Necromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 6)

The easiest to find. “The stage.” Wouldn’t that be appropriate? Like a grand finale. “I’ll leave the west side door open.”

“See you in fifteen.” Cain hung up.

Donald would still be sitting in the car in front of the pub. He wouldn’t even know Ivan had left the building via the alley. Ivan raced back to the theater as fast as his legs could carry him. He swiped the card at the door on the west side where no guards did night duty. After pulling off his sweater, he wedged it between the door and wall to keep the door open. Then he paused to reflect for a second.

Where could he find an appropriate weapon? The props would be useless. The swords and knives had false blades. He needed something that would be clean and fast, but not as fast or loud as a bullet. A dagger. There was little time.

He made his way to the canteen on the rooftop, his access card giving him clearance for all the floors. The kitchen door was locked, but a trolley with clean eating utensils stood against the wall. It was raining harder now, the night dark and misty. Only a few dim ceiling spots lit the hall.

Quickly, he scanned the content of the trays and chose a sharp-pointed steak knife. The blade was thin and jagged. It would enter smoothly while severing veins and muscle with a shredding effect to cause excessive bleeding. Perfect. The metal of the shaft was cold and solid in his sweaty palm. He clutched it hard as he made his way to the empty stage where he took a moment to survey his surroundings. The hall was deserted. Everybody else had left. Good. There wouldn’t be witnesses. He flicked on a spotlight and moved into the light. His next mission was to call up Nicolas.

When the man appeared, Ivan said. “I did what you asked.”

“Thank you. I’m indebted.”

“I’ll collect, now.”

“You’ll only get one favor.”

“Where’s Alice?”

“In the building.”

“Where in the building?”

“I can’t tell. Boris covered her energy, making her invisible to me.”

“That’s all you can give me?”

“I have to go, and I’d like not to be called back soon. I’m still getting used to being at peace.”

When Nicolas’s image faded, Ivan gathered his strength and evened his breathing. It didn’t take long for Cain to appear at the top of the aisle. Maya, Clelia and Joss were with him. Lann and Sean were probably watching Alice’s house.

Cain’s face was tense as he walked onto the stage, his team members following a step behind.

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on, tonight still?” Cain asked.

Ivan pressed the blade against his thigh, feeling the coldness of the steel penetrate through his jeans. “Yes. Come closer. I’m about to tell you.”

Chapter 17

The candles would eventually burn out. Alice kept one going and saved the rest for later. Tired of her futile efforts to pick the lock, she sat down on the bed. She had to think. She had to find a way to save herself. The polystyrene candlesticks were of no use. It wouldn’t dent the brain of a worm. The mirrors were fitted with reflective paper instead of glass. For the first time in her life, she cursed the props she loved. Panic was getting the better of her. Godfrey could come back any minute—or Boris.

Her body trembled, but not from cold. She rubbed her hands over her arms, taking stock of the room anew. Maybe she’d missed something. She stilled at the sudden notion that she wasn’t alone, any longer. An itch crawled over her skin. Even before she turned her head to the corner, she felt the presence. She braced herself for what she might see, but it was only a beautiful woman with jet-black hair and blue eyes regarding her solemnly.

It was creepy seeing spirits, and she hated it. How did Ivan ever cope?

“Who are you?” Alice whispered.

“It’s cold in here.” The woman moved two steps closer. “Why don’t you pull the fur around you?”

Alice didn’t want to cover her body with anything Boris had touched, but then she remembered he couldn’t manipulate material matter. “Who moved all this stuff in here for him?” she asked more to herself than her guest.

“A gila shifter who works for Godfrey,” the woman answered.

“Who are you?” Alice asked again.

“Angelique.”

“Why can I see you? I’m not a medium or a necromancist.”

“You have a gift. You can hear and see what others are blind to. When the time is right, you’ll understand everything, but it’s a long time from now. A lot must still happen.”

“Do you know everything?”

“Not everything. What do you want to know?”

“The footstep in the alley, was it … Clara?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Maybe she wants to say sorry.”

She recalled what Ivan had said about spirits liking their clothes and paid closer attention. Angelique wore an ankle-length blue sundress with a thin, white belt. Her feet were bare. The attire was too general to give her any idea of time period or place.