Chapter Seven #2
Mathias didn’t think at all as he jumped into his chants.
As a doctor, he believed in science, so when he’d been transformed into a necromancer, he had to have a reason why he could bring back people from the dead.
What he finally realized was that maybe death wasn’t the be-all and end-all to life.
Perhaps medical science had it all wrong.
Perhaps a bit of the electric essence that made people remained behind, and through certain formulas, a necromancer could bring back that essence.
Or maybe it was just magic.
Whatever it was, he had a job to do. First, he had to take off her clothes.
With each layer stripped away, the more he saw how her body had changed.
She was far too thin, with ribs a little too pronounced.
Like she hadn’t been eating. The bruises around her neck and over her collarbone were grotesque paintings on an otherwise beautiful canvas.
Once she was naked, he started the second verse of the chant. He took the herbs he had set aside and dumped them into a mortar. Once he added the oil, it was time to mash it all together with the pestle.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his hands cramped from grinding up the super-secret herbs he would need to keep her soul from leaving her body once more.
After a few hours, the paste would have finished the job, and Nova would not have to live in fear that she’d fall dead.
Again. At least not until her natural life expired in old age.
He was down to the last chant and placed the effigy on her chest. Wind started to encircle them.
With each word, it grew in intensity, whipping faster and faster.
His voice rose and rose. The moment he uttered the final words, a soul manifested from the energy swirling around them.
As it floated down into the body, the effigy floated up.
Mathias immediately took a handful of herbal paste and smeared it on her body, being careful around the bruises encircling her neck.
Once the paste was on her skin, the wind died down.
Now, he had to wait for the paste to be absorbed.
Pulling up a chair, he sat down and watched her.
If he hadn’t died, she wouldn’t be on a gurney waiting for her soul to bring her back to life.
She wouldn’t have crossed paths with the man who, from the looks of it, killed her.
The man he’d saved only two weeks prior.
His thoughts snowballed until all that was left was his hurting heart.
That was when he realized tears trailed down his cheeks.
He quickly wiped them away because he didn’t want that to be the first thing she saw.
Little by little, the paste melted into her skin.
When it had fully absorbed, he draped the sheet around her body once more.
Then suddenly, her eyes snapped open, and she gasped as air rushed into her lungs.
Mathias stood over her and looked down when she screamed and threw her arms up to defend herself.
“No! No, no, no. Don’t hurt me!”
“Nova,” Mathias said, trying to keep his voice low and calm. “It’s Mathias.”
She still cried, seemingly not hearing him.
The bruises stood out in stark relief against the paleness of her skin.
Her color returned as blood circulated through her body, but it also made those marks stand out.
He kept murmuring her name over and over, hoping to break through, and after a few minutes, the storm slowed down.
Eventually, her freakout died altogether, and she stared up at him in wonder.
“M—Mathias?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s me,” he said softly, taking hold of her hand and leading it to his face. “I’m right here.”
“How?” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’ve missed you so much. Am I dead?”
“Not anymore.”
Confusion filled her face. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a lot I need to tell you.”
“O—okay.”
“Come on. Let me help you up.” Mathias took hold of her hand and sat her up, then slid his arms around her to lift and cradle her body.
“Why am I so weak?”
“Well, you have been dead for about three hours.”
Nova blinked. “What?”
They left the main section of his laboratory, where he had a mini apartment. Wasn’t like he could waltz right back into his house. He placed her in a chair and sat on the ottoman in front of her.
“What’s happening?” she asked, tears leaking from her eyes. She gripped his hands tightly, as if she were holding on for dear life. “You died.”
“I did,” he confessed softly.
“But ... am I hallucinating?”
“No, my love,” he murmured. “I forgot the champagne, so I went to get some wine or something, because I was going to ask you to marry me.”
Nova’s eyes widened.
“There was a robber. He had a gun.” Mathias had to pause in order to regain control of his emotions. They were still raw from that nightmare. “Right before he shot me, I made a plea. I wanted to live. I wanted a life with you. And someone was listening.”
“I’m confused.
“Don’t be scared,” he whispered, kissing her knuckles. “I’ve become a necromancer. Do you know what that is?”
“Um. Someone who deals in death?”
“Close,” he replied. “I can bring someone back from the dead.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I know it’s hard to believe. I get it. But when I begged to be spared, my word caught the attention of a particular sect of magical people.”
“Magical?” Her tone suggested she found him crazy.
“I know what you’re thinking because I was thinking it too. Seems like I had an ancestor who was a witch.”
Fingertips lightly traced over his face, and he closed his eyes to lean into her touch.
“But if you’re here, who’s in your coffin?”
“The people who brought me back took my body from the mortuary and replaced it with an unknown, unnamed drifter,” he answered. “He was basically an effigy to exchange for my soul. That’s what I did for you. Turns out, I’m pretty good at this stuff.”
“I would say I’m dreaming,” she murmured. “But if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.”
When he opened his eyes, he leaned closer and gave her a light kiss. “Tell me what that asshole did to you.”