Necromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 6)

A girl in the front pulled down her top to expose the curve of her breast and held out a marker to Ivan. “Will you sign me?”

Ivan signed his name over the top of her boob and drew a smiley face precariously close to her nipple.

Looking down at the autograph, the blonde screamed in such a shrill voice Alice’s ears rang.

The girl jumped up and down. “Oh, my God!”

A redhead in the front stripped off her shirt. “I love you big time, Ivan!”

At last, Ben pulled the company Bentley up on the curb. They pushed their way through the pressing bodies, Donald doing his best to open a path and wave the clawing hands away from Ivan.

“Marry me, Ivan!”

“I want to have your babies, love.”

A card was pushed into his face. “Call me, tonight. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Smartphones flashed as photos were snapped.

Ivan opened the back door and pushed Alice inside before getting in next to her. Donald scurried into the front seat.

Alice leaned back when Ben pulled away. Girls ran next to the car until Ben changed lanes and could speed up.

“What the fuck?” Ben glanced at them in the rearview mirror. Directing the question at Alice, he said, “Is this what you call a discreet meeting?”

“Ben,” Ivan said with a warning tone. “Don’t take it out on her.”

Donald shot Alice an accusing look from over his shoulder. “We should’ve had the interview at your place, Ivan. I told you this was a bad idea.”

“I’m sorry,” Alice said. “Someone must’ve leaked information that we’d be here.”

Ben’s voice was clipped. “Sorry ain’t cutting it. Maybe you don’t understand the seriousness of the situation, but we can’t protect him if we’re surrounded by hundreds of people who aren’t supposed to be there. Anyone could’ve had a gun.”

“They didn’t,” Ivan said, “so ease up.”

Donald turned in his seat. “Excuse me for pointing this out, but you’re receiving threat letters and there’s been more than one attempt on your life. An uncalculated risk like this,” he jabbed his finger on the window, “is the kind of trouble you want to avoid. I’m thinking this show isn’t such a good idea. The theater sucks at security.”

“It could’ve been someone from the newspaper,” Alice said defensively.

Donald swung his finger to point at her. “If he’d been shot today, lady, it would’ve been on your head.”

She looked at the buildings rolling by, seeing a red shoe at the bottom of a staircase.

Her fault. A death on her head.

Ivan gripped her chin and turned her face to him. “You okay?”

“More than one attempt, huh?”

His smile was grim. “Fame always comes with a price.”

She thought about her mother and the price she’d paid, but pushed it from her mind. “Kate did a good job of keeping it out of the media. How did she manage?”

“Connections. The police also reckoned giving the stalker media attention wasn’t going to help their case.”

“Do you think whoever’s doing it is doing it for publicity?”

He traced the line of her jaw with a thumb. “Maybe. Who knows?”

His touch evoked a shiver, but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he affected her. “Where did it happen?”

“Once was outside the Mariinsky hall in Saint Petersburg. Luckily, the shooter was a terrible shot. The bullet hit the wall. The second time was at the pool of my hotel in New York, but the only damage done was to a plant pot.”

“That’s horrible.”

He dragged his thumb down the curve of her neck to her shoulder. The touch had gone from soothing to something deeper. Up to now, she could pretend his caress didn’t matter, but this was going somewhere it shouldn’t.

She took his hand and put it back in his lap. “Why do you do it?”

His gaze moved to her lips. “Do what?”

“Why do you still perform if you know there’s a killer out there just waiting for the right opportunity to pull the trigger?”

“I can’t put my life on hold because of fear.”

“Is it worth it, the price you have to pay?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his contrasting eyes darkening respectively to chocolate and midnight.

Anger flared inside of her at the thought of the sacrifice her family had paid for her mother’s chase after fame. “What is so great about being famous that makes it worth your life?”

“It’s not about fame.”

“Is it the money?”

He shook his head. “Money is part of it, but that’s not the main aim.”

“Then what is?”

“You. All of this is because of you.”

She blinked several times. Either she hadn’t heard right or he was crazy. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he put a finger against her lips.

“Don’t say it.”

“What?” she whispered, almost too afraid to speak for the fear that the tip of his finger would sink into her mouth when she parted her lips.