Necromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 6)

She yawned and stretched. Every part of her body ached. A hot shower would go a long way in making her feel better. She got up quietly, but the movement made her brain jostle in her skull. A wave of nausea pushed up her throat. Rushing to the bathroom, she fell down on her knees in front of the toilet just as that wave broke. Since she hadn’t had dinner, there wasn’t more than bile, but the retching made her head hurt even worse.

Ivan skid to a halt next to her, his hair and eyes wild. “What’s wrong?”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Headache.”

He pulled her hair from her face and twisted it into a ponytail. “You done vomiting?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

“Come here.” He picked her up from the floor and carried her back to the bed. “Do you have painkillers?”

“Bathroom cabinet.”

After rummaging around in the bathroom, he returned empty-handed. “The box is empty.”

“In my bag.” She covered her eyes with her hand. Even the dim light from the nightstand lamp hurt. “I left it downstairs.”

“Stay here.”

He left the room and came back with a glass of water and two tablets. He helped her sit up and swallow the pills without saying a word. His jaw was tight and his shoulders tense.

In too much agony to question him, she lay back on the pillow. “It should be better in a few minutes.”

He dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m having a shower, and then I’ll fix breakfast. We can’t be late.”

Fifteen minutes later, the worst of the pain had gone, enough for her to get up without wanting to empty her stomach. The sounds of pots being banged around came from the kitchen, presumably Ivan fixing their breakfast. She showered quickly and dressed in jeans and an off-shoulder sweater before throwing a couple of outfits into an overnight travel bag. When she was ready, she called Johnny from the landline phone in her bedroom.

“I have to go away for a couple of days.”

The sound of cutlery clunked in the background. “Now?”

“Sorry to interrupt your breakfast.”

“Stephen stayed over.”

“Oh.” She’d always guessed there was more between Stephen and Johnny than friendship but he’d never confirmed it before. “I’ll be back in three days.”

“Now?” he repeated. “You know I’ll never say no to you, but we’re still in the middle of a crisis.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I’ve never asked you for anything before.”

“You can’t just call and take off. There are HR procedures. Ever heard of protocol?”

“How much leave have I taken in all the years I’ve been working for you?”

He sighed. “None.”

“The sales are rising. The media is taken care of. Tilly can handle my emails. I’ll be back in time for the premiere.”

“Where are you going?”

She threw cosmetics into a toilet bag. “Can’t say.”

“All right, why are you going away?”

“Personal reasons.”

“You’re going away with Ivan, aren’t you?”

“He may also have to disappear for a day or two.” She smiled. “What a coincidence.”

“How am I supposed to cover for you? I’m developing a headache here, Alice.”

“Tell Stephen to make you a cup of tea. I’ll have a phone with me, so it’s not like I’m dropping off the edge of the world. Call me if you have a problem you can’t handle. Oh, and I’ll text you a temporary number. My mobile is out of order.”

“I’m the boss, dammit. I’m the one who’s supposed to give the orders.”

She closed her travel bag. “But without me you won’t have a big boss job, any longer.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“Don’t miss me too much.”

The smell of toast and bacon greeted her as she made her way downstairs. The kitchen table was set for two, and Ivan sat in one of the chairs. Two plates were loaded with scrambled eggs, baked beans, and bacon. A rack of toast and a pot of tea stood in the center. Her heart warmed at the sight. Since she’d moved into her own place, no one had cooked her breakfast.

She took a seat and tried to hide her flinch as her backside hit the wood. Ivan got up and walked to the lounge to return with a cushion from the sofa. A flush worked its way up her neck as he towered over her, waiting for her to lift her butt so he could push the cushion underneath.

“Thank you,” she said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in the brooding silence.

Still, Ivan said nothing. Afraid of opening a can of worms, she didn’t ask what the matter was. If he wanted to tell her what bothered him, he would. From the looks of him, he was pissed off, not worried, so his silent treatment had nothing to do with their safety.

“Thank you for breakfast.”

He regarded her with hard, calculating eyes while pushing the toast toward her. With her headache diminished to a bearable throb, she could now focus on her body’s other needs, the first being famished. Not wasting more time, she dug in. A ping of guilt dampened her appetite when she thought about Donald, Lann, and Sean.