by Becca Andre
“Then he wouldn’t be far from the corpse,” she reminded her.
“I take exception to being called a corpse,” James said.
Elysia whirled to find him halfway across the living room. She hadn’t heard him, and she had been too absorbed in the conversation to sense him. Realizing how close he had gotten without her notice set her heart to pounding.
He flopped down on the couch and cracked open a Coke he had taken from the refrigerator. He had removed his leather coat to reveal a black concert T-shirt that fit him well.
“If you drink that, you’ll vomit,” she told him. The dead didn’t possess a working digestive system.
“Hardly. I like Coke.” He took a drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
“If you make a mess, you’re cleaning it up.”
“You should be more worried about what my ass is doing to your couch.”
“Who are you arguing with?” Livie asked.
“The corpse,” James called.
“You heard that?” Elysia asked him. No way.
He ignored her, taking another drink from his can.
“Grams!” Livie screamed. Elysia pulled the phone away from her ear.
“Little sister?” James propped his feet on the coffee table, crossing his black biker boots at the ankle.
“None of your business. And get your feet down.”
His boots thumped against the carpet. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn’t look at her. “You forget. My business is now nothing but your business.”
A muddled conversation and Grams’s stern tone came over the line, “What is this child talking about?”
“I just finished a binding.”
Grams must have been stunned to silence.
“A blood binding,” Elysia clarified.
“You finally embraced your calling.”
Elysia cringed at the relief in her grandmother’s voice. This was going to get ugly. “No. I found him wandering around campus.”
“You blood bound someone else’s zombie?” Grams sounded disgusted.
Elysia could feel James watching her, but didn’t look over. “He’s not a zombie. He’s a lich—I think.”
“A lich?” James demanded, rising from the couch. He seemed upset.
“What do you mean, you think?” Grams asked. “If he’s dead and walking around, he’s either a zombie or a lich.”
Elysia didn’t answer, too preoccupied watching James stalk toward her. He was lethal grace and power. Her necromantic senses screamed that he was dead, but her eyes said differently. He didn’t look dead. He didn’t move like he was dead.
“You didn’t know,” he said.
“That him?” Grams asked.
“Stop,” Elysia commanded.
James froze where he stood.
“You’re not a lich, are you?”
James frowned, but didn’t answer.
“Tell me about him,” Grams said, her tone low and urgent.
“He’s dead, but he doesn’t look like it or move like it. I sense no rot, and he’s… warm.”
James turned away, raking a hand through his hair.
“And Grams, sometimes his eyes glow.”
“Not possible,” Grams muttered.
“I’m not making this up. Might he be New Magic?” If someone with New Magic was Made, did the magic stay? She had no idea.
“No, I meant it’s not possible that you found him. We knew he had to be out there, somewhere.”
“What? Who?”
“Tell him to change.”
James whirled to face her. “No.”
“Do it, girl,” Grams said.
“Fine,” Elysia muttered. Crazy old woman. “James, change.”
Darkness swallowed the space where James stood, but it happened so quickly, she would have missed it if she had blinked. James vanished, and in his place stood a huge black dog, familiar glowing eyes focused on her.
“Shit!” Elysia cried. “He’s a dog!”
“He’s a grim,” Grams said, between gales of laughter.
Elysia stared into green eyes that were almost on level with her own. “A what?”
“A grim. The culmination of the necromantic arts. A conglomeration of human and hellhound.”
“H-hellhound?”
“My dear, he is the Holy Grail. Bring him to me.”
James growled, soft and low. He lifted his black lips exposing a mouth full of sharp teeth.
Elysia took a hasty step back. “I, I have to work,” she said into the phone. The excuse came easily, her attention on the massive canine before her.
“This is more important. You don’t understand what you have there, what it means to us.”
Ah yes, time to play the Family card. Elysia, the Family’s brightest hope, was letting everyone down again.
“Nor do you understand the danger.”
“He’s dangerous?”
“He has the ability to rip the soul from the living.”
“What—” She cut off the question as he took a step toward her. “Stop!”
James stopped and snarled softly.
“Elysia?” Grams sounded worried.
“I’m fine. He still obeys me.”
“Hades’s Blood,” Grams muttered. “If you don’t come here, I’ll come there. Do you want your friends to see your weird necro grandma?”
Well, no. “Fine, but I don’t see why you can’t wait until Sunday.” That was her day off.
“Today, Elysia.” The line went dead.
Elysia hung up, and looked down at the huge black dog. “Grams. Any wonder why I left home?”
He growled and she took another step away from him.
“Change back.” She could handle the man.
A flash of darkness and James stood before her. He looked the same, except his dark hair was tousled, his green eyes still glowed… and he was completely naked.
Something like a squeak escaped her throat as he took her by the shoulders and pressed her against the wall.
“You didn’t know what I was,” he whispered.
“I still don’t.”
“Then why did you bind me?” His grip tightened on her shoulders.
Her breath caught as she felt the sharp edge of… claws through the fabric of her sweatshirt. “I, I thought you had been created for nefarious purposes or maybe to draw me out.”
“Draw you out?”
“Necromancers can be… territorial.” She tried to shrug, but couldn’t under his hold. “You’re a hellhound?” she asked, not sure she believed Grams.
“I’m a grim.” He spoke the words between clenched teeth. “You know, the Holy Grail of dead things.”
Damn, he had some seriously good hearing. She studied him. He was clearly pissed, but his grip didn’t hurt her. Was he as dangerous as Grams believed? Or did the soul bond she had tied him with keep him in check?
“What?” he asked. “Pondering what to do with your prize?”
“No.” It was her turn to frown. “Who Made you?”
“I was born this way.”
“How can you be born dead?”
“How can you be this clueless?”
“Well excuse me if this topic never came up in my necromancy classes.”
He lifted a dark brow. “You took classes?”
She almost laughed. “Of course not.” She pressed her hands to his chest, attempting to push him away. Warm skin over solid muscle met her palms. Startled, she pulled her hands away. “Why are you warm?” She couldn’t get over that.
“Actually, I’m finding it a bit drafty.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. “You know what I mean. You�
��re dead. You should be cold.”
“God, I’ve been bound by the world’s most inept necromancer. How humiliating.”
“Release me.”
He jerked his hands away as if burned. “Forgive me, Mistress.” He held up his hands and took a step back.
Her blush deepened. “What happened to your clothes?”
“You commanded me to change without removing them. Poof. And thanks. There went my wallet, along with my IDs, credit cards…”
She refused to apologize. “My roommate isn’t a big guy, but I’m sure you can find something. Go. Dress yourself and return to me.” She waved a hand toward the hall.
“As my lady commands.” He bowed at the waist.
She tried not to watch the play of muscle along his abs or his backside as he walked away.
Dead, she reminded herself. Dead, dead, dead. But warm. How did that work? Why did her necromantic senses tell her he was dead when every other sense told her otherwise?
She rubbed her face. Shit. What had she gotten herself into? Worse, she felt so guilty. He didn’t seem like a monster. But if Grams was right, he needed to be bound.
Grams. She would take him to her. She would know what to do.
Elysia wandered into the kitchen taking James’s Coke with her. He hadn’t drunk much, if any. Why the charade? Maybe he wanted to rinse the taste of her blood from his mouth. She shivered, remembering the way he had groaned, the feel of his mouth against her skin. She really needed to get a boyfriend. Or maybe it was just the magic. It had been a long time since she had truly used her power. It surprised her anew how… alive it made her feel.
She turned toward the table to collect the knife. The table was empty.
“Did you move my Coke?” James asked.
“Damn.” The word came out on a gasp as she turned to face him. “Do you do that on purpose?”
“What?” The sardonic twist of his lips belied the question. “Mine?” he asked pointing to the condensate-covered can on the counter.
“Yes.”
He crossed the kitchen to retrieve it. He had pulled on a pair of shorts, and though they covered what they needed to, they were clearly too small. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt.
“Where’s the knife?” she asked.
“Sink.” He leaned against the counter, taking a slow sip from his can while he watched her.
Goosebumps pebbled her arms under the intensity of those green eyes. Refusing to let him intimidate her, she walked over to the sink to check. The paring knife lay against the chipped porcelain surface that lined the ancient sink. The blade didn’t bare evidence of its recent use. It looked clean. Still, she turned on the hot water to give it a quick scrub.
“You thought I took it.” He didn’t sound angry.
“It wasn’t where I left it.”
“I don’t need a knife to cause harm, and besides, you put in the kill you, kill me clause.”
She tried to ignore how easily he said that, as if he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her otherwise. “It’s called a soul bond.”
“But I have no soul.”
She looked over at him. “Everyone has a soul, yours is no longer bound to this plane of existence.”
He frowned, a slight cock to his head as he considered her explanation.
“And the soul that was bound is my own. You could say we now share it.”
“That’s not the way I understood it.”
“Perhaps you should attend necromancy class.”
His lips curled, hinting at a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps.”
She picked up the neatly folded towel and began to dry the knife. She wasn’t cut out for this. She wanted to go to work this evening, not drive home. She returned the knife to the drawer. “We need to get on the road.”
His humor evaporated. “Take me to Grams? Show her your prize?”
Elysia sighed. “I’m going to go pack.” She eyed him.
“I have a condo on the other side of town.”
“You’re not a student?” Students had to spend their first two years in campus housing.
“Part-time student. This is my first semester.”
That might explain why she had never bumped into him before. But it also bothered her. What if he really was just another magical being trying to get by in this world? No, Grams said he was dangerous, and Grams would know.
Elysia nodded and left him standing there.
Elysia stared up at the fancy new condo. It occurred to her that James could be a lot older than he looked. Although, if he was starting his college career, he might be younger than she was. She followed him up onto the porch. He had pulled on his leather coat over the shorts. Fortunately it was dark, so the bare legs and feet hadn’t drawn attention when they had walked to the municipal lot to get her car. He punched a number into the keypad and pushed open the front door. A draft of cold air brushed her cheeks and with it, an awareness. She froze on the threshold.
“What is it?” James asked.
“We’re not alone.”
James looked around, instantly on alert. He didn’t crouch or move, but there was something about the sudden tension in his body that made it apparent that he was ready to attack. No fear, no hesitation. Elysia stilled as she watched him. At that moment, she had no trouble believing Grams’s assertion that he was dangerous.
He turned his head to glance at her, breaking the spell. “Your soul is the only one here.” His glowing eyes slid over her in a way that made her want to cover herself. It wasn’t a leer or anything so crude. It was as if he saw within her, down to her very…
“You see souls,” she said, stunned.
“When I look, yes.” The glow in his eyes faded away. “No one’s here.”
“Not a person, a presence. This house is haunted.”
“Oh, that.” James visibly relaxed. “That’s Reggie.”
“Reggie?”
He turned and led her into the condo. “I offered to take him across, but he’s not interested.” He waved toward the open living room. “I’m going to get dressed.” He started up the stairs.
“Wait,” she called.
He stopped in mid-stride then gave her a glare. “Should I have asked for permission first?”
“If you insist on being a smartass, maybe I will make you ask.” She jogged up to the step he was on. “What do you mean take him across? Across what?”
“Across whatever divides the mortal world from the next.” His cold gaze met hers and held it.
“You really can rip souls.”
“Yes. And they don’t have to be willing.”
His confession shocked her to silence.
“May I go dress now? These shorts are riding up my ass in the worst way.”
Her cheeks heated, and she realized that he had probably said that intentionally. “Go.” She waved him on. “And pack a bag,” she called after him. “We may be gone a few days.”
“Yes, Mistress,” his voice carried down the stairs.
She frowned after him, her heart thumping a quick rhythm against her breastbone. A grim? More like the grim reaper. A power like that shouldn’t be left in the hands of one man. Especially one that seemed so angry. She remembered how he confronted that woman behind the bar. She had picked up on the anger in his body language.
Grams was right; he was dangerous.
She wandered into the living room and stopped to admire the leather furniture and enormous flat screen mounted on the opposite wall. Did his family have money or had he acquired such nice things by other means? And did she really want to know?
One wall contained a series of framed black and white photographs. They looked professionally done, and each showed a different doorway or decorative arch. Every one mad
e her skin crawl.
On an end table, she found another picture. Unlike the photos on the wall, this appeared to be a candid shot. She leaned in for a closer look. The photo showed five people standing in front of a large Christmas tree. Two men and three women. One of the women was James’s blonde friend from behind the bar. Everyone was smiling at the photographer.
The smiles of people who were, if not family, at least very close, gave her a pang. She didn’t regret leaving home, but she did miss it. She especially missed the company of other necromancers. People like her who understood the unique demands of the magic of death. It had been a childish notion to expect to find a normal life, anywhere. She couldn’t escape the call of death.
She turned away and came nose to nose with a man missing half his face. The scream escaped before she could stop herself.
Chapter
3
“Shit.” Elysia took a step back. The specter had been standing mere inches behind her in all his gory glory. If she had to guess, she would say he died in a fire. “Reggie, right?”
He blinked. Well, one eye, anyway. He was missing the other. She felt the cold brush of his soul, and his eye widened.
“Don’t even think about it,” she told him.
A series of thumps and James vaulted the handrail to land a few feet away. He glanced between the two of them, clearly able to see the specter. He straightened and gave her a frown.
“He was standing right behind me,” she complained. “He startled me.” She gave Reggie a glare. “I’ve seen worse.”
James frowned, then turned to the ghost. “Reggie, we’ve discussed this.” A pause. “No excuses.”
Elysia stared at James. “You can hear him?” Only uniquely talented necromancers could manage that, and then you had to let the specter in. No thank you.
James held up a finger, asking her to wait. “Yes, I know she’s a necro. Thanks for the warning.” He made a shooing gesture. “Leave her alone, Reg.”
The specter gave her a frown with his one remaining eyebrow, then vanished.
