by Becca Andre
Her hand came to rest on his back. “It’s not that you can’t, it’s that you won’t.”
“It’s not important.” He turned to face her, determined to get the conversation back on track. “We were talking about you… and Doug. If you’ve put yourself in this situation because of me—”
“I told you, that’s not it. This is something I have to do. Don’t make it harder on me.”
James sighed. “I think he’s right. You put too much stock in this curse. It hasn’t struck you down, yet you’re living like it has.”
“You’re allowed to be cursed.”
“I think our situations are a little different.”
“I don’t see how.”
James called the hound as close as he dared, then held up a hand, displaying the ebony claws sprouting from his fingertips. “I am cursed, you may or may not be. Yet you let it rule you.”
“And you don’t, Mr. I-Can’t-Love?”
“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“No. I think you’re selling yourself short.”
He caught her wrist, noting the soft intake of breath as his claws lightly brushed her skin, and pressed her palm to his chest. “How am I supposed to explain this? Look, love, no heartbeat. I won’t age; I won’t die, because I’m already dead. Yes, that’s right, you’re in love with a corpse. That’ll be a hell of a thing to dump on someone.”
He expected an outburst, or an impassioned rant about how it wouldn’t be like that—an argument Era often made. Instead, she took a step toward him and pressed her forehead to his cheek.
“Couple of screwed up individuals,” she whispered, repeating her words from earlier.
Her reaction silenced him. She agreed: expecting a woman to accept what he was was foolish. No one had ever agreed with him on this point. They always wanted to sugarcoat it, argue that the right woman wouldn’t care that he was dead. He expected to feel relief, instead her agreement… hurt.
She lifted her head, but didn’t speak. A pause, then she looked down at where he still held her hand against his chest. He started to release her when her other hand settled on top of his. She lightly traced the knuckle of his index finger, sliding her finger down to the clawed tip.
“Careful,” he said. “You’ll cut yourself.”
She stopped, her finger resting against his cuticle, and lifted her eyes to his. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and lifted his hand. Then shocked him by bringing his hand to her lips, planting a kiss on an ebony cuticle. “Will you heal me if I do?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t look away, and her eyes faded to white as she sank more of herself into him. She took a step closer, and the hand over his heart slid down to his stomach. Opening her mouth, she wrapped it around his finger, letting the claw rest across her tongue.
His breath came quicker, already anticipating the aroma, the flavor. He had warned her that he wouldn’t walk away the next time she offered her blood, and here she was, deliberately planning to cut herself. He wanted to speak, to make certain she remembered his words.
She lifted her light-brown eyes to his once more. The hand on his stomach slid down to grip the waistband of his jeans, her knuckles brushing against his stomach.
His breath caught, and he was keenly aware of the bed only a few paces away.
A knock on his door caused them both to jump. Fortunately, Elysia opened her mouth before pulling away.
“Hey, dead man,” Doug shouted through the door. “Have you seen Elysia?”
“Your fiancé is knocking,” James whispered.
She held his gaze. “I still think you’re selling yourself short. Some women just want a good man.”
He blinked. She hadn’t agreed?
She turned and walked away. He watched her go, not sure what had just happened.
She stopped before the door, and took a deep breath before she pulled it open. “I’m here,” she said to Doug.
He frowned, eyeing her before his attention turned to James.
“What is it?” Elysia asked, drawing Doug’s gaze to her.
“I might have found a solution.” He gestured with his phone. “A family member has agreed to help.”
“Which one?”
“You’ve never met him.”
“It’s not your father, is it?”
“No.” Doug gave her a frown before continuing. “I could drive you down this morning. Maybe we can have this resolved by this afternoon.”
“Seriously? He can free James?” Elysia gripped his forearm. “Where does he live?”
“Cincinnati. Shall we go?”
James watched the exchange, unease crawling along his spine. Cincinnati, where the Deacon lived… and the Elements.
“Yes, let’s go.” Elysia looked over her shoulder and gave James a big grin.
Chapter
9
The ride was uneventful, and the back seat of Doug’s Mercedes was considerably roomier than the front seat of Elysia’s compact. Even so, James would have preferred to be sitting with his knees beneath his chin than going anywhere with the Deacon’s son.
Doug and Elysia entertained themselves reminiscing about their collective past. If she hadn’t told James that they had once been engaged, he suspected he would have figured it out. Especially after Doug’s detailed recollection of a hot tub he and Elysia once shared. She had smacked his arm on that one, her cheeks flushing. James didn’t miss the smirk Doug gave him in the rearview mirror. James wasn’t sure why the guy saw him as competition. As far as Doug was concerned, Elysia hadn’t shown any interest in James aside from wanting to free him.
The drive took them to downtown Cincinnati where Doug parked outside a large brick building. A sign mounted on the wall proclaimed it the City Morgue.
“You work here, right?” Elysia asked when Doug shut off the engine.
“On a part-time basis. It has a nice lab.”
“A lab?” James asked.
Elysia twisted around to look at him. “Doug is a forensic pathologist.” She returned her attention to her fellow necromancer. “Your family member works here, too?”
“He’s been here a few weeks.” Doug opened his door. “Let’s go see what he’s come up with.”
They all climbed out and followed Doug into the building. The lady at the front desk looked up and gave Doug a smile before waving them through. James wondered at the lax security until the girl’s faded blue eyes settled on him, and he felt the light brush of her touch. Necromancer. He chided himself for not considering it. Any business that dealt with the dead—even those run by the city—was probably under the Deacon’s control.
Doug led them down an unadorned hall to a pair of double doors. James hesitated. Something felt… off. He called the hound in an attempt to better understand the feeling.
“Stop that, dead man.” Doug’s power slammed into him and the hound fled.
James pulled in a breath, surprised by the way the hound had reacted.
“Doug, don’t.” Elysia frowned.
“He was doing something. Probably about to run.”
Elysia gave James a questioning look.
“Something’s wrong,” he told her.
“What do you mean?”
Doug rolled his eyes. “He’s in a building full of corpses and necromancers. He would probably piss down his leg—if he could.”
James glared at Doug’s back as he led them through the double doors.
“Sorry,” Elysia whispered. “Keep the goal in mind.”
James gritted his teeth and followed her into the room. He had only gone a few yards when a clank sounded, followed by a soft hissing noise. A white fog billowed up, surrounding them. James caught a whiff of Knockout Gas and held his breath.
> Doug slumped to the floor, his head thumping against the tile. Elysia stumbled and James sprang forward, catching her before she fell. He lowered her to the floor, then stepped back and called the hound. His other form wasn’t susceptible to alchemic fogs. The world came alive and—
Something cold settled around his throat and snapped shut. His senses winked out. James gasped, inadvertently sucking in a lungful of Knockout Gas. He reached up to grip the collar. Iron. He had been locked in iron.
He whirled to face his captor and almost tripped over his own feet. Darkness encroached on his vision as a form stepped out of the fog.
James tried to force a growl through his human throat, but the sound of his knees smacking the tile drowned it out. Black robes filled his darkening vision. A master alchemist’s robes. He lifted his head.
“So good to see you again, James.” Neil’s white eyes met his before James slipped into oblivion.
James woke with a headache that wasn’t helped by the raised voices only a few feet away.
“…no excuse. You could have warned me.” Doug said.
“I couldn’t chance it, Nelson. Stop whining. The only thing hurt is your pride.”
James turned his head to see Neil and Doug standing to his right, their backs to him. Beyond them, mortuary drawers lined the tiled wall. That explained the cold metal surface beneath him. He lay on one of the autopsy tables in the center of the room.
“She wasn’t going to try anything,” Doug continued. “If she had, I would have simply taken him from her.”
Elysia. Doug was talking about Elysia. Where was she? James wanted to sit up and look around, but didn’t want to alert Neil and Doug that he was awake. He preferred to listen without their knowledge.
“I would rather err on the side of caution.” Neil turned around.
James closed his eyes and listened to the two men move closer.
“Amazing, isn’t he?” Neil stood over him now. “The culmination of alchemy and necromancy. Life and death in one.”
“He’s a permanently animated corpse that doesn’t rot. Get on with it.”
Neil sighed and moved away from James’s table. “You can’t give him to your father.”
“Why not?”
Paper rattled, followed by a moment of silence. James cracked his eyes open. Doug and Neil had walked to a nearby counter, their backs to him once more. Doug held a newspaper. Even from several yards away, James recognized the picture. It was the one of him and Addie leaving the PIA offices with a cloaked Rowan and Donovan. The picture had made another run in the paper in December.
“I knew there was something she wasn’t telling me,” Doug said.
“Who? Amelia?” Neil snorted. “There are probably a dozen things she isn’t telling you. But yes, she found the grim, then gave him to the Flame Lord.”
“Gave him? How does that work? He’s New Magic.”
“Alchemy, I assume. Never underestimate an alchemist. Especially that one.” Neil tapped the picture, rattling the paper.
Doug stood in silence. Reading the article?
“If you give your father the grim, he won’t be able to resist showing him off,” Neil said.
“He can’t be left with the Elements, either. Though this discussion is moot if you can’t dissolve the soul bond that binds the grim to my fiancée.”
“Charming, Doug.”
“She asked to set him free.”
“Bizarre.”
“Can you do it?”
In answer, Neil slipped a vial from the slim pockets lining his ribs and offered it to Doug. “Have her drink that and the grim will be free.”
“What does it do?”
“It will knock out her power.”
“Are you nuts? She’s too strong. That will kill her.”
“I have an antidote—once the bond has dissolved. It’ll hurt, but she won’t die. And I can give her some advice on how to avoid going mad.”
Doug sighed. “She may ultimately need that anyway.”
“Considering who she is, true. You’re playing with fire on this one, cousin. Does your father approve?”
“I’ve never mentioned her to him.”
Neil didn’t say anything, leaving James to wonder at his expression.
“How long will it take the bond to dissolve?” Doug asked.
James fisted his hands. The bastard was actually going to do it.
“On the average necromancer, I’d say a day or less. On her? I have no idea.”
Doug released a breath.
“Do you love her so much or is it the prospect of the impossibly talented little necromancers she might give you?”
“You’re twisted, Dunstan.”
“Well, yes.”
“What about the grim?” Doug asked.
“We’ll decide once the bond is dissolved.”
A pause. “Very well. You better not let me down.”
“Never, cousin.”
“Come, wake her.” Doug’s footfalls moved away before leaving the room entirely.
“Be right there.” Neil called. His footsteps stopped beside James’s table. “What do you think? I thought that went well.”
James opened his eyes meeting Neil’s white gaze. “You don’t have an antidote, do you?”
Neil smiled. “Of course not. The moment her power returned, you would be hers again.” He turned his head toward the door, and James noticed the line of fresh scars along his jaw and throat. The burns he sustained after his last encounter with Addie? Apparently he wasn’t as skilled with a burn salve as she was.
Neil shook his head before turning back to James. “My poor cousin has no idea what he’s dealing with.”
“Are you referring to Elysia or you?”
Neil chuckled, then gave him a wink. “Both.”
“Doug won’t like it.”
“He likes to pretend he has the upper hand, but he knows that one word from me, and a few minutes of video footage, would take him down several notches in his father’s eyes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Doug hasn’t been true to the Family. He has yet to produce an heir, then he sacrifices the last male of his line to a crazed gunman with magic bullets.”
“The necro death last December.” James remembered well the magical deaths committed with Addie’s bullets. All the deaths had been New Magic except one: the Deacon’s grandson. “But you were behind it.”
“Not that one. Ian got a bit impatient with how long it took to break Amelia.” Neil shook his head. “I told him it wouldn’t be easy.”
James gripped the edge of the table. “How did Doug factor in?”
“He used his twelve-year-old nephew as a human shield.” Neil chuckled. “Ironic how things fall into place. Look at all the trouble Amelia gave me, then you just drop into my lap. Some might say it’s my destiny.”
“What is?”
Neil gave him a wink, then turned and left the room, still chuckling to himself.
Chapter
10
Elysia rolled onto her side, the surface beneath her cheek cold and unyielding, like she lay on a sheet of metal. She tried to open her eyes, but the bright light sent a jolt of pain through her temples. A hand settled on her shoulder.
“Here, let me.” Doug slipped his hand beneath her arm, helping her sit up.
“God, my head hurts.” She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the throbbing.
“It’ll pass,” Doug said. “I’ve been awake about five minutes, and my headache’s nearly gone.”
She squinted her eyes, taking her first look at the room around her. Her gaze skimmed over the tiled walls and floor, the mortuary drawers, and the cold steel table she sat on. She had been lying in the morgue
.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I owe you an apology,” a new voice said from the doorway. A man in black robes stood on the threshold, but he began to walk toward her when she looked in his direction. “I had only meant to knock out the grim. A precaution.” He smiled as he spoke, his white eyes meeting hers.
“Who are you?”
“Ely, this is Neil,” Doug spoke for the man. “Neil Dunstan, my cousin. He’s always been a bit paranoid.”
“Paranoid?” Neil crossed his arms, though the smirk he wore suggested it was mock anger he displayed. The fabric of his sleeves fell away with the movement, revealing black bands tattooed around each of his biceps.
Elysia stiffened. “You’re an alchemist.” And not any alchemist. An Alchemica alchemist.
Neil gave her a puzzled look. “Well, yes. Didn’t Doug mention that?”
“No, he didn’t.” Elysia gave Doug a frown.
“I knew you wouldn’t approve.” Doug shrugged. “But you’ve got to realize, the best I could personally do was take the bond from you—and I’m not so sure that would work. You’re too strong.”
“He’s right,” Neil said.
“His power might not work, but he does know what he’s talking about.”
“Thank you for the condescension, cousin.” Neil’s dark brows shadowed his white eyes.
Elysia studied the man. His eyes weren’t white because he was a weak necro who had recently used his magic. He was stunted: a necromancer without the ability to use his magic. Considering that he appeared to be entering middle age, there was a very good chance he was insane.
She slid off the table and headed for the door.
“Does this mean she doesn’t want to free the grim?” Neil asked.
“Elysia wait.” Doug came after her, stepping into her path before she reached the door. “You’re leaving?”
“Why didn’t you tell me he was an alchemist?”
“I explained that. Look I’m sorry. He’s not a bad guy.”
