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Chapter One
“So, you’re really going through with this?”
“Yes.”
“But…”
“But nothing.”Spinning on the balls of my feet, I tried– and got about halfway–to keep from giving my much younger, incredibly petulant, really lovable, and extremely intuitive sister an arched eyebrow and pointed look.We’d had this discussion over and over.
“And you…”
“I do not need your help, Lydia,”I stopped my inner Necromancer.
“Well, ya’ damn sure need something.”
And with that, she was gone, slamming the mental shields that separated her psyche from my mind with a resoundingBAM!If this train stayed on this track– the one heading for an inevitable crash– I was going to need a whole bottle of ibuprofen and a couple of margaritas.
I needed to head this shit off at the pass.There was no time for any of this crap.Iona was trying to stare a hole through my forehead, and I was burning daylight.Time to put up or shut up– and I had never shut up a day in my life.
Maybe Lydia was right.Maybe I hadn’tcompletelyexplainedallthe intricate details of my plan of attack to my little sister.I mean, I tried.I think I tried.Yes, I tried.I just… I mean… Well, okay… I thought about it.And thought about it… And…
Well, it wasn’t because I didn’t think she could handle it.Hell, she’d handled things as a little girl that had damn near killed me as an adult.It damned sure wasn’t because I doubted her abilities.My baby sister was stronger, smarter, and had the quickest wit in the whole great state of Texas.Not to mention, she had a damn good head on her shoulders.
I had to face the hard facts… The problem wasn’t her.The fly in the ointment was me.
Sadly, I was flummoxed, gobsmacked, and had been rode hard and put away wet over the last month or so.I had no frikkin’ idea what my problem was.All I knew, for the first time ever, I simply couldn’t find the words to tell Iona what I was about to do.
Well, that shit had sailed.It was time to put on my big girl panties, get over myself, and just let the words flow.
Inhaling deeply through my nose, the index finger of my left hand snapped up in the ‘hush’ position when Iona, the aforementioned little sister, opened her mouth to speak.Counting to three, I pointedly exhaled to let her know that I was trying with all my might not to be a screaming, crazy person while I summoned all my hard-fought control and the gumption to fake what I couldn’t muster.
Finally able to speak without sounding like a total bitch, I forced a little bit of something that I hoped resembled a smile onto my face and explained, “Look, I know none of this makes sense to you.”Roughly brushing a stray red curl off my cheek, I held back the grumble that was trying to work its way out of my throat and motioned to the bed.“And that’s my fault.”
“Mhm…”
“Alright, Miss Missy,” I teased.“Enough of the attitude.Come on.Sit down.Let me try to explain.”
Watching as Iona, the little sister I had raised from the very young age of five, plopped down on the edge of my bed with an audibleharrumph,I winked and let the words flow.“I know you don’t remember much about momma.”
“Not as much as you, but some.”She nodded, sadness darkening her bright green eyes.“I remember that she always smelled like roses and fresh-baked bread, hummed her own little tunes when she rocked me to sleep, and without fail, kissed me on the forehead and whispered, I love you, every time I was anywhere near her.”
“Yeah,” I nodded.I felt my smile turning into a strange but wonderful mixture of sad and happy, as wistful images of the past, the happy times with my mom, floated through my mind.“She was an awesome mother, and an even better person.”
“I know,” Iona breathed, her right hand unconsciously rubbing the spot on her chest right over her heart.Looking up through her thick, dark lashes, she quietly added, “I still dream about her almost every night.”
“Me too.”I nodded.“I wish you’d had more time with her.If not for that decree that says when two Necromancers Mate, they can only have one child every hundred years, the three of us would’ve had so much more time together.”
“Stupid Necromancer rules,” Iona huffed, rolling her eyes as the toe of her black with red hearts high-top Converse worried with the edge of the throw rug in the middle of my room.
“Yeah, something like that,” I wholeheartedly agreed with an emphatic nod.Damn straight, I agreed.No, sadly, I did not have time for a philosophical conversation about the inner workings of The Powers That Be and thus, the Supernatural world.I also had not one iota of energy for a discussion about Fogarty T.Petersen, the Grand Poobah of all assholes I referenced before, and the fact that I was somehow sure his nasty bloodline was why the rules had been made.
“Well, I’m not Mating another Necromancer,” my little sis grumped.“All the fucked-up rules drive me crazy.If I wanna have a child with the man I love, then I’m gonna have a child with the man I love.Point blank.Period.”
It was time to be the voice of reason, a job I hated almost as much as cleaning toilets.“Well, the rules were necessary back…”
“… in the day because there were so many stupid, power-hungry Necromancers creating so many problems, raising people from the dead, opening Hellmouths, digging up dead horses–figuratively– and the like, that The Powers That Be said, ‘fuck this shit’, snapped Their collective fingers, and bingo-bongo, a whole new set of rules were etched into the Fabric of the universe.”Cocking her hip, she pushed her left foot out to the side and loudly tapped the toe on the hardwood floor before sassily grunting, “Heard it a million times.Still don’t agree.Why not just snap those same all-powerful fingers and poof the idiots who can’t seem to play nice out of existence?”
