of my power?” My laughter was shrill. “I think I’ve been lucky up to this point.”
“Very well, go back to your cocoon, forget . . .”
“Forget?” My voice spurned his heresy. “You think I’ll forget about what happens when I or people in my family use our power?”
The fan click-clicked above us.
The image of Adam’s hand flashed before me, reaching, grabbing for me after I forced his corpse to wake, and I said, “You’re so horribly mistaken. I’m reminded about necromancer power every time Adam’s bond crushes me with despair. I’m reminded when I think of my grandmother. I’m reminded when I see my mother’s lifeless eyes.”
“What about your grandmother? Don’t you want to bring the individual responsible for her death to justice?”
“How do I know you’re not lying about that too?” I let the bitter words thicken the air around us before turning and leaving the porch. When I entered the foyer, I stopped upon seeing a figure next to the door. His power swirled around me, reached into me, willing me to look at him and see
him, but all I could see was red.
I opened the door and left Ewan standing against the wall.
I called Adam and left a message asking him to meet me later at the park. Then I sought the beach, as I always did when I needed to heal my soul. The small beach at the Presidio certainly wouldn’t rival the Caribbean, but the Golden Gate Bridge in the background provided a majestic frame for the shoreline. I pulled at my thin sweater, trying to protect myself from the sharp gusts of the curiously cold wind whipping around me. Even in this weather, morning runners, nannies pushing their charges in strollers, and dog walkers filled the walkway and the shoreline.
I kicked off my shoes and shuffled my feet in the cold, wet sand. The feel of it oozing through my toes and the gentle lapping of waves grounded me and helped diffuse my anger and confusion. Malthus had lied to me, to all of us. Worse, though, was my fear that Ewan had played a part in Malthus’s schemes.
I felt a familiar tug and scanned the beach. I saw Adam sitting on the short wall that separated the beach from the sidewalk. I wasn’t sure if he’d show and found myself relieved to see him. I shuffled my feet in the sand until I reached him and pulled myself up on the wall next to him. I tossed the sand with my toes.
“So, is it true? Malthus knew about Cael this whole time?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He stared at me, blinked a few times, opened his mouth, then clamped it shut and turned to face the ocean.
“If you say I told you so, I think I will kill you,” I said.
“I’m already dead.”
“Humor me,” I said, my voice cutting through lemons.
“Ruby, please, please don’t kill me. I have so much more to give, life to live.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
I glanced at him sideways. “I hate you.”
“Look,” he said, his voice turning solemn. “I know I can be a judgmental ass sometimes, but I’d never say I told you so, especially not in this situation. Malthus duped us both.”
In that moment, I realized how much I had grown to value Adam’s companionship. Most of the time he exasperated me, not to mention the fact that he could kill me, but he was more real than a lot of humans I knew. I drew lines in the sand with my heel and noticed his wood surfboard charm sticking out of the sand. “Does your surfboard magically expand life-size so you can take it surfing?”
He huffed a laugh. “No. I’m charging it with sand and sun.”
Our encounter with Sybil played in my head, him using the charm to repel her, his helpless rage at her taunts about Jenna.
“I’m sorry about all this, about raising you.” I couldn’t stop the regret from seeping into the bond. “I can send you back.”
He put a finger to my lips, silencing me. “Just don’t say anything.”
I nodded. I gently probed the bond, finding it quiet, matching our mood, so I laid my head on his shoulder and stared at the ocean. I could never let my guard down around Adam, but I could enjoy this moment. The wind twirled his blond locks around, occasionally sending them across my face.
“What did Kara tell you about Jenna?” he asked.
“Not much.”
“We were trying out a mind control spell, and Jenna volunteered to be the test subject. I told her it wasn’t a good idea, but she insisted. I should have argued more, but deep down, I wanted to try the spell.”
I lifted my head to face him.
“Jenna was . . . she had a way with words.” A wistful look crossed his face. “We liked to test out spells on each other.”
“Isn’t that a little dangerous?”
Adam’s laugh was bitter. “The spell put Jenna in a weird autistic-like state. She could only move and act at my command.” He looked past me. “I could tell stuff was going on behind her eyes, but she couldn’t do anything.”
“How did the coven react?”
“They expelled me. They didn’t let me see her.” He pressed his hand against the wall. “I tried and tried to figure out a way to reverse the spell. I couldn’t think of anything else. I could barely sleep. Stopped surfing.” He peered at me. “They wouldn’t let me try any spells on her.”
I pictured him, a mad scientist locked away, Frankenstein obsessed with resurrecting his bride.
“Sybil helped Jenna commit suicide, either at her request or against her will,” he said. “I think she messed with Jenna’s head in an attempt to figure out the spell I had cast on her.”
“Shit,” I said, my mouth hanging open. I could not have come up with a more tragic story.
“One of my friends at the coven told me about her death.”
I wanted to offer some comfort, but couldn’t think of a gesture that wouldn’t fall flat. He was torturing himself, his mind an Iron Maiden of his making. The spikes speared me through the bond, and I winced from his misery.
He turned to me, sorrow etched deep in his eyes. “It’s too easy to lose control, end up doing stupid things with your power, even when we think we’re doing something right.”
He stiffened and said, “It’s your royal demon-ness.”
I turned in the direction of Adam’s glare to watch Ewan approach. My nerves twitched and tangled in the anger and sadness I felt over our situation. I missed our easy conversations and the feel of his body, but after finding out about his complicity with Malthus, I feared we’d never relive moments like those again.
He stopped at my side and looked at Adam, his lips a narrow line. Adam returned the stare, blinked once, then turned back to the ocean.
“Kara told me I might find you here,” he said.
“We should talk,” I told him.
His eyes relaxed, and he nodded.
I swung around on the wall, my body facing Adam. “Thank you,” I said to him, my voice almost a whisper. He didn’t say anything. I stood, my eyes still on him.
He finally pulled his gaze from the ocean and gave me a stare I couldn’t figure out. His expression seemed almost desperate, but I couldn’t feel anything through the bond. I hesitated, but Ewan put his arm around my waist, urging me forward.
“I’ll talk to you later,” I said, noting the hitch in my voice and refusing Ewan’s effort to make me move. Suddenly, my head spun. I braced my hand on the wall, using it to ease my knees to the sidewalk. I grasped my head with my hands.
“What’s wrong?” Ewan asked, crouching next to me.
I couldn’t answer. I used to get panic attacks after my mom died. The sensations seizing me resembled those attacks. Static fizzed in my head. I kept my eyes shut, afraid if I opened them, I’d see only television snow. I filled my lungs in a painful struggle.
“She’s maintaining two revenants at the same time. It’s too much for one necromancer,” Adam said.
Ewan clasped my frigid hands between his warm ones, dampening the buzz. After a few moments, my pulse resumed a normal pace. As Ewan helped me up, a sharp pain shredded my chest. I doubled over. Ewan wrapped his arms around my middle.
“What the hell, Adam.” Ewan’s voice was gruff as he glared at him.
“I didn’t do that.”
“I’m fine.” I coughed and stood. The pain dissipated, leaving my limbs weary. Ewan steadied me with his hand pressed against the small of my back. Adam was right. I was expending too much energy maintaining him and Brandon. Brandon drew on my power less, but Adam—Adam was growing voracious, and soon I wouldn’t be able to stave his hunger with the blood infusions. I shared a look with him, and his expression, more curious than concerned, scared me.
Ewan led me to his car. I glanced back at Adam one last time, but he’d resumed his study of the ocean. I slipped into the SUV and mentally prepared myself for the dreaded conversation to come.
Chapter Eighteen
We entered the front room of my house. Neither of us sat. We just regarded each other, the tension unbearable until I broke the silence. “Did you know about Cael?”
My heart thumped a plea. Please say no.
The answer crossed his face. An answer t
hat crushed my heart as effortlessly as crushing a piece of paper with one hand.
I folded onto the couch. “So Malthus lied, and you went along with it.”
He sagged into the chair across from me. “He didn’t really lie. Demons excel at evading questions, not exactly telling the truth.”
“Don’t justify what he did.” My voice whipped out at him.
“I’m not. I’m trying to explain how Malthus sees things. To him, it’s his way of protecting people.”
“It’s called being an asshole.” My tone increased in pitch and fervor.
“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose,” he responded, raising his voice to match mine.
“I should have known better than to trust a demon.”
Ewan’s irises turned to shards of ice. “Are you referring to Malthus or me?”
I sighed. This conversation had veered off the rails, and I didn’t want to fight him, just to understand. “I have to believe I can trust you. Everything between us depends on it. Why didn’t you tell me about Cael?”
He didn’t answer. He stood and pulled out his car keys. “I need to take you to meet another demon tonight, Xavier.”
I didn’t respond, only stared at my feet, my mind and heart numb.
“Malthus has to spend some time in the demon realm. In his absence, Xavier will serve as your custodian for this situation with the wolves. I explained the circumstances to Xavier, and he agreed.” He paused. “He wants to meet you.”
I shrugged. Ewan emitted a sigh. His entire upper body drooped, more slipped, in such a way as if keeping it straight took more effort than he currently had, and he needed a break, if just for a moment.
I wanted to cry, scream, feel anger, something to fill the void that had sucked out my insides.
“Ruby,” he said, his voice soft.
I looked at his eyes, heavy with regret. “I’m sorry about Cael.”
He meant it. It was one of the purest apologies I’d ever heard, his voice coming from a place deep within him, a place I don’t think even he understood.
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