Chapter 006
When Voren woke up the next morning, Kaelen kept his eyes shut and his breathing even. It was a coward’s move, but he didn’t have it in him to face his boyfriend yet. The air in the bedroom felt heavy, charged with the static of everything they hadn’t said the night before. Voren had lied to him. Kaelen knew it in his gut, in the marrow of his bones where the magic lived, but he couldn’t bring himself to end it. Not yet.
So he lay there, faking sleep, listening to the domestic sounds that usually brought him comfort. The rustle of sheets. The soft thud of Voren’s feet on the carpet. The click of the bedroom door latching shut.
Kaelen held his breath, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He wasn’t sure if Voren bought the act. Voren was trained to notice things—changes in breathing patterns, the tension in a jawline—but he didn’t call Kaelen out. He just let him be.
Kaelen listened as Voren moved through the apartment. Low voices in the living room—Silas was up. The clatter of a mug in the kitchen. The smell of coffee drifted under the door, bitter and familiar. Voren didn’t linger. Fifteen minutes later, the front door opened and closed, sealing the silence back inside.
The moment the lock clicked, Kaelen’s eyes snapped open. He sat up, the duvet pooling around his waist, and reached for his phone on the nightstand. His hands were shaking slightly.
He typed the name into the browser. Melissa Campbell.
The results populated instantly. It had been a high-profile case a few years back. Kaelen scrolled past the headlines until he found the details. Melissa had been eighteen. A pre-med student with a 4.0 GPA. Her father was a wealthy real estate developer. She had been snatched off the street on her way home from the library.
Everyone had expected a ransom demand. It never came. Her body was found three days later in an abandoned warehouse in the industrial district.
Kaelen stared at her photo on the screen. She had a wide, easy smile and kind eyes. She looked like the type of person who volunteered at animal shelters and remembered everyone’s birthday. She was innocent. Just like Kaelen had suspected. Just like the nightmare had shown him.
Voren had looked him in the eye and promised he never killed young people. He had promised he never killed anyone who didn’t have it coming.
Kaelen dropped the phone onto the mattress. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, hot and stinging. He wiped them away angrily. He had known Voren was lying, but seeing the proof in black and white—the girl’s age, her bright future—made it real in a way he couldn’t ignore.
He couldn’t stay here. If he stayed, he’d just spiral, and when Voren came back, Kaelen wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. He needed absolute certainty. He needed to hear it from the source.
He found the name of the cemetery listed in her obituary: Oakwood Memorial Park.
This wasn’t something he usually did. Kaelen had rules. He didn’t disturb the dead without a paycheck or a damn good reason. He wasn’t a ghoul; he was a professional. But today, the lines were blurred. He was going to dig up a murder victim without authorization because he needed to know if the man he loved was a monster.
He dragged himself out of bed and threw on clothes he didn’t mind ruining—old jeans, a dark hoodie, heavy boots. He grabbed his keys and opened the bedroom door, trying to be as quiet as a ghost.
Silas was on the couch, nursing a mug of coffee. He looked better than he had yesterday, though his skin still had a grayish cast to it. He looked up as Kaelen crept into the hallway.
Kaelen froze.
Silas raised an eyebrow. "Going somewhere?"
"None of your business," Kaelen said, his voice rough.
"It is if you’re planning on getting yourself killed." Silas set the mug down on the coffee table with a deliberate clack. "You have that look."
"What look?"
"The 'I’m about to do something incredibly stupid' look. Your mother used to get it right before she did something that required me to shoot people."
"You have nothing to do with this, Silas. You’re still healing. Keep your nose out of it."
"I don’t think I can do that."
"Why not?" Kaelen eyed the front door. It was ten feet away. He could probably make it if he sprinted.
"Don't even think about it," Silas said, reading his mind. He stood up, wincing slightly as his injuries stretched, but his movement was fluid enough to be threatening. "Whatever you have on your mind, you’re not doing it alone. I’m coming with you."
Kaelen sighed, the fight draining out of him. "I’m going to exhume a body without authorization."
Silas blinked. He paused, looking Kaelen up and down. "Okay. That’s not what I expected."
"Like I said, you don’t have to come. In fact, I’d feel better if you didn’t. It’s messy work."
"Considering what I know about the Organization, I’d feel better if I did." Silas walked over to the closet and grabbed his jacket. "If Voren isn’t here to watch your back, I have to."
"I don’t think it’s me they want," Kaelen argued, though the protest was weak.
"Not yet. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to grab you once they found out about you. You have a reputation, Kaelen. You’re a powerful necromancer. Imagine what they could do if you worked for them."
"I’d rather die."
"It might come to that if they get to you. I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not."
Kaelen huffed. "Fine."
Silas cocked his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "I thought it would take more work to convince you."
Kaelen shrugged. Truthfully, he was relieved. The idea of standing in a graveyard alone, digging up a girl who died terrified, was making his stomach turn. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts right now.
"How soon can you be ready?" Kaelen asked.
"Oh, so we’re going now? In full daylight?"
"It looks more suspicious if I wait for darkness. People are used to seeing me in cemeteries during the day. If anyone notices me, they’ll just assume I’m working."
"They’ll assume you’re supposed to be digging up bodies."
"It is my job."
"Yeah, I know. Can I say it’s a little weird anyway?"
Kaelen let out a short, dry laugh. "I guess it is. Are you sure you’re up for this?"
"Even if I wasn’t, I don’t think I have a choice. Give me five minutes." Silas pointed a finger at him. "And don't try to sneak out. I’ll find you. I might suck as a professional assassin, but I can track a necromancer in a Honda Civic."
"I’m not going anywhere."
Kaelen waited by the door, tapping his foot against the floorboards. He was glad Silas sucked as an assassin. If he’d been better at his job, Voren might be dead right now.
Silas emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, looking grim but ready. "Ready?"
"Let's go," Kaelen said. "We have a grave to rob."
---
Voren sat in his car two blocks away, staring at the dashboard. He’d been relieved when he woke up to find Kaelen still asleep. The conversation last night had been a disaster. Voren had told him everything—or as much of everything as he could stomach—but the look in Kaelen’s eyes hadn’t been understanding. It had been broken.
Voren had left without waking him. Kaelen needed rest, and Voren needed to make sure they didn’t die in the next forty-eight hours.
His phone buzzed against the center console. Artemis.
He swiped to answer, putting it on speaker. "Tell me."
"Good morning to you too," Elara’s voice drawled through the speakers. There was a click, and Russell’s voice joined the line.
"I don't know how you always manage to get into this kind of trouble, but I'm glad I'm not you," Russell said cheerfully.
"I'm glad I'm not you, too," Voren shot back. "If this is too much for you, feel free to hang up."
"Oh, hell no. I’m going to have fun with these people. It’s been a while since I got to stretch my legs."
Voren gripped the steering wheel. They were joking, but the situation was critical. "What do we know?"
"Helena isn’t focusing on you just yet," Elara said, her tone shifting to business. "But she and her team have already killed two people since they arrived in town. I briefly looked into the victims. Just like you, they were former assets for the Organization."
"Cleaning house," Voren muttered. "We knew that."
"They are. And they’re efficient. I don’t know when they’re going to come after you, but I know they will. Maybe you and Kaelen should leave town."
"You know I can't do that."
Elara sighed. "Fine. I knew you were going to say that, but I really hoped you wouldn’t." She paused, the silence stretching over the line. "I’ve looked into all of this, Voren. The people who work for the Organization... they aren't good people. I have a hard time imagining you working for them."
Voren looked out the window at the gray morning sky. "It’s something I’ll always regret. But I didn't have a choice. It was that or starve."
"Whatever you did for them, it doesn’t matter to me," Elara said firmly. "I know you now. You’re my friend."
"Same goes for me," Russell added, his voice dropping its usual levity. "Whatever happened, I don’t care. You’re my friend, and I’m going to help you."
Voren swallowed the lump in his throat. "Thank you. But... I did things I'm not proud of. I just tried to minimize the damage. I helped people hide when I could. I tried to verify the targets."
"How is Kaelen taking all of this?" Elara asked.
"Not great," Voren admitted. "He knows I worked for them. He thinks I'm lying about the details. I don't blame him."
"He'll come around. You two are solid."
"I hope so." Voren wasn't so sure. Kaelen looked at him differently now. Like he was a stranger. Or worse—a threat. "Listen, I need a favor. Regarding Kaelen."
"What is it?"
"I know you’re busy, but can you look into necromancers’ powers? Specifically... evolution of abilities."
"Why? You live with a necromancer. Can't you ask him?"
"I could, but he doesn’t know what’s happening either," Voren said. "He's having nightmares. But they aren't just dreams. It's like he's seeing things that actually happened. Pulling memories from the ether. It started after he hit his head."
"That doesn't sound good," Russell commented.
"It’s not. He's scared, Elara. And I don't know how to help him. I can shoot bad guys, I can drive fast, but I can't fight magic. I need to know if this is permanent, or if it's going to hurt him."
"I'll look into it," Elara promised. "If there's anything in the archives about traumatic awakening of abilities, I'll find it."
"Thank you."
"We're here for you, Voren."
The line went dead. Voren lowered the phone, staring at the black screen. His friends believed him. They didn't ask for proof. They just accepted his word.
It hurt that Kaelen couldn't do the same. But then again, Kaelen was the one who had to sleep next to him. Kaelen was the one who saw the cracks in the armor.
Voren started the car. He couldn't fix the past, and he couldn't fix Kaelen's nightmares. All he could do was make sure Helena didn't kill them before they figured it out.
---
"I'm not sure I like this," Silas muttered as they pulled up to the wrought-iron gates of Oakwood Memorial Park.
He’d been silent for most of the drive, staring out the window with a brooding intensity that made Kaelen nervous. Usually, Silas couldn’t keep his mouth shut for more than five minutes.
"Just follow my lead," Kaelen said, killing the engine. "Act like you belong here."
They stepped out into the crisp air. The cemetery was vast, rolling hills of manicured green dotted with gray headstones. It was peaceful, in a way the city never was. Kaelen knew exactly where Melissa’s plot was—Section 4, near the old oak tree.
He grabbed his gear bag from the trunk—shovels, a crowbar, his kit—and headed for the gate. He hoped to get in and out without seeing anyone, but luck wasn't on the menu today.
"Mr. LeBlanc!" a voice called out.
Kaelen suppressed a curse, plastering a polite smile on his face as he turned. A man in a green jumpsuit was jogging toward them, waving a rake.
"Mark," Kaelen said. "Good to see you. How's Eleanor?"
Mark stopped a few feet away, grinning. He kept his distance, but that was normal. People instinctively gave necromancers a wide berth, like they were contagious. "She’s doing fine! Ready to pop, honestly. She can’t wait to get the kid out."
"That's great. Send her my best."
Mark nodded, his eyes drifting to the shovels in Silas's hands. "You here for another body?"
"I am." Kaelen didn't blink. "Just some routine work."
"Well, I'll see you later then," Mark said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "And tell Robbie to send me the paperwork. I haven't received anything for a pickup today."
"Of course. Administrative backlog, you know how it is. I'll text him right now."
"Thanks, Kaelen." Mark waved and headed back toward the maintenance shed.
Kaelen waited until he was out of earshot before exhaling sharply. He felt a pang of guilt. Mark was a good guy. Lying to him felt dirty.
"It's that easy for you?" Silas asked, falling into step beside him. "You just pop up, smile, and they let you dig holes?"
"I don't dig holes. I perform exhumations. But yes, it is that easy. They know me here. I visit this cemetery more than I visit my own mother."
"I wish I'd thought about doing the same," Silas grumbled. "Would make body disposal a lot easier."
"You can still leave," Kaelen offered. "I’m used to doing this stuff on my own."
Silas squared his shoulders. "I'm not going anywhere."
Kaelen didn't argue. He led them to the far side of the grounds, where the newer, more expensive plots were located. Melissa’s grave was marked by a tasteful marble headstone with an angel weeping over the inscription.
Melissa Campbell. Beloved Daughter.
"This is it," Kaelen said. He dropped the bag. "Let's get to work."
Digging was brutal work. The ground was hard, despite the recent rain, and within twenty minutes they were both sweating. Kaelen tried to tell Silas to take a break—the man had been shot and beaten less than forty-eight hours ago—but Silas just glared at him and kept shoveling.
By the time the shovel blade hit the composite lid of the vault, Kaelen’s arms were burning. They cleared the rest of the dirt, exposing the coffin.
"This is kind of creepy," Silas said, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "But I can’t wait to see you do your thing. Why did we dig this person up, anyway?"
Kaelen hesitated. He hadn't told Silas the specifics. "I need to ask her about Voren."
Silas froze, leaning on his shovel. His expression turned serious. "And his time with the Organization?"
"Yes."
"Just remember that this happened years ago," Silas said quietly. "He's not the same Voren as he was back then."
"I know." Kaelen swallowed hard. "But I need to know what he did."
"Do you need a moment, or should we start?"
"I want to do this as quickly as possible."
Silas nodded and helped Kaelen pry the lid open. The seal cracked with a hiss of escaping air.
Kaelen looked down. Melissa was well-preserved—money bought good embalming. She was wearing a white blouse that had yellowed with age, her hands folded over her chest. Her skin looked like parchment, thin and fragile.
Kaelen took a deep breath, centering himself. He reached into the well of his power, that cold, dark place in his chest that connected him to the other side. He didn't need candles or chants. He just needed contact.
He placed his hand gently on her cold forehead. "Melissa."
He pushed his energy into her, a jumpstart for a stopped engine.
Beside him, Silas sucked in a sharp breath as the body jerked. Melissa’s chest hitched. Her hands twitched, fingers curling. She tried to bring her hands to her face.
"Don't do that," Kaelen said softly, catching her wrists. Her eyelids were likely glued shut; if she rubbed them, she'd tear the skin. "Don't try to open your eyes."
Her head thrashed slightly, then settled. A raspy, dry sound escaped her throat. "What... what happened? Where am I?"
"My name is Kaelen. I'm a necromancer."
Silence. The dead always took a moment to process.
"I died," she whispered. It wasn't a question.
"You did. You were kidnapped. They found your body a few days later."
"But they did find it?"
"They did. You were laid to rest. Your parents buried you here."
"I'm not anymore?"
"I woke you up," Kaelen said. "I have a few questions about what happened the day you died. An investigation."
She stiffened. "What do you want to know?"
"Who killed you?"
Kaelen’s heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. He waited for the name. Or the description. Voren.
"I don't know his name," she said slowly. Her voice was like dry leaves skittering on pavement. "He grabbed me when I left the library. He was tall. Blond hair. Blue eyes."
Kaelen froze. The world seemed to tilt on its axis.
"You're sure?" he pressed. "Your killer had blond hair and blue eyes?"
"Yeah. I'm sure. I looked right at him when he pulled the trigger."
Kaelen’s mind raced. Voren was blond. But Voren had brown eyes. And back then... back then Voren had been dying his hair red to lay low. He’d seen photos in Voren’s old files.
"Are you absolutely certain about the eyes?" Kaelen asked, his voice trembling.
"Ice blue," she said. She tried to smile, exposing yellowed teeth. "I saw him die, though."
Kaelen blinked. "What?"
"After he shot me... he was about to leave. But someone else arrived. Another man. He shot the guy who killed me."
"Another man?"
"Yeah. He had red hair. He killed the blue-eyed guy. Then he ran to me." Melissa’s voice softened. "He tried to stop the bleeding. He was pressing on my chest, telling me to stay awake. He was crying."
Kaelen felt the strength go out of his legs. He sat down hard on the edge of the grave dirt.
"He tried to help you?"
"It was too late," Melissa said. "But I remember... I remember feeling vindicated. That the bad man got what he deserved. I don't know who the second guy was, but... tell him thank you."
Kaelen covered his face with his hands.
Voren hadn't killed her.
Voren had killed her murderer. He had arrived too late to stop the hit, but he had avenged her. He had tried to save her life.
Kaelen had looked at the man he loved and called him a monster. He had flinched away from his touch. He had dug up a grave to prove his guilt, and instead, he had found proof of his heroism.
"My parents," Melissa asked, her voice drifting. "They're okay?"
Kaelen forced himself to speak past the lump in his throat. "They're doing fine. They created a nonprofit in your honor. They help girls like you go to college."
"That's nice," she sighed. "They were always nice."
"I'm sorry, Melissa," Kaelen whispered. "I'm so sorry for disturbing you."
And even more sorry for doubting Voren.
He had let his nightmare poison him. He had let fear dictate his actions. Voren had told him the truth—he didn't kill innocents. He walked the line. And Kaelen hadn't believed him.
He ended the connection, watching as the life faded from the body, leaving it just a shell once more.
Silas was watching him, leaning on his shovel. "Well?"
Kaelen looked up, his eyes burning. "He didn't do it."
"I figured," Silas said.
"He tried to save her. He killed the guy who did it."
"Sounds like Voren."
Kaelen stood up, brushing the dirt from his jeans. He felt hollowed out, exhausted, but also lighter than he had been in days. The doubt was gone. The suspicion was gone.
Now he just had to figure out how to look Voren in the eye and apologize for thinking he was a murderer.
"Let's get her covered up," Kaelen said, grabbing his shovel. "I need to go home."