The Necromancer's Dilemma (The Beacon Hill Sorcerer Book 2)

by SJ Himes

  Or it was meant to be a thin shield—thick enough an impediment to stop a bullet or a thrown knife, it instead became a battering ram of kinetic energy, slamming through Milly’s living room, smashing the couch and splintering the coffee table. The wave of magic ripped through and devastated the room, including the man trying to hide his bulk behind one of the thick support columns that ran throughout the first level. Angel staggered, surprised, and wayward magic hissed and sparked through the air.

  A gun clattered to the wood floor, and Angel ran forward, athame flaring as he tossed a restraining curse ahead of him. The tall, huge intruder took the spell and shook it off, a bull twitching to rid himself of an irritating fly. Isaac shouted, and Angel swerved out of the way, a fireball blazing past his shoulder. The ball of flame crashed into the man, and while clothing smoked and burned, the flesh beneath remained untouched.

  “He’s got a nullifier charm on him!” Angel shouted to Isaac, and dodged as the behemoth swung a haymaker right at his face. The man was huge, but Angel was faster. He had dropped the gun when Angel inadvertently blasted the room with a kinetic wave—the charm had weaknesses. Nullifiers were rare, and notoriously difficult to make, which meant including all types of magic in the nullifier was beyond expensive, so there were usually holes in the defenses. “Use kinetic!”

  Isaac shouted something back at him, but Angel was too busy ducking and sprinting away from the man trying to crush him like a bug. Almost seven feet tall and a few hundred pounds, the huge man would have zero problems tearing Angel apart if he caught him—and with a nullifier charm on him, Angel would be dead before their magic burned through the charm’s power supply.

  Angel was too slow, and a fist hit him in the back of his shoulder, sending him tumbling over the remains of the couch into the kitchen. Angel slid across the floor, and slammed into the fridge. Isaac screamed, and tossed more fireballs at the bruiser, ineffective and annoying, but it distracted the big man. Isaac yelped and scrambled away as the intruder reached for him, and Angel groaned, sitting up. Isaac had never fought with magic before outside of simulated duels while Angel was training him—Isaac couldn’t focus and cast and run at the same time.

  Angel sat up and froze, heart in his throat. Milly was on the floor next to the stove, unconscious with a line of blood running from her mouth. She was breathing, but her face was bruised and her thick gray hair undone from its usually pristine arrangement. Angel snarled in rage, pushed off the floor, and ran at the intruder, screaming. He raised the athame at the man’s back, a tidal wave of kinetic energy behind his blow—there was no honor in stabbing someone in the back, but fuck honor when the woman he loved as a mother and his baby brother were in danger—he brought the blade down as Isaac was backed into a corner between the rubble of the couch and a side table with nowhere to run.

  The hellfire-infused blade bounced off the field generated by the nullifier charm, but the kinetic wave made it through. Angel landed in a tumble of limbs on top of Isaac as the wave of kinetic energy blasted the intruder out of his way, destroying a section of the doorway as the man was sent careening out into the foyer. The wave of kinetic energy had been more than Angel was expecting—the unexpected surge of tremendous power was too much for him to control, and it rebounded and revolted as he tried to pull it back before it tore the building apart.

  The walls shook and the foundation groaned. The plaster walls cracked and dust rained down, and Angel mentally scrambled to control the spiraling power that was testing the limits of his control. He called the magic home, intending to spindle it inside himself until it used itself up—but that instinctive maneuver backfired.

  Angel had enough time to see the intruder limp on the marble floor, seemingly unconscious, before wild magic slammed into him. Isaac’s arms grabbed at his shoulders and his brother was yelling at him, but he couldn’t hear anything past the ringing in his ears and the roar of limitless power reverberating through his soul.

  Chapter Four

  A Living Will

  Simeon exited the limo at the Emergency entrance of Boston Metro Hospital, the automatic doors hissing as they parted for his passage. The scent of blood, sickness, and death swamped his senses, and Simeon growled with worry despite the bond with his Leannán telling him Angel was alive.

  Startled humans cleared out of his path, and Simeon didn’t have to stop and ask for directions to Angel’s room—his love’s scent grew stronger as he got closer. Smoke, heat, the smooth glide of peppermint and cinnamon melted over his tongue as he breathed in Angel’s distinctive aroma. Simeon cleared a corner, and saw Daniel pacing in the hall outside a room, arms crossed and his head down. Worry and tension radiated off the young sorcerer, and he looked up as Simeon approached. Isaac was sitting in the hall not far from where Daniel paced, and the youngest Salvatore stood up and joined Daniel.

  Daniel came forward and reached out, and to Simeon’s surprise gripped his suit jacket in one hand. His wide eyes dark and afraid, Daniel clung to him, and Simeon instinctively took Daniel’s hand in his, pressing the boy’s palm flat to his chest. He gave a soft rumble, and Daniel relaxed, like any fledgling would when overstressed and in the presence of a master. Simeon kept his expression calm and didn’t reveal his pleased surprise that Daniel reacted in such a way.

  Isaac didn’t reach for him, but Simeon could see his mate’s little brother wanted to, and so Simeon reached up with his free hand and put it on the back of Isaac’s neck, squeezing as he would with Angel. It worked on the younger Salvatore too—Isaac heaved a deep sigh, and some of the tension eased from his lanky shoulders.

  “Are you both well?” Simeon asked, eyes taking in every stretch of skin and cloth. Daniel was pale but appeared fine, but Isaac worried him. His face was bruised and scraped, and he stank of fear and exhaustion. Daniel’s frantic call had said that Angel and Isaac were attacked, and that Angel was unconscious. “Tell me what happened.”

  “We went to Milly’s for pizza,” Isaac stammered, and Simeon tightened his grip. Isaac took a steadying breath and continued. “Someone was in the apartment. He was…he was huge, and he had a charm, and Milly was hurt, and something happened when Angel attacked the guy, and the whole place was torn apart and….”

  “Dame Fontaine was attacked?” Simeon interrupted, and Isaac nodded quickly.

  “Someone broke in her place just before we got there,” Isaac confirmed. “She’s okay—she was just knocked out. She’s down the hall in her room talking to the police about what happened. She woke up after Angel…after…”

  Simeon looked at the door, and listened. Two heartbeats, one he easily recognized as Angel’s, the other a stranger. He would not tolerate his mate out of his sight and alone with anyone and vulnerable. Simeon gently untangled himself from his mate’s fledglings, and went to the door, opening it. A doctor stood over Angel where he lay on a bed, eyes closed and pale. He was wearing a hospital gown and the blankets were pulled up to his shoulders, with wires attached to pads running under the collar of the gown. Machines peeped and chirped in an even rhythm. There was no scent of blood or severe injury, but Simeon wouldn’t be sure of Angel’s health until he examined every inch of his Leannán. Simeon growled at the middle-aged male standing too close to his mate. The doctor gulped, the stink of fear filling the room, and he backed away from the bedside.

  “Um...are you…” the doctor looked down at the chart in his hands, and then back up at Simeon. Simeon went straight to Angel’s bedside, and put his hand over his mate’s heart. The doctor continued to talk, but Simeon shut his voice out in favor of determining Angel’s current condition himself. Isaac and Daniel came in and stood close by, the sorcerer’s fledglings whispering to each other.

  The bond between them was fragile, a newborn golden cord that joined their souls. Simeon’s kind were not soulless monsters as Western mythology claimed—he had a soul, though his body was undead, animated by the ancient death magic that fl
ourished inside each vampire at the moment of their turning. His soul was joined to Angel’s and Simeon was able to follow the connection to Angel’s body and mind. It was unheard of for such a thing to happen, but Simeon believed it was a result of their unique pairing, a sorcerer and vampire. Aided by Angel’s affinity for death, they were far more intimately entwined on a level never seen before in a bond so new. Angel had a tremendous wealth of self-awareness, and through that sense of self, Simeon was able to see the paths within his mate’s mind and spirit, and journey along them. He could not do this if Angel was awake—he’d only done it a few times while Angel slept, and Simeon held him through the night.

  Angel was physically unhurt. There were some bruises, some minor scratches. His heart beat naturally and at a normal rate, unhurried and peaceful. Angel slept, as wonderfully handsome and beautiful to Simeon’s eyes as any night he spent in his mate’s arms, and Simeon withdrew carefully from his mate’s spirit. Why Angel still slept was a mystery, as he was fully rested and in perfect health aside from his few bruises. Those bruises would soon be gone, as Angel had bitten Simeon the last time they had sex, and his blood would help regenerate his mate. Not as fast as a fully realized Leannán bond, but the blood would do until their union grew complete. Leannán bonds could take years to reach their full potential, and they had time on their side.

  “…don’t know what happened, CAT scans came back normal, may need to run further tests…” the doctor was still rambling on, “I called in for a magical examination of his aura, we should see what type of spells may have resulted in this state and what he was casting when it happened…”

  Isaac whispered under his breath, “I told them no, dammit.” Isaac was quiet enough that no one heard him but Simeon.

  “No.” Simeon said it clearly, but the doctor still blinked at him in confusion, the chart held to this chest. He knew Angel well enough after the last two years and change to know that his mate would never appreciate someone messing with his aura and examining him so deeply while he was unable to protect himself. Isaac’s whisper confirmed his assumption of his mate’s wishes.

  “He needs a magical examination by one of our medical wizards on staff,” the doctor said, and Simeon stiffened further, especially when Isaac came to his side and looked up at him, the younger Salvatore angry and tense. “This isn’t an option if he is to receive the best care.”

  “I told them no,” Isaac whispered angrily. “Angel refuses magical medical exams all the time, he flat out won’t tolerate a stranger reading him that deeply. Angel changed his emergency contact and living will—he named you, Simeon. They won’t listen to me, even as next of kin. Please don’t let them.”

  His dormant heart warmed at the trust implicit in Angel’s choice. Simeon hadn’t even known Angel did such a thing, gave him such responsibility. Angel had such rights within the Bloodclan over Simeon and his property, but Simeon hadn’t expected Angel to do the same for Simeon in the mortal world. Simeon gave Isaac a short nod in agreement, and the boy sighed in relief.

  “My mate wouldn’t want such a procedure done on him,” Simeon told the doctor, who dared frown back at Simeon. He arched a brow, remaining still and locking his eyes on the frail human. The doctor frowned so deeply his whole face wrinkled, and he huffed out an irritated breath.

  “Sir, I need to ask who you are to make such a determination. As I informed the young man, Sorcerer Salvatore has a living will, and as we cannot make him regain consciousness, we have to assume this is magical in nature. A magical examination by our practitioner on staff is standard procedure to determine a diagnosis, and only Sorcerer Salvatore’s designated representative can override policy,” the doctor tried to intimidate Simeon, his voice stern and his delivery pretentious.

  Simeon looked back down at his mate, and gently cupped Angel’s warm cheek in his hand. Angel’s warmth seeped into his flesh, and Simeon closed his eyes, enjoying the heat of life that radiated out from his Leannán. Angel was heat and love and sex, complex and yet simple, kind and yet vicious. Death magic sang its dark song in Angel’s aura, but where in another it would be a sign of supreme evil or decomposition of a mortal’s spirit from a terminal illness, in Angel it was beautiful and natural. All facets of Angel were open to him, in so honest and pure of a touch, and Simeon would spend eternity loving the man sleeping in the hospital bed.

  Simeon opened his eyes, and said without lifting his gaze from Angel’s peaceful, handsome face, “I am Simeon, First Elder of Boston’s Bloodclan, Champion of Constantine Batiste, the Master of the City. I am the bonded mate of my Leannán, Necromancer Angelus Salvatore, and I have the only right to determine what is best for him. You will do nothing but make him comfortable while arranging for his discharge into my care.”

  “I…but...” The doctor stammered, and he drew himself up to his very unimpressive height. “You can’t remove him from my care in his condition. The magical examination is necessary to determine treatment.”

  Simeon made sure to make eye contact with the fool who dared gainsay him. He rarely gave orders—he made a request, and it was carried out. His authority was only second to Batiste’s, and Simeon never had to ask twice. Human, vampire, fae, supernat—it mattered not. He spoke, and people obeyed. Only Angel dared, and with great frequency, to both disagree with him and in return order him about. And only Angel had that right.

  “You will discharge him immediately. I am taking my mate home. His recovery is my responsibility,” Simeon reiterated. Using his charming ability on this fool would be pointless—Simeon wanted him afraid, to feel Simeon’s anger and the dangerous desire to rip apart any man foolish enough to get between him and his mate.

  “I can’t allow that. This is foolish. My patient needs to be in a hospital where he can get proper care, not be locked away in some dank vampire dungeon surrounded by bloodsuckers without medical training.”

  Isaac and Daniel gasped and swore, and Isaac got out of the way, dragging Daniel out of reach. Smart young man.

  He was a predator. He may have once been human, but even then he was a warrior. He killed his first man before his ninth birthday, and drank from the throat of a mortal before he even finished rising from his earthly grave. Simeon carefully shed his veneer of civility layer by subtle layer, his eyes glowing, and his fangs dropped. He parted his lips, and the rumbling hiss of a vampire on the hunt escaped into the room. He leaned over his mate, claws extended, and growled again. The doctor gulped, sweat pouring down his temples, and fear and a hint of urine polluted the air. The doctor found his legs and ran from the room, calling for security.

  “Daniel,” Simeon said, easing back, soothing himself with breathing in Angel’s scent so he didn’t chase after the bigoted fool who paraded as a medical man.

  “Yes?” Daniel asked quietly from behind Isaac, his blond head barely visible past Isaac’s darker locks.

  “Go see to Madame Fontaine, please. Inform her she must arrange her discharge and help her get ready to leave. I will have an escort here in twenty minutes,” Simeon ordered gently, stroking Angel’s soft hair. “Isaac, find your brother’s belongings please. Everything, even the clothes he was wearing.”

  “Shit, our dad’s athame is missing,” Isaac swore, and he sounded exactly like his older brother. “I’ll be back.” Daniel and Isaac both bolted from the room.

  Simeon leaned down, and kissed Angel’s brow. “Is breá liom tú,” Simeon whispered over Angel’s skin before kissing him again.

  He breathed Angel in, and slowly pulled away. Part of him was hoping Angel would wake, but such things were for children’s tales. Angel would wake on his own, and if he needed help, he would get it from his family and friends, not from strangers invading his most private self.

  He could hear the doctor talking loudly on the other side of the ER, ordering security to evict Simeon from both Angel’s room and the hospital, but the guards were wisely balking when they learned he
was a vampire. His mate was famous, and Simeon’s name was growing in notoriety as a result. Some of the employees surely paid attention to the papers. The ruckus was growing in volume, and Simeon pulled out his cell and sent a single text. His bloodclan would send reinforcements soon. All he had to do was keep Angel secure and safe until the cavalry arrived.

  “Is breá liom tú.”

  He barely knew a few words in Irish Gaelic, and the version Simeon spoke the most was old by a few centuries. Yet those words—he knew them by the emotion behind them. No translation needed.

  I love you.

  There was shouting. Some hissing. Isaac was swearing like a sailor from Gloucester and Daniel was whimpering, his grip on Angel’s hand painful. More hissing. Sounded like a bunch of really pissed of vampires. Or Eroch attacking pigeons in a pitched battle for the fire escape.

  Angel frowned, then yawned wide, jaw cracking. Why were people yelling and why was Daniel holding his hand? Angel had soothed his traumatized apprentice to sleep a few times since he moved in, but he didn’t remember doing that recently.

  Milly said something witty and scathing, but Angel’s mind was fuzzy and he couldn’t make it out. He hated waking up. Was he late for work? Did Milly come and wake everyone up looking for Angel? She’d never done that before. What the ever-loving fuck was going on?

  Angel groaned, and opened his eyes, his vision blurry. He lifted his free hand and rubbed at them, and the red plastic band on his wrist gave him pause.

  “Angel! You’re awake!” Daniel cried, and hugged him. Angel patted his apprentice on the back and tried talking. He felt like he’d been asleep for days, and his mouth was dry.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Angel croaked out, and he coughed. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “You’re in the hospital,” Daniel said, pulling back. Angel lifted his head and took a good look, and sure as anything he was in the hospital.