The Necromancer's Wife: A Dark Romance

by Cara Vance

  “Do you like this? It reminded me of you.” I gestured down at the eight inches of curved studded plastic sticking out from my waist. "I've gotten so much use out of yours, I just felt that I had to repay the favor."

  He opened his mouth, but before he could scream, I grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. I poured the contents of the cup down his throat, covering his mouth with my hand until he swallowed.

  “That’s better,” I said, stepping around to his back side. “I managed to save just enough of your...what did you call it...energy drink for you. I wanted to make sure you enjoyed this...I know I’m going to.”

  I positioned myself behind him, but not before picking up the one other object I had brought downstairs. The metal of the knife blade glinted in the light of the lone bulb illuminating the room as I thrust my hips forward.

  “For you, Isis, mother and wife...she who could bring back the dead!”

  Epilogue

  I lifted my lips from the now rigid shaft of my guest. He let out a moan in response, liking what I had done, but I could also hear a bit of confusion buried in it. That was okay. It was to be expected. I slid over so that our faces were level with each other. Moving my shapely legs, I straddled him and sat down, feeling his warm flesh enter me.

  It was different than I remembered. I felt tighter than before, but I guess that was to be expected as well. It was different because things were different now...I was different. Albeit, I wasn’t so much changed that I didn’t enjoy the feeling as I began to rock my hips against his. I heard his intake of breath. He obviously didn’t object to that either.

  I leaned against his chest, feeling his tight pectoral muscles tense as I flicked my tongue out and suckled his nipples. He tasted delicious. I had chosen well. However, this wasn’t just for his benefit alone. I reached down with my hand and let my fingers explore as I rode him.

  I felt my senses expand. There was the feel of him against me...inside of me, the deft touch of my own fingers caressing, but there was so much more. The air against my bare skin made me tingle, just cool enough to make my own nipples harden. Scents likewise filled me: the house around us, the sweat of our skin co-mingling, the musky odor of our pheromones reacting as we both began to approach climax.

  I leaned toward him, liking the way our bodies felt pressed against each other. I nuzzled his neck with my lips, lightly nipping with my teeth until I could tell his breathing had become labored.

  “That’s right,” I whispered, my own orgasm quickly building. “Give your gift to me.”

  I bucked my hips and tightened my grip on him, feeling a slight quiver from his body. It always amazed me how the signs were always slightly different depending on the man. Finally, there was a sharp intake of breath from him and I felt him cum. The rush of his seed filling me tipped me over the edge. The darkness around us was suddenly filled with a torrent of colors as I was shaken from head to toe.

  It hadn’t been the most intense orgasm of my life, but it was perhaps the sweetest for I knew what it meant. Even now, though I was sure it was just my imagination, I felt different - somehow fulfilled.

  Still sitting atop him, I reached over and turned on the light. The young twenty-something male beneath me blinked in surprise. He tried to sit up, to move his arms, but they were bound fast to the bed. Once more, the handcuffs had proven useful to me.

  His eyes focused on me. He looked me up and down, confused at first, taking a little extra time on my shapely body before settling on my face. It took a moment, but recognition finally dawned.

  “Lydia?”

  “Welcome back, Harold,” I replied with a smile.

  “You look...”

  “I know,” I said, basking in the compliment. “It’s like I had ten years shaved off. Not a bad deal considering the time I lost. I'm not entirely sure, but I think it was my reward for the sacrifice.”

  “Sacrifice?”

  “Oh, that’s right. You don’t remember, do you?” I replied, putting a mock pout in my tone.

  “Remember what?”

  “Dying, of course, silly.”

  His eyes went wide. I had no doubt he was remembering the events leading up to it. I wasn’t sure how close to it he would get - recalling my own fuzziness surrounding death - but I really hoped he remembered the little skewering I gave his rear end right before cutting his carotid artery.

  “Let me tell you, you made quite the mess. I was mopping up for days.”

  “What did you...,” he began to struggle against his bonds, a futile effort. I’d since replaced the bed frame with a somewhat sturdier one, just to be safe. I had no intention of taking any chances.

  “It was pretty trippy, I’ll tell you that much. The second I poured your blood onto my body, I was sucked out of Julie and back into it. That was jarring, let me tell you. Fortunately, the regeneration was almost instantaneous. As I said, I think Isis was pleased." I ran my hands over my youthful body to accentuate the fact before continuing.

  "Speaking of Julie, don’t worry about her...not that I think you would. The shock of me being pulled out of her body caused her to faint. Thankfully, I managed to drag her upstairs and clean her up a bit before she came to. I played the angry wife card when she finally woke up. You should have seen the look on her face. She was a sweetheart, but it really was time for her to leave. I felt kind of bad doing it, but as I said…”

  “You felt...”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I didn't feel bad about you, Harold. I still don't. Sorry, but you deserved it. Ironically, though, I guess I do kind of owe you my thanks. You’re the one who made it possible, after all.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes you. I was all ready to give up and accept my fate when you had to go running off at the mouth about my being bound to you. The second you said that it all clicked in my head.”

  “What did?”

  “Gibbons’s work, dear. You were wrong to dismiss him, by the way. He actually did have it all figured out.” His borrowed eyes opened wide at that. “Oh, I was a lot busier than just swapping out herbs, Harold, although you’ve probably figured that out by now. Thank you for leaving such thorough notes, by the way.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “I think we’ve already covered that part nicely. But back to my point, Gibbons’s findings weren’t a riddle after all. They were instructions, albeit obtuse ones. After your little rant, though, they made perfect sense. You had been praying to Osiris when all along Isis was the key. She was really the one with the power to bring back the dead. It turns out all she needed to seal the deal was an offering of someone bound to the spirit in question. I’m not entirely sure, but I think in ancient times this was maybe meant to be a form of self-sacrifice, giving one’s life so a loved one could return. Personally I think that fits nicely with her role as both a loving wife and mother, don’t you?”

  Harold opened his mouth to say something, but I continued speaking over him. “Fortunately, it so happens that an involuntary subject works just as well, too. Luckily for me, the person binding my soul happened to conveniently be deserving of their fate.”

  “You won’t get away with it, you crazy bitch.”

  “No? I already have. Thanks to you, I was never declared dead. You have no idea how much easier that made things. Thanks to a little of that mind-clouding magic from your notes, I was able to play it all up rather nicely." I changed my tone, putting a little mock drama into my voice for the effect. "I had run off because of your abusiveness, disappeared, and had been covering my tracks ever since. Sorry, but I had to throw you under the bus a bit for that one. I'm sure you can understand. Anyway, so the story goes, I had only recently come to terms with things, finally coming back home to confront you.”

  “When people find out...”

  “I took care of that,” I said, interrupting him. “You, sadly, broke down from grief, weighed heavily by the guilt of your crimes. Alas, you just couldn’t live with yourself for the things you had done to me. Before I could stop
you, you grabbed a razor blade and committed suicide. Slit your own throat.”

  “But how? They would have taken my body...”

  “Of course, they did, Harold,” I explained as if he were a dimwitted child. “They weren’t about to just leave you in the basement.”

  “But I’m here! The ceremony...”

  “I had you cremated.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder toward the far dresser. On top of it was a tasteful brass urn. “I wasn’t sure it would work, but apparently dropping the last hoe into your ashes had pretty much the same effect as having your entire body here. Go figure, the nuances of magic.”

  “You fucking bitch,” he spat. “I’ll find a way to get you...”

  “No you won’t. In fact, your time is almost up. See, I discovered that changing the ingredients works both ways. Add mandrake, you get more time. Switch it out for some wolfsbane, though, and it gets cut down to an hour. Tomorrow morning, I’m going out on a boat to scatter your ashes to sea. I think you'd have wanted it that way. Don't get me wrong. I had considered maybe keeping you a little while longer, but sadly...” I glanced down at the penis of the body he inhabited. “Well, you’re missing the best part of you now. The sex was nice, but it just wasn't the same.”

  “So you brought me back to gloat?”

  “Only partially. I thought I'd give you one more fling for all the times you brought me back. One for the road, so to speak. I hate to admit it, but during most of those visits I did have fun, physically at least. More importantly, though, I figured you owed me.”

  “Owed you?”

  “Yes, for the years of lies I had to put up with. For denying me the family that I wanted. You see, Isis brought Osiris back from the dead and he fathered a child with her before returning forever to the underworld. Therefore, I found it only fitting that you do the same. I wanted you back this one last time, when I was ovulating, so that despite all the things you did to me, I could have one good memory of you to cherish.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Congratulations, Harold. He won’t be yours physically, but that’s okay. We’ll both know the truth and I’ll be sure to tell our baby all about you. Well, maybe not everything. There are some secrets that are best taken with us to the grave. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  THE END

  About the Author

  A geek girl with a naughty side, the fictional Cara Vance lives in the most exciting city in the world - New York. There she spends her days enjoying Manhattan and its myriad people, marveling in the life around her as she drinks in the sights and sounds. Her greatest enjoyment, though, comes from bringing pleasure to others, if not with her hands and lips, then with her words.

  Available from Cara Vance:

  Master of the Dungeon

  Meeting Misty

  The Necromancer’s Wife