“Oh my god,” I say, jerking my hand back.
“What did you see?” Lucas asks, still gripping my wrist.
I blink rapidly and turn to him, looking right into his gorgeous blue eyes. “Necromancers.”
Lucas’s brows furrow. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Holy shit.” I suck in a breath but get no air. “Holy shit.”
“Breathe,” he reminds me for the millionth time tonight. I would suffocate it if wasn’t for him.
“What does that mean?” Abby asks, stepping back and holding the canister of salt to her chest.
“Necromancy is a form of black magic that uses the dead to do their bidding. The Grand Coven has deemed it illegal. You’d get your powers bound if you were caught.”
“The dead, like vampires?” Abby’s hands start to shake.
I blink as her words hit me. Necromancers use blood and body parts to aid their spells. They summon spirits and raise the dead with the intention of using them for nefarious reason.
Necromancy makes my resurrection spell look like child’s play.
I don’t know why they’d go after Lucas. He’s not brainless like a corpse, who’s able to be controlled. He still has his own free will, and it would take a different type of curse to compel him to do their bidding.
I rock back on my feet, trying to figure out what to do next. I’m getting hung up on the why in all of this.
Why curse Lucas?
Why use necromancy?
It’s like the answer is right in front of me, blinking flashing lights, yet I can’t see it. My breath leaves me, and I look at Lucas again, resting my hand over his chest again.
And then I feel it, the weak, thready heartbeat that Abby was talking about.
His heart is starting to beat.
He’s not healing.
“Holy fucking shit.” My words tumble out of my mouth as it hits me. I know what they’re trying to do.
“What is it, my love?” Lucas grunts.
“They’re trying to bring you back to life.”Chapter 4“Back to life?” Abby echoes. “Can they do that?”
I shake my head. “No. It won’t work. His body has been dead for too long that it…it won’t work right.”
I thought I was desperate before, but now…now I’ve never been more desperate in my life. I had a year-long class at the Academy, teaching us all about vampires. And while Lucas has taught me more about his kind than the class ever did, I know one thing for sure: vampires die when you try to bring them back to life.
It’s been done before, many times. Before the witches killed most of the vampires in the war, vampires would turn any witch they could sink their fangs into. The hope was they’d create a vampire with magical powers, forced to obey their maker, that could be used as a weapon against the witches.
It didn’t work. Our magic dies with us and isn’t transferred through blood. The witches, desperate to get their brothers and sisters back, worked spell after spell trying to bring the turned back.
For years, witches and warlocks dedicated themselves to finding a magical “cure” of sorts.
And for years, they failed.
As far as we know, the only way to not be a vampire anymore is to be dead. There’s no coming back after your body has been dead, and resurrection spells are temporary, as I saw for myself a few months ago. The bodies deteriorate, and whoever you brought back dies all over again.
It’s dark. Messy. Fucked up.
No wonder it’s illegal.
“I have to stop it.” I’m trembling again, and I can’t form a coherent thought. I splay my fingers over Lucas’s chest again, feeling his slow pulse. His heart is only beating maybe twenty times a minute, not enough to sustain human life.
I won’t be able to break the curse now, but I can bind it in a sense and keep it from progressing. He’ll be like this, still a vampire but only at half power, but at least he’ll remain undead until I can figure out how to save him.
I can’t think of a single spell. I forget all my charms. I need to get it together.
“Take this,” I tell Abby and pick up the candle. I hold my hand over it and summon a string of bright red magic. It sizzles down, wrapping around the wicks, and lights the candle. “And stand inside the circle right by his head.”
Abby’s eyes go wide again, looking at the magically lit candle, but takes it, tossing the empty canister of salt on the ground. I pick up the steak knife she brought me and cut the neck of Lucas’s shirt.
“Getting frisky?” he tries to joke, but I can see the fear in his eyes now that we know exactly what we’re up against.
I blink back tears and rip his shirt down the middle, spreading it open. The sight of the bloody bandage on his stomach makes me dizzy again, but I can’t let it get to me.