How to Claim an Undead Soul (The Beginner's Guide to Necromancy Book 2)

by Hailey Edwards

  “Yes.” I did a double take before thinking through how much the wraith must have seen from its spot on the docks. “The owner’s daughter. I was assigned to help her in the dining room, where the most activity has been logged. Marit told me the ghost boy never bothered her, so my presence must have agitated the spirit.”

  “Poltergeist,” he murmured. “It’s escalated to causing physical harm.”

  Ever the teacher, he made the correction automatically. It had been a slip of the tongue on my part, but I didn’t want him thinking I was making excuses. Plus, poltergeist was a mouthful. Odds were good I would keep calling him ghost boy regardless of his actual state of existence.

  “Will the Society get involved?” He would know better than I. “Their policy is usually to sit back and let these things resolve themselves, but it’s an aggressive haunting. People are getting hurt.”

  “I’m not sure.” His lips pulled to one side in the beginnings of a sly grin. “I can call Mother if you’d like.”

  I failed to conceal my grimace before it registered, and it amused him all the more. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.” He offered me a dish towel to dry my hands. No paper towels for Linus. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

  “You didn’t,” I lied, searching for a new topic that wasn’t how much I distrusted his mother, and by extension, him. “So…do you know anything about a Detective Caitlin Russo with the Savannah Police Department?”

  “The name sounds familiar.” He mulled it over then shrugged. “Who is she?”

  “A problem.” I sucked in a breath and outlined her escalation from concerned officer with a soft spot for domestic abuse cases to a hard-ass with a hard-on for proving Maud did not go into that good night, gently or otherwise. “I’m not sure how tight she is with Cricket, but a friendship between the two would explain how Russo knew I was back in Savannah.”

  “I’ll look into her.” A frown gathered in neat rows across his forehead. “Let me know if she approaches you again.”

  “Count on it.” As much as I hated outing her to the Society, I couldn’t risk being the reason she outed the Society itself. “I told you about my night. What’s with all the drawings?”

  “I’ve been working on a project.” He shrugged like it was a small thing and passed over an ornate sigil I had never seen before, the combination unknown though I recognized the individual parts hidden within the art. The drawing was a yew tree, one of Hecate’s emblems, and its black limbs stretched through a crescent moon. Its tangled roots grew to form a circle, a symbol of power, that encompassed the topmost portion of the design. “It’s not perfect yet, but I’m making progress.”

  I traced the emblem with my fingertip. “What does it do?”

  Linus decided the papers were in need of shuffling. “It’s a talisman against Last Seeds.”

  “What?” I caught him by the arm. “Why?”

  He studied where my hand touched him and made no move to escape. “Do you really have to ask?”

  We were no closer to discovering the identity of the master vampire who had kidnapped me. Though it made sense he would be a Last Seed since they topped the vampire hierarchy. Not to mention other clans had volunteered their heritors, at least two Last Seeds themselves, to the cause. That required the kind of power you couldn’t amass in a made vampire’s lifetime. Or several of them.

  And then there was Volkov. He hadn’t died in the massacre when I made my escape. Boaz had made certain of that. The idea he might escape one day… That he might serve out his sentence and be released…

  Forever was an interminably long time to imagine until it came with an expiration date.

  I noticed I was still clutching him and willed my fingers to let go. “You did this for me.”

  “It’s a useful protective sigil no one has fully explored since Last Seeds are so rare most necromancers will never meet one, let alone interact with one.” More papers in a different pile also required extensive straightening. “I can patent its composition if I can perfect it. Patents can be quite lucrative. This one in particular, now that the Undead Coalition is hemorrhaging members.”

  “True,” I allowed. “But thank you anyway.”

  He shook his head, just once. “Don’t thank me.”

  “Too late. I already did.” Even if the design was inspired by me rather than designed for me, the result would be the same. I could wear it on my skin as a protection, as a comfort that I would never be helpless against their compulsion again. Volkov would no longer be the monster under my bed. This was as good as plugging in a nightlight. “Can you teach me how to paint it?”

  “Once it’s marketable, yes.”

  The dream of wearing his sigil as a shield evaporated, and I deflated on the spot. If he was seeking to patent a new design, he wouldn’t want to share it until the paperwork was finalized. That could take months. Years.

  “I didn’t design it for application in the field,” he explained. “I had a more proactive approach in mind.”

  The impermanent nature of our ink meant all sigils were intended to be drawn the moment before their use. Otherwise, the blood dried and the ink flaked, nulling its power. “What do you mean?”

  “Let me show you.” He unfastened the single button he’d been twiddling and parted the halves of his shirt, exposing the hard planes of his stomach. The yew tree tattoo covered his left hipbone in one of the few blank spaces left on his torso. The rest of his chest and abs were a masterpiece in progress, a canvas filled with loops and whorls, with magic. “I’ve been testing it on myself.”

  I traced the design, mesmerized, and his abs clenched under my touch. Gooseflesh rose on his skin beneath my fingertips, and a hot wash of embarrassment singed my cheeks.

  “You did that?” I crossed my arms over my chest and tucked my hands under my armpits where they couldn’t get into more trouble. “You tattooed yourself?”

  That might explain the whine I still heard pumping from the other room. I’d sat with Boaz while he got inked often enough to be familiar with the process. Though his tattoos were nothing like this. These pulsed with magic that invited fingertips to investigate their purpose. They glittered, blood red and liquid, almost alive beneath his skin.

  “I apprenticed with a local artist for four years while I attended Strophalos. I still drop by on weekends or fill in when they’re overbooked. It’s a good skill to have.”

  And the ability to tattoo himself meant no one else saw what he was dabbling in. Win/win.

  “You are full of surprises.” Of all the paths I might have predicted for Linus when we were kids, tattoo artist was not one of them. Then again, neither was mad scientist willing to experiment on his own, very valuable, person. “You’re nothing like how I remember.”

  He studied me, weighing my words. “I take it that’s a good thing.”

  “There are worse things in life than to be predictable,” I allowed, uncomfortable beneath his direct stare when his intense focus raised the black in his eyes. “Can I get one too?”

  “Once the design has been registered, yes. Right now, it’s imperfect. A Last Seed was able to compromise me after prolonged contact.”

  The towel dropped from my hands to fall in the sink. “You visited Volkov.”

  We had just established how rare Last Seeds were, how beloved by their clans. None of them would volunteer an LS for experimentation, not in these troubled times when vampire politics were shifting. But Volkov was a prisoner, and that meant he got no say in how he spent his time or what was done to him.

  Pity welled up in me, from one captive to another, but I stomped it down hard. He had lost the right to burden my conscience the moment he imprisoned me on his master’s estate. Whatever he got, whatever the Elite did with him, was no less than he deserved.

  Volkov had forever to do as he pleased. His sentence, whatever it was, wouldn’t cost him any time at all, really. Perhaps learning his lessons young would help him spend the rest of h
is eternity wiser.

  Or maybe this would hone him into a blade that cut down any who threatened to cage him again.

  I hated having even that much in common with him.

  “I did.” Linus pulled his shirt closed, his elegant fingers doing up the buttons. “Last week. I told no one.”

  Clearly, my observation skills were negative zero since I hadn’t noticed him leaving or returning.

  “Does that mean…?” I homed in on his face, wishing I could read this new Linus better. “Does your mother know?”

  He huffed out a laugh. “No.”

  One did not show one’s experimental magic to one’s all-powerful mother and then explain how you knew it worked because you’d tried it on yourself, her heir and only child, first.

  “I might be able to help with your experiment.” And his mother would end me if she had any idea I was encouraging his self-destructive tendencies. “Volkov gave me an avowal when we first met.” The blood-filled glass bangle had protected me against the power of his lure so long as I wore it. “I still have it up in my room.”

  Linus paused while tucking in his shirt. “He courted you?”

  “He proposed an alliance, yes. The avowal was his way of leveling the playing field.”

  “Why did you—?” He cut himself off before he could compound my list of what ifs.

  What if I had said yes? Would I have still ended up under lock and key? What if I had kept wearing the bangle? Would it have done me any good against his brute strength? The night he came for me under the guise of returning my things, I had reached outside the wards to claim them. I had made the mistake, no bangle required. Even if I had worn it, Volkov could have removed it the second we got in the car.

  The avowal contained his blood, his gift, and its magic obeyed him. I was no good to him as a thinking, feeling woman. He’d wanted a piece of arm candy with strange magic in her veins. I might have been worshipped as a queen, but eventually I would have been bled as a prized cow headed to slaughter.

  Not that the Society was winning any awards on that front either. Both wanted the same thing—for me to bleed. But at least the Grande Dame was willing to educate me. She saw the value in honing her weapons. No matter my personal opinion of her, I would be a fool to turn away what she was offering.

  “I wanted a clean break from him,” I managed. “After the Lyceum…” I shook my head. “He knew what I was, what was about to happen, and he told me nothing. He made it so I would have to accept his suit to receive his help standing up to your mother.”

  Linus pressed his lips into a flat line.

  “He convinced me to keep it until I was certain I wanted to formally refuse him.” Returning it would have meant a hard no that could never be taken back. It would have meant that if the Grande Dame had come after me instead of welcoming me back with open arms, I would have had nowhere to run. “I wonder if that’s why Volkov took me when he did?”

  Linus attempted to follow my logic. “Your rejection would have been a blow to his pride.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” I forced my theory into words. “He was raised cloistered with older vampires, right? Our conversations were his first with a necromancer, or so he claimed. He was a stickler for tradition.” I worked out the rest before saying, “I believe he felt he had to act fast, while the bangle was still in my possession for his claim on me to be legitimate.”

  “You hadn’t said yes,” Linus agreed, “but you hadn’t said no either.”

  “He mentioned in the car, on the way to the estate, that he wanted a willing partner.” Not a wife, but an equal in the profitable venture that would be our marriage. “He wanted to earn my trust.”

  How he’d expected that to happen when he had all but tied a steak around my neck before shoving me into the lion’s den, I had no idea.

  “I can ask,” he offered quietly. “If it truly matters, I can find out for you.”

  I snapped my head toward him. “You’re going back to see him?”

  “I’ll have to if I want to test the sigil again.” He wasn’t looking at me when he said it, and a flash of insight warned me off asking him what other reasons might entice him to return for Volkov. “It won’t cost anything to ask while I’m there.”

  For unfathomable reasons, I got the impression that yes, he did pay for what he got. But what?

  “No,” I decided. “The reason doesn’t matter. His master wanted me, and Volkov would have taken me eventually. The timing isn’t important. The outcome would have been the same.”

  A slight loosening in his shoulders told me I’d made the right call to let the matter drop. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  “I won’t,” I reassured him and was rewarded with his stance easing even more. “I appreciate the offer, though.”

  A few sharp knocks on the door brought my head around, and I raised my eyebrows at Linus. “Expecting company?”

  “No.” He smoothed a hand down his shirt. “You?”

  “I saw Amelie and Neely earlier, and Boaz won’t be home until tomorrow. That’s the extent of my social circle.”

  Linus strolled over to answer. “Hello.” His eyes swirled with yawning darkness as they raked over an awestruck Amelie. Judging by her calm demeanor, I assumed this meant she lacked the magic to see him for what he truly was, what lived within him. “Can I help you?”

  “Oh. Uh. Hi,” Amelie rambled. “Is, um, Grier here?”

  “Yes,” I called as I loped to the door and nudged him out of the way with my hip. “What’s up?”

  The sight of me knocked the stars from her eyes, and she forgot about Linus standing behind me.

  “I heard about what happened on the Cora Ann.” She palmed my shoulders and shook me until I got whiplash. “Why didn’t you call?”

  “I was going to, promise.” I pried her off me. “I came to consult Linus first—”

  “Linus.” Her gaze slid past my shoulder. “Linus?”

  “Hello again,” he said from near my elbow, his voice a low threat I didn’t understand.

  “I’m sorry.” Large blotches of color splashed across her cheeks. “I didn’t recognize you, and I didn’t introduce myself, but I’m Amelie. I live next door, which you probably remember from, you know, your whole life.”

  “You were worried for Grier.” He dismissed her slight with crisp acceptance. “I understand.”

  “I…” Her mouth worked over what she wanted to say. “Yes. That.”

  “We’ll get out of your hair,” I told him as I shuffled her into the garden. “Night!”

  The door shut behind us, and I had to strong-arm Amelie, who was digging in her heels and craning her neck, onto the front porch. Maybe she was right about Linus branding her guilty by association with Boaz. He wielded politeness like a scalpel when he chose.

  “You said he was taller. Thinner. That he grew out his hair. You didn’t say he was gorgeous.”

  “Is he?” I bit my lip. “I didn’t notice.”

  “You are a dirty, rotten liar. You have two eyeballs. You have a pulse. You noticed.”

  “You remember the part where his mother is Clarice Lawson?” Speaking her name gave me the heebie-jeebies, like if I chanted it three times fast in a mirror she might appear behind me with an old-fashioned straight razor poised in her hand. “He probably peeks through my windows at night to gather intel for her.”

  “Let’s do some spying of our own.” She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s peek through his windows. During the day. When he’s in his pajamas.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “Or out of them.”

  “You’re terrible.” I hauled her away, the two of us giggling like the schoolgirls we once had been, and we collapsed on the front porch swing. “I’m not going to spy on my teacher.”

  Except, a few hours later, we sort of did. Blame it on the night being filled with the echo of childhood horseplay. Blame it on the color in Linus’s cheeks before he unbuttoned his shirt. Or blame neither of those. Both of them? Whatev
er the reason, I followed Amelie out into the dawn with the avowal in hand as an excuse in case we got caught.

  We checked each window in the carriage house as we passed them, clamping hands over our mouths to stop laughter from spilling out. There was no sign of him, not that I had expected him to be lounging in plain sight at this hour.

  Amelie palmed the doorknob and gave it an experimental twist.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper-screamed. “We can’t go inside.”

  “Of course not.” Her mouth formed a smile a beat too late. “I was just pulling your leg.”

  “You got me.” I laughed, the sound as forced as her expression. “This was a dumb idea. Let’s go.”

  “Yeah,” she murmured, lingering in the doorway, her hand still tight on the knob. “You’re right.” Her eyes flashed at me. “We’ll go as soon as we scout his bedroom like the pervs we are.”

  “Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “Let’s just be quick pervs.”

  A snort escaped her. “Aren’t they all?”

  But when we circled around back to the bedroom windows, there was a crack in the blackout curtains I had been counting on to protect him from our shenanigans.

  His bed was empty.

  Six

  I woke in the usual manner, which is to say sweaty, trembling, and miserable, to find a clipped message on my phone from Mr. Voorhees.

  “Marit is stable, but they’re keeping her for observation.” A growl sounding a lot like blame rumbled through his words. “The police want to interview all the employees present last night.”

  Seeing as how I had already been put through the wringer by Russo, I had no choice but to believe if she hadn’t reported my accounting, it was because she was cowboying. A quick call to her supervisor might scrape her off my bumper, but following my case for so many years smacked of obsession.

  “There’s no work tonight,” he continued. “Go to the station and do your duty to Marit.” Silence reigned, a call waiting to end, until a girlish voice murmured a protest, and he sighed. “Work starts tomorrow night at eight.”