Necromancist, p.1
Necromancist, page 1
Necromancist (SECOND EDITION)
7 Forbidden Arts (Book 6)
Charmaine Pauls
Published by Charmaine Pauls
Montpellier, 34090, France
www.charmainepauls.com
Published in France
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Copyright © 2022 by Charmaine Pauls
All rights reserved.
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Cover design by The Artful Cover
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ISBN: 9782491833138 (eBook)
ISBN: 9798798397464 (Print)
Created with Vellum
Contents
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Afterword
Excerpt from Scapulimancist
Also by Charmaine Pauls
Book Blurbs
About the Author
Foreword
Dear reader,
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Necromancist is Book 6 of the 7 Forbidden Arts series. Some reminders…
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There are 9 books in this paranormal romance series. Each book has a HEA, but there is also a series arc, meaning at the end of every book there will be unanswered questions. I recommend that the series is read in order.
This is a relaunch of the series that was originally published between 2015 and 2017.
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The books in order:
Pyromancist (Book 1, Fire)
Aeromancist, The Beginning (Book 2, Prequel)
Aeromancist (Book 3, Air)
Hydromancist (Book 4, Water)
Geomancist (Book 5, Earth)
Necromancist (Book 6, Spirit)
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A quick series overview:
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Cain Jones starts a paranormal crime task force of individuals possessing seven forbidden arts to prevent an elusive enemy from taking world power by communication and technology domination.
As the team grows, mission after mission, Cain uncovers the identity of the archenemy he has to destroy. The assignments take the team on a journey from the magical forest of King Arthur in French Brittany to the oldest Franciscan monastery in Chile, the tropical beach of Costa Rica, and rustic Pirate’s Island in Colombia.
From a mystical firestarter to a bloodsucker, a timid librarian, an ambassador with a dark side, a drug lord, a super-mixer bartender, a French-Breton baron, a surfer babe who makes her own waves, and a Russian weatherman with more up his sleeve than a forecast, the 7 Forbidden Arts cast will take you on a whirlwind world tour of action, desire, and love as they not only battle wars of power and justice, but also meet their fated mates.
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Pyromancist
Joss kidnaps and uses Clelia as bait to catch a firestarter, but his desire for his captive compromises his mission.
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Aeromancist, The Beginning
Katherine becomes the lover of a mysterious Russian library owner for 30 days at an unforeseen and devastating price.
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Aeromancist
Lann couldn’t foresee how his 30-day contract would destroy Katherine’s life. Can he save her from the fate he’d unknowingly dealt her?
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Hydromancist
Maya isn’t supposed to like the ambassador, let alone sleep with him. Her only focus should be on killing him.
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Geomancist
When a drug lord takes Sean’s woman, a paradise island in the Caribbean Sea is about to turn into hell.
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Necromancist
Nine years ago a poor and shamed Ivan took Alice’s virginity before breaking her heart. Now a famous rock star, he’s back to claim what’s his.
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Happy reading!
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Charmaine
Prologue
With the letter from the London Academy of Performing Arts in her pocket, Alice Jones ran home as fast as her eighteen-year-old legs could carry her. The news was exactly what she needed in her life. Now she could move a whole continent away from dumbass Ivan.
Throwing open the door of their Manhattan townhouse on Fifty-fourth Avenue, she called for her mom. “Where are you?” She dropped her backpack in the entrance and hurried to the kitchen. “You’re not going to believe this!”
The glow from the late afternoon sun caught a day’s layer of dust on the clutter-free marble surfaces. There were no cooking utensils or rinsed veggies on the central island counter, not even the habitual glass of wine.
She took the stairs two by two and skidded to a halt in front of her parents’ bedroom. “Mom! I’ve been chosen for the exchange program.” She yanked the door open with a squeal. “I’m going to London! I’ve—”
The scene in front of her cut her short. The room was dark with all the curtains drawn. None of her mother’s recorded arias played on the sound system. Clara sat in front of the dressing table with her head in her hands.
Alice’s gut twisted. The only things that helped when her mom was like this were sympathy and distraction. She’d go for the latter. The constant reassurance was too draining.
“Mom? Look.” She held out the letter. “They chose me. I won.”
When Clara lifted her head and pushed back her hair, Alice sucked in a breath. A clown’s face stared at her from the mirror. Red circles marked Clara’s cheeks and the tip of her nose while blue eclipses around her eyes formed a stark contrast with her white-painted skin.
“Mom?” She couldn’t hide the tremor in her voice. “What happened?”
Clara pushed a newspaper over the vanity top, knocking down bottles of perfume and face creams. Alice went down on her knees to collect the cosmetics, but Clara’s shrill voice halted her.
“Leave it!”
She straightened to study the paper. When her eyes skimmed over the unflattering critique of a theatre review, she understood the cause of today’s drama.
“I’m the clown of the music world.” Clara quoted the print by heart. “A fading diva who’ll be wise to quit when she’s at a high. Better placed in supporting roles, her leading days are over.”
She straightened and patted her mom’s shoulder. “It’s just one review.”
“Just one review?” Clara uttered a hysterical laugh. “Just one review? Are you listening to yourself? Don’t you dare patronize me. Do you think I’m a child? I’ve been in this business for longer than you’ve lived. I know when a nail is being hit into a coffin and that,” she pointed at the article, “is a fucking nine-inch nail.”
“Mom.” What was she supposed to say?
“Clara?” a deep male voice said from the door.
Alice spun around to face her dad. Thank goodness he was home from the office today and not at a meeting or dinner.
He crossed the floor slowly. “What’s going on?”
With a sweep of her arm, Clara cleared the dressing table, sending brushes and jewelry flying.
Her dad turned to her, his expression closed off. “Alice, give your mom and I a moment, please.”
She retraced her steps to the hallway and stood trembling on the landing. By now, she should be used to the outbursts, but she couldn’t help how they affected her. She clutched her stomach with one hand and gripped the balustrade with the other.
“What’s wrong?” her dad repeated.
“See for yourself.”
After a moment’s silence, her dad said, “It’s one person’s opinion.”
“It’s the one opinion in the world that matters most! This is what everyone thinks. They don’t say it, but they all believe it. Everyone thinks I’m a failure. All those years of sacrifice, of practicing hour after hour, of eating nothing but lettuce and apples to fit into those goddamn costumes, all of it for nothing!”
“Darling, calm down. You’re upset about one bad write-up, but you forget about all the good ones.”
“It’s over. My life is over.”
“There are other things in life than singing. You can teach. The opera will gladly have you.”
Her laugh sounded hollow. “They’ll be happy to have me where? Backstage, a shriveling star hidden from view like they’re ashamed of me? Am I to be discarded, too old for them or you? Is that it? Are you going to stick around, or will you throw me away, too?”
“What in God’s name are you carrying on about? I love you. You’re my wife.”
“You love me? You loved me when I was pretty and young. Admit it. You’re going to leave me for someone younger, a girl with a tight body and smooth face. Who wants to be with a fading diva?”
“Stop this madness, right now. I’ve never loved you for your voice. I love you.”
“Who is she? Where do you go at night when you don’t come home?”
“There’s no one else. You know what my job involves.”
Alice’s stomach churned at her mom’s cold snigger.
“That sinister business of yours is not a job,” Clara continued. “You work with deranged people, these so-called agents of yours. Do you think I don’t know of your demonic activities? People who manipulate the weather and fire and the earth… I want you to quit.”
“We’ve spoken about this.” Her dad’s voice held a note of warning. “I can’t have you advertise this to the world.”
“I’m sick of secrets. I don’t care, anymore. If you don’t quit, I’ll tell.”
“You’ll put yourself—our family—at risk. Besides, no one will believe you.”
“I hate you!”
“You can’t carry on like this. Let me get you help, please.”
“You want to lock me up in an institution. You want to declare me insane so you can spend my money and divorce me.”
“The money’s ours, Clara, but I’ve earned it. You squandered your inheritance within the first year.” There was a pause and then his address softened. “You’re setting yourself up for failure by not accepting the inevitable. We’re all growing older.”
Her mother’s voice turned hard. “What are you saying? That I’m not desirable, any longer?”
“I’m saying you have to let it go.”
“Well, I have news for you. Men still find me irresistible. Why look so shocked? It’s the truth. Want to know something else? I slept with Fabian Davis. That weekend in Miami, I wasn’t rehearsing. I was with him on his yacht.”
Alice bit down on the back of her hand to silence a sob. It couldn’t be true. Her parents were happy. She loved her dad. Fabian Davis was the most hateful man on the face of the earth. Everyone knew the tycoon slept his way around the city.
“How long?” her dad asked, his tone flat.
“The better part of a year.”
A long silence followed. She needed to get away, to process what had just happened. She didn’t want her parents to divorce. She didn’t want them to fight. If only her mom had waited for the next review. Maybe the next one would be good.
“Where are you going?” her mom shouted.
“I can take a lot, but this…” Her dad sounded so broken.
“Come back here! Don’t you dare walk out on me!”
“I need time alone.”
“Where are you going?”
“Don’t wait for me to have dinner. I’ll be home later.”
“I swear to God, if you walk out that door, I won’t be here when you get back.”
“I love you, Clara, but I can’t do this, anymore. If you don’t want to be a mother to your daughter and a wife to me, I’ll set you free. I’ll give you a divorce if that’s what you want, but if you decide to stay, we’ll talk about finding you help when I get back.”
“I’ll kill myself! When you come back, there’ll be nothing to talk about because I’ll be dead.”
Her father’s footsteps approached the door.
“I’ll do it, damn you! You’ll be happy to be free of me, won’t you?”
Alice jumped into the spare room and shuffled behind the door. Her dad’s shoes echoed on the marble floor as he made his way downstairs. From the crack between the door and the wall, she watched him go. His suit jacket stretched over his hunched shoulders. It was the first time she saw him with anything but a straight and proud back.
When the front door closed, she took a breath, trying to calm her shaking. Tears ran hot over her cheeks. What if her father left them? What if he never came back? Shame for her mom’s behavior and sadness for her dad grew to anger. How dare her mother destroy their family? She only cared for herself and her stupid voice. Alice wiped her face on her sleeve and pressed her ear against the wall. Next door, her mom was quiet. The next step would be a bottle of wine and sleeping pills followed by a massive hangover the next morning and a day at the spa. Clara would come home with some crazy anti-ageing treatment of snail spit or snake shit that cost a fortune.
Alice sniffed her tears away and ran to her room. She called Becca and went over to her friend’s house for dinner. Not able to face her mom just yet, she spent the evening at Becca’s doing homework. When she got home three hours later, her dad’s car wasn’t parked in the driveway, but all the lights were on up and downstairs.
Steeling herself in case her mom was still awake, she opened the door and listened. The house was quiet except for the ticking of the cuckoo clock. She tiptoed into the entrance, careful not to make any noise. About to flip off the lights, her hand froze in midair as she noticed one red shoe, like a lost Cinderella slipper, in the middle of the floor. She squinted behind her glasses. The velvet stiletto had diamante detail on the bridge. It could only be the shoes her mother had worn for her part in La Traviata, Clara’s favorite and most acclaimed performance. Clara may throw many things around the house, but never her sacred shoes. Alice lifted her gaze to the top of the stairs, almost expecting her mom to be standing there, ready to hurl the other shoe.
It took a moment for her brain to process the sight that greeted her. Her body turned to fire and then to ice, a cold burn creeping up from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head.
Clara’s body hung from the second floor balustrade on a rope tied around her neck. Bulging eyes and a swollen tongue peeking through her lips distorted her beautiful features. On the toes of her left foot dangled a red shoe.
Chapter 1
Nine years later
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“I-van! I-van! I-van!”
The audience in the Madison Square Garden concert hall was nothing but segments of raised arms and groping fingers freeze-framed in the surfing spotlights. Slowly, Ivan Kray came out of the trance of the final song, his attention once more anchoring in reality. From his advantage point on stage, he glimpsed flickering expressions in the teeming faces as the light caught them. It was like fanning a deck of cards too fast, seeing the clubs, spades, hearts and diamonds, but not the numbers. The concert goers remained nameless while their emotions took on palpable shapes of adoration, awe, jealousy, and the worst of all, the needy ones that said pick me.
Without warning, the darkness in the hall exploded with color that wasn’t part of tonight’s lighting choreography. The intensity drove him a step back. The radiance was enough to bring the whole hall to their knees, but he was the only one seeing it. The ability to distinguish a human soul as a spectrum of light was his gift and curse.
Involuntarily, his brain searched for a rainbow, a unique mélange associated with one person, but as always there were only red, blue, yellow, and the hues in between. Why he still hoped she’d show up he didn’t know. Maybe because he wanted her to see he was everything her family said he’d never be. Maybe because he missed her so much it still ripped his heart out every day.
“Encore! Encore! Encore!”
The euphoria of the performance was wearing off. He felt flat, like taking a nosedive after a rocket climb into space. The only way after going up was coming down, and he was coming down big time. The screaming girls in the golden circle only reminded him how the person he sang for wasn’t here.
