NINE
ATLAS
I lie staring up at the ceiling of the cell, watching the shadows dance across the concrete. Was Elvira lying about us being underground? I didn’t think anything was built underground in New Orleans due to it being swampland. But what would be the point of a lie? Just to throw us off?
“I think that bitch was lying,” Rune murmurs, and I startle.
“Were you just reading my mind? Is that one of your powers? Maybe your magic is back.”
He barks a laugh. “No, but good to know we’re on the same page. I’ve been lying here racking my brain trying to think of what could be underground if we’re in New Orleans. The only thing I know of is an old Cold War bomb shelter built by the government in the sixties, but that flooded years ago, or the enchanted bunker on my family estate, but that’s also long gone. So, either Kallis was wrong, or Elvira is full of shit. And as much as I hate to admit it, Kallis is usually pretty dead-on. Plus, she managed to get you here, so her intel, limited as it was, had to be good.”
I grunt in agreement. “We’ve been asking around about any wars, and no one has heard anything.” I roll onto my side and prop my head up with my hand so I can look up at him on the narrow cot. “Is it possible Elvira’s lying about that too?”
“Anything’s possible, and I wouldn’t put it past her. Especially if I’m right and someone’s been messing with necromancy. If she’s a reanimated corpse, she’s basically a puppet, she’ll say whatever my captor wants her to. She won’t have her own thoughts or ideas about anything, which might explain how she didn’t know what I meant by gumbo.”
I wrinkle my nose at the thought of someone digging up a corpse just to turn it into a puppet.
“I thought necromancy was pretty frowned upon among magic users.”
“It is,” Rune says darkly. “We don’t do it. Ever. Anyone who does is basically ostracized, or worse. Whoever is doing all of this clearly doesn’t give a fuck, which makes them as dangerous as they are powerful.”
“And you can’t think of anyone who fits that description who has a grudge against you?” I know I’m prying, but this is really starting to seem personal. If Rune can think of who might be doing this, it could help us figure out what they want and how to get the hell out of here.
He’s quiet for a long time, and I start to wonder if he’s fallen asleep. Either that or I offended him and he’s giving me the silent treatment. I listen to his even breathing and narrow my attention down to the invisible thread of connection I can still feel between us. It’s flimsy and delicate, like a spiderweb that could easily fall apart if handled clumsily.
“I have a lot of enemies,” he says, startling me out of my meditative focus. “I have a habit of pissing people off, as you could probably tell from Kallis’s reaction. But I can’t think of anyone who would be powerful enough to bind my magic andsomehow probe my mind for childhood memories while also being unhinged enough to resort to necromancy.”
“Probe your mind for childhood memories?” I sit up fully. “What are you talking about?”
Rune rolls onto his side to face me now in the dark, his long hair falling to one side, the outline of his body looking thinner and frailer than I remember from the first time we met.
“It’s nothing much, but it’s a bit unsettling. The last few days, the meals Elvira has been bringing have been some childhood favorites. I don’t see how it could be a coincidence.”
I shuffle closer to him, unconsciously drawn towards him until I’m leaning against the bed, close enough to smell the faint hint of magic on him and the distinctRunescent underneath the week’s worth of sweat and grime.
“Maybe we’re thinking about this wrong. What if it’s not an enemy but someone you think of as a friend? Someone you’re close enough with that you’ve told them about your childhood.”
Rune laughs again, more loudly this time. “I don’t have friends, Atlas. I was snatched from a bar a week ago and you’re the only one who’s even noticed I’m gone. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”
“Have you tried being less prickly?” I tease with a half smile that I’m not sure he can see in the dark.
“The thorns are there for the roses’ protection, Gargoyle,” he says with a sad kind of wisdom in his voice.
The urge to tell him that I’ll protect him now rises inside me, but I push it down. It’s too much, and something tells me he won’t believe it anyway. It’s obvious that he’s spent his whole life unable to trust anyone but himself, but he has me now, whether he knows it or not. And I’m going to get us out of here.
“What’s the first thing you’re going to do once you’re free?” I ask, hoping to change the subject to something more hopeful.
“Do you mean after I slaughter whoever’s responsible for this whole thing?” he asks dryly.
I chuckle. “Yes, after that.”
He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair with a grimace I can see easily in the dim light, thanks to my gargoyle vision.
“Take the longest, hottest shower of my life. There will be scalp masks involved, exfoliators, the works.”
The image of Rune naked with water running over his lean body, droplets following the lines of his intricate tattoos and cascading over his hard nipples and soft cock fills my mind and heats me down to my core. The sudden rush of lust startles me. Unlike Roman or Cassius, who spend half their lives driven by their most primal urges, it’s not something that happens to me often. In fact, I’m having a hard time remembering the last time I had the urge to run my tongue over a man’s soft, warm lips or feel the heat of anyone’s body against mine.
I clear my throat. “That sounds nice.”
