How to dance an undead w.., p.7
How to Dance an Undead Waltz, page 7
part #4 of Beginner's Guide to Necromancy Series
Full black swallowed his gaze from edge to edge at the reminder of why such frivolity had been impossible. “This is an opportunity to show your enemies why they should fear you.”
“You’ve put some thought into this.” I shifted on the seat, uncomfortable beneath his intense scrutiny. “I won’t invite those people into my home.” Her new wards might not allow the mass trespass in any case. “Woolly isn’t in any shape for a soirée, and I won’t have her mocked where she can hear.” Oscar was another matter. The High Society wouldn’t pay him much attention, but a few might file that information away, and I didn’t want to give them more ammunition to use against me. But Linus knew all that and would have made allowances. “Where did you plan on making this statement?”
“The Lawson manor.” Blue peeked from behind the darkness. “Gather your allies. Create a safe environment. Make your stand.”
“Your mother…” I laughed out loud. “Who am I kidding? She would eat up the chance to stir controversy.”
“The current seat of the reigning Grande Dame is the most secure location of any Society holding. She’s family, and she publicly championed your release. She’s shown a marked interest in you, and while she didn’t campaign with your name on her lips, your exoneration is the unspoken promise of her platform.” The points kept hitting, but he built his case with care not to corner me. “A ball at her home, in your honor, will cement the ties between the Lawson and Woolworth families in the eyes of the Society.”
“How you can make so much sense while your sales pitch sounds like a warning astounds me.”
“Maud was her sister. Their ties were public and close.” He selected his words with care. “You don’t have to go that route. You aren’t required to declare yourself her supporter. You could make the Woolworth name neutral.”
“After she engineered my pardon, no one would ever believe our families weren’t in bed together.” Red capped the tips of his ears, and I curled my fingers into my palm to prevent them from tracing the burn. “I didn’t mean that literally.”
“Of course not,” he replied, an undercurrent swirling through his tone I couldn’t pinpoint.
“Do you think the master would come if I invited him?” An introduction to the man himself was the purpose, after all. “Do you think he’s that bold?”
“I believe he’s that eager.” Linus sat upright, appraising our surroundings. “The Lyceum was in an uproar for weeks over Heloise Marchand’s death at the hands of a sentinel.” He let me absorb the fresh sting of knowing a friend had shot one of my twin cousins dead to spare me before continuing in the same measured tone. “The whole Society is now aware Dame Marchand attempted to reconcile, and the evidence suggests you’re not interested in an alliance. This is his best chance to meet you, present his case, and win you over before the Marchands woo you away from him.”
“Heloise is dead.” I hadn’t known her, but she was family. The way she died? That was the worst part. Knowing I had relatives out there and having them prove I was a commodity and not a person to them. No wonder Mom cut them out of her life before they ruined mine. “I don’t see the Marchands renewing their offer.”
“You’re a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Grier.” Linus sounded pained to remind me. “Heloise might have died on your property, but you didn’t pull the trigger. That gives them room to maneuver as far as public opinion goes.”
Lucky for me, I had Linus to back my version of events. Otherwise, Taz might not have walked out of the Lyceum except in chains. As it was, thanks to Boaz, she had been scooped up at the curb and placed into the Society’s version of the Witness Protection Program to keep her safe from Marchand retribution.
“I hate balls.” I slumped in my seat. “I hate all this.”
“Maud loved you too much.” He dipped his chin. “She shielded you from the reality of your station.”
The slap to my pride made me want to hit back. “That’s what mothers do.”
For better or worse, Maud had followed Mom’s example to the letter.
“Not all mothers have that luxury,” he said softly.
Not even my own. I could no longer recall the exact timbre of Mom’s voice or the way she smelled or the stories she read me at night. But I remembered her telling me she loved me enough for two parents.
A sigh moved through my chest, still tender from the run-in with Boaz. “That was low of me.”
Time and drugs and abuse, both physical and mental, had left me with soup for brains.
At rock bottom, sometimes even now, I wondered if I had invented the idyllic childhood with Maud and Amelie and Boaz. In Atramentous, I replayed the happiest memories until they frayed around the edges, taking on a worn and faded quality.
How much of what I accepted as the truth had been stitched together with a thread of reality to hold me together one more night? How much of my past had been overwritten by a desperate mind shoved past its breaking point? How much had I lost? And would I ever recall it in more than fits and spurts?
“I envied you,” he confided. “Maud adored you. She would have done anything to protect you.”
Ignorance wasn’t bliss from where I sat. “Look where that approach landed me.”
He shook his head like I still wasn’t getting it. “I wished she were my mother.”
The stark admission cut me to the bone. Until I entered the picture, he had been a double heir. Lawson and Woolworth. All I owned had once been promised to him. “She loved you too. So much. She was so proud.”
Linus was the gold standard, one I could never meet. She loved me, but she respected him.
He bowed his head, auburn strands gliding forward to conceal his face.
“Your mom loves you too.” Unable to resist, I raked my fingers through his hair and found the strands as cold and smooth as silk. “She lights up when you enter the room. You can’t fake that.”
“She does,” he agreed, flicking his gaze up to mine, “but power is her first and greatest love.”
Heartbroken to agree with him, I pulled on a grumpy face and nudged us toward a safer topic.
“I’ll throw the stupid ball,” I grumbled with a side order of extra pout. “On one condition.”
A crease gathered across his forehead. “I’m listening.”
“The first dance is you and me.” If I had to suffer through getting dolled up and smiling until my cheeks split, then so did he. “I’ll also go ahead and reserve the last one. I’ll be ready to cry uncle at that point, and I need someone to hold me accountable until the final guest leaves.”
A flush crept up his neck. “I don’t really…”
“We also have to work out a secret code.” The one Maud and I used when she was desperate to escape her sycophants might work. “That way if one of us needs rescuing from an obnoxious partner, the other will know to save them. How about tugging an earlobe? Classic move, really.”
He cleared his throat. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather—?”
“You’re good at everything. Literally everything. You can’t tell me you’re a bad dancer.” We had the same instructor, though we didn’t share classes. He was two levels ahead of me. “Am I the problem?” His earlier warning rang in my head. This ball would declare my allegiances, not his. I had counted him in my number without asking. “I assumed you would…” be in my corner, “…attend.” I mashed my lips together. “You don’t have to go with me. You don’t have to go at all.” Now it sounded like I didn’t want him there. “You could escort your mother or maybe your…”
“He doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Hood supplied helpfully. “I’ve worked at the Faraday for ten years, since before he moved in, and he never brought anyone home.” His eyes held mine in the rearview mirror. “Until you.”
Pleasure curled through my chest at the confirmation. “He told me.”
He also mentioned how outing one of his lovers to his mother would be the highlight of the Faraday concierge’s career. One of his lovers. As in there were or had been several.
Chastity was not a requirement for my friendship, obviously, but hearing he had lady friends shriveled my lady bits. I expected better from him, I realized. And better, thanks to Boaz, meant celibate. An impossible standard when men their age, with their looks and their resources, weren’t virgins. Heck, I wouldn’t still be one if given half a chance. So why did it gnaw at me each time I was reminded Linus had a life before he was thrust into mine?
“The first dance is symbolic.” Linus pitched his voice low. “You would be choosing me above all others. Given the location, people would talk. They would think you and I…” his throat worked when he swallowed, “…were more than what we are.”
A ball as a precursor to an engagement party was what he meant. A testing of the waters prior to the big announcement. A stigma that would brand me as his when our living arrangements had already set tongues wagging.
“I don’t care.” I squared my shoulders. “I am choosing you above all others. You’re my friend, and I want you with me.”
Hood released a shrill whistle from between his teeth as he twisted forward.
“I care.” Linus reached for the door. “Find someone else for the first dance.” He cranked it open. “You can have as many other dances as you want, but not that one.”
This time when he climbed out, he didn’t wait for me but started the walk up to the house alone.
“Don’t push the dance,” Hood advised without turning. “Clearly it means something different to him than it does to you. Until you’re on the same page, you ought to let it go.”
“Therapist and chauffeur.” I made a face at him. “How did I get so lucky?”
“You’re as good as pack while you’re under our protection.” A grin dented his cheeks. “That means you receive the benefit of our collective wisdom.”
The line might have worked on me if I hadn’t met Hood at the Faraday, but I had, and I saw how he interacted with guests back when that’s all I had been to him. The way he treated me these days made me think of how he joked with his mate and brother-in-law. In many ways, the Kinase pack had adopted me, and it was more than being their client. Linus had that pleasure for years prior to me and had warned me off the watchmen. Had the pack been all cuddles and comradery, I doubt he would have worried so much when Hood took a specific interest in me.
Questions about the woman I reminded him of, the one he hadn’t been able to save, lingered in the back of my mind. He told me my scent reminded him of her, but as much as I wanted to ask, the answer was a sore spot between him and his packmates I didn’t want to risk prodding until I knew them each better. And the inkling I experienced at the reminder the gwyllgi had worked for vampires was still brewing.
There were also other potential NDAs to consider. Asking them outright would likely get me nowhere. I would have to be sneaky. “Will you come to the ball?”
Scratching his ear, he squinted at me. “Are you asking in an official capacity?”
“Lethe might enjoy one last glam evening before—” I clamped my mouth shut before I betrayed Midas’s trust, “—things get tense.” I had almost insinuated she might want to dress up before her baby bump turned noticeable. “They’re bound to get worse after I open official channels with the master, right?”
“I’ll ask.” A silly little grin curved his lips, and I wondered if his thoughts had traveled the same path as mine for different reasons. “It’s been too long since she had an excuse to go all out, and an official invite provides us with the perfect cover for mingling with your guests.”
Groaning at how deftly he had manipulated the offer, I slid out into the night. “You’re hopeless.”
“All work and no play making you dull is a human sentiment. We live for the hunt.” A growl edged his chuckle. “We also enjoy getting paid to follow our instincts.”
“Where are you parking this thing?” I stepped out and patted the panel. “The Bat Cave?”
Linus had to be stashing his toys somewhere his mother wouldn’t find them.
“Bruce Wayne.” Hood barked out a full-throated laugh. “I see the resemblance.”
Cheeks hotter than the sand on Tybee Island during Fourth of July weekend, I made my exit.
The walk of shame was short as Lethe rounded the corner and blasted him with a feral snarl.
Rubber burnt as he reversed down the driveway and skidded onto the main road to escape his mate.
Ah, sweet romance.
Though I had lingered to chat with Hood, I found Linus waiting for me on the porch, Cletus at his side.
Given I had been in his line of sight, and with Hood, he had given me all the privacy within his control.
I liked that. Almost as much as I liked the sight of him standing there, hands in his pockets, chatting with Woolly like her opinions mattered when so many treated her like a thing instead of as a person.
Kind of how a lot of people treated me these days.
Dangerous that like. I was in no shape to test the cracks in my heart to see if they might be widened to allow another person in. But, as he looked back at me, the lingering wound from the favor I asked of him in his eyes, I had to wonder if he hadn’t been seeping through those very fissures for a while now.
SIX
The following night started in the usual fashion. Screams. Night sweats. Tears. But my recovery time was improving thanks to the mortification factor. Linus was staying in his old room, three doors down from mine, and I would have tossed and turned fretting over ruining his sleep if I used my bed for its intended purpose. Since I didn’t, I mostly wallowed in guilt after waking. Thankfully, he had learned his lesson about checking on me—or sending Cletus as his proxy—after I woke him with violent sobbing the first night he spent in the carriage house. Since then he let me suffer the daylight hours alone, just how I liked it.
I was off the hook for a shower since I’d had to wash off the grave dirt last night before climbing into my pajamas. All I had to do to be breakfast ready was dress in jeans and a tee and hit the stairs.
Linus had instituted an open-door policy at the carriage house, a welcome I hadn’t known I craved from another person, an invitation to share space and simply be. The rules had changed since he moved in, but the sensation remained when I spied him in the kitchen, and a tiny smile curled his lips.
“Your smoothie is on the counter.” He continued slicing up fruit. “Let me know what you think.”
Bracing myself for tweaks to yesterday’s successful formula, I palmed the frosty glass. A shiver I couldn’t blame on the smoothie coasted through my limbs as he watched me close my lips around the straw. I took a tiny sip, rolling the mixture around in my mouth, and tasted the difference. Tasted him.
The sensation of locking gazes with another person, of knowing how tart their blood stung on my tongue was...complicated. Anonymous donors had been gross but easier to palate since they weren’t staring at me while I savored them. But I couldn’t deny, even two days into his experiment, I noticed the gnawing in my gut that kept me shoveling in as much food as I could put my hands on was easing.
“You mixed an extra shot of Linus into my breakfast this morning.”
“We don’t know how much blood you require to function optimally.” He plated fruit salad and made a shooing gesture to get me to sit. “I’ll increase the dose until we see a visible positive or negative effect or until you determine a preference.”
“The clinical approach helps.” I settled in at my usual stool to polish off my first course. “It’s easier for me to wrap my head around this if I consider the need for blood as a nutritional deficiency.” I shot him an innocent look. “Maybe I’ll start calling it Vitamin L.”
Flames erupted in his cheeks, but he hid his pleasure even worse than his embarrassment. Thanks to my friendship with Boaz, I had plenty of occasion to study the smug male. Puffed chest. Toothy grin. Swagger for days. This specimen exhibited none of those tells.
Red cheeks. Downcast eyes. Hitched breath. Those were Linus’s symptoms. Yet I read the truth in them.
He enjoyed providing for me. He liked knowing his blood sustained me. He relished me savoring him.
And his simple pleasure in that shifted things in my chest into new configurations.
After clearing his throat, he asked, “Do you feel any different?”
“A little. Maybe? I think so.” I massaged my stomach with the heel of my palm. “I’m not as hungry as I have been. For a long time, I thought the problem was I couldn’t afford food that didn’t come in boxes. I wasn’t eating meat, and I was limited to fruits and veggies from the greenhouse. But I didn’t slow down once you started cooking for me. I’m eating more now than I have in my life, and I still get snackish.”
“Interesting.” He reached for a notebook and scribbled a few lines. “Do you mind?”
“Knock yourself out.” This way we both got something from the deal. I sated an intellectual hunger for him while he quenched a physical need for me. “Just do me a favor and refer to me as Patient G when you publish your research on goddess-touched necromancers. It gives me plausible deniability.”
“I don’t plan on publishing anything about your condition.” He slashed his pen across the paper.
“I thought that was the whole point.” I propped my chin on my palm. “Why do this otherwise?”
“Your condition fascinates me.” He glanced up then, expression earnest. “I want to understand its origin. I’m curious how and why goddess-touched necromancers exist. Their evolutionary roots would go a long way toward explaining your abilities.”
What he said made sense. His field of study was necromantic evolution. His passion was understanding the past to predict the future.
“After doing all this work, you’re going to keep it to yourself?” I drummed my fingers on my bottom lip. “What if there are others like me? Not everyone has access to my resources.”
Talk about your understatements. Pair my last name with the plethora of zeroes in my bank account, and there were few things I wanted that I couldn’t have with a snap of my fingers. That said, my greatest resource remained the man beside me, which no amount of money could buy.
