Chapter Six

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Stef lunged for the miniature pterodactyl, catching it before the little scamp escaped to the waiting room. Even Andrea had side-eyed him when he said a SPAM official was bringing in a pterodactyl for its vaccinations. He couldn't imagine what the Karens and Trevors of Redmond would say if they knew their boutique vet clinic also housed dinosaurs.

"Get over here and"—he stuffed the struggling reptile into the waiting doggie crate—"don't cause any trouble."

Wishful thinking, at best. The pterodactyl wasn't due to be picked up for another three hours. Stef just had to keep a lid on it until then. Any hope he'd had about getting work done faded as the creature banged its wings against the sides of the crate. It'd only be a matter of time before the thing clawed its way free.

Which is why he almost didn't answer the phone. He had paperwork to do and a pterodactyl to watch. He didn't have time for a chat. Something about the number, though…

He answered on the fifth ring. "'lo. Stef Barros here."

"Dude, it's Morgan. I've got some intel for you."

The pterodactyl dragged a claw along the side of the crate. It didn't pierce through the plastic, but it left a long gouge.

"Hit me, but make it quick. There's a…" he let his voice fade. Even though Morgan had worked for SPAM, explaining a pterodactyl would take some time.

"Sure thing. So, I pulled a bunch of case reports, a fifteenth-century publication by a reputed necromancer, and a couple of medieval treatises on the subject. You'd be amazed at what you can find on the internet these days."

Amazed is one way of saying it. "Sure. Did they tell you how to do it?"

"That's just the thing. They all talk about rituals and incantations. I couldn't find one report where a practitioner raised the dead without a whole lot of rigamarole."

Stef closed his eyes, connecting the dots way too quickly for comfort. "You didn't find any ways of unaliving them?"

"Stefanos, I didn't find any way someone could accidentally raise them in the first place."

Dropping into the nearest chair, Stef raked a hand through his hair. "But Brandon was very clear that these incidents were—"

"Impossible. I'm telling you, Stef, what he says happened is impossible."

"Leaving that aside, did you find out how to send them back to the Great Beyond?" Standing abruptly, Stef paced the small workroom, sidestepping the crate holding the dinosaur with every lap. "I don't really care how they got here. I just want to send them back."

Okay, that was a lie, but needs must.

"I mean, he's the one who raised them. He must know how to reverse the spell."

Except he didn't cast a spell in the first place. Stef was about ninety-sixpercentsure he believed Brandon. That last four percent, though, had started to weigh more since Morgan had thrown in his two cents.

"Got it," Stef said, though he really didn't understand. "Guess I better talk to him again, then."

"Guess so. Good luck with that, and Stef, be careful. I've only known one necromancer, and… well, be careful."

On that cheerful note, they ended the call. Stef went to his office only long enough to get his laptop. Now that he knew he was looking for a spell, he'd be able to target his search.

As long as the pterodactyl behaved.

Two hours and one trashed dog crate later, Stef had returned the pterodactyl to its keeper and come up with very little on the subject of undoing a necromancer's spell. He had, however, found many other incantations attributed to necromancers. In fact, consistent with Morgan's claim, there were no reports of anyone "accidentally" raising the dead.

"Why couldn't he have fucked me and been done with it?" Stef muttered.

"Pardon?" Andrea had apparently snuck up behind him.

"Never mind."

She laughed, continuing toward her office. "You crack me up."

He glared at his phone. "Whatever."

"No, seriously. You've been bopping around here all day, clearly excited about something, and then either he didn't text you or he did, and now everything's turned to shit. Being you must be exhausting."

He stood, stuffed his phone away, and stormed into his office. He'd have slammed the door but didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she'd annoyed him. His phone vibrated in his pocket, so he got it out. Brandon. Neat.

Brandon wondered if he'd had any word from Morgan. Stef started and stopped three different responses, finally settling on, I'm on my way over.

He gathered his things: laptop, phone, crossbody bag, and a luxurious cashmere scarf. Earlier today, he'd hoped that Brandon would tease him about his girly scarf.

Now he just wanted the whole evening over.

He was still riled up when he pulled into Brandon's driveway. Brandon's Lexus was there, along with the Tesla he'd noticed the last time. Armed with a list of websites and a longer list of questions, Stef followed the walkway to the front door.

Brandon opened the door before he had time to knock, and then he was in Brandon's arms, with Brandon's lips crashing against his.

And damned if his traitor mouth didn't open right up, begging for Brandon's tongue. They kissed hard for a good long minute until Brandon broke off with a gasp.

"God damn, I've wanted to do that all day."

Stef rubbed a palm over his damp lips. "Me too," he said softly, because apparently his lips weren't the only traitors.

Brandon stroked the edge of his scarf with a blunt fingertip. "This is pretty."

"Thanks." Stef's smile wasn't forced at all. "My mother bought it for me."

Keeping one hand on his elbow, Brandon drew Stef further into the house. "Come on. I don't want to miss the next episode of—"

"Brandon." Stef's voice came out breathy. "I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest." I really, really need you to be honest.

Brandon paused, his drawn brows the mark of confusion. "Um, okay."

"I talked with Morgan today, about how to—" He paused, unwilling to say the word out loud where the affected parties might hear him. "Unalive them," he finished in a whisper. "Basically, he told me that anything to do with necromancy has to have a ritual attached. The individual practitioners can tweak things, but the basics remain the same. No ritual means no raised dead thing."

Brandon's expression went from confused to locked down. "So?"

"So according to Morgan, who is someone I trust, it's impossible to raise the dead without a ritual attached."

Brandon inhaled so hard that his nostrils flared like a bull's. "You came all the way over here to call me a liar?"

Stef literally took a step back. "No. I came all the way over here to give you a chance to tell me the truth."

Brandon opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, raised a hand, then shook his head. "I got nothing."

"Nothing?" An afternoon's worth of pent-up frustration came boiling up. "You try and fool me with your nonsense, and when I call you on it, you've got nothing?" Stef didn't shriek, but he came close. Getting angry — and expressing that anger — was something Stef was very, very good at.

Brandon responded by turning to ice. "Maybe you should go," he said, his voice heavy, his expression blank.

"Go?" This time Stef did shriek. "No, I am not going to go. Not until you tell me what the hell is really going on."

"Everything okay out here?" A woman came up behind Brandon. Tall, willowy, and lovely, she gave Stef a tentative smile.

"He was just going." Brandon's words came through gritted teeth.

"No, he wasn't," Stef said firmly. "Hello. My name is Stefanos Barros, and I'm supposed to be helping Brandon unalive his… pets." He extended a hand, stumbling over the last word. Did this lovely young woman know about the necromancer thing? He couldn't be sure.

She shook his hand, at any rate. "Layla Jorgenson. I live here too, and the sooner we get rid of his pets, the better."

Stef raised his chin, ignoring Brandon. "We simply need to perform the correct ritual, ideally the mirror image of whatever he used to raise them."

That made her laugh. "He needs to run backward?"

"What?"

Brandon made a sound suspiciously like a laugh.

"Like, he goes out for a run, and little dead things follow him home." She wrinkled up her face. "It's totally gross."

Stef crossed his arms. "Impossible."

She crossed her arms right back at him, swinging her long blond hair in the process. "I was there for the robin."

"What?"

"Jesus, Stef." Brandon shook his head. "I'm telling you the truth, and so is Layla."

"But Morgan said it was impossible."

"For fuck's sake, we're talking about necromancy. Are you really going to tell me the rules are set in stone somewhere?" Brandon waved at the door, a halfhearted gesture. "Just go."

"No." Layla elbowed Brandon out of the way. "He's the one who's supposed to know how to clean up this mess. Don't make him leave."

Sparky took that moment to wander down the hall, her gait wobbly despite the tube. Her fur was a lot less matted and her golden eyes were brighter. Something about her expression, a typically catlike air of boredom and superiority, made Stef smile. He got angry easily, but it never lasted very long.

"Okay, since you can't be expected to run backward for however long it takes to unalive something, we should probably come up with another plan."

"What?" Now it was Brandon's turn to be confused.

Stef smiled at him, all sunshine and rainbows. "We'll come up with an alternate plan."

Brandon looked at Layla. "Do you believe this guy? He came in here, called me a liar to my face, and now it's all good."

"Beggars can't be choosers"—she nudged him with her shoulder—"or should I say wannabe necromancers can't be choosers?"

"Oh, for…" Brandon turned around and walked down the hallway, shaking his head.

Layla grinned at Stef. "He can be grumpy, but he's really an okay guy."

Stef laughed. "More than okay, from what I can see. Now, let's visit the menagerie."

On his first visit, Stef had only seen Brandon. This time, he paid attention, and came to the conclusion that the house felt like a rental, with a bachelor tenant who didn't have much time for art or furnishings. "Violation of the gay code," he murmured, which made Layla laugh.

"I thought he'd be able to give me decorating advice, but no."

"I can see that. It's a shame."

They reached the landing. Several doors opened off it, and Stef followed Layla to one on the right. "Here we are," she said. "Our little menagerie of doom."

She opened the door slowly, and Stef followed her in. The robin perched on the windowsill, utterly undisturbed by their presence. One squirrel sat in the middle of the floor, tail up as if ready to run. The other squirrel must have been sleeping somewhere.

"They're so creepy," Layla whispered. She wasn't wrong.

"Do you have salt?" Stef had done enough research to be able to fake a ritual if he needed to.

"If you're planning to roast and eat them, let me remind you they've been dead for a while."

Stef laughed at her skeptical tone. "I was going to make a salt circle, put one of them in it, then try an incantation I found online."

Layla raised a finger as if she wanted to find something to object to, then threw up her hands. "I'll be right back."

While she pounded down the stairs, Stef squatted down near the squirrel. "Hey, little dude. You want to go back to sleep?" It sounded better than asking if it wanted to be dead again, though Stef wasn't surprised when the squirrel didn't answer. "You don't have to do anything. Just hang out where you are, and I'll do the rest."

He had time to track down the other squirrel before Layla got back. The thing was curled up in a box, and it made Stef smile. Brandon might not care much for interior design, but he'd put pillows and soft blankets in the boxes so the creatures would be comfortable.

Brandon came along when Layla brought the salt. The one squirrel still sat in the middle of the floor, so Stef took the Morton's and poured a circle around it. "Candle?"

"Be right back," Layla said, which left him alone with Brandon.

"I'm, uh, sorry about earlier." The words were easier to say if Stef kept his eyes on the squirrel. "I get carried away sometimes."

Brandon didn't answer right away and Stef dared a glance in his direction. Brandon wasn't smiling, but he no longer looked like he was carved from ice.

"The frozen chosen have left the building," Stef muttered, and that made Brandon laugh.

"You're not forgiven, but I will let you make it up to me."

Stef grinned at the squirrel. "How?"

"Here." Layla burst through the door with a lit candle in a little jar. "Wait. What?" She glanced from him to Brandon and back again. "I feel like I'm interrupting something."

"It's fine," Brandon said at the same time Stef said, "Not at all." They both laughed, and Stef took the candle and set it next to the line of salt.

"Here goes," he said, taking his phone out and swiping the screen. He'd saved an incantation from one of the more arcane websites he'd visited, and while he wasn't a necromancer, he'd give it a— "Wait a minute. You should be the one who says this."

Brandon looked at the phone like it was something foul. "Seriously?"

Stef stood up and brought the phone to Brandon. "I mean it. To make something like this work, we need the right intention, the right words, and the touch of power. I've only got two out of three."

Brandon drew in a deep breath and let it go. "All right."