Page 7 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Alex stood near the table, tall and solid, his lavender eyes catching torchlight as if it were made for him. White hair, copper skin, posture too relaxed for the situation. He looked like he should be holding a craft beer instead of staring at a crisis.

Nishi was beside him. Shorter, slender, long black hair pulled back, boots that looked like she could kick down a door and then go to brunch. Her fingers twisted the ring on her right middle finger, the nervous habit making her seem more human than the rest of us.

Lucinda sat at the table as if it belonged to her. Tall, blond, blue-eyed, wearing some tight dressy outfit that probably cost more than my monthly rent. Even in emergency lighting, she managed to look as if she’d dressed specifically to sneer.

Caton stood behind her, suit immaculate, dark-blond hair neat, expression already carved into irritation. His facial twitch flickered near his eye, the tell that his patience had left the building.

Carnell lounged on one side of the table as if he were hosting a party instead of a meeting. Blond and brown hair, sea-green eyes, dress pants and an open-collar shirt that made him look indecently comfortable. The air around him carried that earthy cedar scent that didn’t belong indoors.

Across from him, Hunter stood like a wall. Tall, broad, flannel over a T-shirt, work boots planted wide. His gray eyes cut toward me as if he’d already decided I was the problem.

Eve stood near Hunter, long skirt brushing the marble floor, amethyst necklace catching the torchlight. She looked calm, but there was power tucked behind her eyes. The kind of power that could turn this entire room into ash if she snapped.

Faith and I reached the edge of the dais, and every head turned.

Lucinda’s gaze landed on me like a weight.

“Well,” she said, voice sharp enough to slice skin. “Our resident outcast finally arrives.”

Faith’s hand tightened on my elbow, and I knew she was one comment away from starting a fight in the council chambers, which would absolutely go over well.

I pulled free and stepped forward before Faith could speak.

Lucinda leaned forward, her sneer deepening. “What caused this?”

The question hit like a punch because it wasn’t really a question.

It was an accusation.

My throat tightened. For a split second, I was back in Salem, standing in a circle of witches who looked at me like I was a mistake that had infiltrated their ranks.

I forced the memory down.

“I have no idea,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I was asleep until I heard the screaming.”

Caton’s twitch jumped again, as if my words annoyed him by existing.

Lucinda’s eyes narrowed. “Convenient.”

I ignored her and looked at the magic board instead. The flares pulsed in clusters. Too many. Too fast.

“This isn’t random,” I said. “Something is directing them.”

Hunter’s lips curled. “And you’d know.”

Eve’s gaze flicked to him, warning. Hunter didn’t back down, but he did shut his mouth.

I swallowed and met Lucinda’s stare.

“It’s necromancy,” I said.

Silence slammed into the room. Even Carnell stopped looking amused.

Lucinda’s expression darkened as if she’d been waiting for me to say it. “So you admit it.”

I let out a short, humorless breath. “I admit what I saw. One undead in the street, moving like a puppet. I shoved it with magic and it barely reacted. There was a pull on it. A thread.”

Nishi’s head tilted, her eyes unfocusing for a split second as if she were seeing something beyond the room. She could see auras. She could see what we were before we spoke.