The Necromancer's Seduction

by Mimi Sebastian

  “My mom became a virtual zombie herself until the day Cora found her here.” My voice broke. “The floor was covered in her blood. I never use this bathroom.”

  My mind travelled back to that night. Cora’s sobs had awakened me and led me here. I watched my grandmother clutch my mother’s head in her lap, caress her hair. Blood pooled on the floor from my mother’s sliced wrists until it seeped into the hem of my nightgown. Poor Cora. She was devastated, but she hid it, chasing her sorrow away by traveling around the world.

  “I resented my mother for trying to raise that serial killer,” I finally said. “It was such a stupid, risky thing to do. Cora knew it too.”

  “Your mom made her choices, just like we all do,” he said. “Choices we live or die by.”

  I stood. “I know. I couldn’t save her. Neither could Cora. She tried to compensate by shielding me from the supe community. Lot of good that did. Left me conflicted as hell. Unprepared for this craziness.”

  “You’re going to search for Cael.”

  How had he guessed? Even after all the time we’d spent in each other’s company, the bond was still jarring, or maybe he simply saw the decision cross my face before I’d even realized it myself. “He’s probably not the one who killed Cora, but I need to stop him and find out who’s behind the madness.” I picked at one of the hand towels. “You need to let me do this.”

  “I’m not going to stop you. I’ll just tag along.”

  I nodded and went upstairs to change into jeans and sneakers. When I lifted my shirt, my silver necklace fell against my chest. I grasped the cold metal and held it for a moment before undoing the clasps that bound it to me. Since Mom’s suicide, Cora had kept me bound together by sheer force of will, keeping us both sane. I touched the now empty spot on my chest. Now it was my turn to stiffen my will, to persevere, to confront Cael, and give him what he wants. What he deserves. And I had a plan. I just wasn’t sure it would work.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “How do you plan to find Cael?” Adam asked as we rode the bus to the Mission. This time of day, the bus was mostly empty, just a handful of riders seated at the front. We settled in back so we could talk about Cael and zombies without anyone calling the police.

  “Brandon. I think I sensed him earlier. The bond between us is weak because of Cael’s interference, but I can tell when he’s close.”

  “Where were you?”

  “A club.” With Lysander. And Ewan. I’d realized later the jittery sensation I’d felt was the bond—with Brandon. “It never occurred to me to try and locate Cael through Brandon, but tonight was the first time I sensed the bond with him.”

  “By club you mean the vampire club.”

  “Yep.” I turned to stare at the buildings zipping by.

  “You don’t think we should ask for help?”

  “No. Malthus will try to manipulate the outcome.”

  “Ewan?” His voice tiptoed around the conversation. I hadn’t spoken of Ewan or talked to him on the phone, and Adam had noticed.

  My vision glazed over, the buildings blurred. “Ewan’s hands are tied when it comes to this situation . . . because of Malthus.”

  Facing Cael with only Adam as backup was going to piss Ewan off even more. Lysander had said to let him cool off, but how do you cool off a raging volcano? After tonight, I didn’t know what slivers of trust would remain between us, but they’d be sharp and difficult to salvage.

  “I’m assuming you have some kind of plan in mind?” Adam said.

  I lay my head on the metal bar of the seat in front of us. “Sort of.”

  “Sort of? That’s comforting.”

  “It’s good you’re coming along. You can keep the zombies distracted.”

  My entire plan depended on creating a power sphere from the arcane energy I could extract from Cael’s revenants. Hopefully, I could extract enough to defeat him. I was counting on old legends that may or may not be true, and on my newfound but untested demon-ness that may or may not be strong enough to harness the arcane power and make the sphere. Sort of a plan.

  “Are we going to kill Cael?”

  “No,” I answered, shutting out the conflicting thoughts that scurried out at the question. “Once I incapacitate him, I’m taking him to the coven.”

  “The coven. Are you nuts?”

  “No.” I jerked my head up. The vehemence in my tone surprised us both.

  He inched his head closer to mine and squinted at me. “Just a figure of speech. With the turmoil at the coven and Sybil, you think delivering Cael to the witches is smart? Not to mention Malthus throwing a demon tantrum. Not that I care.”

  “I’m going to let Kara handle it. Cael will give her the leverage she needs to assume leadership.”

  “Oh. Does she know about this?”

  “Not yet. We’ll find out from Cael who’s working behind the scenes, and I’ll tell Malthus. I think he’ll understand why I turned Cael over to Kara.”

  “Wow, you really are a demon.”

  “Partly.”

  We stayed silent for the next few blocks.

  “When you screwed up with Jenna, how did you think you’d fix things?” I asked just as the bus stopped.

  Adam stood without answering my question. Before stepping into the aisle, he turned to me. “Some things aren’t fixable.”

  That was exactly what I’d feared.

  * * * *

  “Well?” asked Adam. We stood next to the queue of goth wannabes and yuppies outside the vampire club. The Neanderthal vamp guarded the door and monitored the line of partygoers through black sunglasses. He lifted his glasses and peeked at us with his black eyes. Not wanting to give Dominic the wrong idea, I propelled Adam down the street, away from the club.

  “I think you’re making it hard for me to feel Brandon,” I said in answer to his question as I scanned the block filled with restaurants and bars. No obvious place for a psychotic necromancer to hang out. The next block down, an old movie theater was under renovation. I pointed in the direction of the theater. “Let’s go that way.”

  When we reached the theater, we stopped and lifted our heads to admire the art deco marquee. The ticket windows and front entrance were boarded up with large wood beams.

  “I remember reading about the renovation of this theater and how it’s been on hold for about a year now because local groups want the owner to keep it historic, but he wants to modernize it,” Adam said.

  “Oh.” I put my hand to my stomach. “That doesn’t feel like you.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “How do I feel?”

  “Like heartburn.” I hid my grin.

  “Thanks,” he muttered. “So he’s here?”

  “I think so. How do we get in this place?”

  Adam stepped back and peeked down the alley. “Maybe down here.”

  I followed him into the alley, stepping around pieces of glass scattered from broken liquor bottles. In the far corner, a homeless person’s makeshift shelter lay slumped over, filling the narrow space with the smell of wet cardboard. People passed on the sidewalk, and I wasn’t sure the evening shadows were thick enough to hide our break-in attempt. I heard soft whispers and turned to see Adam chanting under his breath before grasping the large plank that blocked the back door into the theater. The wood strained against the nails holding it in place. Finally, the wood cracked, and the nails pinged to the ground.

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  He jiggled the doorknob, and the door opened. “A strength spell, but I have to wait a while before I can use it again, and I’m almost out of juice.” He flashed his wood surfboard before tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans.

  I steeled my nerves and nodded at him.

  His eyes were dark, predatory. A far cry from the laid-back surfer as he asked, “Ready for some action?”

  He pushed the door open, and we entered the theater next to the stage. The place still smelled like buttered popcorn. I lamented the plans to turn this place into a
sterile, modern movie-going experience. Large chandeliers graced the ceiling, their crystals dulled with dust.

  The door clicked shut behind us, shutting out all sound from the outside with an ominous thunk. I wrapped my arms around myself and scanned the balcony. I swore the shadows moved. I inched closer to Adam, whose eyes were intent on the rows of seats.

  “It took you long enough.”

  I jerked against Adam and peered at the dimly lit seating in the back of the theater. Cael leaned back in one of the padded seats. As my eyes adjusted, shapes and shadows in seats or standing along the walls, in the balcony, solidified. I felt a weak tug in my chest and turned to see Brandon emerge from behind the movie screen. The muscles of his face, his lips, his brows seemed contorted with an internal struggle to fight off Cael’s control. My own stomach and chest twisted and roiled with his conflict.

  Cael rose from his seat and walked down the aisle to stand across from us in front of the stage, next to Brandon.

  I squeezed Adam’s hand and spoke to Cael. “You’re right, Cael. Malthus lied to me all along. I want to make a proposition. One that will give us the advantage over demons, vampires, the whole community.”

  Suspicion snaked from his eyes, but I’d come prepared, and said, “One of the things Malthus and my grandmother lied about is my parentage.” I paused, watching his eyes light with interest. “Malthus is my grandfather.”

  He sucked in a breath, and the shock of my admission registered on his face. “A demon. You would move against your grandfather?”

  “He betrayed me. I owe him nothing. Just like you owe nothing to the demon you’re working for. Think about the possibilities if we join together. I have the power of a necro and a demon.”

  He neither confirmed nor denied my reference to his demon overlord. I wasn’t sure he was buying my act, but he decided to roll the dice. “You agree we should join forces?” He waved to the stage. “Prove it.”

  Brandon bent and pulled on a black sheet, uncovering a figure lying on the stage, her blond hair casting a dull glow in the theater.

  “Make Matilda a revenant. Bind her to me like Brandon.”

  I’d prepared myself for the possibility Cael would deliver Matilda, but it still didn’t lessen the pain at seeing her lying on the floor, limbs askew. I skirted a look at Adam. An angry dimple had formed on one side of his pursed lips.

  My heart thudded in my chest. “I can’t make a third revenant. It’s too much of a power drain.”

  “We’ll sustain them together. Your demon DNA gives you added strength.”

  My furrowed brow was no worried act. I wasn’t concerned about raising Matilda. My nerves were twitching over how to make the power sphere. I had to figure out how to initiate the sphere before Cael figured it out. Fortunately, he’d provided the ultimate source of arcane energy in Matilda. Harnessing the energy of a powerful witch would be like plugging myself into a nuclear reactor. I rubbed the sweat of my palms on my jeans. I just had to wield it without frying myself to a crisp.

  Now to distract him and maybe glean some insight on who exactly is responsible for all the excitement. “Who are you working for, Cael?”

  “Nobody. Not anymore. The only thing that matters now is that I—” He looked at me carefully. “—we’ll defeat him, and the supernatural community will answer to us.”

  “An assassin from the demon realm tried to breach the portal. You were its target.” I wanted to drive him close to the edge, make him anxious and preoccupied so he wouldn’t overanalyze my change of heart or the futility of his ridiculous plan. As if a couple of necromancers with some rotting zombies could somehow take over the supe community, and to what end? I knew he wouldn’t succeed. My concern was how many of us would he sacrifice in his quest for power?

  His face reflected a moment of fear and confusion, then it twisted back to the same old deranged fervor. He stalked over to me and snatched my wrist. “Make Matilda a revenant.”

  I wrestled my hand out of his grip.

  He stared at me for a moment longer. “If you try anything, you and your revenant will die.”

  I tilted my head and sneaked a look at Adam at my side, who was now surrounded by five zombies. The smell of death permeated the room like the rotting vegetation in a swamp. The large theater felt cramped it was so crowded with zombies and revenants and death.

  My power pulsed instinctively inside me. I drew on it to calm my nerves and doubts over whether I could pull this off. The only other option was death. I hadn’t exchanged any strategies with Adam beforehand because I hadn’t known any. I could only hope he would take the cues I fed him through the bond. I pinched the bond, and he tensed. Then he gave me a small nod and flexed his hand, readying them for spells. I crossed over to Matilda and sat next to her on the stage while sneaking looks to locate Cael’s human goth revenant that Adam and I had encountered in the Tenderloin. I spotted him guarding one of the emergency exits.

  Cael grabbed my hand and cut it over the still raw previous wound. I hissed at the pain that sliced down to my bone, my blood dripping on Matilda’s forehead in a Chinese torture for the dead. I slid my power into her, let it merge with the blood. Instead of anchoring it into her core like with Adam and Brandon, I wedged it, then wrestled it back, dragging with it the energy that powers a supe’s soul.

  Warm blood dripped from my nose, and the veins at my temples threatened to pop at the strain. I bent over, using my hands to catch myself on the floor.

  Suddenly, electric light streamed out of Matilda. I gasped in relief and shot the stream into the goth revenant. He howled, falling to the ground.

  Cael rounded on me. “You bitch. What are you doing?”

  Tears ran from my eyes as I focused on the streams pouring out of Matilda and the revenant, trying to connect and pull them into me. The rest was a cacophony of zombie motion and sound. I shut out the wet sound of tearing flesh and the sick wails of the zombies as Adam disposed of them with spells.

  I jerked when something thumped my shoulder. I twisted my head to see one of the zombies, his face appearing half-eaten off. Before I could move away, he dug his nails into my skin, tearing and drawing blood. I screamed at the hot pain. My vision blurred as I fought the bile that rose in my throat when he lifted his hand to his mouth and licked off my blood.

  Adam leapt from the stage and wrenched the zombie’s bloody hand away, disposing of him with a loud crunch. Ignoring the pain that singed my shoulder, I concentrated on connecting the streams of arcane energy.

  A low growl came from Brandon, splintering my concentration. His skin was rippling, signaling his shift into a wolf. Cael stood next to him, his brows furrowed in concentration as he forced Brandon’s change.

  I licked at the beads of sweat on my upper lip. Brandon howled in pain, his crackling bones visible underneath skin stretched thin from the shift. Cael came toward me, his steps heavy with menace.

  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.