Dreams of the Necromancer (Memento Mori 2)

Gideon was painfully attractive. She wanted him, and she could admit that much to herself. His silver eyes were captivating, but the thing she found the most appealing was the playful smile he would get when he wasn’t acting like he was afraid of her. When he had stepped close to her and touched her like she was made of glass, she hadn’t known what to do. She wanted to see what he was after. But he was right—she knew.

She knew, and she wanted to see how far he would go.

Would he have slammed her up against the bookcase? Taken her like an animal, right then and there? Would he have swept her off her feet and carried her to his bed like it was their wedding night? Or would he have just kissed her tenderly like a sweet prince and then backed away?

The better and more important question was…which of those options did she want?

I shouldn’t want any of them. I can’t trust him. He’s said himself a million times that he’s done terrible things to me. That he’s to blame for everything. And what he did to my father alone…I should hate him.

She should be siding with the priests without question. And sure, on the surface, she knew Gideon was a threat and needed to be stopped. She was going to find his phylactery and, even though it meant she’d die with him, she’d smash it into bits like Harry had done to the vase.

The words of her dreaming self echoed in her mind. Ask him if he kept the rings. She shivered. Something about it felt like a point of no return. But what was she doing, if not walking down a corridor she couldn’t ever retrace?

With a whine of frustration, she put her head down on her knees. “Damn it all.”

Because…yeah. She wanted him. She wanted him badly. But she also knew it was her duty to destroy them both. It might be the only moment in her life she would be able to exert some control over her own destiny.

Nothing saying I can’t bone him and then kill us both. I can see it now. She could almost hear the conversation. Hey, yeah, so, you’re all right, I guess. Wanna smash? Might kill us both later, though. That okay? The thing that made her laugh was the simple fact that she was pretty damn sure he wouldn’t object.

“What’s so funny?”

Looking up, she saw Gideon standing over her, a lopsided smirk on his face. She hadn’t heard him come out the front door.

Casual.

Right.

That same silver tie sat starkly against a black button-down shirt. He wore a vest that was so dark blue it might as well have been black. Black dress pants and shining leather oxfords completed the outfit. But in lieu of a suitcoat, he wore, like her, a long black peacoat. His silver vulture-topped cane rested easily in his hand.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about how ridiculous this all is.”

“Hm.” There was a knowing glint in his eye. “I apologize for my outburst. The hero knows precisely where my buttons are, and he enjoys pushing them at every opportunity.”

“Whatever. It was your table, not mine.” She stood from the steps and brushed herself off. “If two undead assholes want to go a round or two, it’s no skin off my back.” Tucking her hands into her pockets, she watched the traffic go by. “Something tells me it won’t be the last time I have to put up with immortals duking it out.”

“Most likely not, no.” A beat of silence passed between them before Gideon cleared his throat. “About…earlier.”

With a grin, she strolled down the stairs to the sidewalk. “Roll the dice, necromancer. Who knows? You might get lucky.” Stopping at the bottom, she looked back up at him and to his shocked expression. When he stammered uselessly, she laughed. “C’mon. I think we both need a drink. Or two. Or six.”

“Yes. I do think that might help matters.” He followed and extended his elbow to her.

She rolled her eyes but tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.

And with that, they headed off into the city. Her, and the world’s most powerful necromancer.

My life is fucking weird.