Chapter 6 #2
“Why don’t you go do that now? It’s going to be a while before he wakes.
I’ll stay with Grevin and let you know if there are any changes.
Be careful. Whatever escaped might return.
If it does, I want you to teleport the fuck out of there.
” Jaks kissed Quentin’s forehead. “I’ll call you if anything happens. You don’t want to see him like this.”
Quentin opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself before he spoke.
Why was he arguing again? This is what he wanted, and if he didn’t leave now, Jaks might assign him a guard.
He’d best make a quick getaway before his lover got any ideas.
“You’re right.” He kissed Jaks. “I’ll see you soon.
” He didn’t know how much healing Grevin would need, but he suspected it would take time to put him back together.
Necromancers didn’t have super healing as far as Quentin knew.
Jaks grabbed his arm before he could escape. “If you see or sense anything dangerous, leave. Don’t stick around to be mauled or stop to test out one of your new inventions. I should probably assign you a guard.”
Damn, Jaks knew him too well.
“No. I’ve got this. Another person would just trample on the evidence and leave their magical signature behind. It’s better if I go alone. I promise I’ll come back immediately if I sense any danger.” He barely waited for Jaks’s nod before teleporting.
Worried for his friend and any possible demons running free, he landed directly in Grevin’s kitchen to avoid the creepy darkness outside.
He might be able to protect himself, but there was no reason to tempt fate, especially if it really was a demon king running free with someone’s help.
He wasn’t demon-proof. Apparently, neither was Grevin.
With careful steps and his magic buzzing beneath his skin, Quentin returned to the ritual room. His stomach churned as he skirted around the puddle of Grevin’s blood, a horrifying testament to his friend’s injuries.
After staring at the runic circle, he realized he’d never remember the details, not with his memory.
He should’ve brought a sketchbook to copy the runes.
He didn’t find any paper on the bookshelf in the corner, but he did take a minute to admire Grevin’s bowling trophies.
He’d never seen his friend bowl, but from his trophy collection, it appeared it was a successful hobby.
“Idiot,” he muttered when he finally recalled his camera phone after ten minutes of searching for a piece of paper.
He pulled it out of his pocket and took pictures from every angle.
He would compare them to what Grevin had planned to summon when his friend was up to talking.
When, not if. He refused to think of a scenario where Grevin didn’t heal.
His friend’s injuries had been bad, but not terminal, he hoped.
The circle was in pristine condition, except for a single smudge breaking the line.
Unfortunately, that was all it took to crack the protection.
Whoever had attacked Grevin knew where to weaken the defenses.
They either knew Grevin’s usual runic configuration or were quite skilled in runes themselves.
Quentin identified three different runes to prevent escape. Only one of them had been damaged.
Some of the runes made no sense to Quentin when combined with others.
“What were you up to?” Although his rune studies had been advanced, necromantic runes were a whole different beast. After ten minutes of staring at them, he decided it was another thing to ask Grevin.
A glance around didn’t reveal any handy reference books that would decode the necromantic runes or any notes about what Grevin’s had been up to, handily lying around.
He put his phone away and went to investigate the door.
Someone had to have broken Grevin’s ward to enter.
Even if they had permission, their magic should’ve left a shadow behind.
After casting several spells on the entrance, he had to admit he had no more knowledge than when he first arrived.
The concentration of brimstone had rendered detection spells useless.
Even his best tracking spell fizzled beneath the concentration of demon magic.
“Maybe I’m just looking at it wrong?” He focused and brought his inner sight to the fore.
The door washed away, and everything magical popped into high relief.
Bright, too bright. The glow from the entryway overwhelmed Quentin’s magical sight.
Too many colors, too much intensity. Whatever had passed that way had been stronger than Quentin could register with his limited magical sight.
He quickly shut it off before he became blinded.
“Well, that was no help,” he muttered. “Maybe the magical police will have better detection devices,” he muttered to himself. He didn’t dare cast any more magic, or he would leave a trace and come under suspicion himself. He didn’t need a visit from the cops.
Jaks certainly wouldn’t appreciate an interrogation.
Frustrated at his lack of progress, he teleported back to the mansion.
He arrived right outside the room where he’d left Grevin. Unsure if it was safe to enter, he knocked on the door.
Jaks opened it a crack. “You didn’t take very long.”
“There wasn’t much to find. I didn’t understand most of the runes, but I took enough notes to ask Grevin when he’s awake.”
“The doctor isn’t done yet, but you can come in if you don’t interfere.”
Quentin shook his head. “No, that’s all right. I just wanted to tell you that I returned and that my investigation was pointless. I didn’t learn anything new.”
Jaks kissed his forehead. “I can text you when Dr. Wesson is finished.”
“Thanks.“ He didn’t need to stay and feel useless. “I think I’m going to go find my mother. I haven’t talked to her in a while.
” Since her transformation into a vampire, he’d spent little time with her.
She had needed time to adjust to her vampirism and resist the urge to drain Quentin whenever they met.
According to every vampire he encountered, Quentin smelled amazing.
Right now, Trina Heart was living her best life with her cancer gone and her youthful beauty returned. Quentin hadn’t seen his mother smile this much in years. She’d confessed to Quentin that she was still uncertain about drinking blood, but she loved the increased vitality and looks.
“I’ll call you when he wakes.”
Quentin tilted his head for a kiss, pleased when it was quickly granted. “See you soon.”
Jaks nodded before closing the door.
Faced with endless hallways, Quentin sighed. He should’ve asked Jaks where his mother was staying. Never mind. He pulled out his phone and texted his mother if she was available to meet.
Less than a minute later, he got his reply and a room number. The manor was more like a fancy hotel for privileged vampires. The gold numbering assigned to each room added to the vibe.
Following the numbers, he stopped at the one that matched his text. Before he could knock, the door opened, and his mother stepped out. She leaned back in to kiss the room’s occupant, not noticing Quentin.
Must have been some kiss.
Quentin crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat to get her attention. “Anything you want to tell me, Mother?”
Trina Heart spun around to face him, pressing a hand to her chest. “Don’t scare me like that!”
“I told you I was coming, and don’t try to distract me, even if I need one right now.” He gave her a pointed look and waited for her to confess everything.
His mother swallowed. “Braed was just visiting. We were discussing vampire things.”
“Uh-huh. I can tell you from personal experience that vampires have the same equipment as humans. Besides, Jaks already told me he thought you two were dating.”
“Your vampire needs to mind his own business.” Trina blushed. “Wait, what do you mean, you need a distraction? What happened?” She took a good look at him. “Why are you covered in blood?” Her voice reached an octave that dogs would struggle to hear.
Quentin winced as he looked down at his blood-covered clothes.
He should’ve cleaned up before wandering the mansion’s halls.
“Grevin was attacked during a summoning. Someone knocked him out and freed the demon from his ritual circle. We’re not sure what exactly escaped or why.
We’re waiting for him to wake up so he can give us more information.
He’s in with Dr. Wesson right now.” Grevin had looked so small on the bed.
The necromancer usually shed power like others shed hair or skin, his presence bigger than life, or maybe death.
Finding him, broken and bleeding, had crushed his image of an all-powerful necromancer, untouchable by the beings he summoned.
A scowling Braed appeared in the doorway. ”Probably playing with things best left alone.”
“Braed,” his mother scolded.
Quentin stepped around her and leaned into Braed’s personal space.
“If you hurt my mother, I will invent a spell especially for you.” He didn’t say what kind of spell or what it would do.
Best let Braed’s imagination fill in the blanks with the most gruesome ideas imaginable—psychological warfare at its finest.
Braed’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded his head.
Quentin turned away to kiss his mother’s cheek.
Her amused expression told him that she’d heard his little talk with Braed.
He offered an innocent smile in return. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your morning.
I should probably go and clean up. We’ll get together soon.
” Usually, he would mention grabbing lunch.
He let their past of sunlit cafe brunches slip away with a nostalgic pang.
“Sounds good,” she replied, a faint smile on her lips. “Call me.”
“I will.” His phone rang, and soon he was making his way back to Grevin’s room. Maybe now he could find out what really happened. After all, he couldn’t capture a demon if he didn’t know what he was hunting.
Some were worse than others.