How to Save an Undead Life (The Beginner's Guide to Necromancy Book 1)

by Hailey Edwards

  “I don’t understand.”

  Genuine pity darkened his eyes. “I’m not at liberty to explain.”

  “I can’t accept an offer without knowing the consequences.” I started to remove his gift, but his hand stilled me. “I can’t accept this either.”

  “I’m not asking for an answer now, only that you consider me.” He tapped the bangle. “This is all the protection I can offer until you decide. Please, wear it. It will keep you safe.”

  From him went unsaid. The odds of another Last Seed wanting a piece of me were…incalculable.

  “I can’t make any promises.” I would need a second opinion before I removed the darn bangle, let alone promoted it to daily accessory status. Once bitten, twice shy and all that. “But I will consider your request.”

  “That’s all I can ask.” His quick smile was nice, tinged with triumph I didn’t understand, but not bone-meltingly irresistible. “Except… Might I still trouble you for that sandwich?”

  “That I can do.” I set about preparing our meal, falling into the comfortable routine while my mind whirred. This gift must have been the reason Woolly allowed him entrance in the first place. Did that mean she wanted me to accept his alliance or take the gift and run? Times like these, I really wish she had writing skills above kindergartener level. “Was this the only reason you came to town?”

  “No, I have other business matters to attend while I’m here.” He traced a vein in the granite countertop with his finger, and it wasn’t a stretch to imagine that same touch on my throat. “Perhaps I could engage your services for the night.”

  I burned my palm on the pan I was heating. “Come again?”

  “You are a guide, yes?” He quirked an eyebrow. “I am not familiar with the area. I would appreciate someone with your qualifications to show me around town.”

  “You’re a long way from home, huh?” At his puzzled expression, I elaborated. “Your accent.”

  “Ah. Yes.” A grin told me he was well aware of how it affected the ladies. “I was born in Nizhny.” He corrected himself, “Nizhny Novgorod, Russia.”

  I sliced a tablespoon of butter and let it hit the pan with a sizzle. “How did you end up all the way in Savannah, Georgia?”

  “My mother passed away recently.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” His father was a made vampire, his mother human, for him to be an LS. Meaning that Volkov’s twenty-something appearance might be an accurate indication of his true age.

  “We weren’t close.” He shifted in his seat to study the photos on the wall—all pictures of me and Maud, some including a somber Linus, and our escapades. “Not like it appears you were with your family.”

  Family was a complicated subject for me, and not one I was eager to discuss. “Was Volkov House part of your inheritance?”

  “Yes.” He returned his attention to me. “I’d heard stories of my mad relative and seen pictures of his home. When it passed into my hands, I was tempted to donate it to the town to be used for recreational purposes.”

  “What changed your mind?” I finished browning the grilled cheese to perfection, plated it, sliced it horizontally and shoved the dish toward Volkov.

  “A…situation arose. My mother was a woman of many secrets, and some were revealed after her death. Much like the house, I inherited other responsibilities as well.” A grim line flattened his lips. “I hoped that coming here might give me insight into what my obligations truly are.”

  A small part of me wondered if that situation was me.

  “I get that.” I pulled my bread from the toaster and slathered on the PB&J then cut off the crust. “Some responsibilities our loved ones leave behind are too large for us to shoulder alone.”

  Surprise lit his features. “Just so.”

  “About tonight—” If I had a lick of sense, I would tell him to buzz off and find another flower “—I have two late-late tours scheduled. I can’t break those engagements.”

  Plus, I had to get Keet back in his cage and out of my bathroom, where I’d stashed him before bed. At least now he could hang in the living room near the windows overlooking the garden instead of being stuffed up in my room all the time.

  “Are you available tomorrow?”

  The way he said available made me think he meant something different than what rested on the surface. “Sundays aren’t usually as hectic, but I’m covering two tours for a friend.”

  His chin dipped, as if he had expected the brushoff he apparently thought I had given him.

  “What about Monday?” That gave me a small window to find answers about the bangle and arm myself with questions to ask about this proposed alliance of his. “We can do an early lunch in town.”

  A smile overtook his face that caused my pulse to leap, bangle or no bangle. “Are you asking me out?”

  I choked on my sandwich and stole his lemonade to wash it down. Pretty sure my response still came out as a gurgle.

  “Your blush intoxicates, solnishko.” He lifted half his sandwich, bit into it, and let his eyes roll closed. A pleased rumble issued from his chest. “I want to repay your hospitality. We will meet Monday, and I will take you out for lunch.” He cut his eyes my way. “As you requested.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t dare risk a longer response until I had drained his glass to the bottom. Thankfully, eternal life came with one heck of a boost to the old immune system, and I couldn’t catch anything from sharing. “I’ll pencil you in.”

  “I make you nervous,” he observed.

  Around him, I felt like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. “You’re a stranger.” A vampire. “In my home.” Even if said home had invited him in.

  “After Monday, we will have spoken three times. We will be strangers no longer. We will be…” his lips pursed, “…friends.”

  A laugh welled up in me. “Sure.”

  Once I showed him the sights and he realized I had zero powers or influence, he would lose interest and our friendship would crash and burn alongside his offer of alliance. I just hoped he let me keep the bangle as a consolation prize. Having experienced the helplessness of confinement behind iron bars, the misery of having my will suppressed, the horror of doubting my own sanity, I could appreciate an accessory that protected me from a fraction of the population at least. Volkov, whether he knew it or not, had given me a gift potent with symbolism as well as being practical for our future dealings.

  “I hear your doubt.” He finished his sandwich with equal rapture. “I will prove to you I am a constant man.”

  I schooled my features into a bland mask. Seeing him as a man was not part of the plan. Even his use of the word rang hollow. Made vampires often referred to themselves as men or women, a habit some of them never broke, but born vampires had been taught the trick as camouflage to make them harder to distinguish from their brethren.

  Volkov was a vampire, and vampires—born or made—meant trouble for me. No matter how sincere those thunderous eyes blazed, I couldn’t afford to let biology lead me around by the nose.

  The doorbell chose that moment to ring, a pealing sound as joyful as laughter, and I had a good idea who to expect. So it was no surprise, three minutes later, to find myself squaring off with Boaz over the threshold.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d be awake yet.”

  “I’m not a total laze about.”

  “No, but you worked late.” He inhaled, and the groan he released made my stomach tighten. “Is that a grilled cheese sandwich with extra butter I smell?”

  “Yes, but I’m out of cheese. And bread.” And I really didn’t want him to discover I was harboring a vampire.

  “Don’t hide from me.”

  “Hello? I answered the door. I’m standing here, talking to you.” My guest? Yes, well, okay. Him, I was hiding. “I haven’t been grocery shopping because of those late nights you mentioned.”

  “Is there a problem?” Volkov purred over my shoulder.

  I closed my eyes on a groan then squinted
up at Boaz. “This is not what it looks like.”

  “It looks like you’re cavorting with a vampire.” His gaze sharpened. “Are you out of cheese? Or is it O positive you’re low on?”

  “Is this your boyfriend?” Volkov asked conversationally.

  “No. He’s my—” I stalled out. “Neighbor?”

  “Friend,” Boaz corrected through a flash of teeth. “Her very close friend.”

  “Danill Volkov, meet Boaz Pritchard.” I gestured between them. “Boaz is my best friend’s big brother. His parents live next door.”

  “You still live at home?” Volkov stood so close his heat caressed my spine. “I suppose in this economy…”

  “I’m on leave.” Each word sliced through the air. “I haven’t been home in thirteen months, so yes. I will be staying with my family.” His gaze shifted to me. “Besides, my old room has the benefit of giving me a view of Grier’s bedroom window each morning. What more can a man ask for?”

  “Boaz, did you need something?” I restrained the urge to throttle him. “Or are you only here to validate my decision to invest in blackout curtains?”

  “I can’t find the key to Jolene.” He indicated a toolbox and a bulging plastic bag he’d left on the top step. “Figured the old girl was due for a tune-up.”

  “Oh.” I deflated. “Guess I should have seen this coming.” I palmed the keychain off the console table where I’d dropped it last night. “Here you go.”

  “Tuck in your bottom lip.” He tapped my chin up with his fingertip. “Amelie told me you’ve been using her to get to work. I’m not here to steal your transportation.”

  Volkov uttered a growl that dared Boaz to try, but we both ignored him.

  “She’s yours. You can take her any time you want.” Generous of me to give him back his own bike. “I’ll figure something out. Really, it’s okay.”

  He shook his head at my stubbornness. “Do you have a dollar?”

  “Yeah.” I pulled a wrinkled bill from my pocket and offered it to him. “What do I owe you for the oil and the filter I see in that bag? A dollar won’t cover those.”

  “Congratulations. You just bought yourself a bike.” He turned on his heel. “I’ll draw up the papers. You can sign them later.”

  “You can’t sell me Jolene.” I chased him across the porch. “You love that bike.”

  “I bought a new one this morning.”

  My jaw dropped. “Why would you—?”

  “Don’t pester me, Squirt, or I might change my mind.” He raised his hand as he set off toward the garage. “Later.”

  “Later,” I murmured.

  “I should go.”

  A flush warmed my cheeks. I’d forgotten Volkov was still here. “Sorry about that.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for, and certainly not to me.” He took my hand and brushed his lips across my knuckles. “I look forward to seeing you again soon. I will call to make arrangements.”

  “You have my number.” It came out as an accusation. “Why does that not surprise me?”

  The sharp edge of his grin made zero apologies for him getting what he wanted.

  “Thanks for the gift.” I trailed him down the steps onto the lawn where his driver waited. “I’ll think on what you said.” And the implications of all he hadn’t said.

  “Good.” He inclined his head. “Good night, Grier.”

  “Night, Mr. Volkov.”

  “Danill,” he corrected. “We’re friends, remember?”

  “Danill,” I agreed, willing to play nice until I got my answers. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

  The bangle caught the light as I jogged back up on the porch, and I whirled it around my wrist. I had to admit it was as pretty as it was creepy. Since I had yet to go out tonight, I curled my toes against the cool planks, shut my eyes and brushed my thoughts against the wards encircling Woolworth House.

  A percussive blast radiated through my skull as a warning chimed in my head. A new quadrant had been weakened within feet of the last assault. Almost as though someone were systematically checking Woolly’s defenses.

  That…was not good.

  Hard to know who presented the more tempting target. Me or Woolly. Neither of us were inviolable.

  Woolly should have reached out to me when she was in danger, not let it pass. Unless the reason she no longer mentally pinged me when the wards got buzzed was because I was too weak to hear her sound the alarm. That weakness might also explain why she’d rolled out the red carpet for our fangy guest.

  After spending time with Volkov, I had no doubt he’d orchestrated our first meeting to occur at a time when I was professionally obligated not to turn tail and run. But he’d also chosen an environment where I would be surrounded by witnesses despite the late hour, humans, who he couldn’t reveal himself to on that scale without dire consequences, Last Seed or not, so there was that. He had wanted me comfortable and relaxed, not intimidated.

  That left me with the second vampire as a possible suspect, the one with a master eager to make my acquaintance. Or, even worse, another necromancer.

  Rivals might have been attempting to crack Woolly like the safe she was all along. Her treasure trove of necromantic knowledge and artifacts were priceless to the Society. Desperation could be making them reckless now that I was home to defend her. Of course my being home might also be the issue.

  Maud had been ruthless in her pursuit of knowledge, and she had earned her fair share of enemies. Now I had to wonder if I might have inherited them along with everything else.

  Four

  Dawn warmed my shoulders as I drove Jolene out to Tybee Island. Her sultry purr after having Boaz’s hands on her kept my thoughts cycling back to him. A dollar. He’d sold me his bike, the one that cost him three summers’ worth of grass-cutting money, for a freaking dollar. And he hadn’t stopped there, either. He had more than changed her oil.

  Golden light from the streetlamps caressed the fuel tank, her crimson and black paint glossy under the layers of wax he had lovingly applied after washing off the grime caked on her from months of hard use. It hadn’t slipped my notice that my gas tank was now sitting on full too.

  He had laughed himself silly when he realized I still wore the jacket I had inherited from one of his exes. Jerk. Let him laugh. It’s not like I could afford to buy a new one, and it fit. Okay, fine. It zipped.

  I wore a corset five nights a week. Breathing was overrated.

  Ahead the road thinned to a single lane, and that was a generous assessment. I bumped along, avoiding potholes, until I reached a bungalow with mint-green siding and peppermint-pink shutters. White trim accented the eaves, and clear plastic sealed the windows to keep in the cool like the house was hard candy still in the wrapper.

  I parked in the sandy driveway, shucked my gear and approached the front door. It swung open before I got there, and a tiny woman with dark brown skin and long white braids squinted at me through Coke-bottle glasses from the threshold.

  “Ma coccinelle.” She removed her glasses and wiped the thick lenses on the hem of her faded tank top. “Tell me, bébé, this is today and not tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow is still a day away, Odette.” I embraced her frail shoulders to anchor her in the present. “Sorry it took me so long to visit.”

  Odette Lecomte was a seer, and she tended to get her yesterdays, todays and tomorrows scrambled.

  People came from all over the world to invite her to sift their futures through her gnarled fingers. But her value, at least to me, wasn’t in her guidance, but in what treasures she had unearthed while divining possible eventualities. Her vast network of clients made her a veritable encyclopedia of knowledge both common and forbidden.

  “Bah.” She held me at arm’s length and grinned through blackened teeth. “Wounded animals heal best in their dens. You owe no one an apology for doing whatever it takes to survive.”

  The sentiment, so similar to Maud’s credo, left my eyes burning raw.

  “Co
me inside.” She hauled me into her living room and shoved me down onto a plush sofa the off-white color of bones. “Tell Odette what you need, and you shall have it.”

  “I made a new friend.” I held up my wrist and shook the bangle. “He gave me this. Any idea how to get it off?”

  “Ma déesse.” She made the sign of the goddess. “Why would you want to do a crazy thing like that?”

  Not the reaction I’d expected. “Are you saying I should wear it?”

  “Evie and Maud didn’t agree on much where you were concerned, but neither wanted me to hold the power of your future in my hands. Both wanted you to forge your own path, make your own mistakes.”

  The casual mention of my mother knocked the wind out of me, and Odette noticed my breathlessness.

  “You look so much like your momma, the goddess weeps.” She cupped my cheeks between her palms. “What would she say if she could see us now?” She laughed softly. “Other than for me to keep my nose in my own business.”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I don’t remember much about her.”

  Evangeline Marchand died when I was five. I can’t recall her face from memory, but I studied Maud’s albums often enough to know I saw a younger version of her each time I looked in the mirror. Thin lips, high cheekbones, sharp chin. I inherited those from Mom. The dark tangle of my hair belonged to her too. Whoever my father was, he hadn’t contributed much. Not to my DNA and not to my life. But I got his amber eyes.

  “More’s the pity,” Odette sympathized. “Maybe if she had been allowed to choose…” She flexed her fingers as though recalling how she had once held Mom’s hand, guided her. “Evie walked her path with her eyes wide open. There was only ever one outcome available to her once she knew the end I foresaw.”

  That end came in the form of a car wreck the morning after we arrived in Savannah.

  Maud admitted once, on a night when guilt had tipped back more than one wine bottle, that she had been the one who begged Mom to stop zigzagging across the country. The best thing, in her opinion, was for us both to put down roots. But the second Mom stopped being a moving target, death had struck her down.