The Necromancer's Bride

by Kat Ross

  His lips curled in triumph.

  She saw his stance shift for the killing blow and Anne struck with the sudden speed of a cracking whip, a devastating lateral slice that knocked the blade from his hand and took his head. It rolled to a stop against one of the mirrors, still smiling.

  She bent over and braced a hand on her knees, nauseous from fear and hatred and adrenaline. Anne forced her tumbled thoughts in order, even as she kept a sharp eye out for the revenant she knew was on its way.

  Gabriel is here. Somewhere in this damned gigantic maze. If only I could have followed the other one—

  Movement in the corner of her eye. In the mirrors. Anne stood up straight, her skin prickling.

  It wasn’t the revenant.

  “Well, fuck,” someone said. “She killed Janssen.”

  Necromancers blocked both ends of the gallery, two in front of her, the third behind. They didn’t look happy.

  Anne turned in a slow circle, her blade coming up again.

  Chapter 22

  Balthazar shifted his feet, trying to ignore the misery in his joints. That the strain of dangling from the ceiling was now the worst pain actually marked an improvement from his previous condition. His mouth was parched, but at least his right eye was still watering, which provided some meager relief.

  I’m drinking my own tears, he thought. How appropriate.

  Axel and Daan had returned to their post near the door, where they were swapping dirty pictures. Gabriel had said nothing in a long time. His mood seemed to have evolved from fury to something unreadable.

  Balthazar cleared his throat. “Do you really have a wife?” he whispered.

  Gabriel nodded.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Anne Lawrence.”

  Balthazar blinked. “You married Alec’s sister?”

  Gabriel’s face darkened. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “No, I…. Not in the least. I’m just surprised.”

  In fact, he was thrilled. If a daēva was coming, they might have a slender chance of getting out of there alive. Balthazar frowned. “Isn’t that the one you…”

  “What?” Gabriel demanded.

  “Never mind.”

  They were quiet for a minute.

  “Anne Lawrence,” Balthazar murmured slowly.

  Gabriel glanced over. “If you say her name again in that tone, I still might kill you.”

  “What tone?” Balthazar stared at him in bewilderment.

  The reply was brutal. “Just don’t.”

  Balthazar sighed. “Does she know where you are?”

  Gabriel closed his eyes, his voice calm again. “She’ll find me.”

  “I don’t suppose she’s with Alec and Vivienne?” Balthazar asked hopefully.

  “No. But it doesn’t matter. She’ll tear this fucking place down stone by stone if she has to.”

  Balthazar nodded, an odd tightness in his chest. He’d always assumed D’Ange was immune to normal human emotion. That he would fall in love with a daēva — and even stranger, she with him — was an inexplicable and touching thing.

  “Aren’t you afraid....” He trailed off, expecting another outburst, but Gabriel seemed beyond anger now.

  “Of course I am. More than you can possibly imagine. But I can’t stop it. I can’t stop her.”

  Even as a child, Gabriel had been supremely confident. If he had a weakness, it was an inability to control his temper. Balthazar had never seen him show fear, not once during his harsh training or the many beatings he took for disobedience. Not even when he saw a revenant for the first time. Most of the boys would piss themselves when they faced those decayed warriors risen from their stone catacombs.

  Now Balthazar saw genuine terror in Gabriel’s eyes. Tightly leashed but unmistakable — and not for himself.

  “I can only have faith in her,” he said softly. “As I should have done before.”

  Balthazar could think of no reply and they lapsed into silence again. Time passed. His eyes drifted shut, seeking solace in oblivion, though it refused to come. He hoped Lucas would stay far from this place. The Order would arrive eventually, but they couldn’t match Bekker’s numbers. And Bekker himself would be back soon.

  I wish Vivienne were coming, he thought wistfully. I really do. Just to see the looks on their faces.

  He lost himself in a daydream of Lady Cumberland laying waste with her scimitar. Alec Lawrence was there, too, but somewhere else, off stage. Together, they wiped out all the baddies, Bekker included. At last, Vivienne strode into the chamber and stood before him, dark skin glowing in the light of the torches. Gabriel was…. Rescued or dead, it didn’t matter. The important thing was they were alone. Oh yes, and his shirt had been savagely ripped down the front, displaying his lean musculature to great advantage.

  “Balthazar,” Vivienne murmured in her smoky voice. “You poor darling.”

  That part was all very nice.

  But instead of freeing him and carrying him off over her shoulder, she laughed, patted his cheek, and turned away. He begged her to come back, but Vivienne just winked and strode off, leaving him like a flopping carp in a net….

  “What did Constantin say to you?” Balthazar asked, more from a desire to break the oppressive quiet than any real interest in the answer.

  Gabriel gave him a bleak look. “Not much.”

  Balthazar twisted, trying to coax a crack from his aching spine. “Let me guess. He grew tired of living in poverty. Thought he deserved better. So when Bekker approached him, offering riches beyond imagination, he saw a way to reap the rewards you’d so long denied him.”

  Gabriel cast Balthazar a sharp look. “Close enough. Except for the part about Bekker coming to him.” A flash of anger. “He went to Bekker.”

  “Christ.” Balthazar grimaced violently. It was triggered by a sudden white-hot lance of pain in his neck, but Gabriel nodded, oblivious. “I know. Grasping son of a bitch. He always thought we should rob the men we killed. Empty their coffers to the last cent. But it was blood money. Ill-gotten gains. I wouldn’t allow it.” He snorted. “Constantin has no clue what true poverty is. But I think seeing the way those men lived…. Instead of revolting him, it made him want it for himself. And once the seed was planted, his bitterness grew like black mold in the dark. Until the man I knew was gone.”

  Balthazar let out a long breath as the spasm receded. “I’d hoped it might be more interesting. An illegitimate child Bekker had discovered and used as leverage. Some personal grudge against you. But simple greed? After all those years together?”

  Gabriel’s chains clanked softly. “You’re not making me feel better.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, even Bekker’s Neanderthals think he’s an arsehole. He won’t last long.” Balthazar sensed Gabriel staring at him and gingerly turned his head. “What?”

  “At the museum. What was your plan?”

  “Kill him right there. In front of everybody.”

  Gabriel frowned.

  “It would have worked. He trusted me, as far as Bekker trusts anyone. I was four feet from him. With a sword. A ceremonial saber I’d claimed was a family heirloom. Then you shot the windows out.”

  “How did you intend to get away afterwards?”

  Balthazar smiled. “Make a portal in Bekker’s own blood.”

  “But he’d sense a talisman—”

  “I’d have used his. He always carries one.”

  Gabriel was silent for a moment. “That has a nice symmetry. Simple and bold with an element of poetic justice. It’s something I might have thought of myself.”

  “I know. If we survive, do you still intend to come after me?”

  “No.” A sigh. “I’m too tired.”

  Balthazar wiggled his toes. They were starting to go numb. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but a holiday might do you good.”

  A smile touched Gabriel’s lips. “That’s what A
nne said.”

  Chapter 23

  Anne’s gaze flicked over the Antimagi, calmly assessing her chances of walking out of the mirrored gallery alive and/or uncollared.

  They weren’t good.

  One, yes. Two … perhaps. But three at once?

  Like Janssen, whose headless corpse leaked at her feet, she doubted they were seasoned enough to summon black lightning. Otherwise they would have used it on her. But this was small comfort since all of them carried broadswords and were twice her size.

  “Listen to me carefully, bitch,” said the one to her right. He had shoulder-length black hair and a thin, pointy face with a deep dent in his chin. “Throw your sword down or you’re in serious trouble.”

  The others laughed. “She’s in serious trouble whatever she does, Pieters,” one remarked.

  Anne said nothing. She decided to wait and see how it played out. Running like hell was always an option, but it wouldn’t help her find Gabriel. And this Afrikaner…. She didn’t like the sound of him.

  Pieters studied her for a long moment. He wasn’t stupid. She’d killed Janssen. Then they all looked down as a three-foot crack split the marble floor. A powerful arm emerged, jeweled rings flashing on filthy grey fingers. Chill air gusted the length of the gallery. A few mirrors shattered. Anne shrugged and donned her sorry, not sorry face.

  “It’s all yours, gentlemen,” she said sweetly.

  The black-haired Antimagus gave a feral grin. He closed his eyes and pressed his palms together in an attitude of prayer. When they blinked open, the irises were a sickly yellow. His teeth sharpened to little razors, crowding his mouth so his lips didn’t close right. The others watched with amused expressions.

  “I see Constantin is teaching you tricks,” Anne said. “Have you learned to beg?”

  “I’ll teach you to beg, bitch,” he growled, his voice guttural and inhuman.

  Janssen’s revenant was half out of the crack now, sword scraping the marble as it struggled to free its lower body. It wore leathers that had once been white but were now caked with old gore. Silver eyes roved between them, trying to decide who to eat first. The necromancer dropped to all fours, though his form was still man-shaped. Constantin’s training must be in the early stages.

  He skittered forward, nails ticking on the floor. Anne readied her blade, but he headed straight for the revenant. She grimaced as he tore into its throat, rending the rotten flesh with his teeth. The revenant jerked in surprise. It flailed and roared. The necromancer gave a low snarl, jaws snapping through dry bone and withered tendon. It was the most revolting display she’d ever witnessed.

  Also the first time she’d ever rooted for a revenant.

  When the Druj stopped moving, Dog-boy sat back on his haunches. He looked … bad. Something white wiggled at the corner of his mouth. When Anne realized it was a maggot, she decided she’d had enough.

  “Now it’s your turn,” he said with jerky swallow.

  Anne glanced at the other two. One sprouted fur that looked vaguely calico. The second had an armored tail with a bizarre fin. She laughed. “Is that the best you can do?”

  Dog-boy bounded toward her, surprisingly fast. Saliva dripped from his serrated maw.

  Ah, the hell with it.

  Anne reached for the Nexus. Dog-boy screamed as both legs broke. He fell to one side, howling in agony, but the other two were already moving, flanking her with broadswords up. Anne shattered more bones — the big, useful ones. Thighs. Spines. She called on water to reverse the flow of blood to their hearts, on air to steal the breath from their lungs.

  And it slowed them, but not as much as she’d hoped. They healed with astonishing rapidity, a few seconds at most. Anne kicked Dog-boy in the face and he grabbed her foot with a broken arm, flipping her with a jarring impact that rattled her teeth. Her sword flew away. Dog-boy loomed, stained lips parting, and she rolled aside just as his jaws snapped shut next to her ear. His breath was beyond description.

  Anne leapt to her feet, ducking under someone’s blade. Calico lunged and she kneed him in the groin so hard his eyes rolled back to the whites. She used earth to shatter Dog-boy’s legs again. He toppled with a bitter shriek. Happily, Calico was still frozen in a fetal position. She took the liberty of borrowing his sword and cut his head off.

  Anne turned, surveying the battlefield. Dog-boy and — she decided to call him Missing Link. Dog-boy and Missing Link were hurting but mobile. They circled her warily, the tenacious bastards. Dog-boy had mostly given up pretending to be a dog and stood upright, favoring his left leg.

  “She’s not just a bitch, she’s a witch,” Missing Link muttered, his tail swishing.

  “Shut up,” Dog-boy growled. “We can take her.”

  Anne sighed. Working the elements carried a price. Her brother Alec called it sympathetic magic. Whatever she did to the necromancers resonated in her own body. Things hurt — Holy Father, yes they did — but nothing had ruptured. Yet.

  Dog-boy’s yellow eyes fixed on her hungrily. His tongue licked across his teeth and gave a suggestive wiggle. “How about we—”

  Calico’s revenant, bless its dear mummified heart, came through right then, and right under Dog-boy. He dropped with a lurch into the crevice. Missing Link took a hasty step back.

  “Help me!” Dog-boy screamed, wedged up to the hips. His finned friend hesitated for an instant, but by then it was too late. The revenant had him from below. Anne ignored the screams. She watched emotions flicker across Missing Link’s face. Not remorse or pity, but a simple calculus.

  Fight or flight?

  He chose the latter.

  Unfortunately for Missing Link, if there was one thing Anne knew how to do, it was run. She caught him by the tail halfway down the gallery. Behind her, Dog-boy gave a last wail and fell silent. She heard the revenant feasting with gusto. Of course, another would be on the way….

  “Don’t hurt me,” Missing Link moaned, throwing his sword aside. The tail started to shrivel and press between his legs.

  “Give me your chains,” Anne snapped.

  He complied with shaking hands. She bent down to snap the collar around his neck when his eyes darted beyond her shoulder. Anne whipped her sword around and nearly took Jacob Bell’s head off.

  “Easy.” He leapt back, palms out. “Just me, Miss Lawrence.”

  She shook her head and grinned. “It’s about time. So I’m Miss Lawrence now?”

  “Yes.” His gaze took in the three dead necromancers. “Yes, I think you are.”

  Behind him she saw Julian Durand and Lucas Devereaux finish the revenants.

  Anne tensed. “What’s Balthazar’s man doing here?” she demanded.

  “He came to find his master,” Jacob replied calmly. “He says Balthazar is on our side and I believe him.” He paused. “I know a few things about Mr. Devereaux. There’s no way on earth he’s with Bekker, whatever Gabriel thought.”

  Anne paused just long enough to finish collaring Missing Link and plant a foot on his back. She didn’t wear the manacle but simply held the chain like a leash.

  Maybe Jacob Bell was telling the truth. Or maybe Constantin wasn’t the only traitor in their midst. Who knew what had really happened inside the museum? She wasn’t there to see it.

  “Where’s Jean-Michel and Miguel?”

  “They’re not remotely ready for this,” Jacob replied. “Guns won’t do us much good. And I’m not throwing their lives away against trained necromancers, not even for Gabriel.” His gaze narrowed. “I’m not liking the look in your eyes right now. Like you don’t trust me.”

  Anne wanted to believe him, but she still didn’t know how Bekker had managed to take Gabriel alive. With a sanctus arma in his hand, no less. She remembered Lucas standing outside the museum and dark suspicions bloomed in her heart. Oddly enough, it was Julian who laid them to rest. He strode forward with an unreadable look on his face. Anne waited, the power filling her. Julian stopped a few feet away and folded his arms with a sigh.
<
br />   “I’m sorry I doubted you, but I’m sure as hell glad you’re here now. I just wanted you to know. If I happen to die, at least you won’t remember me as a complete bastard.” His lips quirked. “Just partly a bastard, yes?”

  Anne raised her eyebrows. Missing Link tried to worm away and she jerked the chain.

  “Ow,” he muttered.

  “So all I had to do to win your respect is kill a whole lot of people?” She smiled. “That’s heartwarming.”

  Julian winced. “When you put it like that….”

  Anne’s voice softened. “Tell you what. Help me find Gabriel and all is forgiven.”

  He nodded. She used the chain to haul Missing Link to his feet. They all stared at him.

  “What?” Sweat rolled down his forehead. “I don’t know where they have D’Ange, I swear. Mr. Bekker sent me down to patrol the ground floor. I’m one of the new hires, I don’t even get any sick days yet—”

  He was still rambling when Lucas Devereaux approached, radiating violent menace despite the waxed moustache. Anne shortened the chain, holding it taut as Lucas leaned over and whispered into Missing Link’s ear. The blood drained from his face.

  “Right,” he said firmly. “The thing about Mr. Bekker’s house is….”

  Missing Link led them to the end of the mirrored gallery and stopped before a patch of bare stone wall between two suits of armor. Anne fed a thread of power into the key talisman she’d taken from his pocket. A doorway winked open, revealing spiral stairs leading up into darkness.

  The hidden doors were the only way to move between levels. If Anne hadn’t run into the necromancers, she might have wandered the ground floor for hours.

  She jerked the chain. “You first.”

  Missing Link started up the stairs. He claimed there were six or seven Antimagi on the second floor, one guarding the portal Bekker used to Travel, the others watching Gabriel. He also claimed he didn’t know where Bekker was, but that Gabriel was being held in a chamber called the Hall of Scales. Constantin had been put in charge of the prisoner.