Necromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 6)

He uttered a surprised laugh. “What are you doing here?”

She would’ve fallen into his arms had he not taken a startled step to the right.

“Oh, Zach, I’m so happy to see you.”

“That’s good news. Why are you here?” He looked around the alley as if he could find a clue there.

“I’m looking for a restaurant but I may have taken a wrong turn. What are you doing here?”

He moved to an alcove. “Come here. Get out of the rain.” When she was under the roof, he said, “I was visiting the Tate warehouse. They’re getting rid of some material I can use for our décor arsenal.”

“Oh.” She’d never thought about that. “Very creative idea.”

“What restaurant are you looking for?”

“Bamboo.”

He threw his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s down that way. I’ll walk you.”

“Thanks.” She shivered from the cold. “That’s very kind.”

They walked along in silence for a while before he said, “How are you handling the attention?”

“You saw the news, huh?”

He placed one arm behind his back and angled his umbrella against the rain that had shifted direction with the wind. “Of course.”

“Fine, I guess.”

“That was noble of you.”

She looked at him. “Why do you say that?”

“You obviously did it to save the theater.”

“I love that place.”

“You can do it, you know.”

“Save it?”

“I meant the singing. You’ll be better than your mother.”

She stopped to stare at him. “How would you know?”

“I have hunches about these things.”

Emotion clogged up her throat.

“What?” he asked softly.

“You actually believe in me without even knowing me.”

“It’s true.”

“Thank you. I wish I believed that much in myself.”

“You ought to. I can’t wait to hear you sing.”

They turned a corner and entered a street with brightly lit restaurants.

He pointed ahead. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Zach.”

“You’ve already said that twice. Run along, now. Go in and get warm.”

“I’ll see you at the theatre.”

He gave her a dashing smile. “You definitely will.”

He was still standing on the corner when she reached the door. She watched him for another second, feeling his gaze locked on her even if she couldn’t see his eyes from that distance. A couple exited, and she had to step aside. When she looked up again, Zach was gone.

In the entrance, she left her coat and umbrella on the stand and surveyed the room. Henry sat at one of the window tables, but he was talking on his phone and didn’t notice her. Shivering in her wet shoes, she took a few breaths to pull herself together before making her way over with a smile.

He looked up as she neared and stood to pull out the chair for her. Holding up one finger, he walked to the bar where he finished the call.

“Sorry,” he said when he got back, “business as usual.” He kissed her cheek before taking his seat. Assessing her attire, he said, “You look … different.”

She looked down at her red dress. “You say it like you don’t like it.”

“It’s not that,” he said quickly. He rubbed his chin, seemingly searching for words. “It’s just not you.”

As she felt rather good about herself in that dress, his statement disappointed her. She uttered an awkward laugh. “I can’t dress up?”

“I got used to you always looking stylish, that’s all.”

She motioned at her dress. “This isn’t?”

“That’s not what I meant.” He sighed and took her hand over the table. “You don’t have to dress up for me. I like you fine the way you are.”

“Actually, this was for me, and I happen to like my dress very much.”

“Alice.” He said her name like a reprimand. “All eyes will be on you for a while. What you wear and don’t wear is going to be torn apart. That dress,” he waved his hand in the air, “is going to earn you the title of the worst dressed woman of the year.”

She pulled her hand from his. “I should’ve hired a fashion consultant before I made my statement.”

“Don’t be like this.” He leaned over and brushed a wet strand from her cheek. “I’m trying to help because I care.”

She looked away. At least he was honest. An honest man was a dependable man. He could’ve bestowed a false compliment on her. That would’ve been worse.

She exhaled and met his eyes, again. “All right.”

He sat back and crossed his legs. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about your dress.”

She tried to relax, wishing he’d already ordered wine. “Want to give me that much-needed support you promised?” she asked with a smile.

“Try to be serious, Alice.”

His edginess was rubbing off on her. It was hard to keep the atmosphere light. What was up with him? “What do you want to talk about?”

He removed something from his inside jacket pocket and slid it across the table. She stared at the small, velvet box. A small velvet box could only be one thing, yet, her mind was in denial, trying to find other uses for blue velvet boxes with Tiffany embossed in gold letters on the lid.