It meant staying longer than intended, but I couldn’t deny his request and stayed an extra two days to fulfil it.
When he returned to collect, he said, “Ignore me if this is all a trade secret, but how do you enchant the mugs so that their charms last?”
I’d explained how I incorporated the tithes into their making, cast the spells while I threw the clay, put potions into the glaze. I joked that perhaps a little love went into them, too, and maybe that helped. All the while, I kept looking over his shoulder. And mine. Feeling watched and hunted.
I’d parked Lunaris on the campus green, within sight of a bridge crossing a river, a weeping willow on its bank. Between the swaying reeds I’d glimpsed movement. After years, I’d come to recognize when the quality of a shadow seemed darker than usual, or when something moved with a particular gait.
The strid wraith was under that bridge. I could tell, and needed to hurry this conversation along, so I could pack up and move once more.
“I should really get going,” I’d said.
That’s when he’d written something on a napkin, folded it, and handed it to me.
I’d only had the presence of mind to open it once Lunaris and I were far from Belgrave, speeding along the motorway northward to whatever temporary home would have us.
The napkin contained his name, contact details, and a short note.
If you’re ever in need of a necromancer.
The address was unlike any other I’d seen and came with instructions for correspondence using a unique spell. I had written to ask about my problem. I wasn’t shy about it, and someone who called themselves a necromancer could be trusted with discretion. That he’d seen how jumpy I was and offered to help mattered more to me than the fact his magic was on the edge of taboo. If it could rid me of the strid wraith, I didn’t care.
His spells hadn’t worked, but hope was a rare indulgence. One I couldn’t help but savor whenever it arose.
Now, as I charmed a letter to be delivered toThe Ruined Chapel in the Bog, I hoped Emery could help me speak to my grandfather.
By the time we’d teleported back to Shearwater, he’d already sent a response. He would come at once.
Chapter 15
Emery Vale arrived that rainy afternoon, and he didn’t come alone.
The man with him was a walking conundrum. He cut an intimidating figure, muscular and eerie with his white hair and black collar of runes tithed around his neck, yet he had a cheerful disposition, beaming sunnily as he introduced himself.
“Ambrose. Nice to meet you.”
“He’s my partner,” Emery said, and I looked between them again.
Business partner or—
Partnerpartner?
I bitterly hoped for the former. My time with Briar and Rowan had already given me one too many reminders of my permanent bachelor status, and I didn’t need more, but as I donned my waterproof and wellies and marched out with them into the rain, Ambrose put a hand to the small of Emery’s back.
Definitely not business partners.
Kessian leaned in to whisper, “Aww, see? The gays can be happy.” He used his cane to get down Lunaris’s steps, wincing as he got used to the new rhythm.
He’d asked whether he could come. I’d hesitated, not because I didn’t want him there, but because he’d already overextended himself helping me. There’d been much back and forth as we danced around propriety.
I’d said, “If you’d rather rest, I don’t mind.”
“No, I’d like to come, but he’s your grandfather, and I’d understand if it would be awkward.”
“Because we had sex?”
“No! I mean, if that’s awkward to you, then yes, but I mean because you haven’t spoken in so long, and I don’t want to intrude.”
“You’re not. You knew him, too. If you want to come, you can.”
