Page 118 of Grave Beginnings

Even if I didn’t know what good it would do.

41

Five voids,and another corpse I’d raised, and I hit the floor. Angel wrapped himself around me in our little borrowed office until I came to. He vibrated with anger, snapping at anyone who approached without food or medical knowledge.

It was my fault. The voids didn’t seem as draining as the ones with some piece of their spirit tethered. The second zombie, though he hadn’t been anything more than pieces of ligaments attached to bones lying beneath a sheet, had only the barest spark of memory. Not a soul, at least, not like Roan had been. It left me with a brutal migraine and a lot of questions.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Rest,” Angel said. “I’ve got food coming.”

I sighed, not hungry, as the migraine made my stomach swirl with nausea.

“Did I give you his name?”

“Yes,” Angel said. The room sat in eerie darkness as the overhead had been shut off and only the glow from the computer buttons illuminated anything. “Bobby and Wade are pulling everything they can find on the two we identified.”

“I wanted to help more.”

“You have helped. More than anyone else,” he snapped.

I cringed, and tried to move out of his lap, which made me almost vomit.

“Stop. You’re fine. I’ve got you,” Angel said, rubbing my back.

“Not if you’re mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because I wanted to keep going. It was my fault.” I wasn’t dumb. A decade in homicide hadn’t only taught me how to study a scene; it taught me how to read people better than most. Angel’s body language readpissed,with a capital P.

“I wish you wouldn’t have pushed yourself.”

“And?” I prompted. “I didn’t know the last one would be one I’d raised and have something still attached. At least it wasn’t an actual soul this time. Not even a ghost. Just a memory. Poor guy.” And if I wasn’t feeling like I needed to nap for a week, I’d have written up a profile already. Consistencies meant they had a type, and we could put out a warning.

“I knew,” Angel sighed. “I could sense your magic waning.”

“Okay?”

“It means I’m not mad at you. I’m angry at myself.”

“Well, that’s not exactly productive, is it? I’m more of a ‘note the mistake, adjust, and keep moving’ kind of guy. Next time, we query one less corpse. Mental checkbox ticked—ding!”

He swallowed a half-laugh. “How can you joke when you look like death warmed over?”

“Warmed over? Damn, I was going for full ‘corpse chic.’” I weakly pumped my fist. “Necromancer Ken” superpower unlocked. Who do you think would win the ‘most pale’ contest? Me, or Victor?”

Angel huffed, his arms tightening around me. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you like me.” I let my head fall against his shoulder, closing my eyes. “Tell me you have more cake.”

“How about I make you cake?”

“Not sure I’d stay awake for it.”

“What if I come home with you, put you to bed, make cake, and then crawl in with you later with said cake?”

Oh, what a tempting devil he was. My brain, despite its exhaustion, perked up like a cat hearing the crinkle of a treat bag. “You and cake?” I cracked an eye open.