The Necromancer's Reckoning (The Beacon Hill Sorcerer Book 3)

by SJ Himes

  Bright, early morning light cut across the spelled windows, slicing through the high-rises in downtown. Traffic was heavy, the tail-end of the morning rush hour, but they were making decent enough time. They would be at the Tower in less than ten minutes.

  “Something is bothering you both more than the unwelcome arrival of the Council envoy,” Simeon stated. Daniel startled, and Angel gave a long, drawn out sigh.

  Angel cast a concerned, searching glance in Daniel’s direction, but the young fledgling averted his eyes and looked firmly at his feet. “Deimos wasn’t alone in his assaults upon Daniel. A blood donor, a human named Stellan, helped Deimos assault Daniel.”

  Stellan Ariella was a long-term blood donor, a human who was approaching the end of his contracted service to the bloodclan. The man was nearly ninety years old, but due to his repeated exposure to vampiric saliva during feedings and blood exchanges, his aging was arrested in his early thirties. A longtime companion and frequent favorite of Etienne…Deimos. He had once fed Batiste almost exclusively, but when the vampire masquerading as Etienne joined the clan almost a decade prior, he had shifted his preferences to the French vampire. It was an arrangement that raised a few brows, but the vampire they all knew as Etienne quickly grew a reputation for unusual sexual desires, which may have been the initial draw. Batiste may have been Master, but Simeon knew from experience Batiste wanted willing and active lovers in his bed and didn’t appreciate pain or fear from those with whom he took blood or engaged in sexual relations. It was long rumored Batiste had been too reserved for Stellan Ariella’s proclivities.

  There was silence in the back of the limo for a long, tense moment. Simeon was glad for his long years when rage and a sickening degree of betrayal filtered through his mind and heart. Daniel fidgeted and finally raised his head.

  Daniel’s fearful dark eyes looked back at Simeon as if the fledgling were begging to be saved. Simeon handed the Council’s letter back to his mate then withdrew his cell phone from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He scrolled, found the number he wanted, and hit send.

  “Tower Operations. How may I serve you, Elder?” A morning shift human security officer, Miguel, answered. The man was a retired Marine, employed by the bloodclan for over a decade, and just who Simeon preferred to handle the situation.

  “Miguel, I need Stellan Ariella’s location, please. Full discretion. Have a guard meet me with the information in the garage when I return.”

  “Understood, sir.” The line went dead, and Simeon put away his phone.

  Daniel’s fear filled the back of the limo, the scent cold and cloying, and Simeon settled his baser instincts. He was no fledgling to kill at first impulse and react with hunger to the scent of a human’s terror. Simeon smiled at the young fledgling, and Daniel relaxed infinitesimally.

  Angel folded the letter and tucked it into his green linen satchel. His mate’s green-brown eyes were filled with a simmering anger, but Angel gave no outward sign of the fury Simeon could scent emanating from his mate. Angel’s temper was legendary, but in the last several months since their mating, Angel had more control, more restraint, and he let go of anger far easier. Simeon took one of Angel’s hands in his, the pulse beating strongly in his wrist. Angel was always so warm, and the death magic Angel carried within his spirit filled the air with spice and heat. Simeon could almost taste the magic inside his mate, and the memory of how delicious and invigorating Angel’s blood was made his own body stir.

  If only the machinations of mortals were less inconvenient—he would take his mate home and keep Angel safe in their bed, beneath him, tightly wrapped around his cock and moaning his name. Simeon’s nostrils flared, and his fangs pricked the inside of his lower lip. His arousal was poorly timed and improper with the fledgling in such proximity.

  The limo turned from the street and rumbled down the ramp to the underground garage beneath the Tower complex. It stopped in front of the main elevators, and Simeon spied Miguel leaving the lift just as the limo came to a stop. Miguel opened the door, and Simeon ushered Angel and Daniel out first. Eroch took off, his chirps echoing across the wide space.

  Simeon exited, the limo pulling away once the door was shut. Miguel nodded respectfully to the sorcerers and approached Simeon. “Sir, Mr. Ariella is currently in the casino with Master Dumond.”

  Ricon Dumond was an unranked master, an older vampire from Europe, with a spare handful of fledglings and moderate wealth.

  And a penchant for darker tastes in the bedroom.

  “Keep Ariella under surveillance, discreetly, and only reveal your hand if he attempts to leave the property,” Simeon instructed, and Miguel nodded once, stepping away to make a call.

  Angel had an arm around Daniel’s waist, the young fledgling distressed. Simeon gave Daniel a reassuring smile and gently guided them to the elevator. The guard stationed there opened the doors, and Simeon made sure Daniel was between himself and Angel. The young man already smelled of deep fear and sweat and was paler than usual, his dark eyes bright with unshed tears. Angel rubbed a hand up and down Daniel’s arm, murmuring quietly, trying to keep Daniel calm. Eroch flew into the elevator before the doors shut and landed on Daniel’s shoulder, curling into the young man.

  “My love,” Simeon began, an eye on Daniel. “Would you prefer we drop Daniel off at my suite, or would you…”

  “I want to stay with Angel,” Daniel interrupted, panic beneath his words. “Please.”

  “Okay, kiddo,” Angel agreed, holding Daniel tighter. The boy shook with fear and tension as Simeon used his palm print on the scanner and pushed the button for Batiste’s penthouse.

  5

  Defiance

  Daniel stared at the numbers flashing for each floor as the elevator rose. Angel hugged Daniel tighter, part of him wishing his apprentice had gone to Simeon’s suite first, but another part of him was reluctant to have Daniel out of his sight, even for a moment. With a Council magister waiting on them and one of Daniel’s assailants walking free in the Tower, Angel was primed for confrontation. If anyone made a wrong move towards Daniel, Angel would defend his apprentice with lethal certainty.

  Eroch churred, the dragon nestled in close to Daniel’s neck, one long wing folded protectively over the back of the youngster’s head, holding him close. Daniel shook, arms wrapped around his sides, and Simeon cautiously put a large hand on the back of his shoulder, trying to impart support. The elevator came to a stop at the penthouse, and Angel guided Daniel out into the hallway, the doors leading to Batiste’s suite at the far end. Angel glared at the guards, who took the hint and stepped away, leaving Angel and Simeon with Daniel. The guards were human, and the distance would give them some privacy.

  “Daniel,” Angel said then tipped Daniel’s face up with a finger under his chin. Dark eyes swam with tears as he shook, and Angel was certain his apprentice was moments from a full panic attack. He rubbed Daniel’s upper arms, soothing. “Focus on me for a moment. Can you do that?”

  Daniel bit his lip but nodded his head in a jerky motion. Angel urged Daniel to uncurl his shoulders, massaging the boy’s arms until they relaxed, hands at his sides. “Breathe, slow and easy.” Angel demonstrated, holding his breath for a second then slowly letting it out, repeating the same steady breathing until Daniel did the same. Eventually, the younger man calmed, some color returning to his face.

  “There you are,” Angel said quietly with a half-smile. Daniel blinked at him, as if coming out of a trance, and a fetching blush spread across his pale cheeks. Angel grinned, relieved, and pulled Daniel into a hard, brief hug. Daniel squeezed him back before they broke apart. Simeon gave Daniel a short nod, concern and affection on his handsome features. “Can you hold it together in there? I don’t know who’s in there with Batiste, or what’s going to happen. Last chance to go downstairs to Simeon’s rooms.”

  Daniel blew out a short breath before biting his lip and nodding. “I want to stay with you. I’ll be okay.”

  “Alright,” Angel
agreed, both proud and concerned, though he did his best not to show the latter. “No one is taking you from me. Eroch won’t let them either.” Eroch chirred, puffing out his chest and giving them all a haughty, confident wing flip. Daniel chuckled, and the last bit of harsh tension fell away.

  Simeon and Angel walked with Daniel between them down the hall, and as they reached the double doors to Batiste’s suite, the guards stationed outside opened them inwards.

  Constantine Batiste was unbelievably handsome, even for a supernatural being. Ice-blue eyes, bright gold-blond hair, wide shoulders, and muscles that could be carved from stone, the Master of the City was devastating, and to make matters worse, he knew it.

  The woman standing next to him was almost impossible to see, as if Angel’s mind had to reboot after seeing Batiste, since it had been so many weeks since their last encounter in the local precinct of the BPD. It was the typical reaction of a human, even a practitioner, in the presence of a city master. The effect was worse the longer he went without seeing Batiste, but he shrugged it off faster each time it happened. Angel mentally freed himself of the old vampire’s allure and turned his attention to the woman next to Batiste.

  She was dressed in a dark gray suit, the cut European, the style implying wealth without being overt. There was a thick, solid streak of gray in the tightly coiled dark hair that was pulled back in a bun at the base of her neck. She wore a shiny metal brooch pinned on her left lapel, and even from the doorway, Angel could make out the stylized coat of arms representing the High Council. Daniel gripped Angel’s hand so tight his fingers went numb. Her gaze was cold and sharp, and immediately zeroed in on their joined hands, narrowing the tiniest amount before she schooled her features into an implacable mask.

  They walked forward together, hand in hand, until they stood in the center of the room, about ten feet from the imposing woman and Batiste. Her gaze kept darting back to Angel and Daniel, and he didn’t think he was imagining the rising tension on her features with each swift glance.

  Simeon took a half step forward, obscuring Daniel from the stranger’s gimlet gaze. Batiste’s expression gave nothing away, and not even his bright blue eyes exposed his emotional state.

  Movement along the far wall drew his attention for a moment, and his heart stopped for a split second. A figure stood under the gray, heavily filtered light coming through the treated windows, and it was dull enough to aid in masking the details of the stranger. There were four more silhouettes he eventually discerned in the shadows cast by the steel beams that bisected the thick glass walls around the suite.

  Enforcers. The magister, if that was who this mystery woman was, had brought enforcers to meet him. Angel counted four, but he would be a fool to believe she didn’t bring more. She likely had eyes on his apartment, the studio, and the Tower. Angel leveled a steady gaze at the magister and wondered if she had Isaac under surveillance at Nevermore. The wards at the clinic were some serious magic, so if Nevermore didn’t admit the Council, Isaac might be the safest of them all.

  Batiste, impeccable as always, gestured gracefully with a hand to Angel. “Angelus Salvatore, may I introduce High Magister Corinne Malis, representative of the High Council of Sorcery. Magister Malis, the Necromancer of Boston, Angelus Salvatore, bonded soulmate of First Elder and Champion of the Boston Bloodclan, Simeon Ó Daimhín. The young man is Daniel Macavoy, apprentice to Necromancer Salvatore and fledgling of my Elder.”

  The elaborate introduction was a bit much, but Batiste was the type to like that sort of thing. Magister Malis pursed her lips but gave a nod in acknowledgment. Her sharp gaze went to Daniel over Angel’s shoulder, and he moved deliberately into her line of sight, blocking her view of his apprentice. He heard Daniel’s shuddering breaths behind him, and he hoped Daniel could rein in his fears long enough for them to get through this encounter.

  “Necromancer Salvatore, I am here on behalf of the High Council of Sorcery, regarding…” Malis began.

  “Yeah, I got the very fancy letter with its passive aggressive undertones this morning. I’m surprised you let Daniel get to the studio with it and you didn’t have him grabbed off the street,” Angel interrupted, and Malis’ face went a deep puce as she glared at him. He went straight to the heart of the issue and didn’t care one bit he was provoking someone with a juggernaut of authority behind her. “And don’t think you’re special, I interrupt everyone.”

  “Mo ghra,” Simeon said from behind him, half caution and fond exasperation.

  “How unoriginal. Surprising to see in such an old family, but then your elders are deceased, are they not? It is good they are gone, so they cannot see the final disgrace to their name.” Malis retorted, proving she could cut with words as easily as he. Angel shifted on his feet, body humming with an old, familiar feeling. He was primed for a fight even though his hard-won restraint told him it was a terrible idea to throw down in the penthouse of the Tower. Malis’ lips twitched, either to smile or snarl. Angel’s blood was rising, and his power hummed beneath his skin. Malis finally smiled, a travesty of beauty, somehow wrong to see on such a cold face. “The Blood Wars decimated this city and your family. Such a disgrace; a waste of pureblood practitioner heritage. The Salvatores had much to answer for, but they paid for it with their lives.”

  “The Macavoys did just as much damage.”

  Angel looked over his shoulder at Daniel, surprised. Daniel was pale as a corpse, eyes wide, breathing fast with fear, but he managed an impressive glare at the magister. “Angel is a good man. The Blood Wars had guilty parties on both sides. You’re trying to provoke a fight.” His voice had an edge of fear to it but held true.

  Angel quirked a brow, charmed by Daniel’s bravery. He winked at his apprentice, who blushed faintly, gripping his hand tighter. Eroch churred, twitching his tail, smoke escaping in tiny puffs.

  “Daniel Macavoy.” A statement, accompanied by a predatory gleam that reminded him of a vampire, though the magister appeared entirely mortal. Angel kept himself firmly in front of Daniel, determined to keep the magister from taking him. Daniel gulped but gave a short nod. Malis’ smile widened, and Angel was slightly disappointed he saw no fangs. “Wonderful to see you. I’ll be taking you into custody today while the Council investigates the charges against your mentor. For your safety, of course. And we can’t have your testimony influenced by the accused.”

  She gestured to the enforcers, and two stepped away from the wall, the shadows still obscuring their faces. Eroch screamed, a shrill cry that cut like glass, making Angel wince, and Malis’ creepy smile slipped a few degrees. The tiny dragon mantled his wings, standing on his rear legs, and blew a thin torrent of flame in the space between the three of them and the magister. Batiste blurred away, coming to stand beside Simeon, and the enforcers paused, some muttering surprised exclamations. Malis backed away, and her hand raised up, fingers twisting as if to cast, but she stopped when Eroch settled back on his haunches on Daniel’s shoulders, his bright eyes skewering the magister where she stood alone.

  “Your familiar is ill-mannered, Salvatore,” Malis sneered, her enforcers falling back to the wall when she gave a negligent wave. “Another matter for the Council to handle. Apparently, someone,” and her gaze went to Daniel again, eyes darker, harder, “conjured a demon in public. A breach of Council laws regarding proscribed magic, and yet, it was determined the boy would not face charges, but be bound to you as an apprentice. Daniel Macavoy’s crimes should never have been left to the vampires or humans to absolve. You will be coming with me, Macavoy, and if that lizard tries his trick again, I will have him put down.”

  Daniel’s hand trembled. Angel squeezed as hard as he dared, trying to impart courage and his determination to protect Daniel. Eroch hissed, baring his teeth, and Simeon stepped until he was directly in front of Daniel, completely blocking Malis’ line of sight.

  “Touch him, and there won’t be enough left of you to send back to the High Council,” Angel growled, Eroch churring in agreement. The en
forcers tensed, and some angry mutters came from the shadows.

  Malis flicked a brow, face turning a darker shade of red, her lips pursed. She seemed to be weighing the odds, glancing at the two vampires. Batiste was an enigmatic statute of perfection, emotionless, but the way he stood shoulder to shoulder with Simeon made his stance clear enough. Simeon was bottled violence, emerald eyes giving off a faint glow, and his claws were shade longer, sharper than they had been before Malis made her move. Daniel’s moment of courage had fled, but he held his ground. Eroch eyed Malis as if she were a pigeon.

  Angel smiled. Malis saw and frowned, eyes flinty. His smile grew as he spoke. “Four enforcers aren’t enough. Not now. Not here. I’ve taken on more at once and left them all broken. Daniel stays with me.”

  “You don’t have the authority to deny me, necromancer,” Malis spit out, and her enforcers moved in a bit more, tension rising. “Macavoy will be coming with me, and obstruction of justice will be added to the list of charges.”

  Angel kept a tight rein on his anger, but more hellfire sparked in the air, fireflies of green light and smoke.

  “A practitioner may not have the authority to deny the High Council, but I certainly do,” Batiste said, breaking the tension. Malis glanced away from Angel, surprised. Batiste smiled, chilling and sharp. “Bloodclans are sovereign territories. The High Council has no say here, nor authority of any kind. Daniel Macavoy will not be leaving with you.”

  “You don’t want to make an enemy of the High Council, Master Batiste,” Malis warned.

  “Not the first time I’ve done so, and surely not the last. My life has been long, and there are many times I’ve confounded the Council,” Batiste said, his tone cold yet polite. As if the magister were nothing to him. She likely wasn’t—Angel was sure not many people impacted Constantine Batiste in any way. And Angel wasn’t counting their altercation a while back after Simeon was attacked by a troll-hybrid and a fae lord and nearly died. Batiste didn’t become a city master over his own bloodclan of several hundred vampires by being someone who should be concerned by other political bodies. “Think through your next decision. The consequences will be severe if you choose unwisely.”