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

by SJ Himes

  In fact, he was in bed, in a hospital room, the door to the hall opened where he could see a crowd of uniformed security and sharp suits. The suits were vampires, and Angel recognized several soldiers from the Tower. Simeon’s dark auburn hair glinted with fiery highlights beneath the fluorescent lighting, and his broad shoulders and lethal grace set him apart even from his brethren.

  Simeon was facing off against several men in white coats and frumpy suits, and a short cranky middle-aged man was waving a clipboard around wildly and complaining about dungeons. They were backed by armed security guards and some nervous people in more suits.

  “Why is Simeon arguing about dungeons with a doctor? Am I still asleep?” Angel asked, beyond confused. Last thing he recalled was getting attacked by the angry version of a mountain troll, and… “Holy shit, what the fuck happened?”

  Angel sat up fast, the shouting and a blood rush making his head spin. Daniel grabbed his shoulders and tried to push him back down, but Angel needed to sit up. He felt okay. Weird, but okay. There was an odd echo in his center, and his whole body was tingling. Toes to fingers to scalp, he felt electrified. His head was spinning and he ached in a few spots like he was bruised, but he was certain he didn’t need to be in a hospital.

  “I’m naked,” Angel said, looking down at the gown hanging off his shoulders. “Where are my clothes?”

  “Oh! Isaac went to find them,” Daniel perked up and spun to the door. “I think he found them, but then everyone else showed up, and Milly and Simeon won’t let them in the room.”

  “Yeah, um. I’m fine kiddo. Get my clothes from Isaac, please,” Angel asked, needing to get some real clothing on. The chill hospital air was shrinking bits he’d rather not expose any further. He’d never been admitted before, not even when he almost died when he was twenty and several weeks ago against Deimos. The room was fucking cold and his skin felt tight and dry, and he was thirsty.

  Daniel sprinted from the room and headed toward the group in the hall, that seemed to be getting larger by the moment. Angel huffed out an annoyed breath, the noise irritating the shit out of him. From what he could hear, Simeon wanted him out of the hospital and home, and the doctors were going on about Angel needed some kind of test to…he heard aura searching and magical examination, and his lip curled.

  “Fuck that,” Angel hissed out as he slid to the floor, flinching as his feet hit the freezing tile.

  No way in hell was he allowing any stranger to examine him that deeply. He wasn’t hexed—he had just needed to adjust to the extremely huge amount of power he’d absorbed and somehow managed to spindle in his core, and his mind shut down. It was an old meditation technique he’d learned from August and his father, when he was just coming into his affinity. Angel had trouble when he was a child, as his powers came on too early and his affinity not too long after that. The power surge this evening was similar to his experiences as a child. His mind went to sleep, and his spirit absorbed the power. Without his conscious mind trying to control the power, it had stopped fighting him—and it calmed. It was a last ditch, Hail Mary kind of action, and he hadn’t done it since he was twelve or thirteen.

  Though answering why the power was wild and immense would have to wait, especially since a doctor in a long white coat and beady glasses snuck in around the melee in the hall and was walking over to him.

  “Mr. Salvatore? I’m Dr. Ballacree. I am one of the on-staff wizards here at Boston Metro. I specialize in aural examinations and hex removal. I was sent a request to read your aura, I understand there’s some concern you were hexed?” This man was tall and thin with mousey brown hair and a pinched expression, and wasn’t even looking at Angel as he spoke in a distracted and vague tone of voice. Dr. Ballacree idly searched for Angel’s chart, but the crazy doctor in the hall squaring off with Simeon probably had it.

  “I wasn’t hexed; I don’t need it. I’m fine,” Angel said, which he was, even with his head spinning a bit and his whole body tingling. He just felt like he spent too much time tapping the veil on full blast, instead of the steady trickle he usually used to recharge his reserves. “I don’t need an examination. I’m leaving.”

  Angel tried standing, but the new doctor came over and put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down to the bed. Angel glared, and opened his mouth to tell the fucker off, but he felt a slimy sliver of magical energy glide over his outer senses, and he recoiled in shock. The asshole was trying to read him, after he said no, too!

  “What the fuck! Back off!” Angel gritted out, and he slapped the other man’s hand away from his shoulder. “Stop it!”

  “There’s no need to be agitated, Mr. Salvatore. I’m sure you think you’re fine, but let a professional see first, hhmm? You’ve got a pretty powerful charge running through you,” Dr. Ballacree said, reaching out for Angel again. “Hhhmm…what’s your affinity?”

  “My affinity is for kicking ass! Fuck off!” Angel pushed back at the sensation of spectral hands running over his aura, and nausea rolled through him. The doctor was taller than him by several inches, and with Angel sitting on the bed he had no leverage. The doctor pushed on Angel’s shoulders, trying to force him to lay back on the bed. “Let go of me!”

  Casting in a hospital was a bad idea—pure oxygen ran through pipes in the walls, and with his magic amped up, a single shove with kinetic could result in the room being reduced to splinters. That happened, and a fireball could take out the entire floor. All this held him back from casting, but that didn’t stop his fist. Someone shouted his name, and Angel would have answered if he hadn’t pulled back his arm and let his fist fly, cracking the creeper forcing him back on the bed across the nose. Blood sprayed and the bone snapped, and the doctor screamed, blood running down his lips and chin. Angel rolled off the bed, backing away, and the doctor was surrounded by blurs of black and brown as suited vamps materialized in the room. The doctor was restrained and yanked away from Angel, and Angel staggered back, shaking out his arms, trying to rid himself of the invasive sensation of the medical wizard’s magic.

  Steel bands that masqueraded as arms surrounded him, cradling him carefully to Simeon’s rock hard chest. His lover turned him away from the yelling doctor and the other people piling into the room, and a cool hand lifted his chin. Simeon gazed down at him, a fond smile lifting one corner of his luscious mouth. A thumb traced his lower lip, and Angel sighed, leaning into the touch, eyes shutting. He ran his hands up Simeon’s chest, caressing and touching gently as he went, and wrapped his arms around Simeon’s neck. Simeon moved his hand, cupping the back of his head and urging Angel to press his face to Simeon’s shoulder. He went willingly, hugging Simeon tightly to him, shivering at the rush of energy along their bond.

  Their bond. It sang in his mind, in his spirit, sapphire and emerald and overtones of gold, pure and inviolate. Angel smiled, able to see the bond more clearly with his eyes shut, his inner vision open and the world shining bright. Simeon’s soul shone the brightest, and beneath it, the wellspring of primordial death magic that animated the sentient undead.

  Angel peered closer, ignoring the outside world, sinking below their fragile matebond, and the strength he saw left him in shock. Simeon was powerful—he was an Elder, and four hundred years old. Beneath Simeon’s own personal reserves of vampiric magic, churned the ancient death magic that made him a vampire to begin with, and it was limitless. Simeon had access to his own strength, and seemed to be unaware, or perhaps indifferent to the magica animus that made him who he was, as Angel could see Simeon had no conscious nor direct access to the ancient death magic that dwelled within him.

  And that ancient death magic was running along their mate bond, under the essence that was pure Simeon, masking it and blinding Angel to its presence. This was why his magic was amped up—this is why he almost blew up Milly’s townhouse. He was a battery constantly charging, plugged in and continually being topped off. And Simeon was apparently unaware he
was constantly charging Angel through their bond.

  Angel stilled, even halting his breathing, as his mind tried to process what he was seeing. He wasn’t tired from handling the energy that flowed unending into his core. If he were to tap the veil, he would eventually grow tired trying to wrangle the chaotic energies from the other dimension, the place where all magical energy created by living beings and active cells in all substances eventually bled through. The veil was merely a form of expression that illustrated the divide between their current reality, their universe, and the next universal layer closest to their own, and in reach of sorcerers. And it took power to use power—and Angel already had more than most of his peers.

  He was adjusting, even as it overwhelmed him. He was accustomed to the veil energy, and handling the death magic he could access through his mate was more than anything he’d ever experienced before—and because it was death magic, a magic he himself produced and learned to live with and eventually ignore unless actively searching it out, he hadn’t noticed. He was death magic, in a way, and he’d tuned it out. Like ignoring the sound of one’s own breathing or heartbeat.

  Angel sucked in a deep breath, and let out an insane giggle, trying not to panic.

  “Mo ghra?” Simeon kissed the top of his ear, making Angel shiver. His panic receded, and Angel breathed in and out a few times, settling his nerves. As long as he didn’t cast he should be fine—should be.

  “Arrest him for assault!”

  Angel took a hand from Simeon’s neck and flipped off the crowd at his back. Strident complaints came in response, and Simeon chuckled, the sound so deep and comforting under his ear. He went back to snuggling his lover, and let Simeon take over. He was too volatile to do much of anything except to breathe in Simeon’s minty chocolate scent and try not to blow up the hospital.

  Simeon spoke so quickly his words were naught but a short staccato hiss, and the complaints from the medical staff faded as they were presumably herded from the room. Isaac was asking after him, and Daniel was petting his back. Angel lifted his head carefully, the room only spinning a bit, but it was enough to make him groan.

  The room spun even more when Simeon swept him up in his arms, cuddling him close. Angel closed his eyes, and responded to the frantic questions from his brother and apprentice. “Guys, easy. I’m fine, just a bit dizzy. Is Milly okay?”

  “I’m fine, dear. Are you sure you’re well?” Milly replied instantly, and she put a slim hand on his arm. He cracked single eye open, and peered at his partner. She sported a cut along her temple at her hairline, and some bruising, but she looked a lot better than she had at her place earlier. Which wasn’t hard, since she was upright and dressed and not looking like she was about to die.

  “I think so.”

  “What happened? You just passed out!” Isaac asked, his brother’s voice cracking with fear and stress.

  “Isaac, I swear I’m fine. I’ll be okay. Can we get out of here?” Angel asked the last bit to the room at large, and Simeon clutched him tighter.

  “Of course, my love. Do you want to get dressed first?”

  “Fuck yes.”

  Simeon sat him gently on the bed, and pointed at the door. Milly herded the boys from the room, and shut it behind them. Angel slouched, rubbing at his temples and moaning. He sat up quickly though, thinking back to the incident at Milly’s home.

  “Did the troll get away?” Angel asked, grabbing his pants from the stack of clothing Daniel left on the bed. He got dressed as fast as he could.

  “Was it a troll? Young Isaac merely said a large man, and Milly has been unforthcoming about the identity of her assailant,” Simeon handed him his boots, and Angel tugged them on. He searched for his athame, and didn’t see it. Shit.

  “Hybrid for sure. Did he get away? I can’t see the police being able to restrain him for long. Bastard had a nullifier on him,” Angel said, standing. He let Simeon hold him steady, slightly disturbed by how the power thrumming under his skin sang with overtones of joy at his lover’s touch.

  “The troll was not present when the police arrived,” Simeon kept his hand under Angel’s elbow and escorted him to the door. “My soldiers are dealing with your discharge. The hospital will be receiving a visit from the bloodclan lawyers as well for attempting to violate your living will.”

  “That came in handy,” Angel bitched, rubbing his forehead. “What’s the fucking point of having one if the damn doctors won’t follow it? That creeper just went ahead and tried it anyway! I should have hexed him.”

  “They’ll wish for a curse once my master learns of their transgressions,” Simeon smiled, predatory and smug. “An insult to you is an insult to the bloodclan.”

  “I can handle my own insulting,” Angel quipped, frowning. “Wait, that came out wrong. Fuck, I feel weird.”

  Simeon was there immediately, and before Angel could squawk out a protest, swung him back up in his arms and carried him to the door. Angel groaned, embarrassed, and he wrapped an arm around his lover’s neck and let the stubborn vampire have his way. The door opened just as they reached it, and Simeon stepped in the hall, surrounded by a phalanx of vampiric soldiers, with Isaac, Daniel and Milly in the center with them.

  Isaac walked in front of him, right behind the vampires leading the way out of the emergency room. Milly and Daniel walked on either side of Simeon as he carried Angel out of the hospital. Angel breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the hilt of his athame, once his father’s blade, stuck in the back of Isaac’s belt. No sign of his scabbard, but he had another at home. Angel sent Milly a look, and she pursed her lips in a tight smile, but nodded. They were going to have a serious talk about the man who broke into her place.

  Angel had never seen him before that night, but he knew enough from a decade of working alongside Milly to know exactly who that motherfucker was—Milly’s ex-husband and troll-hybrid, Benjamin Stone.

  A fitting name for a stone-cold bastard.

  Chapter Five

  Blood Bonds

  “I haven’t seen him in twenty years,” Milly said, looking down at her cup of steaming tea.

  Angel had Simeon make the tea, since his boys were too worked up to be trusted in the kitchen. The chagrin on their faces told Angel they knew exactly why they were banished from the kitchen, and they were alternating between embarrassment and sulking. Angel let them pout and focused on Milly.

  It was late enough, or hell, early enough, to be breakfast, and Simeon was in the kitchen making them food. Angel spent an inordinate amount of time smiling like a loon and blushing in delight when Simeon revealed he could cook, and that he liked it. Angel asked him where he picked up the skill, and he felt like an ass when Simeon replied he hadn’t always been a vampire. He learned to cook as a mortal man, and while modern conveniences were drastically different, the concept was the same.

  Angel sighed in contentment and leaned back in his seat on the couch, sandwiched between Daniel and Isaac. His brother was leaning away from him, not too obvious but enough that Angel thought about getting a bigger couch. Daniel didn’t care—his apprentice was snuggled up to his side, and while the boy was bigger than Angel, he felt small and vulnerable curled up there against Angel, and the death grip he had on Angel’s arm told him the night’s events left Daniel severely rattled. He made a mental note to ask him about his visit with Leicester when they didn’t have an audience.

  “How did he find you?” Angel asked, toeing off his boots and gripping the edge of the coffee table with his toes. Milly sent him a disapproving look, but it was his house, his rules, and he smirked back at her. He gestured at her to get on with it, and she sighed loudly before taking a sip, deliberately taking her time answering. No one rushed Dame Fontaine, not even Angel.

  Point made, she said, “I think it was the recent article involving the resurrected mammoth and the mention of our partnership in the Boston Globe. Your endeavors putt
ing it back to rest after it killed those college students made national headlines.”

  “Were you actually hiding from him? You’ve been here in town your whole life,” Angel asked. He ignored the comment about the resurrected mammoth. If he had a dollar for every time a bunch of idiots with some kinda talent decided to resurrect an extinct species and got eaten in the process he would be able to go on a really short but satisfying vacation to Vegas. People didn’t need to have an affinity for death to be able to resurrect something—it just made things easier, and gave them the natural ability to control what they brought back. None of the college kids were necromancers and they died horribly for that lack of expertise.

  Simeon came into the room carrying trays, and put them on the coffee table, two plates on each tray, laden with bacon and sausage and eggs. Simeon knocked his feet off the table, and Angel grumbled out a thanks as he took a plate.

  “Hiding? No. But I thought he would be locked away for longer than he was,” Milly explained, and Angel paused, a sausage link hovering midair between plate and mouth.

  “He was in jail? I just thought you two split and went your separate ways,” Angel exclaimed, honestly surprised. He had no clue her ex was in jail. In fact, what he didn’t know outnumbered what he did. Angel devoured a forkful of eggs and gave Milly a hard stare. “Why was he in jail? What did he do?”

  Milly stared at her cup like it held the mysteries of the universe…or just some hard truths.

  “He killed someone. He was in jail for second-degree murder,” Milly answered him after a long moment.

  “Fuck,” Isaac breathed out. “Who did he kill?” Angel elbowed his brother in the ribs. Isaac winced and glared back at him.

  “I divorced him while he was in prison, and I haven’t seen him since he was arrested and I gave my statement. My testimony wasn’t needed since he killed a man in public with multiple witnesses, so I didn’t even attend his trial. I haven’t seen him in twenty years, and I was hoping it would be a lifetime.”