The Necromancer's Betrayal Read online

  I aimed my hardened gaze back to Ivo. “You’re joking, right? What about the portal breaches? You’re telling me I had something to do with that?” Mixed in with the supernatural killings, and I was certain, connected, was a series of portal breaches in which horrific demon creatures like the frerac had trespassed to our world.

  “The two are not necessarily related, and we are conducting our own inquiry into the breaches,” Ivo responded.

  “Of course they’re connected.” I struggled to temper my voice. I came expecting to defend my use of the power sphere and Cael’s death, not the whole damn apocalypse.

  “Do you have evidence a demon was involved?” Ivo directed the question at me, but looked at Malthus, who didn’t flinch under Ivo’s penetrating stare.

  Maybe Malthus hadn’t known Ivo was going to dump all this shit on me. What had he said? Some will attempt to hurt you. Did that include Ivo? Ugh. I wanted to scream. I hated these demon games, trying to decipher who was screwing whom.

  “What about Malthus?” Julian asked.

  An immediate silence met the question, but that didn’t seem to faze Julian. “She is his granddaughter, part demon, and necromancer. She carries great evil with her.”

  Oh, brother, really? I waited for someone to call Julian on his excessive melodrama, but no one spoke until Ivo broke the silence. “I have addressed such matters with Malthus.” Ivo gave Malthus a quick, disapproving look. It was no more than a small dip of his chin, but for a demon overlord, it spoke volumes. It was starting to look as if I was not the only one on trial here, nor was Cael’s death the sole issue at hand.

  “However, Julian is correct. We cannot have confidence in your allegiances,” Ivo said, returning his frigid attention to me.

  “My allegiances?” I took a deep, calming breath. “Whoever our big bad demon is, he killed my grandmother. My allegiances lie with finding him and seeing him brought to some kind of justice. Something I thought maybe you cared about. Hell, even the other supes suspect another demon aided Cael.”

  “Then you have a hefty task ahead—keep the supes off our backs and yours. If another demon drove Cael, then he remains a threat. Bring us evidence of such a betrayal and we will deal with him or her,” Ivo said. “However, the matter of your actions remains in question. We will require assurances.”

  “Of what?”

  “Assurances you will not kill others and use forbidden practices. We will bind you with a chagur.”

  I didn’t need to understand demon to know chagur meant bad news. None of the demons spoke. I noticed Ewan’s entire body tense, his expression grim. The female demon placed an arm on his shoulder.

  “Ivo, we did not discuss a chagur.” Xavier finally spoke up, and he seemed, dare I say, agitated? Xavier has always exuded the smoothness befitting a Barry White song. Seeing him squirming in his seat unsettled me greatly.

  “Yet, I have the power to enact a bind in such circumstances. We have precedence,” Ivo responded.

  Xavier’s lips thinned. He rested his chin on splayed fingers, not once removing his glare from Ivo. “We have not employed a chagur since the Great Repression,” he said, biting off each word sharply.

  I catalogued “Great Repression” for later inquiry then turned toward Malthus, who seemed way too calm, unsurprised, as if he’d known this was coming. Fuck. I turned away in disgust.

  “Xavier, if you’re so inclined, we will appoint you her guardian,” Ivo said. “You can ensure she adheres to the dictates of the chagur, therefore avoiding any undesirable consequences.”

  This time, Ivo’s dictate generated a sliver of emotion from Malthus. He creased his brow, translated as pissed off. What had he done to warrant Ivo undermining his authority by appointing Xavier my guardian? Not that I minded. Of all the demons, he seemed to understand me more than I understood myself.

  The command seemed to mollify Xavier somewhat, but whatever this chagur meant, I wasn’t about to acquiesce. “I don’t agree to the chagur. I’m not of this realm. I have rights.” I almost added, “You’re not the boss of me.” My words sounded that silly in this otherworldly, pompous proceeding, words a desperate person would exclaim in a courtroom drama, but I was desperate. The room thrummed with demon disapproval, and I swear every damn eye pulsing on Naala’s head narrowed at me.

  “You are part demon. You killed another necromancer. You made a werewolf into a revenant against the codes we forged with the human supernaturals,” Ivo said.

  How could I argue with this absurdity? It was like standing before a Puritan jury at a witch trial. It wouldn’t matter to them that Cael had threatened to kill Kara if I didn’t turn the murdered Brandon into a revenant. No matter what you said, the tests proving your innocence were rigged against you. Bastards. How could they do this? I held back the indignation threatening to spew out of my mouth. They’d only view me as some hysterical half-breed.

  “What does the chagur do?” I asked, my tone surprisingly calm.

  “It monitors how you use your power. If you use it in an unorthodox way, you will die unless you return to our realm,” Ivo said.

  Die? I bit back another retort and forced down my rising panic. Focus on the details. “Define unorthodox.”

  “Beyond basic reanimation.”

  “Revenants?”

  “Forbidden.”

  Not like I wanted to do that again anyway, but it was the principle of the matter. “Who are you to judge what is unorthodox?”

  “We have precedence.”

  Right. And the Spanish Inquisition had religious conviction. I suppose I should have been glad he wasn’t proposing to burn me at the stake, although I’d be sure not to give him any ideas.

  “If you can prove your theory about a demon behind Cael’s actions, we will remove the chagur,” Ivo said.

  I clenched my teeth. Arguing was futile. Screaming, throwing things, wouldn’t have budged Ivo. They had me between the granite and very hard, imposing guards. Ivo nodded in Naala’s direction, but I paid the gesture little mind, too consumed by my smoking ire at this ridiculous demon bullshit. I’d just have to intensify my efforts to find the Big Bad, which I’d planned on doing anyway. Bring it on. The chagur couldn’t be that bad. Naala slinked closer, and realization set in.

  Fuck. Who am I kidding? It would be that bad. Worse, even. I turned my panicked gaze to Xavier.

  He gripped my hand. “Naala will administer the chagur. You’ll be okay.”

  The note of concern in his tone did not inspire confidence.

  Naala extended one of her thin, chitinous legs toward my chest. I squeezed his hand and instinctively pressed back into the seat, but unfortunately, the hard granite did not give way. It kept me motionless while Naala pierced my shoulder with the sharp tip. I released my hand from Xavier’s and clapped it over the spot after she pulled away. My arm throbbed and pricked like a body part wakening after falling asleep. I looked at my shoulder and noticed a welt, about a half-inch, in the shape of a diamond. I clenched my hand, and pressed my knuckles to my mouth, holding back the outrage that smashed against my teeth.

  The chagur was little more than a chain around my neck. If I used my power in an unorthodox way—whatever that meant—I’d die unless I returned to the demon realm. And once I got back here, what other foul atrocity would Ivo commit?

  Chapter Five

  “RUBY.”

  It was Ewan’s voice behind me, soft, hesitant. I bowed my head, unsure if I should turn around or proceed past the foyer and out the front door. After the hearing, Malthus had transported me to the demon lair. I’d hoped to avoid Ewan, but now hearing him, feeling him so close, I couldn’t resist him, even knowing it would break my heart.

  I pivoted slowly and let my eyes indulge in the planes of his face, softened by waves of black hair. The muscles carved on his body were visible through the
worn jeans and thin white T-shirt he’d changed into. The corner of my mouth kicked up. I’d rather see him in the robes. My heartbeat accelerated then caught up in slow motion frames when I noted the tired lines around his eyes and tight jaw.

  I’d never look at him the same way again. It was more painful now, if that was even possible. I’d seen the bright steel that had forged this demon in Damon’s record. The images had brought me to tears. Tears I now fought back, knowing his current situation and seeing the pride he still carried in his shoulders and heart, a heart he’d exposed to me in brilliant bits and pieces. But not anymore. My heart convulsed, and agony punched its way out with my breath.

  “You seem calm,” he said finally.

  I spit out a laugh. “I’m not calm, but freaking out is not going to change anything.”

  “It might make you feel better.”

  I snorted. “No, it won’t. Why do you put up with that demon BS?” When he didn’t respond, I rambled on. “Or maybe you don’t accept it. Is that what happened to you? You tried to change that bullshit the demons call justice?”

  “I understand your frustration,” he said softly.

  “Do you?” I tossed my arms up. “You won’t even explain what happened to turn you into Malthus’s slave.”

  He flinched as if I’d slapped him, but I didn’t care. The calm I’d so painstakingly pieced together broke down with a fresh swell of anger. The image of the female demon from the meeting barged into my head. At this precise moment, he was one of them, and I wondered if I even knew him at all. More words choked me in their mad dash to fling themselves at him, but I held them back.

  “I’m not allowed to retell the events that led to the debt pact,” he said.

  “Of course not. I should have known.” I sagged onto a bench. “And this . . . this chagur?”

  “They want to make sure you don’t abuse your power. It has happened before with necromancers.”

  “And it led to the genocide, right? What do they think I’m going to do? I’m not some goddamn nuclear bomb set to detonate. I just want all of this over with. I have to find this asshole.” The one I’m beginning to believe the demons didn’t really care about in their preoccupation with me.

  “So do I.”

  I rested my head in my hand, trying to calm my raging thoughts when something from the hearing popped into my head. “What was the Great Repression Xavier mentioned?”

  Ewan jerked a hand through his hair. “The Great Repression was when the demons abolished the cult system that I explained to you before.”

  I nodded. Demon society had been completely reorganized and shaped into the hierarchical travesty currently exploited by the demon council. According to Ewan, before the restructuring, no one group held absolute power. Something bad had happened. Bad enough to convince the demons to accept more control and meddling in their lives. And I had a bad feeling whatever had happened had involved necromancers.

  “I’m so sorry, Ruby.” He clenched his hands and pressed them to his forehead. “This is so fucking frustrating. Fighting a battle is so much easier. You either win or lose by your blade, no binds or intrigue.”

  “And why did they make Xavier my guardian? What’s going on with Malthus and the council?”

  “Malthus is losing influence and status because of the portal breaches and maybe because he hid you and your mother from them. The only thing sparing him is his connection to the portal. He is inextricably tied to it. His essence feeds it.”

  All his words floated over me. There was too much to absorb, and I kept seeing that woman—demon—touching him.

  “So what is the female demon?”

  “Portia is a ceazoe, a pain demon.”

  “I guess that explains all the piercings, but what I meant is, what is she to you?”

  He paused. “She’s an old friend.”

  “She didn’t touch you or look at you like an old friend.”

  “What would I tell you that didn’t sound more horrible than it actually was? Or that would change anything about us? My duties—” He laughed those words, bitter broken wounds spilling from his mouth. “My association with Portia is so far removed from what’s inside me. Trying to explain my past with her won’t help.”

  “That’s the problem. No one cares to explain anything!” My burbling rage finally overflowed. The lies, manipulation, deaths and now this goddamn chagur . . . All the anger and frustration forced its way out, like dry heaves after vomiting. “I was forced to make two revenants, then kill them—yes, kill, because to me, they were very much alive. I killed Cael, then found out I’m part demon after you and I—” My voice broke and I took a moment to reclaim it. “I just want to understand what’s going on before I do something I’ll regret later, and now I’m branded. I have to prove I’m not some murderous psychopathic necromancer!”

  My heart slowed to an agonized pace, each beat tenuous. Ewan stood stoically, absorbing my lashes. I turned away, not wanting him to see my tears, or maybe I couldn’t face the anguish in his expression. Neither the chagur nor Malthus’s actions were Ewan’s fault, yet I couldn’t help but include him in the blame. He too had lied to me about Cael, along with Malthus, claiming they didn’t know who was responsible for the murders, urging me to raise Adam when they’d known all along. Yes, he’d apologized, but that morsel of distrust remained, rotting away in my consciousness.

  “I’m sorry. I guess I’m in over my head,” I said, my voice low and fractured.

  “If I’d known you were Malthus’s granddaughter, I’d never have pursued you. Not to spare me pain. I’m used to that. But so I’d never have to see that look in your eyes.”

  I shoved my fluttering hands in my pant pockets and attempted to embalm my surging emotions, but they rose again at his next words.

  “I want to help you find the killer,” he said.

  Anger sliced through me, dissipating the anguish and giving me the courage to lift my face to his. “Bullshit. You can’t have it both ways. You accept the debt pact, keeping us apart, yet now, you stand here and tell me you want to help me, protect me.” I stood, my body heavy, my movements sluggish. I didn’t think I could handle Ewan’s help, but even less so, his capitulation. His next words shredded my insides.

  “You know, I dream of you every night.” His voice was a pained whisper.

  My legs shook, threatening to rip apart the foundation I’d built to withstand our forced separation. An acid lump formed in my throat and forced tears that burned wet, acrid paths down my cheeks. It was the closest he’d let me get to his anguish since the hellish night I killed Cael and found out our relationship was doomed. My mind filled with the images from the demon record—his body bloody from battle, but his face proud—him in chains watching Tallor, who I assumed was his brother, die. Yet, the expression on his face then didn’t match the utter defeat I now saw in his eyes.

  I was tempted to go to him, embrace him, kiss him and fuck everything else, but Malthus would know and he’d punish Ewan. He already had, when Ewan and I had hooked up, even though Ewan had no idea I was Malthus’s granddaughter. That was demon justice. Unfair. Unflinching. I hated Malthus. He’d kept my true identity from me, and who knew what deals he’d made with Ivo concerning my fate? At least one of them had resulted in this damn chagur.

  Ewan came closer and touched my cheek with the back of his hand.

  “Was Tallor your brother?” I asked.

  He yanked back as if my skin had burned his hand. His brows narrowed dangerously. “What did you see in the demon realm?”

  “I saw your battle and trial through Damon’s record.”

  He stepped back, stunned. “A Chronicler let you see the records? And you returned? Christ. I don’t know whether to be furious or impressed.”

  “I couldn’t understand much and still don’t know exactly what happened, wh
y you fought the battle and how it led to your debt pact.”

  His stood still and silent. The only movement came from his furiously twitching jaw muscles. When he finally spoke, his voice was steel, coming through clenched teeth. “I don’t need you to help me. You need to accept reality. Nothing can fix the situation.”

  “I refuse to believe that.”

  “Don’t you think if there was some way to change things, some way for us to be together, I’d do it?”

  He moved to walk away and I grabbed his shoulder, letting go quickly when his muscles clenched. “Please. Was Tallor your brother?”

  His mouth sagged, and he stared past me. “Yes. He died because of me.” He swung around and headed for the door. He paused with his back to me. “Stay out of my past.”

  “So that’s it? The great warrior Marchios gives up and bears his sentence like a good honorable demon?”

  “Leave. It. Alone,” he said. A savage intensity edged each word.

  I slanted my eyes to the side, trying to find an anchor to keep my voice from slipping away. “Leave it alone? Or you?”

  He opened the front door and closed it softly behind him without answering me, leaving me standing alone. Once again, everything seemed to slip from my hands, sending me stumbling off the cliff. I was probably better off anyway. I had to dispel any notions of some cinematic happy ending with Ewan and focus my efforts on finding the Big Bad and ridding myself of this damned chagur—maybe of my association with demons altogether.

  I touched the brand, which still caused the occasional twinge in my arm. Just don’t use my power, I thought. Yeah, that should be easy enough.

  Chapter Six

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, I struggled through my Monday anthropology class on myth and reality. After the horrible scene with Ewan last night, I’d gone to the theater to catch a generic comedy instead of reading essays. Normally, I’d love a good atmospheric horror flick, but I’d experienced enough of that in graphic detail. I just needed to get through the day until I met up with Kara, who’d seemed fully recovered from her ordeal in the demon realm. We planned to go over what had happened with Cael, hoping to stumble upon a Big Bad clue we might have missed at the time. Both of us could use a miracle.