With as much perfunctory touch as I could manage, I slipped the trousers over his feet at the end of the cloth and rucked them up, keeping the cloth on as best I could as they slipped into place over cool, soft skin and sturdy, masculine hips. Just a few days ago, I hungered for the taste of carnaldelights, and at that moment, the thought sickened me. “Your speculation is as good as mine, sir.”
He grunted in acknowledgment as I picked Esmeray up, the position of his body, sheet still draped, almost bridal. “Are you certain he will be okay coming to my home?”
“Where else would I send him? They’ve already emptied his apartment into storage since he was murdered. It’ll be a week of paperwork getting him undeclared dead. You two need to be in proximity and he can summon help if need be.” Draevus sighed. “Come to the limousine with me. When he’s awake and better, come to the firm to visit and we’ll discuss his return to the office.”
“And about The Church?” I hesitated for a step but followed all the same.
“I’ll deal with them. You will be guarded.” Draevus kept his pace clipped as I followed.
“And is my name cleared?”
Draevus glanced over his shoulder, face hardened and twisted. “From the moment you spoke Ausmius’s name. If his daeva shadow trusts you? I do, too. Implicitly.”
That had to be good enough for me. I left that afternoon a single male, impossibly lonely and tolerated only for the services he could provide others.
Chapter Four
Esmeray
I’m dead.
Am I in hell? Heaven? Valhalla?I took a deep breath, which, ideologically or physically, shouldn’t have been possible.
Rich incense. Herbs. Both of those were nice. It eliminated hell, at least. Hell probably smelled like a MLM essential oil party to a soul. I didn’t know if I had a soul or not. Valhalla?
Not enough alcohol. Mead and sour beer had a specific scent. The scent under the herbs had a distinct scent of basil and oregano, backed with dry aged cheeses.
I reached to my neck, fingers tracing the wound I knew would be there.Valhalla it is.
“Sleep well?” the warm tones of a familiar voice spoke out.
“Odin?” I opened a single eye to spy the dark interior of a bedroom and the shifting shape of Gre Hawthorne, reverting from his giraffine form to the pleasant humanoid form I’d had dinner with.
“Not a chance. I still owe that particular deity the souls of five hanged men.”
“Not nine?” I blinked up at him, my heart fluttering as I sat up. The same attraction I had to him on our first meeting hadn’t faded, only intensified.
“Already gave him four.” He waved his hand dismissively. “But hangings are so uncommon these days and it’s hard to find a guilty one, but I have the rest of my life to find someone lynched for good cause… Maybe someone who embezzled charity money or something.” I shrugged.
“Locally sourced, all natural hanged men, I take it?” I winked, and the mage’s soft laugh made me smile.
“If I hang them, I can’t call them organic, can I?” The smile he held faded.
“I died, didn’t I?”
He nodded. “But you got better.”
“Can one reallyget betterafter death?” I rubbed at my neck, stitches pricking my fingers.
“No. Not unless extensive magic, necromancy, goetic thaumaturgy, and sacrifice is involved.” He leaned forward, staring at me with eyes with dark circles and jaw tensed as if he were fighting a yawn.
“Explain?” A hazy memory about a union, a whispered desperate plea for me to choose mundanity, death, or him. Of course I’d chosen the mage.
“You were attacked outside of your apartment, carrying my files. Whoever it was, used a holy sigil as a garrote. Your father, under the impression it meant I had something to do with your demise, demanded I fix it.” He cleared his throat and avoided making eye contact, depriving me of those beautiful golden amber eyes.
As memories came to me, my father’s sage voice, Ausmius’s whispered promises and threats against the clergy that assailed me. Gre’s beautiful voice had called me back from the limbo I stood in.
I lifted my shirt where there should have been sigils, a circle of magic I could discern. Instead, I found dark, permanent markings of two goddesses that, ordinarily, would have never marked a demon. A crescent moon and an Egyptian cat. Diana and Bastet. In utter disbelief, I touched them. “A soul bond?”
