Dreams of the Necromancer (Memento Mori 2) - Page 4

2

“Just let her sleep, will you?”

“Put her down.”

“No.”

Maggie woke up slowly and very unwillingly. She was comfortable, her head resting against something that was soft, but firm beneath the first layer. And whatever it was, it smelled wonderful. Like cigars and sharp, crisp cologne.

“She’s gonna be pissed.”

“She won’t be if you don’t wake her up.”

Two men were bickering quietly under their breath. She was moving, which was more than a little odd. Letting out a quiet yawn, she blearily opened one eye.

Gideon was carrying her in his arms. She had been asleep with her head tucked up against his chest. She could still hear the engines of the jet behind her, and the night was dark, save for the bright shining lights of a small airstrip around her. The air was much cooler than Italy had been—much cooler. It was moist like there was a thin mist around them. A black car idled nearby, a man in a suit who was clearly the driver waiting by the open back door.

“Hm?” Rubbing a hand across her eyes, she tried to grasp what was happening. She must have fallen asleep on the plane. She had curled up in a chair, and then that was that.

She felt Gideon’s angry growl more than she heard it. She looked up in time to see him casting a vicious glare at Harry, who was walking close by. His voice was seething with hate. “I told you not to wake her.”

“And I told you to put her down,” Harry shot back, mimicking Gideon’s accent as he did.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” She shifted in Gideon’s arms, and he paused to gently set her onto her feet. Running her fingers through her hair, she tried to sort herself out enough to look somewhat human, and not like the sleep-deprived, ruffled racoon she felt like. Checking for the weight in her hood, she was happy to see that Algernon was where she had left him and seemed to be contentedly dozing. At least Harry and Gideon’s arguing hadn’t bothered him.

Or maybe he was just used to it. Shaking her head, she started walking toward the black car, ignoring the two men behind her. “You two are worse than an old married couple.” She was groggy from waking up and wanted to get to wherever they were going sooner rather than later. She wanted a shower and some real sleep, not this constant half-napping.

It’d be nice to feel like her feet were under her, even just a little bit, even if it was a lie. The last few days had been a blur, and she needed time to process it all. She climbed into the car after muttering “hey,” to the valet driver, who nodded to her in response.

Harry was the next one in, which meant he had probably shoved Gideon out of the way to get there. He sat down next to her, blocking the necromancer from taking the spot. With a heavy eyeroll, Gideon sat across from them in the back of the limo. The valet shut the door, climbed in, and, wordlessly, they drove from the airstrip.

“So how many employees do you have?” She raised an eyebrow at the necromancer.

“I don’t employ anyone. I merely have many friends in high places that are eager to repay favors.” He flicked his wrist, and his long cane appeared in his grasp. He set the end down between his expensive black shoes and rested his hands atop the vulture that adorned it.

Magic.

Still gotta get used to that.

“What about him?” Maggie pointed at Harry.

“I don’t fucking work for him.” Her friend folded his arms across his chest and glared at the necromancer. “I’m just stuck with him.”

Gideon muttered something about it being entirely the reverse, but she didn’t quite catch it. She shook her head. “Why do you two hate each other? What started it?” They both looked at her knowingly. “Wait. Wait. I’m to blame? That’s not fair! I don’t even know what’s going on.”

The necromancer chuckled, his expression turning to one of gentle compassion. “It’s all right, Marguerite. It isn’t your fault.”

“It’s yours,” Harry interjected.

“As a matter of fact, yes, it is,” Gideon snapped at him, clearly unhappy to be reminded of it. He turned his attention back to her. “The fact of the matter is, princess, that every ill moment that has ever befallen you has me to thank for it. By all rights, you should despise me.”

“I can’t despise you if I don’t know what you did.”

“You have in the past.” His smirk now was cruel and self-effacing. “Trust me.” His expression faded and he turned to watch the lights go by. She didn’t know where they were, but she guessed outside London. They rode in silence for a moment before Gideon spoke up again. “That’s why I keep our dear Hero around. You and he have always been close. There is a bond between you that even your lack of memories doesn’t seem to break. He provides you…stability, where I cannot.”

Harry was silent. There was so much bad blood hanging in the air between them that she decided she was too tired and overwhelmed to deal with it. She let it slide, but not before noticing how bitter Gideon seemed about it all.

The rest of the ride went entirely without conversation. She was brimming with questions, but she was also afraid of opening any more cans of worms. Harry was glaring down at the floor beneath his feet, his arms still stubbornly crossed over his chest.

Tags: Kathryn Ann Kingsley Memento Mori Fantasy
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