Necromancer#8217;s Boyfriend: Hunted by the Organization

Chapter 001

The contrast between talking to Voren about a potential vacation and finding a bloody man on their doorstep was stark enough to give anyone whiplash. It took Kaelen a full minute to process the image, his hand hovering halfway to the door handle.

Voren caught his arm. "Wait."

"Silas is bleeding," Kaelen pointed out. It was obvious—the man was clutching his arm against his chest, and there was enough red on his shirt to concern a triage nurse—but Kaelen said it anyway.

"It could be a trap."

That gave Kaelen pause. He pulled his hand back, fingers curling into his palm. Why would someone use Silas to set a trap? If this was a setup, they weren’t here for Kaelen. They were here for Voren. Kaelen didn’t have the kind of enemies who used human bait. He dealt with the dead; they were usually much quieter.

"What do we do?" Kaelen asked. Voren was the expert in violence; Kaelen was just the cleanup crew.

"Stay here."

Kaelen wanted to argue. He wanted to get out of the car and help, but he knew his skillset was useless in a firefight. His ability lay in necromancy, in coaxing secrets from cold lips, not stopping hot lead. That meant he had to sit there, useless, and watch his boyfriend slip out of the car and move toward a potential ambush.

Silas didn’t look good. He was leaning against the brickwork near their front door, holding his left arm tight against his ribs. He winced every time he shifted his weight. The blood smeared across his cheekbone was drying dark and flaky. Had someone punched him? Were there more wounds hidden under that jacket? Kaelen wanted to know what had happened, but at the same time, he really didn’t. It was clear that whatever this was, it was bad. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to be involved.

But he suspected he didn’t have a choice. Silas had come here for a reason. He probably wanted to talk to Voren, maybe ask for a favor. That meant Voren would get involved, which meant Kaelen would too. He wasn’t about to let his boyfriend deal with this mess on his own.

Voren disappeared from sight, circling the perimeter. Of course he didn’t go straight to Silas. If this was a trap, Voren was going to find the people who’d set it before he exposed himself. It was smart, tactical, and frustrating. Silas was suffering, and Kaelen hated waiting.

Even if Silas had tried to kill Voren in the past.

Eventually, Voren reappeared between two parked sedans and waved Kaelen over. Kaelen was out of the car before the hand signal was finished, rushing toward the porch while Voren kept his eyes on the street. He was probably more focused on keeping the area secure, but someone needed to actually help the bleeding man. He was here because he needed them.

Silas was listing to the side, using the wall to stay upright. He looked like he was about five seconds away from sliding down to the pavement.

"I’m not sure we can help him here," Kaelen murmured when Voren reached them. "He looks like he needs a transfusion."

"No hospitals," Voren said, his voice flat and hard.

"I know, but we might not have a choice."

Silas shook his head, a jerky motion that seemed to cost him. "I heard that. I’m fine. I’m not here for help."

Kaelen paused, frowning at the man. "What do you mean, you’re not here for help? You’re bleeding on my doormat. You clearly need help."

"I might, but it’s not why I’m here. I need to talk to Voren."

"Whatever you have to say, it can wait until you're not leaking. Let’s go inside. We’ll take care of you."

"There’s no need for you to do that."

"Do I look like I’m asking if you want to do it?" Kaelen crossed his arms. "If you don’t walk, I’ll just ask Voren to carry you."

Silas turned his head toward Voren, a faint, bloody smirk tugging at his mouth. "Maybe I should say no just for that. I wouldn’t mind being carried by you."

Voren flipped him off and moved to unlock the door. It was a testament to how much pain Silas was in that he didn’t push the joke further. He peeled himself off the wall and followed Voren inside, moving with a slow, stiff gait that screamed internal injury.

Whatever the reason he’d come here, he needed medical attention. Kaelen wasn’t a trauma surgeon—he was more accustomed to bodies that had stopped bleeding hours ago—but he could patch up the living when he had to. If it got too complicated, they could call Artemis.

He hoped they wouldn’t have to.

It took a bit of maneuvering, but they managed to get Silas into the living room and onto the couch. His body was rigid, guarding against movement. It was clear he was hiding more damage under his clothes. Kaelen wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he knew Silas wouldn’t accept outside help, so he’d have to improvise.

"Take off your clothes," Kaelen ordered.

Silas grinned at him, though his skin was gray. "Not in front of your boyfriend, Kaelen."

Kaelen rolled his eyes and stared at Silas until the assassin sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Satisfied that he’d won the battle of wills, Kaelen rushed to the bathroom to grab the heavy-duty first aid kit. By the time he returned, Silas’s jacket and t-shirt were in a pile on the floor, exposing his torso.

Just like Kaelen had thought. There was more.

It was horrifying. Silas’s chest was a canvas of violence. The skin was turning a mottled black and blue, deep bruising that suggested this hadn’t happened ten minutes ago. Whatever had been done to him, he’d been living with it for hours, maybe a day. Someone had taken great pleasure in carving up his chest and stomach. Kaelen stopped counting the parallel lacerations when he reached fifteen. Some were shallow, precise lines; others were deep enough to require sutures.

Now that Silas was half-naked, Kaelen could see that his arm wasn’t broken. The reason he’d been clutching it was another set of long, deliberate cuts running down his forearm. They came uncomfortably close to the wrist. Kaelen decided to focus on those first. He prayed Silas wouldn’t need more than saline, antiseptic, and butterflies. He’d clearly lost blood, and Kaelen didn’t have a bag of O-negative in the fridge.

"This wasn’t done today," Voren said, his voice quiet as he watched Kaelen work.

Silas shook his head. He was pale, a sheen of sweat gathering on his forehead. Kaelen wanted to tell Voren to go to the kitchen and grab a glass of water, but he knew his boyfriend wouldn’t leave the room. Not until he knew the threat assessment. Voren wouldn’t leave Kaelen unprotected if there was a chance someone was coming to finish the job.

"I escaped," Silas said, his voice strained as Kaelen applied antiseptic to a particularly nasty cut. "See? They hadn’t gotten started with the second arm yet, and my legs are fine." He offered up his limbs for inspection with a morbid sort of pride.

Kaelen wasn’t sure where Silas found the energy to joke, but he was grateful for it. If Silas had been whining or screaming, Kaelen might have lost his nerve. The smell of copper and rubbing alcohol was already making his stomach turn.

"What happened to you?" Kaelen asked, not looking up from the wound he was cleaning.

"Someone grabbed me. I wasn’t on a job, so admittedly, I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been. I was just having lunch." Silas grimaced as the gauze pressed down. "Next thing I know, I’m waking up in an empty warehouse, tied to a chair. They had to untie me when they started in on the arm."

"Who did this to you? Why?"

For some reason, Silas glanced at Voren. Voren didn’t seem to notice; his eyes were fixed on the window, then back to Kaelen, scanning for threats that weren’t there. It was something he did often—watching Kaelen like he was afraid he’d evaporate. Under normal circumstances, it felt good, safe. Right now, it felt tense.

"They grabbed me because they were looking for someone," Silas eventually said.

They were finally getting somewhere. Kaelen taped down the gauze. "Who were they looking for? We should probably warn them."

"It’s why I came here. They were looking for Voren."

---

Voren wasn’t shocked. In his years as a professional assassin, he’d made enough enemies to populate a small cemetery. This wouldn’t be the first time someone came looking for payback, although usually, they didn’t stop to torture a third party first.

Not that Silas was Voren’s friend. He wasn’t. They were colleagues at best, rivals at worst.

"Voren?" Kaelen asked. His hands faltered for a fraction of a second before he resumed cleaning the cuts on Silas’s arm. "Why? What do they want from him? Who were they?"

Silas looked at Voren again. There was something in his eyes—a dark, knowing look—that told Voren he wasn’t going to like the answer. Voren wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it.

But he had to. If these people were coming after him, they might attempt to get to Kaelen next. That was the one variable Voren couldn’t tolerate. He would burn the city down before he let anyone look in Kaelen’s direction.

"She mentioned an organization," Silas said.

The capitalization was audible. The Organization.

Voren felt the blood drain from his face. He understood the meaning immediately, but Kaelen didn’t. Kaelen was looking between them, confused and worried.

"What organization?" Kaelen asked. "And who is she? Do you have more information?"

Voren opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. He wanted to tell Silas to shut up. He wanted to tell Kaelen it didn’t matter. He couldn’t do either.

He couldn’t keep this from Kaelen, even though every instinct he had was screaming at him to bury it. He knew that telling the truth might mean losing him. Kaelen was good. He was moral. He had a line in the sand, and Voren’s past was about ten miles past that line.

But he didn’t have a choice.

The Organization was coming. They were lethal, efficient, and they didn’t leave loose ends. They would go for his weakness. They would go for Kaelen. That meant Kaelen needed to know the target on his back was painted there by Voren.

He wasn’t going to be happy.

It would be a miracle if Kaelen was even willing to look at him once this was over. Voren wasn’t sure what he’d do if Kaelen walked away, but he supposed he was about to find out.

He looked at Kaelen, who was frowning as he wrapped Silas’s arm. He was worried about a man who had once tried to kill them. His heart was too soft for this world, and it was the reason Voren loved him so desperately.

"Voren, have you ever heard of this Organization?" Kaelen asked, his voice tight.

Voren needed to tell him. But not right now. Not while he was still reeling. First, he had phone calls to make. He needed to secure the perimeter, both physical and informational.

"I’ll explain later," Voren promised, the words tasting like ash. "But I need to call Brutus and Artemis."

That got Kaelen’s attention. He looked up, his brow furrowed. "It’s bad, then?"

"It’s not good. That’s why I need to talk to them."

"I see." Kaelen looked back down at his work, his jaw tight. "Well, I’m going to finish taking care of this. I don’t want Silas to have to wait longer than he already has."

"I’m fine," Silas tried to say.

The look Kaelen shot him made it obvious he wasn’t buying it. Voren was glad his boyfriend was distracted. He needed a minute. If Voren was going to survive whatever was coming, he needed his team.

He left Kaelen and Silas in the living room and stepped into the bedroom, closing the door softly. Marrow was on the bed. It was impossible to tell if the skeletal construct was sleeping—he didn’t have eyelids, or eyes for that matter—but he was curled up in a pile of laundry.

Marrow shifted, the sound of bone clicking against bone filling the quiet room. He slid off the bed and clattered over to Voren. The creature had been particularly attached to Kaelen lately, ever since Kaelen had been hurt, but he seemed to sense Voren’s distress now.

Voren went to the window, peering through the blinds. Nothing on the street. He pulled out his phone and dialed Russell and Elara, merging the calls.

"What happened?" Elara asked the second she picked up.

Russell snickered on the other line. "You’re in trouble. She doesn’t sound happy."

"That’s because I have enough work to do without you two adding to it," she snapped. "So? Has something happened?"

"The Organization is here," Voren said.

There was a heavy silence. The teasing vanished.

"Shit," Russell said.

Voren let out a short, humorless laugh. "That’s what I said."

"How did they find you? Are you okay?"

"They didn’t find me. They grabbed Silas. He’s a bit banged up, but he’ll live. Kaelen’s patching him up right now."

"Have you told him?" Elara asked. Her voice was softer now.

"No. I hoped I would never have to."

Russell whistled, a sharp sound over the speaker. "Dude, I suck at relationships, but even I know you should’ve told him something this big. Preferably before you two started sharing a mortgage. He’s going to be pissed."

"That’s not what I’m worried about."

No, Voren was worried that Kaelen would look at him and see a monster. It was why he hadn’t told him. The Organization wasn’t just a job Voren used to have. It was a stain. It was murky, even for the assassin trade. Kaelen accepted that Voren killed bad guys. But the Organization didn’t care about "bad." They cared about "paid."

Voren would have to explain that. He wasn’t sure where to start.

Hey, honey, remember how I kill people? Well, the people I used to kill for—the ones who don’t have a moral code—are coming to kill me.

It sounded bad in his head. It would sound worse out loud.

But with the truth bleeding out on his couch, he had no other option. The Organization had stripped him of the luxury of silence.

"I have to go," Voren said. "I need to figure out how to say this without destroying everything."

He hung up and closed his eyes. The Organization was here. And for the first time in a long time, Voren was afraid.

---

Kaelen didn’t like the fact that Voren was hiding something. Normally, Voren was direct—sometimes painfully so. If he was dodging the question, it meant the answer was something Kaelen wasn’t going to like.

"What can you tell me about this organization?" Kaelen asked Silas, securing the last piece of tape.

"I really think you should talk to Voren about this."

Kaelen glared at him. "Do I have to remind you that I’m the one holding the antiseptic?"

Silas sighed, leaning his head back against the cushions. "I’m grateful for the help, really. But I don’t know that much. I just know I was snatched by people looking for Voren, and they mentioned the name. I don’t think they expected me to survive to deliver the message."

But Silas had survived. He was here. And that meant trouble was already inside the house. It gave Kaelen a little time to wrap his mind around the fact that their peaceful interlude was over.

Kaelen wasn’t sure he wanted to know the details. But he couldn’t hide his head in the sand. If Voren was in danger, Kaelen needed to know the shape of the threat. They were a team. That mattered.

"I have heard of them," Silas admitted, staring at the ceiling.

Now that the wounds were cleaned and dressed, Silas looked a little more human. Still pale, still sweaty, but the gray cast to his skin was receding. "What have you heard?"

Silas grimaced. "Nothing good."

"You’re going to have to give me more than that. Voren’s in danger. I need to know everything."

"Like I said, I don’t know the inner workings. They’re like the bogeyman of the professional assassin forums. From what I know, they take whatever contract pays the most. They don’t care what they have to do to get that money. They have a legitimate side that works for the government, but the illegitimate side is the scary one."

Kaelen frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Well, from what I know, Voren and his friends—Russell, Elara—they have a code. They don’t take jobs involving kids or vulnerable people. I don’t either. That’s not the case for the Organization. If you want something nasty done, and done well, they’re who you hire. There are rumors that they were the ones who caused that plane crash in Pennsylvania a few years ago."

Kaelen went still. He remembered that crash. He’d been contacted by the husband of one of the victims. It had been an incredibly difficult job—summoning the spirit of a woman who had died in terror.

There had been rumors that it wasn’t an accident. Kaelen hadn’t wanted to believe them then. He definitely didn’t want to believe them now. Innocent people had died that day. Families destroyed.

And the people behind that were now hunting his boyfriend.

The clicking sound of bone on hardwood made Kaelen turn. Marrow scuttled into the room, making a beeline for Kaelen. When Kaelen opened his arms, the skeleton didn’t hesitate to climb into his lap, arranging his limbs in a tangled heap.

Kaelen hugged the construct close. He glanced at Silas and found the assassin staring.

"You already know Marrow," Kaelen said defensively.

"I do. Doesn’t make it any less extraordinary."

"There’s nothing weird about him."

Silas barked out a laugh that turned into a wince. "Are you serious?"

"Nothing weirder than last time. Stop staring at him. You’re going to make him self-conscious."

Kaelen wasn’t sure Marrow could feel self-conscious. He wasn’t sure how much Marrow could feel, period. He was a collection of bones held together by magic and will. But Kaelen knew Marrow felt something. He felt affection. He felt protective. Since Kaelen had been hurt, Marrow had been clingier, demanding contact like a oversized, bony cat.

"I’m not sure how I’m supposed to not stare at a walking skeleton, but fine." Silas looked away for a second, then looked back, shaking his head. "No, I’m sorry. I can’t do it. He’s weird, but in a good way, you know? He’s cute."

Kaelen beamed. He’d been lonely when he made Marrow, but he’d never regretted it. He loved the little monster. "You can pet him if you want," Kaelen offered.

Silas stared at Marrow for a long moment. Most people recoiled. Kaelen expected a refusal. Instead, Silas shrugged, careful of his injured chest.

"You know what? Why not? What’s the worst that can happen?"

"He could bite you," Kaelen said.

Silas froze, hand halfway to Marrow’s skull. He glared at Kaelen. "Was that really necessary?"

"I mean, he’s never bitten anyone, but it’s a possibility."

"Maybe I shouldn’t pet him, after all."

"No, please do. I promise he’ll be nice."

Kaelen watched as Silas finally reached out and patted the top of Marrow’s smooth, white skull. Marrow leaned into the touch, letting out a contented click.

It was a nice moment. A normal moment. But Kaelen’s eyes drifted toward the closed bedroom door. Voren hadn’t come back yet. That meant he was still on the phone, still managing the crisis. If it was taking this long, the trouble coming their way was big.

Kaelen wished they were on a plane to a beach somewhere. Instead, they were sitting in a living room that smelled like blood, petting a skeleton, and waiting for the monsters to arrive.

He sighed, resting his chin on Marrow’s head. Sometimes, he really hated his life.