Chapter 7
As Quentin hurried back to Grevin’s room, he tried to push his mother’s love life out of his mind. She didn’t need or want his dating advice. She was no longer a sickly, bed-bound patient who needed him to protect her from hungry vampires or predatory hospital billing departments.
Still, something about Braed rubbed him the wrong way, and it wasn’t just his acerbic personality.
Quentin honestly didn’t care if the vampires in Jaks’s clan liked him as long as their leader did, but Braed’s dislike of him felt personal, and since he barely knew Braed, his animosity didn’t make sense.
Unfortunately, hunches weren’t valid arguments, so he didn’t bring up his unease to Jaks or his mother.
They would put it down to jealousy, and he couldn’t deny it even if it were unwarranted. Feelings didn’t always follow logic.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be keeping a close eye on the vampire. If he got any solid evidence, then he’d act. No one got away with hurting his mother.
He just needed to be patient and practice channeling his inner Zen.
He’d learned meditation from Morlen, a guy he’d roomed with in his early college days, before Morlen flunked out due to drug use. He had claimed the drugs helped him reach his inner peace. Unfortunately, they did nothing to help him attend class, and he’d failed every exam.
Jaks met him at the door to Grevin’s room.
“He asked to speak with you alone.” Jaks smoothed his hands over Quentin’s shoulders.
“Find out what he summoned. We need to know what we’re dealing with.
Now isn’t the time to cover up mistakes.
He must tell us what escaped so we can get ahead of the problem. ”
“I understand.” This wasn’t about helping a friend out, not anymore. If a demon was willing to attack its summoner, it had no boundaries. Of all people, the summoner was usually the safest unless the being was feral.
Please don’t let it be feral.
The real question, besides what was released, was who had freed it.
If Grevin claimed someone freed the demon, Quentin believed him.
Someone hit Grevin and purposely damaged his circle to free the demon.
They needed to find out who and why. If they had been a necromancer, they would’ve called their own demon, so why did they want one, and how did they know Grevin was going to be summoning one that night?
“How is he? Anything I should be aware of?” Grevin had looked terrible when he’d left him.
“No.” Jaks captured Quentin’s hands and squeezed them gently.
“Dr. Wesson did a great job. Grevin will have scars, but he’ll be fine.
It might be at least a week or two before he can get out of bed and move around easily.
Some of those slashes on his stomach were deep.
Please encourage him to stay put. He needs to be monitored, and he’s already talking about going home.
Since he lives alone, he’s the only one who thinks that’s a good idea. ”
Quentin groaned. Grevin was the stubbornest person on the planet.
“I’ll try, but he hates depending on others.
” Grevin had a rough childhood. Necromancers weren’t cuddly people, and being raised by his elderly necromancer grandfather didn’t help his social skills any.
From what he’d told Quentin during a late-night drinking binge, Grevin had learned the hard way that he could only depend on himself.
Jaks kissed him, soft and tender, scrambling his thoughts and firing up his hormones. He whimpered when Jaks pulled away. The vampire’s smug smile had Quentin stomping on his foot.
“Ow! Was that necessary?” Jaks asked, a smirk tilted the edges of his lips.
“Yes, you smug bastard.” He kissed Jaks’s cheek, then turned and entered Grevin’s room.
He found his friend awake and leaning against a formidable mountain of pillows.
Someone must’ve brought them in while he talked to his mother.
They hadn’t been there when he left. “Maybe you should remain horizontal,” Quentin suggested after examining Grevin’s pale face.
He slid into the chair beside the bed, so his friend didn’t have to look up while they talked.
“Naw, it would just make me lazy, and then I’d have to get a sexy vampire to take care of my every whim… like you.”
“Funny.” He ruffled Grevin’s hair and smiled at his disgruntled grumbling. “How do you feel?”
“Stupid.” Grevin’s bare chest was swathed in bandages, but they were clean and blood-free. “I should’ve made sure my home was secure before the ritual. I depended too much on my wards. Someone tore those down and took me out.” His mouth trembled, but he didn’t allow any tears to fall.
Quentin wanted to hug him, but necromancers were like feral cats, more likely to claw out your eyes than accept affection, not to mention his injuries were still fresh. Quentin didn’t want to aggravate them with unwanted affection.
Grevin let out a puff of breath, then winced. He shifted on his pillow pile, seeking a more comfortable position. “I didn’t feel the wards break. Either they were extremely powerful and overwrote my magic, or they knew how to sneak around them.”
“Or they had permission and broke them on the way out to hide their tracks.” Quentin wasn’t sure if he should’ve brought up the third option, but it had to be said.
Grevin shook his head. “There are only a few people who have the freedom to come and go into my house. You, Hafrey, and a few of my clients. I didn’t feel a magical signature before I was attacked, but I trust all the people I’ve granted access.”
“Do you remember hearing anything before you were attacked?”
“No. I have soundproofing wards on both of my ritual rooms to prevent outside noise from distracting me at critical times. I didn’t hear anything before someone hit me on the back of the head.
I woke in time to see a person in a long black coat break the circle’s protections, then I was attacked.
I barely had time to text you before I lost consciousness again. ”
Grevin’s lips trembled. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
“Any time.” He patted Grevin’s arm. “That’s why we have the codes.”
“It is,” Grevin agreed.
The code worked both ways. If Quentin were in trouble, he had no doubt Grevin would come running.
Quentin lightly squeezed Grevin’s arm to regain his wandering attention. “I need you to try to remember any details. A voice? A significant sound or smell?”
“N-no. I only remember the pain.” Grevin’s hands shook until he clasped them together.
Quentin carefully wrapped his hands around Grevin’s trembling ones, lending a comforting touch and a bit of body heat to Grevin’s chilly fingers.
The necromancer always ran cold, but not his cold.
“Hey, we’ll figure this out. The circle looked good.
I’m not an expert, but I didn’t see any obvious errors except for where someone broke your circle.
If we can prove that someone intentionally damaged it, you’ll be in the clear. ”
Grevin snorted. “That only proves you’ve never faced the authorities as I have. Once they hear the word necromancer, all they think about is someone scavenging graveyards for bones,” he scoffed.
“What were you summoning?” Better head Grevin off from his favorite rant about abuse of authority.
He wasn’t wrong, but Quentin wanted to figure out what happened without the usual lecture about poor misunderstood necromancers.
The main problem with necromancers was their small numbers.
No one bothered to understand them because the cops rarely interacted with them, and when they did, it was usually about unlicensed necromancers digging up bones, unfairly lumping them together.
Grevin swallowed and took a deep breath before speaking. “I was trying to summon Ariton. He knows the past, present, and future. I thought he could give me more information about the vampire in the woods. We both know it wasn’t an ordinary vampire that changed Glenn.”
“And is that who you summoned?” Quentin resisted the urge to yell at his friend for summoning any demon, but it would be foolish to scold a necromancer for using his talents.
“I don’t know. I summoned something, but I was knocked out before it fully formed.
My vision was still fuzzy when the intruder broke the circle.
” His eyes were watery when they met Quentin’s.
“As I was waking up, I heard it screaming with rage before it tore free and attacked me.” Grevin swallowed, his face drained of color.
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t get a good enough look to identify the demon or the intruder.
I can’t tell you who it was or why they wanted a demon.
” He paused, his eyes going blank. Quentin almost nudged him before Grevin blinked as if he was rebooting his brain.
“That’s all I remember.” His voice shook along with his hands. “What do we do now?”
Quentin thought over the limited information he had on demons. “Can it stay on this plane without the runes supporting it?” High-level demons needed more grounding to stay on earth.
“It shouldn’t be able to. That’s part of the necromantic pact. The connection fades after two hours. You always put a time limit on demons, or they’ll take advantage.”
“Will the time still expire if the circle wasn’t properly closed or if a pact wasn’t explicitly made?” Quentin didn’t know where to start to investigate this shitshow. From Grevin’s description, he’d never talked to the demon, so there was no summoning pact.
“Maybe. I-I don’t know.”
That wasn’t the solid confirmation he had been hoping for.
“Is there anything else you can remember?”
Grevin shook his head. “No, sorry.”
“It’s all right. You are doing the best you can. Has anyone been alerted to the demon’s escape?” The authorities would have to be informed. If an angry demon got free of its kidnapper, the damage could be apocalyptic.
“Dr. Wesson called the cops.” Grevin swallowed. “He’s a mandatory reporter. They’ll be coming soon to interview me.”