Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

As soon as we got home, I shut myself in the office and wrote up my notes—one "official" version for Philippa Grayson and the real one for my own records. And then I poured myself two fingers of whisky, propped my boots up on my desk, and called Carly.

"Hello, Alice," she said in greeting. "I'm at the shop, but I've stepped into the storeroom for privacy and quiet. How are you?"

"I'm…" I hesitated. Where to even start? I settled on, "There's a lot going on."

"I know. I'm sorry." She sounded sympathetic. "You have some new trouble that's come up since last night?"

I'd long ago stopped wondering how she knew these things. "I do, which is why I'm calling. Have you heard in the news about the three assault cases and the murder where the suspects claim they have no memory of committing the crimes?"

"I have heard about it." She hummed to herself. "This is not the problem I thought you might be calling about. No wonder my cards have been cryptic. What's going on with these cases that involves you?"

I explained how I'd ended up digging into Oliver Hensley's story and what Malcolm and I had found this afternoon at the parking garage and Madison Fernell's murder scene. And then I told her what I thought we might be dealing with.

As Cyro had done, she went quiet for a long time after I said the word "necromancer." Like sorcerers, black witches, some wizards, and most other black magic and occult practitioners, very little good came of anything they did, even unintentionally. Darkness and ill intent beget more of the same.

"I'm sorry to bring this to your door," I said when the silence stretched out. And I was sorry.

I didn't need to tell her uncounted lives might be on the line or that I could ask for help elsewhere if she didn't want to get involved, or didn't want anyone from her coven involved. I'd known her long enough to know she was giving the situation careful, thorough, and knowledgeable consideration. Like Sean weighing matters related to our pack, Carly wasn't just responsible for herself or one other person, but an entire group whose lives, safety, and futures depended on her and each other—plus the lives of potential future victims. That was a lot to think about.

I used to only have to think about myself when I faced danger. That was a simpler time, but I never wanted to be back in that situation. The people around me were my strength as well as mine to protect.

If the Alice of a year ago could have heard you say that, what would she have said? Sean had asked me last night when we'd talked about how much he loved me.

Come to think of it, what would the me of a year ago have said about me believing the people I loved, who loved me too, were a strength and not a liability? Forget punching me; she wouldn't have recognized me. She might have thought I was a version of her from another reality.

When Carly spoke, her voice was heavy. "Katy has felt it."

"Uh-oh," I said.

She went quiet again. I let her think .

"Katy started to feel trouble rising a few weeks ago," Carly continued finally. "She called me in the middle of the night on January second and said something woke up."

I swung my feet off the desk and sat up. "Something woke up? "

"That's what she said."

I liked exactly nothing about the phrase something woke up . "Any thoughts on what that something might be?"

"Not at the moment," she said, to my disappointment. "She can't see it, and I won't let her try in ways I think are dangerous, so of course she's frustrated with me. I can't see it either. My cards refuse to reveal anything. I thought that was what you were calling about."

It was my turn to go quiet and think.

On the night of January second, Sean and I were on our way back to California after he'd come to Colorado as part of a rescue team to get Daniel and me back from Valas. While the others had flown back, he and I had rented an SUV and driven, with frequent stops to— ahem —celebrate my survival and our engagement. We'd stopped in Moab, Utah on the night of the second and spontaneously slept under the stars with a hastily purchased tent and camping mattress.

Valas had died mid-morning on a mountainside in Colorado on January first. On January second, back here in California, something woke up . Could these events be connected?

A lead ball of dread landed in my stomach.

Damn it all to hell and back, of course a fifteen-hundred-year-old sorcerer-vampire couldn't die without consequences. Of course something had woken up.

"Beyond this mysterious awakening," Carly said, as if that wasn't enough for me to process, "Katy's seen glimpses of black magic practitioners gaining strength and felt ‘pops' of power in the aether. ‘Little rumblings all over,' she calls it."

Well, this call kept getting better and better. "Little rumblings? Does that include a necromancer?"

"About a week ago, at her request I led her through a scrying ritual with her bowl and she glimpsed a ‘master of the dead,' which is what her previous coven calls necromancers. I woke her before the necromancer saw her."

Master of the dead was exactly the kind of phrase I'd expect black witches to use. Like necromancers, they were all about power—who had it, and who got ground underfoot. But no matter what you called them, a necromancer by any other name would still smell like grave dirt and rot.

"Did she tell you anything about the necromancer?" I asked. "Age? Sex? Physical description?"

"No. She only saw the shadow. I pulled her back immediately. She wasn't well-enough protected. If the necromancer had seen her, I might have lost her then and there."

In the matter of hours, this case had gone from "Oliver Hensley is full of shit" to "we're looking for a serial-killing necromancer." And yes that ball of dread still rolled in my tummy, but I'd be lying if I claimed I wasn't quivering with anticipation too.

"So, where does this leave us?" I asked.

"I'll talk to Katy." She hummed again—this time, a series of notes that might have been a spell of some kind because they sounded like a tune. Maybe something designed to keep any black magic practitioners from sensing us discussing their practice. "If she's willing to delve deeper into this, I will work with her, along with another coven member, to ensure her safety and ours."

"Thank you," I said, very sincerely.

"Preparing for the ritual will take time, though, and I need you to be comfortable with that," she cautioned. "I know the danger is imminent, but we will not rush anything. Lives and souls are at stake—yours, mine, Katy's, and everyone in my coven."

"I understand," I said. "If Katy doesn't want to do this, or you or your coven don't want to, I am fine with that too. I know the danger and risk involved."

"I'm not sure you do," she said, her voice kinder than the words sounded. "The masters of the dead can call upon the damned. They walk among the damned and carry their hearts on their staffs as they cross realms and traverse the abyss. This is not a sorcerer or a Dark Fae. This necromancer has allied themselves with Death itself. As prepared and strong as we'll be, there is no chance we'll encounter them and come away unscathed. That's what you're asking of yourself and us. When it's over, some part of each of us will not come back."

I raised my left hand and turned it so I could see the scar that ran across the inside of my wrist—a scar no magic created or wielded by the living could heal. "I've met one before," I said.

"Ah." She hummed that little tune again. "I'd like to hear that story, if you're willing to tell it."

"I'm willing, but not today." Maybe not for a long time. The memory was one of my least pleasant. I drained the last of my whisky and set the glass on a coaster. "Thank you, Carly. I'll see you soon. Let me know if Katy has any more thoughts about whatever woke up on January second."

"I will. Take care, Alice." She ended the call.

I put my phone on my desk. With my fingertip, I rubbed the little line on my left wrist. The skin turned cold rather than hot at the friction. What that strange sensation meant, I had never been sure, other than maybe it was the part of me that didn't come back from that long-ago encounter.

She'd tried to take a hell of a lot more—my life and my soul, in fact. I'd denied her both and sent her away with a wound of her own, thanks to my blood magic. And she'd never come after me again.

I had to wait on Cyro to get back to me with whatever surveillance footage she could get, and now I had to wait on Carly and Katy too. Every beat of my heart was a clock ticking down to the next attack, but I had nothing to go on for the time being other than thin trace I didn't dare try to track—not without a coven and a lot of bad-ass magic at my back.

So instead of hunting a necromancer, I'd get to spend the evening with my grandfather at his mansion, eating fancy food, turning down expensive scotch, and fantasizing about the day I'd get to kill him.

Lucky ducky me.

When he got home from work, Sean found me sitting on our bed with the lights off and the door closed. I'd curled up with my back against the headboard, my arms around my knees.

He toed off his shoes, sat next to me, and pulled me into his lap so he could wrap his arms around me. I rested my head on his chest and let his scent and warmth soothe me.

"When do you need to leave?" he asked.

"Seven o'clock." I checked the time. "My ride should be here in about fifteen minutes."

He rubbed his bristly chin on the top of my head in a very wolfy attempt to comfort me. "I'm sorry."

"I made the deal." I let out a breath. "Pretending to let Moses get close to me is part of my plan."

"I'm still sorry." He kissed my hair. "You shouldn't have to sit down to dinner with the man who murdered your parents and tormented you for twenty years. Are you sure you don't want me to come too?"

"You know you can't," I reminded him. "You're a member of the Were Ruling Council now. You can't have dinner with a crime lord—not even in secret. I'll have Malcolm with me. I'll be fine."

"It's not just about whether you'll be fine." He growled. "You know I'd do anything to spare you from this."

I entwined our fingers. "This first dinner will probably be the hardest. It'll get easier. I'm not even sure why I'm upset. It's not like I haven't faced him twice in the last month or so."

"A lot's happened in the past month. You spent a week in wolf form with me, Valas had her people kidnap you and you killed her, we got engaged, and now Daniel and Nan have gotten married. Not to mention we have two newborn pups in the pack and two new wolves, both of whom you helped during their Change with a new power you didn't know you had. We have more to protect than we did the last time you saw him." His arms tightened around me. "You can be as vulnerable as you want here with me, but when you walk out our door, you need to be your fierce, fearless self."

"Don't worry. I will be."

"I know you will." He tipped my chin up. "Have you remembered anything more about your dream from last night?"

I frowned and thought. "No, nothing. Why?"

"No particular reason, other than I'm still worried about you. No other fainting spells?"

"Nope. I feel good today." I made a face because my definition of "good" seemed to be I'm not dying . "Other than, you know, all the bullshit." I glanced at the clock again and sighed. "I gotta get ready."

He held me still. "I love you, Miss Magic. If you need me or the whole pack to come to Merrum Manor, you know how to let me know. And if Moses tries anything, do whatever you have to do to get yourself and Malcolm out of that house. We'll have your back no matter what."

"I know." I rose from his lap and went into the bathroom to brush my hair and touch up my makeup. "I don't think he'll try anything, though. He'll probably play nice for a while."

"It's the playing nice that makes me suspicious." Sean leaned against the doorframe. "He's made threats, for sure, but you've said it yourself more than once—he's been acting strangely since the night he engineered that meeting at Luciano's. I want to know why."

"Makes two of us." I blotted my lipstick, tossed the tissue in the trash, and checked my reflection.

I'd chosen an emerald green tank under a black cardigan, jeans, ankle boots, and my best crystal jewelry to wear to dinner. Each crystal held a spell useful for attack, defense, or healing. I also wore an amulet given to me by Carly. The spell it held, Return to Sender , would send any spell, hex, or curse back on the person who set or threw it. Another amulet in my pocket would buzz if I came near hidden wards or spellwork that would injure me. I might think Moses would play nice, but that didn't mean I trusted him.

After ensuring the safety was on, I slipped my Smith & Wesson into its holster, clipped it to my belt at the small of my back where it was covered by the cardigan, and turned to Sean. "Well, how do I look?"

"Do you have any idea how crazy you make me when you put on lipstick and a gun?" He nuzzled my neck. "Hurry up with dinner and get home. I have plans for us."

"Finding that missing remote?" I teased. "By the way, did you borrow my purple notepad? The one that was on my desk?"

"No, I did not." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to have another talk with that dragon."

"Good luck with that, babe." I gave him a quick kiss. "Back soon." Our perimeter wards tingled on my skin. My ride had arrived. "Malcolm!" I called. "Time to go."

My ghost sidekick appeared in our bedroom and floated back and forth. "Ready when you are, Trouble Magnet."