Home > How to Save an Undead Life (The Beginner's Guide to Necromancy #1)(16)

How to Save an Undead Life (The Beginner's Guide to Necromancy #1)(16)
Author: Hailey Edwards

Unsure what response he wanted from me, I stood there and listened while he vented.

“They’re going to send him away. There are no prisons near here that require his…specialty.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You three have always been as thick as thieves, and I know this is going to be hard on Amelie and on you.”

“Yes, sir.” On that we agreed. “Boaz is one of my best friends. I’ll miss him.”

“I’m glad to hear you call him a friend, that things haven’t…” he coughed once into his fist, “…progressed.”

Oh, to be a specter and able to turn invisible at will.

“We only have to look as far as your house to find him these days.” He spread the fingers of one hand. “I just don’t want to see either of you get hurt. Long-distance relationships are hard. You can ask his mother about that. She didn’t see much of me for the first three years of our marriage. I came home a stranger to a stranger. We had grown up, grown apart, and it took a dedicated effort on our part to mend our relationship.”

Theirs had been an arranged marriage, one of the few good matches I could name, but that left them no choice except to mend those bridges. Divorces were taboo among Society members. Lifetime estrangement from spouses were far more common, and the details much juicier besides.

A cold stone dropped into my stomach. “I see.”

“Me too,” Boaz drawled from behind me. “Thanks for the pep talk, Dad. Grier and I can take this from here.”

Father and son entered a staring contest over my head, and I got the feeling Mr. Pritchard lost since he backed down first. Turning on his heel, he marched into the house with a stiff set to his shoulders. The class divide had kept the Pritchards from embracing me as they had Amelie’s other friends. Factor in my raging crush on Boaz, an attachment Maud had been willing to humor so long as it wasn’t reciprocal, and I got how they might have viewed me as a ticking time bomb of teenage hormones.

It just sucked they were apparently still waiting for me to go boom.

“Walk you home?” He offered his arm like a gentleman. “I could use the exercise after being cooped up in a car all night.” I hooked my arm through his but kept a respectable distance between us. After we crossed the property line, he murmured, “So.”

“So,” I said in agreement. “When do you leave?” I forced myself not to haul him closer to prove he was still here. “Did they give you an estimate or…?”

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks.”

“Is there an echo out here?” He jabbed me in the ribs. “Stop feeding me my words and dish out some of your own.”

“You want the truth?” Asking was a formality. I already knew his answer.

“Always.”

“I hate that you’re leaving. I wish you could stay. I don’t want you to go.”

“You’re going to make me blush.” He tugged me closer until our sides were flush. “If I’d known the draft was what it took to win you over, I would have volunteered a long time ago.”

“Liar.” I snorted a laugh. “You keep trying to twist things around, but I’m the one who nursed a crush for like ten years. You probably wouldn’t have noticed I was gone if I hadn’t sprouted boobs there at the end.”

“That’s not true. What happened to you—” The muscles in his arm tightened beneath my hand. “Forget I said anything. I know you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m getting there.” For the first time, it felt like that might not be a lie. “You better get back before your dad sends out a rescue party.” I unlinked our arms. “Try not to be too hard on him, okay?”

“The old coot is trying to scare you off,” he said, incredulous. “That is not okay.”

“He’s got a point.” As much as I hated to see the hurt flash in Boaz’s eyes, there was no denying that. “I can’t leave Woolly, and you can’t stay. Army or the sentinels, you have to leave either way.”

After all these years of pining after him, I wasn’t sure I had much more patience left in me.

I was done waiting for my life to start. I wanted to live while I could in case this taste of freedom soured.

“I hate when you use logic against me.” Quick as a flash, he stole a kiss from me, just a brush of his lips that set mine tingling. “Good thing I’m too stubborn for that nonsense to stick.”

“Y-you kissed me,” I stammered.

“That’s not a kiss.” His knuckles scored a line down my cheek. “However, I am willing to demonstrate the proper method. With tongue.”

My very first kiss, and from the glint in his eyes, he knew it too. Jerk. Yet he claimed he didn’t count. Fine. Neither would I.

“Go home, Boaz.” I shoved him back with a palm to his chest. “Next time, keep your lips to yourself.”

“What fun would that be?” His cocky grin resurfaced. “You taste like cinnamon.”

“And you taste like the breath mint you popped knowing you were going to put the moves on me.”

“Ouch.” He clutched his chest. “You wound me. Can’t a man be both minty fresh and spontaneous with his affection?”

“Buh-bye.”

I waved him off and headed inside the house. The empty birdcage stood in the corner of the living room like an accusation. Keet hadn’t been with us long this time, but his absence radiated through the silent room stained with a psychic oil spill from where the wraith had lingered while he left his message.

There was nothing left but to wait out the inauguration. When the bird poop would really hit the fan.

Six

Cinderella was never going to be my favorite fairy tale. That whole scrubbing until your fingers pruned and blistered did not appeal. But, as dry and cracked as my hands were from all the rubbing, digging and scraping around Woolly’s foundation, I glowed with a sense of accomplishment. I had been lacking a purpose since my return, besides the daily grind of survival, but it seemed I’d found a project to occupy me.

Woolly was getting a defensive overhaul. All I needed was a smidgen of guidance to get me started.

But a visit to Odette would have to wait. I had more pressing obligations this fine Monday night. As in, I planned to press Volkov for every scrap of information he could give me on my stalker. Who he might be, what he might want, what master pulled his strings. And how Mom fit into his equation.

With Amelie’s help, I had dressed to thrill in a swishy sundress I hoped would win me points with Volkov. Figurative ones. Not fangs. She had piled my hair on top of my head in a half twist that left tendrils framing my face. A few deft strokes of concealer hid the bags growing darker under my eyes, and the gloss she swiped over my lips plumped what little I had to work with in that department. The matching ballet flats kept the look casual, but I hadn’t been this done up in ages outside of work, and it felt good to be both girly and able to breathe at the same time.

I spun out the front door, humming a popular country song, and smacked into a wall of vampire.

“Oof” didn’t sound sexy, no matter how dolled up you were.

“I thought we agreed to meet at the fountain.” As per his texted instructions. I scooted forward and pulled the door shut behind me, not that it would stop Woolly if she wanted to invite him in later. “Did I misunderstand?”

“I was in the neighborhood and…” The obvious lie caused his lips to curve with amusement when he noticed my budding scowl. “Perhaps it is more honest to say I made certain I was in the neighborhood.”

A sleek black car awaited us at the end of my driveway, and the same thin male dressed in a black suit held open the rear passenger door. His jaunty chauffer’s hat made me grin. “Ma’am.”

“Fancy,” I teased Volkov, who shrugged as though his wealth and my perception of it didn’t bother him.

A male comfortable in his own skin. I admired that. Particularly since his skin was built to weather eternity.

I ducked inside and breathed in the new-leather smell. Forget eternal life, this right here was a perk worth not-dying for.

Volkov joined me, and I realized my mistake. His scent drifted around me, much more potent in an enclosed space, and my gut clenched. I was eyeballing the bench seat and wondering if he had ever gotten friendly with a “just friend” back here, when he scooted until our thighs brushed and put his arm behind me.

At my side, I gave the bangle a subtle shake like it was a glow stick in need of activating.

“Where does the tour begin?” His fingertips toyed with my shoulder, and he released a contented sigh as the car pulled out into traffic.

The more he relaxed, the tighter I wound until I couldn’t stop my leg from bouncing. “This isn’t a date, is it?”

“Do you want it to be?” he flung back at me.

Do you want to date the nice vampire would eventually segue into Do you want to feed the nice vampire, and the answer was, “No.”

“Then we will remain friends.” He frowned down at our proximity and gave his head a little shake. “My apologies.” His fingers circled my wrist, his thumb stroking the skin, the veins, under the bangle. “The sight of blood arouses.” A growl roughened his voice. “The sight of you wearing mine…” He loosened his fingers one by one, as if the effort cost him, and rested his palm flat on his thigh. “I was unprepared for the effect.”

“It’s fine.” I tried not to think about how we still pressed together from hip to knee. At least now my stomach had settled. “How about we get things started?” I swallowed my nerves and donned my tour-guide persona. “I can’t say I’ve narrated a driving tour, but I’m sure I can manage.” I twisted a bit to give myself a few precious inches of breathing room and picked the first landmark I recognized. “See that pub? It’s a favorite of all the locals. You don’t find too many tourists there. Too smoky, too loud and too wild on ladies’ night.”

   
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