Chapter 4

4

V anth had bought the old funeral home with the first wad of cash that had been stuffed into his hand from cleaning up a particularly messy vampire dispute. It had taken time to outfit it with all the requirements he wanted, and he saw it as a creative work in progress that he changed to suit his needs.

One of his favorite features was a pit that was set up in the old morgue area. It had a charmed iron door that not even the most pissed-off ghoul could smash its way through. The pit was used for feeding, and despite it having an earthen floor, he knew there were no bones buried there. Ghouls were thorough that way.

Vanth looked down at the naked, paralyzed man, his eyes full of emotion. It wasn't fear but fury.

"I know you're mad that you lost, but I wasn't about to let a piece of shit like you keep preying on kids. I don't need you scared. I don't get off on terror. It's enough for me to know that you'll be dead and your soul sent on to whatever hell you deserve," Vanth told him. He pulled out his dagger and the magic holding the man's blood in started to pool up. Vanth gave him a hard shove with his boot, and the man rolled over the lip of the trap door and into the pit. His two ghouls leaped in after the body and began to circle.

"Enjoy dinner, kids!" Vanth said cheerily and slammed down the iron lid. He whistled as he bolted it shut and headed upstairs. His day might have ended in a weird, worrying jumble, but at least he had done his good deed for the day by taking out a predator.

Vanth went upstairs and grabbed some beers from the kitchen before going out onto the rooftop garden. The ghouls had been tending and watering all his plants out there too. An uneasy feeling lodged in his ribs.

Vanth loved spooky shit, but there was a bit too much weird happening, and he was starting to think it could all be related. He sipped on one of the beers and sat down on a sunbed, the umbrella above him ensuring his skin didn't burn up. After a shitty, long night, sitting out with his plants helped.

After a few minutes of calming down, Vanth pulled out the necklace his mother had given him. It was of simple make. Onyx and silver. There were no mystical glyphs or scratchings that you usually found with spelled jewelry.

Vanth lay back on the sunbed and tried to think about what his mother had said. She had the gift of foresight, so when she had an episode, it was worth paying attention to.

The guardians are dead. The Veil is unprotected, and they are trying to tear through it. The blood of the guardians sacrificed to help them accomplish what they tried seventy-seven years ago. Only wards made by love hold them back…

The Veil was a mystical boundary that separated the living from the dead, but who the fuck were the guardians? The Veil was just…the Veil. It didn't have people protecting it. Did it? As a necromancer, Vanth frequently flouted the laws of the living and the dead. There were theories that necromancers drew power from the Veil itself. If there was some kind of 'Veil police,' they would have tried to arrest his ass years ago.

Vanth wasn't so much worried about guardians, especially if they were all sacrificed, but he was concerned with whatever or whoever was trying to 'tear through.' Nothing good could come of that. Vanth's mind snagged on 'guardians sacrificed' again and almost dropped his beer. He pulled out his phone and looked at the bodies that had turned up in Andres's crematorium.

"Sacrificial magic," he whispered. It could just be a coincidence, but then Eiline had been looking at the pictures when her visions had been triggered.

Vanth needed to think, but all the buzzing of extra magic under his skin was making him want to scratch himself all over. He contemplated rolling a joint and immediately decided against it. Drugs and magic rarely mixed well, despite what the occultists would have you believe.

"Dance party it is," he murmured. He drained his beer on the way back downstairs and to where the old showing room used to be. He had ripped out all the chairs and beige carpet and had painted the room black. It had a half-decent speaker system for grieving people to play the deceased's favorite music, so Vanth just added his own collection of records and sound system equipment. Vanth let his phone select the 'Dance Party' playlist, and music started to thrum around him.

"Dance party time, losers!" he shouted and stamped his booted foot on the floorboards three times. Ghosts poured into the room, drawn to his magic and the music. He had gotten the idea from watching Beetlejuice one too many times, and he was surprised just how well it worked to siphon off the overspill of power.

The playlist stuttered on Lady Gaga and turned to 'It's Been a Long, Long Time' by Harry James before Cecilia appeared in front of him. "Dance with me, Vanth. Your waltz needs work."

Vanth grinned and pulled her close. "You taught me how to waltz, sweetheart. If it needs work, that's on you."

Cecelia huffed out a laugh, her form getting more solid with every kernel of power she drew from him. "You are all charged up. Did you get up to something naughty? I mean, apart from the serial killer currently being eaten in the basement."

They glided through a group of ghosts that were so faint that they could only sway a little, like barely corporeal zombies. Vanth tossed them some power from his fingertips, and they became more coordinated. But they were old white guys, so their dancing skills didn't improve by much.

"You know me, Cecelia. I touched something I shouldn't. It's okay, though. I just need to wear myself out so I can sleep. I'm sure everything will make sense in the morning."

"It's morning now, my boy," she pointed out.

"Not for me. And please, don't wake me up this time. If the building isn't burning down, it's not an emergency."

Celia cocked a pencil-thin brow but didn't reply. It was amazing how judgmental a ghost could be. The sound system changed songs again, and Vanth let the dance take over him until finally, he lay down on the only couch in the room and fell asleep, exhausted.

Across the street, standing in the shadows on the roof, a hooded and cloaked figure watched the half-fae male dancing in a room full of ghosts.

This is the necromancer everyone is so afraid of?

Elektra pulled the pendant out from where it was tucked into her leather body suit. She whispered a soft word under her breath, and the pendant rose in the air. The onyx and silver scythes on it pointed insistently in the direction of the necromancer.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath. This couldn't be the son.

Elektra had been expecting someone a bit more…serious. She couldn't deny that he had power. It was all but radiating out of the wards set around the building. The pendant wouldn't lie to her. She had expected some kind of bookish mage, not a good-looking male that seemed so casual and fun.

What choice do you have but to go to him? Absolutely none.

Her suit still smelled of the blood of her slain sisters and brothers. She had been on the run for days, and she needed to stop the cult hell-bent on destroying everything. She had to trust that this male could actually help her. His mother had been one of them, after all, so maybe under the dancing nonsense, there was someone who could help her get her revenge.

She tucked a blood-red curl back behind her pointed ear from where it had slipped free in the wind. The necromancer had disappeared again, and Elektra settled in to watch and wait.

Charon, give her patience because she was going to need it.

Elektra had slipped into Inferno without anyone noticing, and she had used all her training not to be tracked by the fucking cult bastards that were after her.

Don't think of it. You can't until you are safe . Elektra pulled her silvery cloak around her and let the magic of it blend her into the side of the building. The ghosts in Inferno had given her directions to this necromancer and none of the others in the area. The pendant hummed insistently against her again.

"Fine, I'm going," she told it and scaled back down the building.

The first thing she needed to do was get through his wards. Elektra's lips tugged up into the first smile in days. She always loved a challenge.