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I squeeze my temples, closing my eyes to think. But fuck it all, I can’t think when I can still see her face perfectly in my mind’s eye, her dark eyes haunting me.

She killed her father. My skin pricks. Her present is echoing my past, and it’s stirring up all sorts of emotions I don’t want to fucking deal with. It’s as though someone held a mirror to my face and showed me a glimpse of my troubled teenage years.

And yet …

She’s exquisite. Perfect.

But she might not be mine. She’s a siren, for Christ’s sake, she’s meant to bewitch suckers like myself. And that’s not taking into account the possibility that someone is using her to get to me.

I rub my chest, where my heart still throbs.

But shecouldbe yours.And that possibility is everything.

I try to push the girl’s face from my mind, but it won’t disappear. She has the same inky black hair as my mother and the same tormented look in her eyes that I used to have.

I look over my shoulder, up towards roughly where I left her. Regardless of who or what she is, she’s too young for me to be lurking around. I’ll finish this bargain, and that will be the end of it—for the time being.

Now that I know where she is and where she will be for the next two years, I’ll keep tabs on her from afar. When she’s older, I’ll approach her again. Until then, I’ll keep my distance.

I run my hands through my hair. My skin feels as though it’s electrified, and my heart, my reliably steady heart, is pounding away, feeling everything as though for the first time.

Every second that passes, the surer I am that maybe she might not be a trap after all. That she’s not just some girl, butthegirl.

After all this time, I might’ve finally found my mate.

Chapter 14

Hell to Pay

May, 8 years ago

I head toGeorge Mayhew’s place, a longtime client of mine and one of the best necromancers out there. The man is addicted to pixie dust, and he’ll bargain away his services in an instant for his next fix. Unfortunate for him, convenient for me.

I appear in Mayhew’s living room. A split second later, Hugh Anders’ bloodless corpse manifests as well, landing on his coffee table and scattering a mostly finished box of pizza and toppling a beer.

“Holy shit!” George jerks back on his couch, his game controller flying from his grip. “Hey, what the fuck, man?” he says, catching sight of me.

“Resurrect him,” I command, jerking my head to the body.

“Dude, you ruined my dinner.”

Like I care.

I glance around his place. George’s apartment smells like a pet store, thanks to the rodents he breeds. Necromancy is, at its core, blood magic. It takes lifeblood to bring something back from the dead, and George, like most necromancers, doesn’t like cutting himself up for the job when he could cut up a fluffy little creature instead.

“Do you want another supply of Dust?” I say. “Resurrect him.”

He looks at me obstinately. “I’ve been calling you for weeks now and you’ve been ignoring me. Why should I help you now?”

“Fine,” I say. I snap my fingers and the body lifts off the table. “I’ll find another necromancer.”

George stands a little too fast. “Wait-wait-wait.” He wipes his greasy hands off on his shirt.

Classy guy.

“How many grams?” he asks. His eyes have a greedy shine to them.

“Enough,” I respond.