Drawn to Death (Not Quite Dead #5)

Chapter One

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CYRIL DIDN’T FREAK out when he realized he wasn’t in his body.

He hated that he could say it wasn’t the first time he’d had this kind of dream, but unfortunately for him, it wasn’t.

As soon as he looked around and realized that he wasn’t himself, he knew what he was about to see, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

He didn’t think anyone would look forward to reliving someone else’s death.

But Cyril had no choice. He was stuck in the body of whoever was about to die, and there was nothing he could do to leave. He suspected he would wake up when the person he was in died, and in the meantime, he’d be along for the ride.

A deadly one.

He looked around, trying to gather enough information to understand who this person was.

He didn’t know if he’d encounter them or their family anytime soon, but there had to be a reason he was seeing it.

He didn’t know what that reason was, and he might never find out, but if there was anything he could do to help, he’d do it. It was his job, after all.

There wasn’t a mirror anywhere that he could see, so he didn’t know what the face of the person he was in looked like, but a few details told him that the person was a man.

He was sitting at a desk, working on something.

Cyril could see his hands, and he focused on them for a second, trying to commit the sight of them to memory.

The man had a tattoo at the base of his thumb.

His hands were moving, but Cyril could see its shape well enough to identify it, and it felt familiar.

He was so distracted by the tattoo that he didn’t realize that wasn’t the only thing that felt familiar.

It didn’t take him long to recognize the tools the man was working with, though.

Cyril had never needed them. He was a powerful necromancer, and he didn’t need to use tools to focus or help his ability.

He wouldn’t say that made him unique as a necromancer, but it definitely wasn’t the case for every other necromancer out there.

Some needed help focusing and dealing with the dead, and that was okay.

Not everyone could be like Cyril. Not everyone should be like him, considering his life.

But the man was definitely doing something that had to do with necromancy, and now that Cyril had a hint, he recognized the tattoo, too.

It was a symbol that a lot of necromancers had tattooed on their bodies.

Cyril had thought of doing the same, but he’d never gotten around to it.

He hadn’t wanted to deal with the pain and hassle of a fresh tattoo.

So the man he was about to see die was a necromancer.

It was a bit odd, but necromancers died, too.

From the man’s hands, Cyril doubted he was older than his thirties, maybe forties.

He definitely wasn’t an old man. Something told Cyril that he wasn’t about to experience a natural death.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to help. All this had happened in the past.

He had to be seeing this for a reason, though, so he continued taking in every detail he could see.

The room they were in was mostly dark, with the only light coming from a lamp on the desk where the man was sitting.

The man’s hands moved quickly, preparing what looked like a bundle of herbs.

Cyril knew the man would burn that bundle of herbs to help his focus when he was working.

It was a common tool used by necromancers, one Cyril had tried a few times, but since it hadn’t changed the result of what he could do, he’d let it go. It had been more work for no help.

The floor creaked. The sound came from behind the necromancer, and Cyril tensed, knowing what was about to happen.

He wasn’t sure the man had heard the creak, but he did stop moving his hands.

He lowered the bundle he was working on and started to turn.

Cyril braced himself, knowing what was coming.

He wasn’t sure he was ready, but he didn’t have a choice.

It wasn’t his life, and it wasn’t his death.

The flash of pain the man felt as he was hit on the back of the head was muted for Cyril, something for which he was grateful.

He missed the worst of it, feeling just enough to tell him that the man had been hit and where.

The man flopped forward, but whoever was there wasn’t done with him.

They grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, and Cyril tried to ignore the fear, confusion, and pain.

It was hard to shield himself from this man when he was inside his mind, but he had to. He couldn’t lose himself to this.

An arm moved in his vision, and he knew what was about to happen when he saw the knife the hand there held. The knife moved quickly, and more pain flashed on the necromancer’s neck.

Cyril shot up into a sitting position. He blinked a few times, and it took him several seconds to realize that he was in his bed, at home in his apartment. The lump next to him under the blankets was Vale, who was already sitting up.

“Another one of those nightmares?” Vale asked, rubbing Cyril’s back soothingly.

Cyril sucked in a breath. The necromancer was dead. Cyril didn’t know how long ago or what had happened, but he was sure of that. He wouldn’t have seen the man’s death otherwise. “Yeah,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry,” Vale said.

Cyril shrugged because what could he do? He didn’t know why he was seeing the deaths. He didn’t know why he had to live them the way he did. The situation fascinated him as much as it horrified him, and he wished that whatever was happening to him would stop.

Unfortunately for him, nothing he’d done after the first time he’d had this kind of nightmare seemed to have worked. He’d still experience someone’s death from inside their body, as if he was them. He’d still felt the pain.

And he had no idea what any of it meant or why he was having the dreams.

* * * *

VALE WAS KEEPING AN eye on Cyril after what had happened last night, but so far, he hadn’t noticed anything odd. Still, the situation couldn’t be easy for his boyfriend, and Vale wished there was more he could do.

Part of him was afraid to bring it up after what had happened the last time Cyril had one of these nightmares. It had almost broken them, and Vale didn’t want the same to happen this time around. There was no way he was involved in whatever Cyril had seen last night, right?

Vale couldn’t be sure, which was one of the reasons he was anxious.

The other reason was that he never wanted Cyril to have to live through it again.

He wished he could somehow stop the dreams, but he barely understood how Cyril’s necromancy worked.

He couldn’t help his boyfriend when he was asleep, but then, he could barely help him when he was awake and working.

Cyril’s necromancy was something that Cyril had to deal with on his own, and Vale didn’t like that.

That was why he wanted Cyril to reach out to other necromancers. Vale didn’t have any answers when it came to Cyril’s ability, but surely someone else did. Surely Cyril wasn’t the only necromancer who’d ever dealt with this kind of situation?

But things still felt a little fragile between them, and Vale didn’t want to push.

Maybe for now, it would be enough for him to take care of Cyril, something he was doing by finishing a breakfast that Cyril could eat.

It wasn’t a lot, and it definitely wasn’t enough, but it was all he could do for now.

He turned away from the stove and placed the plate in front of Cyril.

Cyril blinked up at him, clearly distracted.

If he’d been on his phone or watching TV, it was understandable, but Cyril was just staring ahead, lost in his thoughts.

Vale had turned on the TV in the hopes it would distract his boyfriend, but it didn’t seem to have worked.

Maybe he shouldn’t have put on the news.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he sat down at the tiny table. There were only two chairs, but it was all they needed.

Cyril sighed. “I’ve been better,” he said, picking up his fork.

He didn’t start eating, though. He used his fork to poke at his breakfast, but none of it went into his mouth. Vale let him be, at least for now. Cyril was an adult and he wasn’t going to force him to eat if he didn’t feel like it. That didn’t mean he wasn’t worried.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Not really, but maybe I should. I just hate this.”

“I know.” Vale was surprised that someone who dealt with death as much as Cyril did was still as affected by things like these visions.

Of course, it wasn’t just a dream. Vale had never experienced someone’s death from inside their mind, as if he was them.

There was also the fact that Cyril’s ability was changing, and he had no idea what was happening or why.

They had a lot of questions but very few answers, which was one of the reasons Vale was worried.

“I wish I knew why I saw this man’s death,” Cyril said. “Is there something I need to investigate?”

“You don’t need to investigate anything. You’re not an investigator, private or otherwise. You’re a necromancer.”

“There has to be a reason I saw his death.”

“I don’t know. Was there a reason you saw Melissa’s?”

“She was linked to you. I don’t think I would’ve seen her death if she hadn’t been.”

Did that mean that this man was linked to Vale, too? “Who was the guy?”

Cyril shrugged and finally picked up a piece of potato with his fork. “I don’t know. I didn’t see his face. The room he was in was dark, although there was a light on the desk where he was working.” Cyril hesitated. “I’m pretty sure he was a necromancer.”

Vale frowned. “Maybe that’s why you experienced his death.”

“That’s possible, but Melissa wasn’t a necromancer. I don’t think the only reason I experienced his death was what he was.”

“Maybe there’s no reason. Maybe it’s random?”

“It feels like too big a coincidence to be.”

Vale agreed, but he wasn’t sure how they were supposed to find out what it meant.

He wasn’t sure they could find out, even if they tried.

He didn’t have any experience when it came to necromancers, and Cyril didn’t know what was going on.

They really needed to find someone who knew more about Cyril’s ability than they did, but did that someone exist?

Vale had asked Rachel to look into it as a personal favor, but she hadn’t gotten back to him yet.

Hopefully, she’d find someone they could talk to, and they’d discover a reason behind Cyril’s nightmares and everything else.

Vale eyed Oscar, who was sitting by the window, sunning himself. He hadn’t been behaving any more strangely than he usually was these days, but there was no denying that he was bigger. Cyril had no idea how it had happened. Vale certainly didn’t know.

Cyril dropped his fork. It hit his plate, startling Vale out of his thoughts. He was about to ask his boyfriend what was going on when he realized that Cyril was staring at the TV.

Vale looked at the screen. The news was still on, but he didn’t know what they were talking about.

The reporter was standing in front of a building, though, and there was a photo of a man next to her.

The man looked to be in his late thirties, maybe slightly older.

His hair was starting to gray, and there was silver in his mustache.

He had kind brown eyes, and he was holding a cat.

Vale wasn’t sure why his attention went to the cat, but he knew that the animal wasn’t the reason Cyril was staring at the TV screen as if he’d seen a ghost.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“When did this man die?” Cyril asked.

Vale frowned and reached for the remote control. They hadn’t been watching, so the volume was low, but he quickly turned it up.

“Last night, apparently.” It wasn’t a surprise that the man was dead since he was on the news. Vale kind of felt sorry for him. He seemed like a nice guy.

He wondered when he’d become that kind of person.

He’d never had any problems with death. Hell, he’d dealt with death more times than he could count.

He knew better than a lot of people that the way people looked didn’t mean they were nice or not.

This seemed to have hit Cyril particularly hard, though, and Vale had a problem with that.

“In the middle of the night?” Cyril asked. “Maybe right around the time I had a nightmare?”

Vale blinked. He understood what Cyril was insinuating, but he didn’t know how Cyril could be sure. “Did you see this man’s reflection while you were in him?” he asked.

Cyril shook his head. “I only saw his hands. I recognize the tattoo, though.”

Vale squinted at the hands in question. The tattoo was clearly visible, so he believed that Cyril had seen it in his dream. That didn’t mean it was the same man, though. “He might not be the only person with that tattoo in that position,” he pointed out.

“Maybe not, but what are the odds?”

Cyril wasn’t wrong. What were the odds that he’d seen the death of someone who had a tattoo exactly like this man’s?

That he’d dreamed his death exactly at the time the man had died?

Even if what he’d seen hadn’t been this man’s death, they had to be linked.

It was too big a coincidence that Cyril had seen it at the exact time the man had died.

Vale didn’t know what to do with this information. He didn’t think there was anything he could do.

He grabbed his phone and unlocked it. “I’m calling Rachel,” he told Cyril. “She’ll find everything she can about this guy and what happened to him.” Because the only way for them to know what was going on was to get more information, and there was no one better than Rachel to dig into this mess.