“You want me to tie him up?”
He rolled his eyes. “He’s unconscious and like a thousand years old. I will handle him. Stay in the hall. Someone may decide they want him back.”
“Sure, Boss.” Shorty looked like he wanted to ask about the hotel, the candles, the shaking walls—but the door snicked closed leaving Julian alone with the necromancer.
Even after everything he’d seen, he couldn’t quite believe it. As far as bringing people back from the dead, Julian still didn’t believe the old guy could do it, but that’s exactly what he needed.
Pulling the bronze disk from his pocket, he studied it. Whatever power it held was gone, just engravings in a circular pattern. On the couch, the man hadn’t twitched.
He sat on the ottoman in front of the unconscious man. “Don’t die on me now.” He rubbed the sore spot on his jaw. “What were you doing for them? Some reanimation bullshit? Okay, yeah. That’s what I want, but still.” He might as well be talking to a corpse. “Mister? Wake up, damn it. I’d use a taser on you if I didn’t think you’d croak. Wake the fuck up!” Julian jumped up and paced, stopping when he heard a knock.
“Boss?” Shorty called through the door.
“I’m fine,” he barked. He’d send Shorty home soon. Because he didn’t need a witness when he went down to his storage unit in the basement. Finding his open bottle of Tito’s, he poured a generous glass. He drank and walked—thinking better when he moved.
He was so close to settling this. Earlier, he’d pulled the body out of the freezer and covered it with a sheet. With the magic disk and the old man, they could bring Ramon—or some semblance of him—back. Hopefully.
Truthfully, he didn’t want Ramon back. He was sorry he died, but the guy was an idiot. But Julian was a dead man without him.
His options were few. He could tell Cesar what happened and face his wrath. Or stage an accident—but the crew knew Julian had gone after Ramon. To a hotel that Julian secretly owned. Yeah, that would not play well. And running meant being hunted down. Bringing Ramon back—even a shell of his former self—was the only way.
Until a week ago, his world was fine. Violent, stressful, busy, and frustrating at the same time. But fine, normal even. He’d taken the train up to Jersey alone. The old man got updatesvia email, but Cesar preferred old-school face-to-face meetings. Easier to be terrifying in person.
The meeting with Cesar had gone well enough that he didn’t even ask about his son. Which was a good thing. The elder Castenada was well aware of his son’s odd proclivities, but Ramon’s most recent obsession was more off the chart than usual. Julian had come home to a worried crew at the office.
“What’s going on?”
Shorty scuffed his feet. “Boss.” Julian was only “Boss” when Ramon wasn’t around.
“We wanted to go with him, but he ordered us to stay here,” another guard piped up.
“The boss said it was fine. He’d found the girl he’d been looking for. He was excited to see her,” Shorty explained. “I never thought the boss would vibe on someone so hard.”
“Vibe?” Julian scowled at him. “What are you, nineteen? Cut that shit out. Where the fuck is Ramon?”
“That funny hotel on Pickett.”
God damn it. “Stay here. I’ll check on him.” If Ramon was fine and simply getting his rocks off with this woman, then he’d be super pissed if Julian busted in on his fun.
The hotel lobby was still dusty and deserted.
Julian rang the bell, but a low vibration shook the desk. A rumbling that had him taking the stairs two at a time. He searched the hallways, listening for the intermittent roar of disturbance. He found the source on the third floor.
The door to the room was closed but swung open at his knock. Candlelight bathed the room in flickering light. The spare furnishings were gone and Ramon sat cross-legged on the floor, his naked form illuminated by the shimmering candlelight.
“Oh shit. Come on, Ramon, let’s go.” Julian stepped into the room. Ramon didn’t respond. He seemed quite content, hiseyes closed as though meditating. Julian looked around for his clothes. “Boss.” He spoke softly. “Boss, wake up. Ramon.”
Ramon’s eyes opened, and even in the dim room, Julian could tell there was something wrong. He looked as high as a rockstar in mid-tour—face flushed, sweat running down one temple, his lips chapped and dry. How long had he been here?
“Don’t come in.” Ramon’s voice croaked. “You’ll ruin it.”
Julian was already in. He certainly intended to ruin whatever bullshit party was going on.
The bathroom door opened, and Ramon’s woman came flying out of the room, hands like claws, her lips pulled back in a grimace. Not really wanting to shoot her, Julian pointed his gun at the ground as they connected. Her momentum was enough to send them both back against the wall.
A crack of what only sounded like thunder split through the room, followed by a blinding light. The woman rolled out of Julian’s grasp, muttering and chanting.
He slammed his eyes shut against the flash and stayed down. Squinting, he barely made out Ramon sprawled on the floor.
