“Yes, you stand in the doorway between me and my charges,” Malthus says to her. “Those I must guide from the Human Realm into the shadows of the Great Beyond.”
She swallows hard.
“I… I’m a Hospice nurse,” she stammers. “But I’ve n-never seen you before.”
Don Malthus inclines his skull slightly, seeming almost respectful.
“Of course not,” he says. “It is my role to remain unseen, lovely one.”
The air around him seems to grow colder.
“But though you do not see me, I am there,” he continues quietly. “Always. I have watched you comfort those who must soon take my hand. I have seen you sit beside the dying when others could not bear to stay. I have seen you whisper kindness into ears that no longer hear.”
Hanna’s eyes are huge now, glossy with terror.
“I…I…” She shakes her head, clearly at a loss for words.
“I have seen you lean over the bedside of those whose time in the Human Realm has ended,” Don Malthus says. “I have admired your courage as much as your beauty, my curvy one. Long have I wished to have one such as you at my side.”
Hanna just stares at him like a deer caught in headlights—frozen, shaking, unable to look away. And who can blame her for being freaked out? It’s like Death himself is coming on to her—definitely not a normal situation.
“Oh my God,” she whispers at last. “I can’t…please, I don’t even know you.”
“But you could come to know me…and I, you,” he murmurs and reaches for her with one long-fingered, skeletal hand.
Hanna seems almost hypnotized. For a moment, she sways forward—as though she might fall into his arms for a second time that night.
That’s it—I’ve had it. I grab her hand hard enough to jolt her out of the trance.
“Nope,” I say sharply. “Come on, Hanna. We’re going.”
Lucian turns toward me.
“Julia, our guest?—”
But I don’t wait for permission. I don’t care if it’s rude—I’m not letting my friend fall under the spell of Dr. Death.
I bend, scoop Mr. Mittens under my free arm—he protests loudly, claws kneading my sleeve—and haul Hanna toward the door.
Don Malthus takes one step forward, as though drawn to my friend but Lucian moves at the same time.
“That is far enough,” Lucian says, his voice like a drawn blade. “You are an ally, but you have no rights to this human. She is in my territory and therefore under my protection.”
The Necro Don pauses, his skull mask tilting thoughtfully.
“Another time, then,” he murmurs in that velvety-dark voice. “You cannot stand in the threshold forever, lovely one,” he says to Hanna. “One day you will have to cross it yourself. And I will be there—waiting for you.”
Hanna gives a little cry of terror and I give her a tug.
“Don’t listen to him,” I hiss. “Come on!”
I drag her out of the grand dining room, my heart hammering, Mr. Mittens squirming under my arm, and my friend’s hand locked tightly in mine.
I don’t look back but I can feel their eyes on me—both the Vampire and the Necromancer. Though Don Malthus is probably looking mostly at Hanna. She seemed to attract him like catnip—is it because she’s a Hospice nurse and he’s seen her before, as he said?
Whatever the reason, I’ve already decided he can’t have her. She’s my friend and she’s here because of me. I’ll be damned if I let her get dragged off to The Hollow Necropolis to get gnawed like a bone.
But I have an uneasy feeling that Don Malthus isn’t likely to be distracted. Now that Hanna has been brought to his attention, he’s not going to forget her.
