The Necromancer's Betrayal (The Final Formula Series, Book 2.5) Page 10

  “The curse is real?”

  “Of course. A brilliant feat of alchemy and necromancy.”

  Elysia held her breath so she didn’t miss a word. If Neil knew about her curse, he might know specifics.

  Neil snorted. “But I doubt she understands its true purpose.”

  “How do you?’

  “I know my trade.” He began moving the squeaky-wheeled cart once more. “If you would, collar the grim and put him back in his drawer.”

  Elysia pressed a hand to her mouth. His drawer? Had James been here all along, locked in a drawer when Neil wasn’t experimenting on him?

  Doug grumbled, but he must have done as told because a door slammed a few minutes later.

  “I expect results,” Doug said. “You had better not be delaying so you can spend more time with the grim.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll get to present him to your father soon, although I still think it a foolish idea.”

  “Father knows discretion. He won’t want to start a war with New Magic.”

  Elysia didn’t get a chance to wonder what he meant by that. Footsteps approached the door. “Hide!” she whispered to Kari. They ran across the hall and pushed open the swinging door into another room. Only the emergency lights were on, giving the room an eerie glow.

  “Why are we hiding?” Kari whispered.

  Elysia held up a finger, silently asking for her to wait. Doug’s footfalls echoed in the hall, moving away from them. Fortunately, Kari’s presence wouldn’t be noticed in a building full of the dead.

  “I’ve been betrayed.” Elysia slumped against the wall beside the door. “That was my fiancé.” She had always known that Doug didn’t truly love her, but she also knew that his reasons for pursuing her had never been malicious ones. He only wanted to join his power to hers, adding even more clout to the Nelson name in the next generation. Though it did surprise her that he was willing to go against his father’s wishes to do that. He never went against his father.

  “I’m sorry.” Kari laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

  Once again, Elysia was touched by this girl’s compassion. Elysia took a steadying breath. She didn’t have time to feel sorry for herself. She had to get James free.

  “Listen, I—”

  “Someone’s coming.” Kari’s grip tightened.

  Elysia bit back a cry, certain Kari had almost crushed her shoulder. “Easy.” She patted Kari’s hand. “You have the strength of the dead.”

  The squeak of Neil’s cart echoed in the hall, moving closer.

  Elysia guided Kari away from the door and took her first good look at the room. It wasn’t an autopsy room; there were no tables here. Instead, the room was filled with counters and cabinets. She eyed a microscope and the nearby rack of test tubes. It was the lab Doug had mentioned—and Neil was no doubt coming here.

  They stood in the center of the room, and the only door out led straight into Neil’s path.

  Chapter

  12

  “Duck under a cabinet?” Kari whispered.

  Elysia glanced over at her. That might have worked, if there were other bodies in here. “He’s a necromancer. He’ll sense you.” Being stunted only prevented a necro from using his magic; it didn’t stop him from feeling—unless the stunting was potion induced, like hers.

  Elysia gripped Kari’s upper arm. “I need you to distract him.”

  Kari’s eyes widened. “How?”

  “Tell him you’re the lich from the hospital, sent here for safekeeping until the Deacon decides what to do with you. Tell him anything, just don’t mention me.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry. He’s stunted. He can’t use his power on you. Once I’m out of the room, you can punch his lights out.”

  Kari’s brows rose.

  “Strength of the dead, remember.” Elysia ducked under the nearest cabinet, a moment before the door swung open. An instant later, the room was bathed in light as Neil flipped the switch. The cart squeaked, then abruptly stopped.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “I’m Kari.” She took a few steps toward him. “Are you the Deacon?”

  “No.” He moved closer. “You’re a lich.”

  “That’s what they tell me.” Kari’s voice fell to a whisper. “They say I’m dead.”

  “You are.” Stunted or not, Neil had the usual necromancer indifference to the dead.

  “Oh.” She sounded so dejected. “What happens to me?”

  “You probably don’t want to know.” He walked past her, dismissing her as unworthy of his notice. His indifference surprised Elysia. Liches were so rare that most viewed even the possibility as a fable.

  Neil approached her hiding place, and Elysia shrunk against the wall, but he didn’t stop. He continued down the counter, halting a short distance away.

  “You say the Deacon’s on his way over?” Neil asked.

  “Now? I don’t know. I heard them say that he would decide what to do with me.” Kari followed him.

  Elysia expected Neil to question how Kari got here in the first place, but he remained silent for a long moment.

  “Who Made you?” he finally asked.

  “What?”

  “Who made you a lich?”

  “I don’t know.” Kari’s voice sounded further away, as if she moved toward the back wall. “What’s this?”

  “Don’t touch anything.” The rattle of glass followed Neil’s voice.

  Elysia leaned forward chancing a glance into the aisle. Neil’s black robes were only yards away. Elysia pulled back, but even as she did, she realized that he had been turning in the opposite direction. Toward Kari.

  Taking a deep breath, Elysia peeked out again. Neil had his back to her, walking to where Kari stood at the far end of the counter. It was now or never.

  Elysia crawled out from beneath the cabinet and, staying low, began to back toward the door.

  “Can you describe the one who Made you?” Neil asked.

  “I had a head injury. I woke up in the hospital. Dead.” She finished in a whisper.

  Neil didn’t immediately respond, and Elysia stopped, afraid he would hear her movements in the now quiet room.

  “What is it?’ Kari asked him. She faced Elysia, yet kept her eyes on Neil. Elysia admired her presence of mind to not give her away by glancing at her.

  “Is your heart still intact?”

  “W-what?”

  “Is there an incision over your heart?”

  Elysia hesitated. Did Neil suspect her?

  “No,” Kari answered, her horrified eyes remained on Neil, preventing her from seeing Elysia’s nod as she tried to get Kari to say yes. If Neil knew that Kari’s heart was still intact, he knew that a necromancer had Made her with blood alone. Only the rarest of the rare could do that, and it had been centuries since the last one. The one who had founded Elysia’s line.

  Neil chuckled. “Interesting.” His arm shot forward, and Elysia thought he made a grab at Kari. Instead, a cloud of green gas exploded in her face. He had thrown a potion.

  Elysia rose from her crouch and in three quiet steps, she was through the swinging door and back out into the hall. Her luck held as the doors didn’t creak and the hall was empty. She hesitated. What had Neil thrown at Kari? Should she try to help her? No, she couldn’t waste the opportunity Kari had given her.

  Running on her toes, she hurried to the autopsy room where she had last seen James. A quick peek though the glass, and she shoved open the door. The hinge squeaked, the sound loud in the empty room—or perhaps it was amplified by her nerves.

  She eased the door closed behind her and turned to face the mortuary drawers. There were twelve of them. Keenly aware of her lack of power, she stared at the
doors. Which one was James’s?

  A thump sounded from the hall, and Elysia glanced toward the door. She would have to rescue Kari next, but with James’s help, that shouldn’t be a problem. If he would help. He might think she had approved of his recent treatment.

  “James,” she whispered. Through the numbness, the bond tightened. Neil and Doug were wrong. This bond would never dissolve.

  A soft thump came from the drawers on her right. Elysia moved closer, her heart pounding as she resisted the urge to start opening doors.

  She forced herself to focus and closed her eyes, listening. James, where are you?

  Another thump.

  Without opening her eyes, she reached out and took another step toward the drawers. Her fingers brushed the cool metal, sliding over it until she found the latch. She opened her eyes and pulled the handle. Light from the room reached only a foot into the drawer, but it was enough to illuminate a head of black hair—not a body bag.

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth and pulled out the drawer. James squinted up at her in the bright light. The only thing he wore was a metal collar locked around his throat. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his skin appeared paler than she remembered.

  “Oh God,” she whispered, brushing back his hair. “I’m so sorry.”

  He lifted an arm and she stilled. His cool fingers came to rest against her cheek. “What have those bastards done to you?” His eyes held hers, his forehead wrinkled in concern. He had noticed her white eyes.

  She bit back a sob. Like Kari, he put her troubles over his own.

  “Later,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”

  He took his hand from her face and gripped the collar encircling his throat. “I need to remove this.”

  She remembered her dream and the way he had been bound, but there were no chains here.

  “Why?” she asked.

  He met her eyes and seemed to decide something. “It confines my power.”

  She touched the keyhole worked into the metal collar. “Where’s the key?”

  “Neil’s cart. It was—” James turned his head toward the door. “I hear him. He’s coming.”

  Elysia turned toward the room. Aside from a counter running along one wall, only the three stainless steel tables occupied the room. And the only way out was the door into the hall.

  James gripped her wrist. “Climb in here.”

  Her breath caught. “I–I can’t.” The old memories surfaced. The dark, the cold. Dead hands animated by her own blood. A cold sweat instantly coated her skin.

  “Elysia.”

  The bond tightened and she gasped.

  “I’ll be with you,” James said.

  He was right, and she was being a coward. She was a grown woman not a terrified child.

  Her heart thumped in her ears, and she did something she only did in her darkest nightmares: she climbed into the drawer. James moved over as much as he could to make room, but she still had to lie on her side to fit on the cold steel tray with him. Bracing his hands on the ceiling, James walked their drawer back into the narrow space that held it, then reached above their heads and caught the door.

  “Careful!” The word was almost a shout, and she forced herself to continue in a softer tone. “It latches on the outside.”

  “I know.” He pulled it until the latch touched, but didn’t catch. Elysia wasn’t sure if she wanted the open door to come to Neil’s attention or not. Facing him might be preferable to the sheer terror that had enveloped her.

  “Easy.” James’s voice was soft in the darkness, one hand rubbing her back.

  Elysia laid her head on his shoulder, trying to take his advice. She could do this. She was twenty-six not six.

  “Damn,” James whispered, and light suddenly flooded their drawer.

  “Clever,” Neil said.

  Elysia tipped her head up to see him bending to peer into their drawer.

  “You sent a lich to distract me?”

  “You better not have hurt her.”

  “Compassion for the dead is the first step toward insanity.” He smiled as he glanced between them. “Crawling into a drawer with one is several flights up.”

  “Watch it,” James said.

  Neil chuckled, his white eyes returning to Elysia’s own. “Poor Doug has no idea what you’re capable of, does he?”

  She held his gaze, refusing to answer.

  “I didn’t think so.” Neil straightened. “You two behave. I need to run over to the PIA offices and chat with a former colleague. He owes me a favor.” He slammed the cooler door in her face, and they were plunged into complete darkness.

  James’s arms tightened around her. “Shh,” he breathed, his mouth close to her ear.

  She climbed over him to push against the door. It didn’t move. “Oh God.”

  “It’s all right. He’ll be back.”

  She pushed against the door harder. Nothing. It wouldn’t open. Suddenly she was a child, and the body beneath her wasn’t warm. She slammed a fist against the door.

  James’s warm hands slid up her arms, pulling her back.

  “No!” she cried out, trying to pull away. Her back thumped against the ceiling, emphasizing the smallness of the space. How trapped she was.

  “Elysia.”

  She gasped with the sensation of being pulled to him. “You’re not alone.” He pressed her palms to his chest. “I’m with you, Elysia Grace.” The bond tightened, going deeper.

  She groaned and squeezed her eyes closed, though it made no difference in the darkness. The terror receded, but didn’t vanish.

  “Tell me you know me. Say my name.”

  She swallowed, trying to moisten her dry throat.

  “My middle name is Daniel.” He rubbed her back. “Come on, know me. Make me yours.”

  “James Daniel,” she whispered.

  He groaned at the same instant relief washed over her. It felt like she had bled off some of her magic. But how?

  She opened her eyes, but couldn’t see him. She couldn’t see anything. Time rolled back twenty years, and icy fingers trailed along her thin bare arms. Dead fingers.

  “All of it.” His commanding tone jerked her back into the moment. “Huntsman. My last name is Huntsman.”

  Appropriate. She took a shaky breath, the air scented with the musk of his cologne, warmed by his skin. “James Daniel Huntsman.”

  He cried out, his back coming off the drawer and lifting her until her own back thumped against the top of the chamber.

  She gripped his shoulders to maintain her balance. Warm shoulders, yet the tight confines shot adrenaline into her veins. She reached for the door.

  James caught her wrists. “No. Connect with me.” He gently returned her hands to his chest. “Share your soul.”

  It took a few tries to catch her breath and speak. “Neil took that ability from me.”

  A faint growl rumbled beneath her. “No. I feel you, within me. And you feel me, Elysia Grace.”

  Hades’s blood, she loved the way he said her name. But she also heard his question. He wanted all of it, just as he had given all of his.

  “Mallory,” she whispered. “My sire name is Mallory.”

  He stilled beneath her. “Of course.” He took a breath and she braced herself. “Elysia Grace Mallory.”

  She cried out as his voice pulled her the rest of the way in, and they were one. He groaned and the sound vibrated through her entire body. Unerringly, she found his lips in the darkness.

  He was waiting for her, his mouth claiming hers. He squeezed her shoulders, then slid his hands down her back. Still shaking, she clung to him, certain the darkness would reclaim her if she let go.

  She pressed her body closer to his, or tried to in t
he tight space. His hands moved down to grip her hips, and he lifted his own to meet her. She realized that eating and sleeping weren’t the only functions his body still performed. Then her back thumped the top of the chamber. Again.

  “Sorry. Damn.” Frustration laced James’s voice, making the word more a growl than an effort at communication.

  The absurdity of the situation struck Elysia at that moment. She pressed her forehead to his shoulder, trying to muffle the laugh, but failed. Maybe it was a touch of hysteria, but the more she thought about it, the funnier it got.

  She expected anger from James, or at least annoyance, but he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged her against him. His own laugher joined hers, and before long, there were tears on both their faces.

  “Better?” he asked when they finally got control of themselves.

  “Yes.” She rubbed a hand across her damp cheeks. “Thanks for bringing me back.”

  “I didn’t mind.”

  She smiled. They lay in silence for several minutes, letting their breathing return to normal.

  “I had a bad experience in one of these,” she admitted.

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “Not really.”

  “I understand.” He raised his hands, and she guessed he pressed his palms to the ceiling. “If my brothers have their way, an iron box is to be my destiny, though I hope it’s bigger than this one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The generation that contains the grim gets a power boost aside from the usual hunting enhancements the blood gives them. To preserve that, my brothers would like to keep me in an iron vault to protect me from harm, and preserve their power.”

  “They sound like lovely people.”

  “Yes, but they are family—the only family I have.” Something in his tone made it sound like there was more to it, but he didn’t elaborate.

  She made a sound of understanding. “My mother went mad by the time I was six. She once mistook me for one of the dead and locked me in the cooler drawer. It was occupied.”