Page 27

27

KAIDEN

“ N o one’s coming, right?” Phoenix asks me for at least the tenth time.

We’re in the secret basement of his house, the entrance tucked behind a massive bookshelf that we had to move with an elevation spell. We won’t be able to put it back until we’ve gotten the supplies and left the basement, so I’m standing guard in the entryway, making sure no one approaches the room.

As far as we can tell, the house is empty. This puzzled Phoenix since his family meeting was supposed to continue into the late hours of the night. We could chalk it up to the murder, but I have a disconcerting inkling his family’s absence has a more sinister motive.

Something isn’t right. I can feel it in every wisp of my magic begging to surface and come out to play. And if someone walks up on us, I’ll have to give my magic what it craves.

“You’re fine,” I assure Phoenix as I lean against the doorjamb with my arms crossed, my attention fixed on the library in front of me. The bookshelves are dusty, indicating the lack of use of this place. While I normally sift through books, I rarely come to Phoenix’s home since his family is almost equally as terrible as mine. My fingers itch to trail across the spines, though, to feel the roughness of the worn covers, to wipe away the dust.

“I don’t like this,” he says over the clinking of bottles. “It's weird how my father bailed on his meeting. He never does that. And I know what you’re going to say—maybe he got called on a job. But, since the council will probably up security because of James’s murder, he’s going to be more careful with his transporting of goods. My bet is he’ll close it down for a while.”

I cast a quick glance over my shoulder at him. He’s near the farther wall of the small room, the brick walls lined with shelves containing various different vials of ingredients ranging from unicorn horn dust to vampire fangs, all of which are illegal to sell. Because of that, Phoenix’s father can charge high prices, and that’s why he can afford this mansion that’s almost as big as my father’s place. My father earned most of his money by inheritance.

I push away from the doorframe. “Would that be a bad thing?”

He shakes his head as he stuffs a small vial filled with silvery liquid into the pocket of his jeans. “No. In fact, I hope that happens …” he trails off, stiffening at the sensation of energy creeping toward us. “We need to go. Someone’s coming.”

“Shit.”

Phoenix hurries out of the room, and we take off for the door.

Phoenix waves his hand as we do, sending the bookshelf gliding back in front of the hidden doorway. When we make it into the hallway, we slam on the brakes at the sound of voices drifting from the foyer at the end of it.

“I know. The rogues couldn’t get a hold of her, though. They veered off course.” The emotionless voice belongs to Phoenix’s father. “I know it’s bad that she made it here. I get that. And I’m working on a solution.”

Phoenix and I sidestep into the shadows of an alcove where the lantern light doesn’t reach.

“Look, I know this is important. That’s why you hired me. I’m the best at taking care of complicated situations.” His footsteps grow louder as he walks down the hallway in our direction. “And I know how to cover my tracks.” He appears in our line of vision then.

He’s wearing a black shirt, and slacks, and his hair is slicked back. And he’s talking into thin air, which is bizarre, even for a warlock. Then I spot the trail of shadows creeping along the walls around him.

Fear isn’t an emotion I experience frequently. In fact, I’ve only felt it a few times, one being when Emberlynn’s mind was getting taken over. This, though—these shadows that move like a creature, as if it has its own soul—this is darker than black magic. It’s forbidden.

“The murder won’t come back to me,” Phoenix’s father says. “I’ve made sure of that … Because I have allies.” His conversation grows faint as he wanders out of the hallway.

Phoenix and I make a run for it, quietly jogging for the front door. Only when we’re way beyond the outskirts of his father’s property do we finally speak again.

“My father is part of this,” Phoenix growls, his hands balled at his sides, his eyes as dark as the backdrop of the night sky. “He’s part of the murder, the rogues showing up when we were in the real world, and he probably tried to poison Emberlynn.”

“We don’t know that for sure.” It’s my lame attempt at trying to keep him composed.

It’s a lie, too, and he reads right through it.

“We do know that,” he bites out, reeling toward me. “This is so messed up. Why would he do that?”

“I’m not sure, but we’ll figure it out.” My footsteps are heavy as I quicken my pace down the dirt path. “We also need to figure out who your father’s allies are. I have a feeling that some of them might be on the council.”

He chases after me. “If that’s the case, then we’re screwed.”

“No, we’re not. We just need to be careful about this. Maybe go undercover … I don’t know … I haven’t figured out all of the deta ils yet?—”

Snap .

I spin to my right where the lofty trees are thick with willow branches. “Did you hear that?” I ask, my gaze scanning the darkness.

Phoenix inches forward as he observes the tree line. “I smell death.

“I do, too.” I hike off the path, my magic coiling around my wrists, begging to come out and play?—

A creature scampers out of the woods, hunkered down on all fours, its flesh rotting, its yellow eyes reflecting in the moonlight.

And suddenly, the stench of death in the air makes sense.

The undead.

Someone used necromancy on this creature.

It charges toward us, snapping its jaw and baring its yellow teeth.

I unleash my magic on it, the smoky wisps leaving my wrists and curling out across the darkness to wrap around the undead’s neck. It gasps as I choke the magical life out of it until it’s no longer moving.

As it slumps to the ground, I turn to Phoenix, the orb of the moon reflecting in his wide eyes.

“We need to get out of here,” I tell him with urgency. “If the undead is running around, then someone’s trying to pin something on me.”

His attention zips to me. “What? Why would you think that? ”

I start down the path again, taking long strides. “Because I’m one of the few who have the power of necromancy?—”

“Kaiden Everson.” A group of cloaked figures emerge from the trees and close in on us.

They’re all holding unlit torches when they first materialize but then the torches ignite, revealing the redness of their cloaks.

The council.

Charlotte steps forward, lowering her hood, the glow of the flames reflecting across her face, revealing that her eyes are fastened on me.

Something is wrong.

Really, really wrong.

For a faltering moment, remorse flashes across Charlotte’s expression. But as promptly as it arose, it blends away with the night.

“Kaiden Everson,” she repeats, “you’re under arrest for the illegal use of necromancy that resulted in the murder of James Saintingford.”