Chapter 21
“Oh my gods.Oh my gods. Oh my gods. Tell me that did not just happen.” Dove shuffled behind Victor’s uniformed servant, Marcus at her side.
“Your uncle had Victor arrested. I’m freaking out!” She clasped her head between her hands to keep it from popping. “I mean, I’d heard he was on a bit of a tear, arresting suspects, but Victor Custodis? How does that even happen?”
“Dove,” Marcus said in a deep, growling voice. “You must calm yourself. Your fear isn’t going unnoticed.”
Gulp. Right. Shadow tended to get feisty when she was upset. She was the one who was supposed to keep him calm. Not the other way around. She raised her hands, touching her thumb and middle finger together. After drawing a slow breath through her nose, she exhaled, hissing, “What could the magister be thinking?” Despite her attempt at calm, her heart raced.
“I have no idea,” Marcus said, his tone wary. “My uncle hasn’t shared his plans with me in quite some time.”
If he’d arrested Victor, what would he do if he knew the truth about Marcus and his demon? During the confrontation, Tiberius had looked strangely at Marcus. Did he suspect something was off with his nephew? If he did, it was all her fault. She should have kept a tighter handle on Shadow.
“Oh my gods. Oh my gods. The lights flickered. I think your uncle noticed.”
“Bad wiring,” Marcus said, eyes on the back of the servant.
How could he be so calm at a time like this? What if they didn’t find Helen and clear Marcus’s name? Would the magister pursue Marcus with the same cold-hearted determination he’d shown Victor? An image of Tiberius leading Marcus away in restraints flitted through her mind. Nausea churned in her stomach.
“Oh my gods. Oh my gods.”
“Dove,” Marcus snapped.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
At the end of the hall, a slender man in a white lab coat strode in their direction. He was younger than she’d expected, his smile wide and friendly. She’d pictured the head of Victor’s medical facility as more of the gruff witch-doctor type.
“I’ve got them from here, Alphonse. Thank you.”
The stout servant bowed in acknowledgment and darted past them in a blur.
Dove blinked and glanced behind them. That fast, the tiny man was gone. What was he?
“Lord Steele, I’m Doc Randall. It’s nice to meet you.” The men shook hands.
“Apologies for bothering you during this troubling time,” Marcus said, ever the politician.
“Victor’s overcome worse. I’m confident the truth will prevail, and this grievous misunderstanding will be corrected.”
It made sense that a man of science would believe the facts would set his leader free. Dove prayed his faith wasn’t misplaced.
“I’m certain it will,” Marcus agreed.
“Alphonse tells me Victor asks that I help you in any way I can,” Doc said.
Dove frowned. The little guy who didn’t speak shared those instructions? And she could commune with the dead. So sure. Whatever.
Though it was the opposite of what she desired, she said, “We’re here to see Adam.”
Doc’s narrow brow tightened, and he eyed them like one might a bug under a microscope. Then he shrugged. “Very well. This way.”
He led them down a corridor and into a nondescript medical room. Inside was a wall of metal cabinets. He strode to one in the middle, grabbed the handle, and heaved the drawer open. “I fear I must warn you, the body is in terrible condition. You see, Adam sustained numerous wounds from a hellhound.” He reached for the zipper on the bag. “His neck was broken, so you’ll likely see—”
“Stop!” Dove held up her hands. Hellhound attack? Nobody mentioned he’d been mauled. Memories of the groundbreaking ceremony rose to haunt her. The one where she’d frozen and almost lost Armond. “I don’t need to see him to speak with him.”
“Sorry?” Doc Randal paused with his hand on the zipper.
“I’m a necromancer. There’s no need to unzip the bag. If you’ll just direct me to a place where I can set up. That will do.”
“Ah. I understand.” Doc nodded sagely, surveying the room. “Will the dissection table work?”
Dove stifled the shiver of disgust running through her. “Yep,” she choked out.
“We’ll take it from here, Doctor Randall,” Marcus said. “Thank you for your assistance.”
Taking his cue, Doc bobbed his head. “I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” Dove hefted her purse onto the metal table. As soon as the door whooshed closed on the doctor’s back, she spun in a huff, locking Marcus in her sights. “May I just say you’re assuming a lot here? The moment Victor admitted he still had Adam’s corpse, you presumed I could speak with him.”
Marcus clasped her upper arms. “You forget I’ve witnessed firsthand the depth of your power. You may downplay it for others, but I’ve seen the real you. The one you hide. Every challenge I’ve presented, you’ve taken head-on, facing unexpected odds with determination and courage. In this, I’m confident you’ll do the same.”
Her anger deflated, and her shoulders slumped. She leaned into him. Well… when he put it that way. Before he could drag her further under his spell, she stiffened, raising her chin. “Just don’t be mad at me if this doesn’t work. If Adam’s spirit has traveled too deeply into the beyond, I may not be able to pull him close enough for a little chat. Also, should I prove successful, there’s an excellent chance he won’t be cooperative.”
“Understood. Now tell me what you need.”
“Not much, fortunately.” From her bag, she withdrew an altar scarf with the zodiac wheel embroidered on it and draped it over the metal surface.
Marcus eyed her bulging bag with one brow arched. “I believe your purse has grown since we arrived.”
She unloaded the thick book she’d swiped from Victor’s desk and plunked it down. “Before you judge me, I borrowed it, not stole. I figured it could be useful.”
Marcus huffed a sigh. “I doubt he’ll miss it anytime soon.”
“That’s what I thought.” She withdrew a metal tin with a candle inside and set it in the center of the scarf. Next, she rummaged deep and grabbed a penis-shaped lighter. She winced in apology while lighting the wick. “Again, don’t judge. Mardi Gras has been good to me.”
“Quite alright.”
Finally, she found the cloth bag with her sacred stones, extracted the ones she needed, and placed them around the candle. “I’ll need a bit of faerie blood. Do you mind?” She held out her index finger to Marcus.
He arched a brow. “Just a little prick?”
She coughed a laugh. “I’ll leave that one alone.”
Once Marcus pierced her fingertip on a fang, she pressed the drop of blood to the upturned candle lid and set in on the scarf. “Get the lights, will you?”
Marcus exhaled a breath, and the buzzing florescent fixture fell silent. Pride swelled in her chest. He’d done it effortlessly.
She stood across the table from him. In the darkness, her single flame flickered. “Now take my hands and no matter what, don’t let go. We’re not conjuring someone’s dearly departed granny but a confirmed criminal. I don’t have time to set up a proper containment circle, so this will have to do.” The circle would prevent the spirit from entering her body. Allowing a spirit access to a necromancer was strictly forbidden. There was no telling the damage it could inflict if given the opportunity. “Also, be patient with me. I’m rusty and sometimes it takes a couple of tries.”
“Very well.” Marcus reached across the narrow table, taking her hands in a firm grip she found reassuring.
“Here goes nothing.” She exhaled, relaxing her shoulders and staring into the flickering flame. Static prickled along her glyph and she opened her mind’s eye, picturing the vampire she’d seen in the security video. Once the image took shape, she said in a level tone, “I summon Adam from beyond the veil. Draw near to your former vessel and commune with us.”
The temperature in the room dropped by degrees as though from a cold front. Dove shivered and exhaled a frosty breath. “It’s working.” Already, which was strange. Even on her best day, it usually took twenty minutes to pull a spirit close enough for communication.
In her periphery, she sensed a presence. “He’s here.”
She turned her head, peering into a darkened corner. There, a pale silhouette appeared. “Spirit, come forth,” she uttered the command, tapping into the well at her center.
As though she twisted a camera lens, the colorless image sharpened. Adam’s face took shape. Dark shadows became sunken eyes. “What is this?” Adam demanded. “Where am I?”
“Shit,” Marcus muttered.
Unfortunately, Adam appeared to them as he did in his final moments. His broken neck was unable to support his head, his cheek resting on his shoulder. Both his arm and leg were bloodied, the flesh ripped from exposed muscles.
Bile pushed up her throat. This was one of many reasons she avoided conjuring. Despite her nausea, a sudden realization stole her attention. She turned to Marcus. “You can see him?”
His left pupil glowed red. “I can hear him as well.”
Dove nibbled her lip. More and more, the demon’s presence seemed ever at the ready. The two entities merging, their power shared. What it meant for Marcus’s future, she didn’t know.
“Good.” She focused on the positive. “A second pair of eyes and ears couldn’t hurt.”
“Hello, Adam. Thank you for joining us. I’m Dove, your friendly neighborhood necromancer. And this is—”
“Marcus Steele,” Adam grated in a muted voice, the sound coming to them as though through a closed window. His lips spread into a wide smile on his horizontal head. “You’re alive. Oh, that’s grand. You survived and Helen failed. I am so glad you summoned me from the veil for this.” He scratched his nose and winced. “What the hell?” He held out his shredded arm before checking his injured leg. “Fucking hellhound.”
“You many choose your appearance,” Dove informed him, hoping he would choose wisely. “Imagine yourself as you desire, and your essence will follow.”
Adam’s image wavered and solidified again. This time, his body was unbroken. He wore a crisp set of black fatigues, his buzz-cut sharp, boots shining.
“That’s better.” He twisted his head, popping his neck, then glanced across the room at the corpse on the sliding tray. He sobered. “Is that me?”
“I’m afraid so, and I apologize, but we don’t have long. I can only keep you here for a short time. You see, we’re trying to find Helen and hoped you’d have knowledge of her location.”
Adam floated from the corner, drifting behind Marcus to his corpse. “Helen,” he spat. “She’s the reason this happened to me.” His expression turned haunted. “She said she loved me. Demanded I prove I was worthy of her love in return. Because of her, I betrayed my oath to my clan leader. Shared our secrets with her. Then the moment she decided I was of no further use to her, she hung me out to dry. She used me.”
Dove’s heart twisted in sympathy for the broken man. “Helen betrayed Marcus as well. That’s why it’s so important we find her. Do you have any idea where she may be hiding?”
Adam abandoned his corpse, circling behind her. The back of her neck prickled. Marcus kept the apparition in his sights, his grip on her hands tightening.
“You need information from me,” Adam stated.
“Yes,” Dove answered.
“What do I get in return?”
“Eternal peace, knowing you did the right thing.”
“Put me back in my body.”
“Sorry, but the threads that tie you to this plane have been severed. Your vessel is very postmortem. Putting you into a corpse won’t bring you back to life. You’ll continue to rot. Also, what you’re asking is like a twelve on a zero to ten scale. I doubt I can pull it off.”
He snorted. “So I’m to give you this information out of a sense of morality?”
“Yes?”
“She’ll put you in your body,” Marcus spoke up.
“Marcus,” she hissed.
“You can do this.” He squeezed her hands.
“Even if I could, Adam wouldn’t be right. The powers-that-be won’t like it. With the balance disrupted, the universe will do everything it can to restore that balance. You can’t bring someone back from the dead without ramifications.” An image of Professor Flanagan’s zombie cat came to mind, and she shivered.
“I’ll deal with the ramifications,” Adam snarled. “You want your intel? Put me in my body.”
“Put Adam in his body and let’s be done with this,” Marcus commanded, his impatience stirring her ire.
“Very well,” she said through gritted teeth. “But answers first. Resurrection second.”
“And how do I know I can trust you?” Adam asked.
“Seriously, dude?” Dove mustered her best poker face. “What do you have to lose at this point? Time to get on board or I’m pulling the plug on this conversation.”
He scowled at her, huffing, “Fine.”
“What can you tell us about Helen’s location?”
He shrugged. “Not much. We never met at her place since we were forced to hide our relationship. If she used some sort of mysterious Zion lair, I wasn’t in the know.”
That was useless intel. Dove rolled her head on her tightening shoulders. “Seriously, you’re killing me.” She winced. “Sorry, poor turn of phrase.”
Adam pressed his insubstantial hands on the table beside them. “Look. I wasn’t privy to the inner workings of Zion’s operation. Helen relayed my orders. It was how she kept me under her thumb. I never spoke to the guy directly, but I got the sense he was someone high in the food chain. Maybe even a member of the Council. If you’re wanting intel on Zion, that’s all I have.”
“And Helen?” Marcus prodded.
The spirit leaned in, his face drawing close to Marcus. “Helen was obsessed with you. Everything I did paled in comparison to the great Marcus Steele. When you refused to see her as anything but a business associate, that obsession turned to hate. Believe me, she was the first to suggest Zion take you out when you found the discrepancies in the casino’s books.”
Marcus didn’t react, his face an unaffected mask. “You’re going to need to give me more than that.”
“Fine.” Adam straightened, back to prowling the room. “Helen’s biggest contribution to Zion’s organization was money laundering. She did it using Steele Enterprises, fake businesses, but also high-stakes gambling. You could use that to reel her in. Create an opportunity she can’t resist. Bring her to you. With all your resources, I’m sure the great Marcus Steele will come up with a plan.”
Moments of silence passed between Marcus and the spirit. “It isn’t much, but it’s something.” Dove shrugged, interrupting their staring contest. “Time’s running out. I must release him or tether his spirit to his body.”
“Do it. He’s of no further use to me.” Marcus nodded, anger in the tight grip he had on her hands.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Darn, this was going to run her tank dry. Again. Hopefully, Marcus knew what he was doing.
“Adam, I need you to place your hands on your body.”
“Easy enough.” He glided across the room, doing as she asked.
In her mind’s eye, she pictured Adam as he’d appeared to them. Next, she pictured his corpse in its bag. Electricity surged up her spine. “We honor the spirit. We honor the vessel. What was torn asunder now becomes one.” No, it wasn’t poetic, but it got the job done.
She gripped Marcus’s hands, dark energy rolling between them, the likes of which she’d never experienced before. “Marcus.” She gasped. Power flooded her system, the feeling dark, oppressive. Not her own. Was he feeding her energy?
“Something’s happening,” Adam shouted.
Yes, it was. Eek!
Lights flickered and sparked. Wind buffeted the room, sweeping Dove’s hair off her shoulders. She envisioned the tether connecting her to Adam. Plucked it from her center, jabbed it into his corpse, and repeated her chant. “We honor the spirit. We honor the vessel. What was torn asunder, now becomes one.”
Across from her, the charred flesh beneath Marcus’s shirt collar glowed with a furious light. He gritted his teeth, face tight with pain. “What’s happening?” he grated.
“I don’t know. We need to stop.”
“No,” Adam shouted. “I’m almost there. I can feel it. Ah, by the gods, so cold.”
Marcus’s hands shook in her grip. “Hurry, Dove. I can’t hold on much longer.” Hold on to her or his demon? She didn’t intend to wait around to find out.
She sent one last blast of power in Adam’s direction, fusing the tether between body and spirit. “We honor the spirit. We honor the vessel. What was torn asunder, now becomes one.” An electric current surged down her glyph.Dove shuddered, and her grasp on Marcus slipped. Energy buffeted the space between them. She stumbled back, shoved by some unseen force, and tumbled to the ground, skirt tangling around her legs.
Her ears rang in the sudden quiet.
“Marcus?” She flipped her hair out of her eyes, searching for him under the table. The candle was out, the room pitch black.
In the unnatural silence, a terrifying thought hit her. “Adam?” A low groan had her scurrying to her feet. “Light. Light. We need some light.”
She palmed her way around the table, walked hands out until she found the wall, and fumbled for the switch. “There!” The florescent fixture flickered to life.
“Marcus? Are you hurt?” She found him crouched in a darkened corner.
Before she could go to him, an eerie moan snapped her head to the metal cabinets. Adam’s corpse sat upright in its tray.
Dove smacked her hand to her mouth. “By the fates. It’s alive!”
The zipper on the body bag slid down with a hair-raising buzz. Adam swung his legs over the side of the tray and hopped to the floor. He wobbled, then righted himself. Favoring one leg, he grabbed the top of the bag, shoved it down, and stepped out.
Nausea rolled up Dove’s throat, and she backed to the door. “I t-t-told you this was a b-b-bad idea.” Shivers racked her body.
Adam stared back at her, his eyes milky, complexion grayish. As before, his unsupported head rested on his shoulder. The grin he offered her sent a chill down her spine. “Nothing a little faerie blood won’t fix. Lucky me, I know just where to find one.”
But she was claimed. Could he do that? Then again, the zombie vampire she’d created was breaking all of nature’s laws.
Before Adam took a single step in her direction, Marcus appeared in front of him. Shadows clung to his powerful frame. “Only one feeding here is me,” he grated in an otherworldly voice.
He snapped both hands around Adam’s shoulders. Picked him up and slammed him down on the metal table. “Stop!” Adam struggled, but his broken body was no match for Shadow-Steele. Then he stilled, pale lips gaping. “Shit, Steele. What’s wrong with your face?”
Marcus grabbed the zombie’s head, pried his jaws apart, and heaved a deep breath. From the back of Shadow-Steele’s throat, a sinister red light glowed. Adam thrashed on the table. Dark blue smoke wafted from his eyes, nose, and mouth, sucking into Marcus like a vacuum.
Dove stared, horrified. “Marcus! What are you doing?”
Adam screamed, his body spasming in Marcus’s hungry grip. Inhuman noises rattled from the zombie’s throat. Over their heads, the lights surged, growing brighter. Brighter! Dove threw her arm up, protecting her eyes from the sudden glare.
Finally, the light dimmed, and she cracked her eyes open. Marcus stood beside the unmoving corpse, his shoulders heaving.
“Marcus?” His head whipped in her direction. One look at his face and she gasped, stepping back so fast her skull smacked the wall. “Shadow,” she exhaled.
His scarred visage had returned, his pupil radiating a furious red. The fissures beneath his charred skin glowed with an eerie light. She glanced at Adam’s silent vessel, sensing a dark void. His spirit was gone. “You. You—” Holy hellfire, this wasn’t happening.
“Got what he deserved,” Shadow-Steele grated in a rasping voice. Part man, part demon. “Won’t let him harm you.”
“Yes, but. Where did he go?” She looked back at the corpse. Adam’s pasty lips were curled inward, his eyes sunken deep into his head. Like he’d had the life sucked out of him. “Tell me you didn’t—”
“We need to leave,” Shadow-Steele said, the low rumble fading from his voice. The red glow receded as well, his scarred face smoothing into Marcus’s handsome visage. “Gather your belongings and let’s get out of here before Doc returns with questions we don’t want to answer.” And just like that, it seemed Marcus was back. Had he ever left? How much control did he have? Were his actions his own?
“Um. Okay.” She moved to her fallen bag in a stupor, shoving everything into her purse. Only the most monstrous of creatures consumed souls. Dove feared she may have created one.