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

by SJ Himes

  Simeon was waiting in bed, the covers pulled back, holding the tray. Angel climbed back in bed, and snuggled up against Simeon’s side. Tea, croissants, and some fresh fruit with vanilla yogurt made his breakfast, and Angel kissed Simeon’s bare shoulder in thanks. Accepting a cup, Angel moaned in delight at the robust Earl Gray, and drank most of it down before coming up for air. Simeon chuckled indulgently, and broke off a piece of croissant, the pastry so fresh it steamed as it was pulled apart. Angel nibbled as Simeon fed him piece by piece, their eyes catching each other’s gazes, heated looks and slow sexy smiles passing between them. Simeon fed him by hand, and Angel couldn’t find the impetus to complain, enjoying every moment.

  Eventually he ate as much as he could, and he licked fruit juices from Simeon’s fingers, sucking them clean. His cock throbbed between his legs, heavy and full and aching. He was naked, and his whole body felt flushed and overheated, Simeon’s cool skin a welcome reprieve from the heat coursing through him. Simeon set the tray on the nightstand, and gathered Angel to him, rolling Angel to his back and settling between his thighs.

  Simeon rested his whole body on him, and Angel moaned breathlessly, spreading his legs wider, wrapping them around Simeon’s firm ass and crossing his ankles. Simeon nipped at his lips, before taking his mouth in a devouring kiss, full of fangs and tongue and wet heat. Angel lifted his head and ran his fingers through thick auburn hair, holding Simeon to him as they ate at each other’s mouths, breathy moans and gasps the only sounds between them.

  “Please,” Angel breathed out, lifting his hips, begging. Simeon knew what he wanted, what he needed. Emerald eyes burned, the vibrant depths seeing every secret and desire he held unvoiced, devouring whatever walls remained between them. “Please.”

  Simeon was gone but for a second, but it was too long, his return above Angel with the tube of slick enough to make him cry out with needy relief. He found himself manhandled, hips lifted onto a pillow, ankles on Simeon’s shoulders as lubed fingers worked themselves into his ass. The barest amount of prep, and then Simeon slid home, the burn exquisite and necessary, the pain soothing the sharpest edge of Angel’s need.

  Angel clung, bent in half and keening when it wasn’t enough. Closer, deeper, harder. Simeon heard his pleas, half-formed and nearly indistinct from his gasps and whimpers. Simeon lifted him with one arm around his waist, and plowed his thick length hard and fast, pistoning at a rhythm that drove wails from Angel’s chest, desperate cries for release. Hips rammed against his ass and thighs, rocking him on the bed, but Simeon held him fast, held him in place, not allowing him an inch to move away. He had no option but to take it, and he took it all, his body opened and accepting of the silken steel length working inside of him.

  He hit his peak fast and hard, crying out a choked exclamation of startled relief. Simeon growled, right behind him, and flooded his ass with rapidly warming seed. Teeth lanced his neck, and Angel arched into the bite, mouth open and gasping for breath. Long draws on his flesh made his orgasm roll on forever, his release spilling and spreading between them, wet and slick and messy.

  Colors and light blurred, streaks of movement in his vision. He closed his eyes, shuddering. His perception narrowed to the teeth imbedded in his flesh, the thick cock in his ass, and the powerful suction on his neck. There was a deep and yet delicious ache beneath the bite. His eyes shut, and he lay limp beneath Simeon.

  Reality fell away. His consciousness floated, and golden cords slithered and hugged about him, cradling his spirit. Cold, sweet fluid filled his mouth, dripping past his tongue, and his swallowed reflexively, the golden cords singing and shivering in response.

  Simeon.

  My love. My Leannán.

  Whispers in the turbulent dark. Were they from within, the endless depths that filled his very core, or did they come from the undead man whose breath drifted over his face and neck?

  Waking up this time was a clean break between unconsciousness and mindful awareness. Infinity swelled and sang beneath him, within him, and it was the arms about his torso that anchored him to this world, this reality. Angel breathed, slow and even, and pushed the universe away, until he was just in bed, wrapped in the arms of the man he loved, watching the sunlight reflect off the armoire and the few pieces of artwork on his walls.

  Eroch was sleeping at his side, head tucked under his wing, tailed twitching as the little dragon dreamed. Simeon stroked his arm, big hand warm from Angel’s own heat, the touch soothing and full of love.

  “Are you back?” Simeon whispered, words stirring his hair. Angel squirmed until he could look at Simeon face to face.

  “I am,” Angel replied, quiet. “Where did I go?”

  “The place where the bond between us lives,” Simeon answered, his green eyes crystal clear and honest. Angel lifted a hand, and brushed back Simeon’s bangs, the deep auburn strands glowing bright red in the midday light. Never more glad he’d warded the windows to protect Simeon from the harmful radiant sunlight magic that killed his kind, the sight of Simeon in sunlight was unforgettable.

  “I heard you, in that place,” Angel told him, questioning.

  “As I heard you,” Simeon confirmed.

  “What does that mean?”

  “The last of the mate bonds is nearly complete,” Simeon explained. “Once it is in place, our bond can never be severed, but for death.”

  Angel brushed a thumb over Simeon’s sharp, high cheekbone, and breathed out the words he should have said weeks ago. “The death magic, the ancient power that animates you…I can access it. It eclipses even the veil, and I cannot stop it. It pours into me, a river of death magic, and the mate bond between us makes this so.”

  Simeon gazed back at him, impassive, eyes searching over Angel’s anxious expression. Angel waited, breathless, and then Simeon spoke.

  “A matter of time and love, a ghra. I wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon, but it’s not a horrible thing that’s come to pass, my love.”

  Angel blinked. Thumb paused in its sweep over flawless skin and sharply defined features.

  “Wait. You knew this would happen?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Things Fate Forgot to Mention

  Angel sat up, Simeon’s arms falling from around his waist. He scooted back, until he sat against the headboard. Simeon leaned on his side, head propped up on one arm, gazing up at him with an amused expression, eyes twinkling, mouth quirked up in a wry grin.

  “You knew this would happen?” Angel demanded, and Simeon’s smile grew teasing, indulgent.

  “T’was but a matter of time, as I said. The Leannán bond is soul deep, mo ghra. All that I am, all that you are, all that we are together, as one.”

  Angel opened his mouth, but shut it with a snap, finding that for once in a very long time he had nothing to say. Simeon waited, infinitely patient, love and amusement plain to see in his smile.

  Long minutes went past, and Simeon’s open gaze and smile never wavered. His equilibrium and patient demeanor irked Angel, but more from an odd sense of being denied the confrontational explosion he’d actually been dreading for weeks. “This is anticlimactic and it’s making me grumpy.”

  Angel’s words and his subsequent frown made Simeon chuckle, and Angel resisted the childish urge to pout. Simeon’s chuckles went on long enough to make Angel crack a smile, and he relaxed.

  “Alright, all on the table, or bed, rather. Tell me everything about the bond. Has this happened before? A necromancer and vampire binding?”

  “Yes, and no. The exchange of energies between a vampire and his or her bonded lover is typically one-sided, if the vampire bonds to a human mortal. This is the most common pairing—the mortal gains advanced healing, resiliency, increased senses and longevity. There have been a few rare occurrences of a vampire and a practitioner bonding, but none above the rank of witch, and never a necromancer. The exchange of energies is dependen
t upon the pair. Some things translated over, but it was never the same, and unpredictable. Similar to what happens to werewolves when they form a mate bond, though more specific and the results are random.”

  “So what’s different about us?” Angel asked, thoughts racing ahead.

  “I think you know, from the look on your face.”

  Angel mused over a single thought, his mind latching onto the implications. The healing bite on his neck was proof enough. “The death magic that animates you is accessible to me because I am a necromancer. No other practitioner would be able to access it at all, let alone be able to sense it, even if they were bonded like we are. My death affinity is the deciding factor here. Death magic cycles into me, and parts of me cycle into you. That transfer of power is why my blood isn’t lethal to you—the magical energies in practitioner blood is carried out of you and back into me along the bond.”

  Simeon gave him a short nod, and said, “I’m not too cognizant of the fine particulars, but all vampires bonded to practitioners in the past have developed immunity to magical blood poisoning.”

  “I seem to be getting a lot from you, and aside from magical blood poisoning immunity, what do you get from me?” Angel asked, curious. Simeon sat up and leaned on the headboard beside him, one arm pulling Angel alongside him.

  “I am not sure, my love. Whatever I may gain from you through our bond has yet to present itself. I do know that your blood is as potent as the Master’s, maybe more so, and the healing properties are amazing. I haven’t needed to feed since you healed me. The blood I took this morning should see me through the next week or more.”

  Angel touched the bite on his neck, the pain a pleasant burn. It was dry, no longer bleeding, and the previous bite hadn’t scarred. He was certain this one wouldn’t either.

  Daniel was in his room, sleeping off a pain draught Milly had fixed him, Eroch curled on his pillow beside his head. Angel gently closed the bedroom door, and tiptoed back to the living room. Simeon helped him back onto the couch, and Angel moved around stacks of photos and papers.

  The case files made an inelegant sprawl across the coffee table, gruesome pictures of slain humans and wolf-hybrids flowering like crimson blooms amongst the white sheets of paper and forensic printouts.

  Angel reclined on the couch, head in Simeon’s lap, reading the fae encyclopedia he’d bought at the apothecary shop.

  “Is that porn?” Isaac asked, leaning over the back of the couch and peering at the glossy pictures.

  “Yeah, from Milly’s stash,” Angel said, absentminded.

  “Milly has porn? Wicked cool!”

  “It’s not porn!” Milly groused from the kitchen where she was fixing tea.

  “Then why are they all naked?” Isaac called over his shoulder, tilting his head as he took in one especially fine specimen of supernatural manhood. Angel grinned, and put a hand on Isaac’s face, pushing his brother away. Isaac grumbled and smacked Angel’s hand, but he walked off anyway.

  “Stop leering at something I’m reading. All kinds of wrong. You can borrow it after I’m done.”

  “Pages clean, please.”

  Simeon was laughing, silent chuckles under Angel’s head.

  “Men are gross,” Milly complained with a sniffle. She shuffled into the living room, reclaiming her chair, wrapping the afghan back around her shoulders. She held a cup of steaming tea under her nose, closing her eyes as she breathed in the warm vapor. “Oh, this is good.”

  “We could have gone to your place, instead of you traipsing across town with a cold in the middle of winter,” Angel said, sending her a concerned glance. “It would have been easier on you.”

  “I chose to look at it this way—if we get attacked again, I won’t be stuck cleaning up my place,” Milly said, between long sips of tea. “My insurance company was very upset this last time.”

  “Why were they upset? It’s not your fault your crazy ex came calling.”

  “I think it was the fractured foundation and demolished living room that was the biggest concern, my dear.”

  “Oh,” Angel mouthed. “Oops.”’

  Milly gave him an indulgent smile and went back to drinking her tea.

  “So you two had your talk, then?” Milly said abruptly.

  Angel gave Milly a warning glance, his eyes going to Isaac and back. She frowned, and sat back. He glared, but her gaze remained unwavering. Acquiescing, he sighed loudly and closed the book with a thud. “Yes, we talked. We’re on the same page. Apparently Simeon being able to drink from me is a side effect of the mate bond and perfectly normal.”

  “And the rest if it?”

  “Same thing—normal, for us at least.”

  Isaac wasn’t listening, his brother occupying one of the arm chairs, his nose buried in their ancestress’s diary. Angel shrugged, and went back to reading his book.

  Angel gave up reading after a long minute. “Milly, why would Stone be working with the fae lord?”

  Milly put down her empty cup, and snuggled back into her chair, drawing the afghan tighter around her shoulders. “Benjamin was always an aggressive man. He was a frequent participant in bar fights and scuffles. That’s why he was in prison—he killed a man in a bar fight. If the fae was after someone willing to throw a punch and never ask why, Ben would be perfect.”

  “So…coincidence that a fae lord, someone who already has a huge amount of power in his own right, just happens to hire your troll-hybrid ex-husband as his bruiser? One who comes to Town, and decides to break into your place with a nullifier charm? C’mon.”

  “I don’t think it’s a coincidence at all.”

  “I don’t either.” Angel sat up, throwing the book on the coffee table. “Look, this is what I think is going on.”

  Simeon, Milly and Isaac all gave him their undivided attention. Angel rubbed his face hard, then ran his fingers through his hair, not caring if the too long strands stood upright.

  “People, human and supernat, are being murdered. Evidence points to certain rituals favored by specific races of fae. Obscure religious rites that would only be known by those particular types of fae. There’s a small handful of rites across the globe that require living hearts removed by silver blade, and we can discount human blood magic since there is no signs of mental instability in the killer. The kills are sterile, clean, and identical with each subsequent murder. Blood magic drives the wielder insane, so that’s not what we’re seeing.”

  Angel got nods and murmured agreements from his audience.

  “Milly gets attacked at her place. Her ex, with no spellcasting magic of his own, is wearing a nullifier charm. Those are rare as fuck, incredibly hard to make, and it was tailored to rebuff her type of magic and mine. That means whoever made the charm knows us, our magic, and planned for the chance Stone would come up against us. My use of kinetic magic is not well known. Choosing between nullifying death magic and kinetic, it’s easy to see which one the charm’s creator would pick.”

  More nods. Good, they were following along.

  “Okay…Milly.”

  “Yes?”

  “I know you taught at some of the best schools in the country. Aside from technical skills, what else did you teach?”

  “History of Fae Societies in Northern Europe and the Great Purge.”

  Milly’s face, already naturally pale, went whiter. Angel sighed, and gave her a nod. “I think the fae lord Simeon encountered is the one who found Stone. Neither of us are hard to find. I think this time, Milly, you were targeted to keep your expertise from coming out. Eventually, the murders would come to me, and the killer couldn’t take the chance that I would involve you. Sacrificial hearts mean black magic, death magic—and I’m the only necromancer on the East Coast. Keeping me out of the way has to have been his plan the whole time. Stone had reasons of his own going after you—the fae gave Stone the means. They made the
error of assuming you were vulnerable. With you out of play, I’m handicapped or too distraught to function.”

  “He was right. If you and Isaac hadn’t come when you did, I would be dead or kidnapped.”

  “But we did make it, and you’re safer now. You’ve got precautions in place. I think the fae lord sees there’s no point in taking you out now. He lost his chance, so killing you now is pointless. Keeping Stone under wraps now, since there’s an APB out on him, is probably why we haven’t seen him again.”

  “So why the hearts? Why did he attack Simeon?” Isaac asked, face scrunched up in confusion.

  “I’m not sure about the hearts. But I think why Simeon has to do with the fact he’s a vampire, and not just my vampire.” Angel leaned back, and took Simeon’s hand in his. “When your limo was attacked, was it just Stone?”

  Simeon nodded, green eyes bright in his face. “Yes. The fae lord appeared just as I was about to kill Stone. He was not present that I was aware of when the limo crashed.”

  “And that hunting party you and Batiste sent after them? Still missing?”

  “Yes.”

  Angel pointed with his free hand at the pictures of the slain victims. “Most rituals are effective with one or two sacrificial hearts. Having six is overkill, no pun intended. There’s no need for six hearts, when one or two suffice. So, to me, that says the killer isn’t getting the results he needs. So he goes out, gets another heart. He’s progressing through different species, and each species has intrinsic qualities to them that would augment or change a sacrificial working. A werewolf hybrid has more power than a mundane human—a full-blood wolf has more than a hybrid.” Angel pointed out each of the different species as he explained.

  “The fae lord, from the circumstances Simeon described during the attack, has the ability to hide, and disguise his escape. The vampire hunters would never have found him if the fae went to ground and stayed there…unless he wanted them to find him—I think they are dead, otherwise they would have returned by now.” Angel squeezed Simeon’s hand in sympathy. His lover wore a tired and saddened expression, and it made his heart ache just thinking about how Simeon must be feeling. “Simeon?”