“No, I mean, not really. I’d worry about their mental wellbeing. It’s no secret that necromancers have…problems. It’s more…” Irene leaned in closer, whispering, “They really abandon them. The necromancer children. If my son was a necromancer, the warlock father would walk away. I can’t… I mean, who could do that? Warlock Danzig tried explaining the reason. He made it all sound so sane and logical.” Irene shrugged. “I guess I’m just not wired like that. I can’t imagine willingly having a child with the knowledge that their father might very well walk away and never look back and that it would be considerednormalandappropriate.”
My respect for the human woman grew. “I don’t think all warlock fathers abandon their necromancer children.” I knew of one that had done the exact opposite. “But I do think that’s a rarity.”
“And that’s what I’m afraid of.” Irene squared her shoulders, lifting her head and furiously rubbing at her eyes. “The amount they’re offering is a lot.” Irene’s eyes narrowed, creating little grooves in her forehead. “He made it seem like they need more mothers, that more warlocks are needed, but I don’t know why. Regardless, there are other ways to make money. They may not be the most palatable, but at least they only affect me. I don’t think I can, in good conscience, bring a child into that situation.” Irene’s gaze flicked over my shoulder once more before her eyes settled on me. “I’m sorry to dump all that on you. You may not feel the same way and?—”
“Nope. I feel just the same.” Hooking a thumb over my shoulder, I said, “I think I’ll go grab my application and shred it.” I gave Irene what I hoped was a winning and not creepysmile. Her relaxed expression and easy grin made me think I succeeded.
Blowing out a relieved breath, Irene turned toward the exit again. “It was nice meeting you. And, thank you for talking with me. I think I’m actually calm enough to drive and not cause an accident.”
It wasn’t every day I did a good deed. Internally beaming, I couldn’t wait to tell Niki about my noble actions. He’d be so proud. I wasn’t sure why, but I needed Niki to be proud of me. I needed him to want me around—to keep me.
I watched Irene walk through the exit, returning her wave goodbye as I desperately attempted not to focus on all the reasons why I needed Niki’s approval. Despite my desires, my mind kept traveling darkened paths. I was in desperate need of a distraction.
“Surely Niki wouldn’t have a problem with a little reconnaissance.” Releasing my hold on the female form I’d adopted; I allowed my body to dissipate. It felt good, like slipping out of a corset that was tied too tight. The release was damn near cathartic.
Floating down the hall, I headed back into the waiting room. I didn’t tear up my application like I said I’d do. I wanted these idiots to read my answers. Hopefully, I’d still be around when they did.
Now, what else are you hiding,I wondered as I slipped undetected into Warlock Danzig’s office.
Seven
Nikodemus
The charm was simple enough—something I’d been crafting for fifty odd years. My prolific experience and expertise didn’t matter much when my concentration was so poor. I was on my fourth attempt. The last three simply hadn’t held the spell. This time the stone between my fingers sparked, sending uncomfortable energy zinging up my arm.
“Shit!” I dropped the crystal, watching colors flash through its structure as it danced along the inert, marble surface. The crystal spun like a crazed firework before finally fizzling out. A barely visible whisp of smoke rose from its center, wafting and dissipating into the air.
My fingers clenched, fists tight as I stared at the now worthless crystal. It would need to be thoroughly cleansed before it would be of any use and even then, it would only be able to hold the weakest of spells.
Leaning heavily into my chair, I blankly stared into the room, seeing nothing as my mind wandered. I hated this. Hated what the Warlock Council’s vicious letter had reduced me too. I could spout off all I wanted that I wasn’t concerned, that responding to their inane accusations was below me, that I couldn’t careless about their intentions. While all that was true, it wasn’t the complete story.
The truth was that Iwasconcerned. Not just for me, but my son. I worried for Cilla. Perhaps most of all, I worried about my reputation. It was a selfish worry. I was self-aware enough to realize this. I had no problem admitting my own vanity. I’d worked hard to gain a formidable reputation. It was maddening knowing all that could be destroyed within such a short time span.
I didn’t fear the Warlock Council in the traditional sense. What I’d told Hikaru and Vander were true. Given my abilities, there was no way the council could bind my powers without my willing participation. I’d like to think that would never be possible, but I wasn’t arrogant enough to believe it untrue. Recent events reminded me just how vulnerable all of us were when the ones we loved were threatened.
Was there anything I wouldn’t do for my son? The simple answer was no. If for some reason the only way to save Erasmus was to allow my powers to be bound, I would do so. That knowledge was so deep rooted in my core that there was no room for doubt. While those on the Warlock Council might find it difficult to believe I would go to such lengths for my son, they wouldn’t hesitate to use that weakness against me.
My blackened fingertips tapped along my marble worktable. The council had to want something—something more than getting me out of the way. They were picking a rather tenuous battle if all they wanted was to put me in my perceived place. It was too big of a risk for too little reward unless there was more at stake.
“What are you up to?” I wasn’t certain who I was asking. I halfway expected Hikaru to answer. Surprisingly, the kitsune was being unusually respectful of my space and wishes. Perhaps Hikaru wasn’t feeling well.
For some reason, that thought twisted my stomach. “He’s fine.” I let loose an irritated huff. I had much more urgent concerns than that mischievous kitsune. One of those concerns chose that moment to call. My heart soared when Erasmus’s name flashed across my phone.
“Hey, Pops,” Erasmus said before I could offer the barest of greetings. My son’s calm, happy tone eased the pressure in my chest.
“You sound pleasantly content. Am I to assume your honeymoon is going well?”
Erasmus sighed happily. “Belize is beautiful.” Erasmus’s soft laughter drifted through the line. “I think Franklin’s gone through at least two bottles of SPF forty-five sunscreen. His poor skin just isn’t made for the sun.”
My fingers danced to a different tune, my mind already working through the problem. Possible spells wove their way through my consciousness. I could see how they’d connect, how they’d intertwine to help solve Franklin’s delicate skin concerns. My brain was so engaged that I came back to the conversation realizing I’d missed most of what Erasmus had said. It most likely mattered little. His tone was still jovial and full of excitement.
“The water’s so beautiful here, and not just the water, but the jungle. The wildlife is amazing.” Erasmus’s excitement was contagious. The unfortunate cure was the reason I’d called and left him a message.
“That sounds wonderful.” My words sounded stiff even to my own ears.
Erasmus’s pause indicated he understood the undercurrent. “What’s wrong?” My son was nearly as attuned to my moods as I was to his.
“I would like to say nothing, but I’m afraid that isn’t the case.” Regretfully, I gave Erasmus an abbreviated version ofthe letter I’d received. “I feel there is more going on, though admittedly, I am uncertain what that might be. I debated on calling or not, but?—”
