Page 15 of Purrfectly Peculiar Pixie: Phlox's Story (Perfect Pixie Series Book 5)

Phlox

Twenty-four hours had never felt so long. Given my recent capture and subsequent escape with Leon, that wasn’t quite true. Pixies weren’t known for understating situations and in that respect, I hadn’t fallen far from the pixie tree.

We’d heard very little from Vander and Parsnip’s camp. The only information we’d gotten was that Vander was “working on it.” I don’t think any of us understood exactly what that meant or the timeframe we were looking at.

“I wish Parsnip would give me a little more information,” Peaches lamented while staring at his phone. His fingers flew across the screen as he typed something back to Parsnip.

“If he knew more, he’d tell us,” Phil said, tone eternally dripping with understanding. “It’s not like necromancers advertise their services. At least, true necromancers don’t.” Phil looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I talked to Sedrick about it last night. His knowledge is second, or maybe, thirdhand. Sedrick said his grandmother told him a story about a necromancer their pack used once.” Phil shuddered. “If half the things she told him are true, then we need to be very careful. I’d rather Vander take his time.”

Peaches’s fingers tapped along the wooden tabletop. His face was scrunched, and his nose looked like he’d scented something foul. “I hate how right you are.”

Leaning into the bench, I spread my wings out, much like my pixie tablemates. Arms crossed, I glared at Peaches’s phone, willing it to ping with more information. I’d been mulling something for the past few hours and finally decided to ask, “Do you think Sylvie’s strength while alive will affect her…” I waved a hand in the air, unsure what to call what we were planning. It wasn’t reanimation. That’s what priests and priestesses did with zombies.

“When we bring her consciousness back from the dead?” Phil thankfully filled in.

“Yes, that,” I agreed. “She was powerful enough to enact a transportation spell. That’s no small feat. And she did it using her own magic.”

Phil shivered. “Parsnip’s told me about the one Letty Fox used on him. He said it was horrible and made him vomit.”

“Parsnip’s not wrong.”

“Ugh, I’m glad I just got a face full of sleeping dust.” Peaches took a long drink of his mead. “That was bad enough and as close to magic as I want to get.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. Pixies utilized magic all the time. The way we did it was different than other species, but we wouldn’t be who we were without it. Pixies weren’t fairies or brownies. Those species were magic. There was a difference. A Grand Canyon-sized difference.

Phil rubbed his forehead and Peaches leaned in and asked, “Are you okay? Have you been away from the house too long?” Worry laced Peaches’s voice and he looked ready to spring into action if Phil so much as hinted that was what was wrong.

“No, it’s not that. At least not yet. I just hate this whole situation. I hate thinking about pixies being taken and…” Phil couldn’t finish his thought. “I’m so fortunate to have never experienced something like that. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for Parsnip.”

By now everyone who knew anything about Parsnip understood his past and why he only had a smidgeon of his natural aqua color remaining.

Peaches reached across the table and clasped Phil’s hand. They interlocked fingers and essentially held hands. Sedrick and Lucroy were across the floor, near the bar. They were talking with Johnny and Leon. The three of us had stayed behind. My gaze wasn’t the only one that kept straying toward them. With his hand clasped within Phil’s, Peaches’s head was turned toward the bar, exposing the length of his neck and the fading bite marks there.

I stared at that patch of skin, unaware of how rude I was being. When Peaches reached up and covered the area with his hand, I finally blinked and drew my eyes away. Peaches’s chin jutted out and he had a stubborn pout fixed upon his face.

“Problem?” Peaches asked as if begging me to say yes.

I aggressively shook my head. “No. I’m sorry, I know I was staring, but it’s probably not what you think.” I reached up and unconsciously rubbed the healed patch of skin on my neck. Clearing my throat, I said, “You see, I, uh… While we were captured, Leon needed to feed. Prior to our transport, he’d been caught in the early morning sun. His skin was burned, and he need to be at full strength if we wanted to get out of there. Plus, I didn’t like seeing him in pain.”

Peaches’s hand dropped, exposing his neck. He now appeared more confused than confrontational.

“That sounds reasonable.” Peaches’s golden gaze flicked from me to Phil. Our larger than average pixie companion simply shrugged.

“Yeah, I know, it’s just…it hurt.”

Peaches’s eyebrows and nose scrunched. “Hurt? The bite?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t know why I was exactly surprised. Leon’s teeth sliced through my flesh. I just thought…I figured vampires had a way to make it not hurt.” I waved a hand in Peaches’s general direction. “You seem to like it well enough. Or, at least, you don’t seem to mind.”

Phil made the mistake of taking a sip of his honeysuckle mead, promptly choking when he processed my words. When I looked over, his cheeks were nearly as pink as the tips of his magenta hair.

Glancing back at Peaches, he had an odd, amused twinkle lighting his eyes. “Well, I suppose you’ve got that right. Lucroy’s bite is far from painful. In fact, it’s orgasm inducing.”

Phil groaned while placing his forehead in his hand. “Peaches, we don’t need to—”

“Oh, I kind of think we do.” Peaches leaned over the table, gaze fixed on me. “I think Frost is very interested in how vampire bites feel.”

“I…” I swallowed and uncomfortably shifted. “Leon and I have gotten kind of close.” My cheeks heated and I figured they might be as pink as Phil’s. That warm feeling fled when I thought back to this evening and waking up in Leon’s lair again. Tonight was no different than last night. Leon didn’t drink when he got up. He told me he’d get something at the bar, but I’d yet to see him so much as lift a glass to his lips and I’d been watching—insistently so. His cheeks were hollower, and Leon’s body felt more chilled this evening.

“I don’t think he’s feeding,” I blurted.

Humor fled Peaches and seriousness rapidly took its place. Phil perked up too, sitting straighter and leaning in. He glanced at Peaches before settling his gaze back on me.

“Leon hasn’t been feeding? From you or…?”

“I haven’t seen him drink anything,” I clarified. “And believe me, I’ve offered him the bottled blood in his fridge the past two evenings. He keeps giving me bullshit excuses why he’s not drinking it. I know my vampire biology and he needs to drink. I know Leon’s old, but he’s not old enough that he doesn’t need to feed daily.”

“That’s true,” Peaches agreed. “Typically, Leon feeds multiple times a night. I don’t think he needs that much, but vampires enjoy sipping their blood. I’ve never known Leon to abstain.” Peaches threw a concerned glance Leon’s way. I watched as Lucroy caught his beloved’s gaze, a single eyebrow raised in question.

Peaches gave a slight headshake before returning his attention to me. “I don’t think Lucroy knows. Or if he does, then he hasn’t said anything to me. That means he either doesn’t think it’s a problem or he’s keeping quiet out of respect for Leon. I couldn’t tell you which right now.” Peaches huffed. “He’s my beloved, but sometimes I still can’t tell what Lucroy’s thinking. Vampires are sneaky that way.”

“Werewolves can be that way too,” Phil chimed in. “Sedrick doesn’t like to upset me. I keep trying to convince him that I get more upset when I think he’s keeping things from me. I’m not sure about Mr. Moony, but I think where Sedrick’s concerned, it’s part and parcel regarding his alpha nature. Protect, protect, protect. It’s part of his DNA.”

Peaches shot Phil an understanding smile before focusing back on the problem at hand. “Leon needs to feed. He’ll get weaker and increasingly unpredictable. First, he’ll get snippy. Or as snippy as a three-hundred-year-old vampire gets. They’ve got a pretty good lock down on their emotions.” Peaches’s eyebrows pulled down and he tapped his fingertip along his chin. “Have you offered him your blood again?” Peaches asked.

I jerked back, flattening my wings on the bench. “No. I…the last time I offered, it hurt. I can’t say that I’m ready to head down that road again yet.”

“Understandable. Did Leon say anything after he fed from you? Did he apologize about it hurting?”

I searched my memory. There’d been a lot going on at the time and much had happened since. I forced myself to think hard and remember. I brought up the memory and nodded. “He did. He said something about not having enough control to make it painless. Or something along those lines.”

Peaches nodded in understanding. “Whatever pain I’ve felt when Lucroy feeds from me is fleeting and quickly replaced by pleasure. But Lucroy’s never been in desperate need. He’s never required blood to heal injuries or in a time of distress. I’m not sure if it would be different then or not. I could always ask him, but I think he’d find the thought of harming me too horrid to contemplate. I’m his beloved. He cherishes me and would never—” Peaches suddenly stopped speaking. His eyes were wide as saucers. That earlier twinkle was back with a vengeance.

“Peaches?” Phil cautiously questioned.

Peaches licked his lips. They parted once or twice before he finally got enough breath together to whisper, “You said you and Leon have gotten closer?”

“We have. I’ve slept in his bed the last couple of days. We haven’t really… I mean, we haven’t done anything beyond kiss and some heavy petting, but I…” I tried mentally arranging my thoughts and corralling my emotions into something I could relate. But my thoughts were as wild as the mustangs running along the prairie.

“But you want more?” Peaches guessed correctly. “And so does Leon.”

“He’s concerned the council will call me back and send me off on another mission. So far, they’re keeping me put and I told him if they do call an end to this mission, I’ve got some vacation time I’m happy to use up. I don’t know how to explain it, but I don’t want to leave him just yet.”

I was still struggling with why. Not that Leon wasn’t attractive. Just the opposite was true. But I’d seen my fair share of drop-dead gorgeous individuals over the years and never felt this connected to any of them.

Sucking on his bottom lip, Peaches fiddled with his phone. He kept shooting glances Phil’s way. They seemed to have some kind of silent communication going on. While I really liked the two of them, being out of the loop was starting to piss me off.

“What’s going on?” I asked, sitting up and leaning forward enough to free my wings. “If something’s wrong with Leon, then I need to know.” Need might have sounded like a strong word, but it felt right.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Peaches hedged. “At least, I don’t think so. In fact, from the vampire perspective, it’s probably something very right.”

“I don’t think just the vampire perspective,” Phil amended.

“No.” Peaches’s smile was soft. “You’re right, Phil.”

I could feel my inner cat growl, its claws scratching for release. Funny how frustration brought out my more feral side.

Sucking in a deep breath, I counted to five. I should have gone to ten but didn’t have the patience. “I need clarification. What are the two of you—”

Peaches’s phone dinged with an incoming text and his attention was immediately pulled away. “It’s Parsnip,” he said before quieting and reading the text. It must have been short and to the point because he quickly said, “They’re on their way here.” Peaches sounded confused and added, “There’s a thinking face emoji along with one of those green-faced nauseous ones. I’m not sure what that means. Do you think Vander’s sick?” Warlocks were closer to human genetics and became ill sometimes. Pixies were fairly impervious to ailments unless they were away from their bonded too long.

I didn’t know if Vander was ill or not. Regardless, I wanted to continue our previous conversation but couldn’t. Evidently the others had gotten a similar message from Vander.

“Did Parsnip contact you, beloved?” Lucroy eased down next to Peaches and glanced at his phone when Peaches tilted it his way.

Sedrick must have gotten a glimpse because he huffed and said, “We got something equally colorful from Vander. Those two were definitely made for each other.”

I got up and allowed Sedrick to scoot in next to Phil. He gave me a gruff thanks before sidling in close. Sedrick’s thick fingers were gentle as a feather as they swept over Phil’s pink diamond choker, skimming across his mating mark before Sedrick replaced his fingers with his lips.

Phil leaned into the touch. The happy contentment radiating from him made me shift uncomfortably. It seemed like too private of a moment, as if I should avert my eyes and wipe the memory from my brain.

Leon didn’t give me a lot of time to contemplate my reaction. Sitting down beside me, his thigh ran the length of mine, slightly warming my skin. His arm snaked around my shoulders as he stretched his arm along the length of the back of the booth.

With a tray balanced on his shoulder, Johnny headed our way, setting down fresh cups of honeysuckle mead and a beer for Sedrick. At the end of the table he set down a glass of amethyst-colored fluid.

When he caught me staring, Johnny huffed and said, “Burnt rum. Vander loves the stuff. Don’t ask me why. Personally, I think warlocks have some messed-up tastebuds.” Johnny shrugged while setting another cup of honeysuckle mead beside it. “I figure Vander will need that”—he pointed toward the burnt rum—“when he gets here. I’ve got another full bottle in the back. You tell him if he wants more to ask.” Johnny gave a sympathetic headshake. “I think he’s had a shit last twenty-four hours.”

Johnny clomped away, leaving our little group alone.

“Do we have an ETA?” Sedrick asked before taking a large swallow of beer.

“No. Although I do not believe it will be long. From what I understand, they are already on the road and…” Lucroy stopped mid-sentence, body still and black eyes dark.

“Lucroy?” Leon asked, leaning slightly over the table. I felt Leon’s body stiffen. “What is it?”

“Wolves.” A layer of disgust laced that singular word. Knowing Lucroy’s comment wasn’t directed toward Sedrick, I figured we had other company.

Sedrick’s low growl rumbled through his chest. “How many?”

“Three,” Lucroy answered. He had the best vantage of any of us. While I hated having my back to the door, the U-shaped booth hadn’t offered a lot of other options.

“New?” Leon calmly asked.

“I am uncertain. You or Johnny would most likely know better than me.”

“Or Wendall,” I offered. I might recognize them too. “Lizbeth might know too.”

“I would prefer to keep the human out of current affairs,” Lucroy answered. I didn’t think it was because he thought little of Lizbeth. I knew it was the opposite. Lucroy Moony had a soft spot for the human and viewed her as part of his nest. Though capable for a human, Lizbeth was still that. She was the most vulnerable of Lucroy’s nestmates.

“Understandable,” I agreed.

“Have they been coming in often?” Phil asked. None of us turned. We didn’t want to draw attention to the fact we noticed or, perhaps, cared.

“More often than they used to,” Leon answered.

“Part of Arie’s pack?” Phil asked, a slight hitch to his voice.

“Most likely,” Lucroy answered. “Arie Belview is the unfortunate alpha of the largest werewolf pack in the area.” Lucroy offered Sedrick the barest hint of a smile. “It seems like the other alpha in the area enjoys the company of a different type of packmate.”

Far from offended, Sedrick lifted his mug and saluted Lucroy. “I’ve got the best pack hands down. Vampires, warlocks, pixies, dwarves, humans, and sprites. Come one, come all. As long as you’re not a shithead bent on world domination, you’re welcome in my pack.”

A low chuckle sounded close by and someone I’d only seen through video chat walked up to the end of the table, dragging two chairs behind him. “Couldn’t agree more, Sedrick.”

Gray pixie dust tinted with hints of aqua filled the area as Parsnip followed close behind. “What are we agreeing with Sedrick about?” Parsnip asked as he sat in the chair Vander pulled up for him, capping off the end of our booth.

“That he’s got an eclectic pack full of awesome members.” Vander took a great deal of liberty with that paraphrase, but no one called him out on it.

“Oh. Well, yes, then I heartily agree.” Parsnip snagged his cup of honeysuckle mead and downed its contents in one go. Vander reacted similarly with his burnt rum. I stared, a little starstruck. Auntie Tandra would lose her shit if she could see me right now.

Thinking of Auntie Tandra, I sheepishly asked. “Goddess, I know what this sounds like, but can I get a picture of you and Vander together? My auntie is a huge fan.”

Parsnip instantly perked up, a smile spread across his face, lighting it up and erasing some of the recent wear.

“Sure. I don’t look my best, but I think it should be fine.” Squeezing in next to Vander, Parsnip grinned and posed like the superstar he was. Vander did a fair job of faking it and managed to erase a little of his half-dead appearance.

I took a couple of pics and quickly sent them off to Auntie Tandra. She didn’t always have her phone on her, so I wasn’t sure if I’d get a response right away.

“Thank you,” I said honestly. “This will make her week.”

“No worries.” Parsnip waved me off. “I’m a social pixie. If anything, your request gave me a little energy boost.” Parsnip rubbed his hand over Vander’s bicep. “I wish I could do the same for you.”

Vander sighed, leaning heavily back into his chair. He rubbed the back of his neck, the strain of the last few days obvious.

Leaning in, Peaches asked what we were all wondering. “Were you able to find a necromancer?”

Vander winced. “Finding one isn’t exactly the problem, at least not if you know who to ask. Finding one who might be willing to help is another matter.”

Silence filled the table until Vander’s tense shoulders relaxed. “Fuck it. It’s not like it’s a hush-hush secret. It’s just not something warlocks talk about a lot. Necromancers are kind of like our dirty little secret.” Vander shook his head, seemingly upset with himself. “No, that’s not true. They’re our fear.”

“Fear?” Phil asked, twisting his head toward Sedrick before glancing back at Vander, worried. “Warlocks are scared of necromancers?”

“Not exactly. Shit, this is tough to talk about.”

Parsnip leaned into Vander’s shoulder, placing his hand on Vander’s chest. “Take your time.”

“Indeed,” Lucroy agreed before his attention shifted over our shoulders and his eyes narrowed a fraction.

“I’ll keep an eye on things,” Leon offered, already standing. His fingers gripped the edge of the table, and I knew it wasn’t simply my imagination that his skin was paler than usual. It was chalky white, not the luminous moonglow I was used to.

“Thank you, Leon.”

Leon gave a faint nod before walking away. He didn’t even turn and look my way before he left. Leon didn’t pat my hand or run his fingers through my hair. He was stiffer than usual. Something was definitely wrong.

I wanted to get up and follow him, demand that he spill whatever secret he was keeping, but I couldn’t. I was still the agent on this case, and I needed to hear what Vander learned.

Frustration filled me. Sedrick’s askance glance hinted I’d probably lost a little control and allowed a growl to slip through.

“Back again?” Vander asked as Lizbeth slipped another glass of burnt rum in front of him. “Ah, perfect timing.” Lizbeth shot him a grin before slipping back into the crowd. Vander took a sip before repeating, “Arie’s wolves—they’re back again?”

“It appears that way,” Lucroy coolly answered. “From what Johnny and Leon have told me, it is a much more common occurrence.”

“Always the same ones?” Parsnip asked.

“No. There are often repeats, but it is not always the same group, nor the same number. From what I understand, occasionally Arie himself shows up, but those instances are rare.”

“You could always kick them out,” Vander said casually.

“I could, but that would indicate I harbor concern,” Lucroy answered.

Vander raised an eyebrow, eyeing Lucroy. “But you do harbor concerns. A shit ton of concerns.”

“Of course, but Alpha Belview need not know that.” Lucroy sounded very matter of fact.

“Vampires,” Vander grumbled but it lacked heat.

Sedrick agreed. “If it were my bar, I would have kicked their asses out a long time ago.”

“Thankfully, Dusk is not werewolf owned.” Lucroy’s tone remained pleasantly cool. “As long as they do not cause trouble, Dusk is open to all.”

“As you said, it’s your bar. You can do whatever the hell you want with it.” Sedrick drank down the rest of his beer.

“How magnanimous of you, Alpha Voss.” Lucroy sounded more amused than annoyed. Truly, they had an interesting relationship. In fact, it was an odd conglomeration of species. And yet, somehow, it worked. The affection was clear. The Magical Usage Council would find this interesting.

Moving past Lucroy’s choice of patronage, the vampire got us all back on track by asking, “Are you capable of explaining further?”

Vander took another drink before nodding his head. “Yeah, I’m capable. It’s not really that bad, just not something warlocks like talking about. Mostly because we hate thinking about it.”

Setting his glass back on the table, Vander started with a history lesson. “Long ago, before the rift between warlocks and witches, we often mated each other. Female children were witches and male children were warlocks.” Vander shrugged. “I’m not certain what gender had to do with it, but it influenced the way we bend magic. From what I understand, the witches and warlocks of those times were more powerful than your current garden variety.”

“Is that what allowed witches of that time to create djinn?” Sedrick asked.

“Most likely. It’s what also caused the rift between the species. Witches and warlocks hated each other. They couldn’t move past their mistrust to even talk, let alone procreate. That began easing in the past century or so, but we’re still a long way from producing offspring.” Vander took another drink before continuing. “Anyway, obviously, there are still little witches and warlocks running amuck. So, who do you procreate with?”

“Humans,” I answered. It was a known fact that most warlocks and witches produced children with humans.

“Exactly,” Vander agreed. “Our genetics are closest. The magical bloodlines were diluted, but the species survived. Sometimes, a witch child will be born with lesser magical abilities. Rarely none at all. But warlock children are a different matter.”

I leaned forward, completely enthralled by what I heard. While much was known about individual species, there was a hell of a lot that wasn’t. All of us had secrets we’d rather not share.

“It’s a small percentage, but some children born of warlock blood don’t have the same capabilities as their fathers. Those children are necromancers.”

Sedrick drew in a deep breath while Lucroy remained statue still. Peaches’s mouth opened in a surprised O while Phil’s light green eyes were filled with a well of sympathy. As for me, I was simply curious.

“And warlocks are ashamed of this?” I asked. I didn’t want to be uncouth, but I couldn’t deny my curiosity.

“No. Not in the way you think. It isn’t shame in what they are, but heartache. Warlock life spans are centuries long. Necromancers’…aren’t.”

“Oh, Vander,” Phil whispered.

“Nearly all of them are human short. I’m ashamed to say that many warlocks abandon those children when they’re born and realized what they are. It is not due to shame, but emotional self-preservation. Children are precious and warlocks aren’t a fertile species. The joy of a successful pregnancy is tempered with the fear that that child might be born a necromancer, that they will die while the warlock has many years left. It is a pain many turn from.”

“And the children are abandoned?” Peaches asked.

“By the warlock, not their human mother. Warlocks will financially provide, but most refuse to emotionally engage. I do not defend the action. I merely say I understand it. Unfortunately, what this often creates are resentful children who do not fully understand their capabilities. They feel shunned by not only their fathers but the world. Necromancers find it difficult to integrate into society and so many go to ground, fading into difficult-to-find nooks and crannies. An unfortunate few are so mentally traumatized that their sanity fades and they become dangerous not only to themselves, but to society at large. Those unfortunates are what give necromancers a very poor reputation.”

I swallowed, throat parched. My mouth opened, only to close on words I couldn’t find, let alone articulate. It was a tragedy all around.

Inhaling, Vander pulled Parsnip close, laying a kiss on the top of his head and breathing his scent in. When he’d gotten his emotions under control, Vander said, “I know of a few necromancers, but most of those are in the wind. I do, however, know of a warlock who refused to follow tradition and did not abandon his necromancer son.” Vander’s lips contorted and I couldn’t figure out if he found the situation humorous or endlessly irritating.

“Nikodemus Holland is a pompous asshat,” Parsnip supplied. “I only heard Vander’s side of the conversation and it was enough for me to figure out.”

“He’s got reason to be pompous. Nick’s the most powerful warlock west of the Mississippi. He’s got the juice to back up the pomp.” Vander sort of, kind of defended the other warlock.

Parsnip rolled his eyes. “Whatever. That’s west of the Mississippi. You’re the best one east of the Mississippi. As far as I’m concerned, you’re on equal footing.”

Vander’s eyebrows shot high upon his forehead while his lips twitched, finally forming an oddly fond smile. “That’s sweet, if not one hundred percent accurate.”

Parsnip waved him off. “Says you. I happen to know it’s a fact and no one, not even you, is going to convince me I’m wrong, so don’t waste your breath trying.”

Chuckling, Vander leaned in and planted a kiss on Parsnip’s temple. “Have I told you recently how much I love your sass?”

Cheeks flushed, Parsnip answered, “Not in the past couple of hours.”

“Well then, looks like I need to pick up the pace, Sassy Pants.”

“Ohh, I like that one.” Peaches bounced in his seat, wings twittering and spreading dust around the table. Vander and Sedrick covered their noses but neither said a word of reprimand.

When Peaches calmed, Vander uncovered his nose and leaned back. Arm thrown around Parsnip’s shoulders, he causally took another sip of burnt rum before returning to the topic of interest. “As I was saying, Nikodemus didn’t abandon his son. He’s been an integral part of Erasmus’s life.”

“Are Nikodemus and Erasmus’s mother still together?” I asked, wondering if that was part of the reason he’d remained in touch.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Vander answered with a shrug. “She’s not his one and only, that much I know.”

“So, besides being a pompous asshat,” Sedrick said, and Parsnip raised his cup of honeysuckle mead in the air, saluting Sedrick’s wording, “was this Nikodemus helpful?”

Vander sighed while running his black tipped fingers through his graying temples. “I think so. At the very least, he’s going to ask Erasmus if he’ll help. There’ll be a fee.”

“Naturally,” Lucroy said.

“It will exorbitant,” Vander assured us with a hint of embarrassment. “Nick made that fact very clear.”

Lucroy sounded nonplussed. “Whatever the amount, I am certain I can cover the cost.”

“We can cover the cost,” Sedrick corrected. “We’re in this together, Lucroy. I’ve got the means and the will.”

“I did not mean to offend,” Lucroy offered.

“I didn’t think you did,” Sedrick reassured. “And, to be truthful, I appreciate your willingness. Not so long ago, I wouldn’t have been able to offer.”

Lucroy and Sedrick shared a glance, and both grew quiet with unstated understanding.

“When will we know if Erasmus is willing to help?” Phil leaned forward and asked.

“Nick said he’d get back to me by tomorrow. He might be an ass, but Nick wouldn’t lead me on about something like this. Plus, from what I understand, he’s got a good relationship with his son. They speak on the regular, so I don’t have any reason to doubt Nick’s word.”

The table grew quiet. Peaches’s soft voice cut through that silence as he asked Vander what was most likely on all our collective minds. “Have you been around a necromancer before?”

Vander’s jaw worked and his lips twisted before he gave a slow, solemn nod. “I have. Twice. The first time was with Georgiana.”

“Byx’s mother,” Parsnip added while looking at me. “Georgiana helped Vander hone his warlock skills and when she passed, she left her daughter in his care.”

I touched my meerkat hair clips. They might not work exactly like Byx hoped, but they’d at least led to my general direction. Plus, I’d kind of grown fond of the little fellas. Parsnip saw the motion and grinned. “I’ve got a few pairs myself. Byx is very creative.”

“That she is,” Vander agreed. “But as to your question. I’m glad Georgiana was with me the first time. Seeing a necromancer in action is…disturbing.” Vander swallowed hard before turning his attention to Lucroy. “No offense, Lucroy, but seeing a dead body come back to life is creepy as fuck.” Vander shivered dramatically.

“I do not take offense. While I have not witnessed a necromancer raise the dead, I do not believe it is similar to my second awakening. No one was in control of my consciousness and once I awoke to my second life, it was mine to live as I pleased. That is not so when a necromancer is in charge.”

“No, that’s true,” Vander said. “Necromancers are akin to puppet masters, pulling the strings of a dead corpse’s consciousness. And once they’re done”—Vander snapped his fingers—“they cut the cord and the body falls to the ground, little more than an empty shell, its soul and consciousness sent back to wherever the necromancer pulled it from. It’s all very…undignified.”

“From the way my grandmother told it, the one brought back is confused too,” Sedrick said, his tone low and raked across thick gravel. “Let’s just say the process left an impression on her.”

“Hmm, I don’t doubt it,” Vander agreed. “I do not relish the thought of repeating the experience. However, I agree this is the best course of action.”

I suddenly felt the need to apologize again. “I’m sorry. Leon and I should have kept Oxley alive. And Sylvie…” I shook my head. “I don’t blame Leon for killing her. She was a threat and he thought she’d hurt me.” While I was frustrated Sylvie was dead, I wasn’t angry with Leon. I’d gotten over that emotion quickly.

Vander leaned in, elbows planted on the table and gaze fixed on me. “Listen, I haven’t gotten the complete lowdown on what happened, but trust me, whatever actions you and Leon took were justifiable. I’ve been on the end of the captured stick. It sucks ass and sometimes you just gotta do what you’ve gotta do. Hindsight’s great and all, but not real useful while you’re in the moment trying to make snap decisions and fighting for your life. Nikodemus will come through, as will his son, Erasmus. We’ll pony up whatever insane payment they want and see if Sylvie and Oxley can be more useful in their deaths than in their lives.”

“Here, here,” Parsnip cheered. Holding up his cup of honeysuckle mead, Parsnip leaned across the table. Peaches, Phil, and I all raised our own cups, clinking them together and hoping against hope that Erasmus could get something more out of Sylvie or Oxley.

We all swallowed, hoping the goddess heard our toasted prayer.