Page 24 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

All three of us whipped toward it.

Andel’s hand moved toward a hammer on the table so fast it barely registered.

Then the side door opened again and Nishi stepped in, as calm as ever, with Tegan just behind her.

Tegan Carr looked like she didn’t belong in an industrial warehouse, which was probably why she belonged perfectly. She carried that relic keeper aura, that quiet hum of old power, the kind that made the hair on my arms rise without any obvious reason. She was slender, graceful, with hair that flowed like it had its own opinions. Her eyes were striking, deep, and too knowing, like she’d stared at ancient things in dark places and come back without blinking.

She looked tired.

Her gaze flicked over us, then to Andel. “This is about the undead.”

Nishi nodded once. “Yes.”

Tegan’s mouth tightened. “Kacey’s asleep. Spencer’s with her.”

Eve’s expression softened for half a beat. “How is she?”

Tegan’s shoulders lifted and fell. “Fever. She’ll be fine.” Then she looked at me, eyes questioning. “What’s happening?”

I exhaled. “Walking corpses with strange behavior. Masked somehow.”

Tegan’s brows knit. “Masked?”

Andel’s stare locked onto her. “You’ve seen this?”

Tegan hesitated. “Not exactly. But I’ve heard of relics that can hide a signature.”

Faith crossed her arms. “Can you track it?”

Tegan’s gaze slid over the room, thoughtful. “If it’s an object, maybe. If it’s a spell woven through an object, maybe. If it’s something else, I don’t know.”

Andel’s jaw tightened. “I’ve never heard of zombies that can’t be put back in their graves.”

The words hit hard.

Because it confirmed the part I was trying not to name.

Even the necromancer was unsettled.

Andel continued, voice controlled but edged. “Normal resurrection, even the ugly kind, follows rules. Bodies can be severed from the spell. Bones can be ordered back into stillness. The dead can be returned to where they belong.”

He looked at each of us in turn, then fixed on Eve, respect and warning tangled in his gaze.

“If these things aren’t responding, if they’re resisting, if they can’t be put down, then this is beyond typical necromancy.”

My stomach dropped, cold and heavy.

Faith’s voice was quiet. “So what are we dealing with?”

Andel didn’t answer right away.

He just stared at the forge, at the metal, at the runes etched into steel, as if he could find a solution hammered into the walls.

Then he looked back at us.

“I don’t know,” he said, and the honesty in it was almost worse than fear. “But I know this isn’t normal.”

CHAPTER 4