Page 30 of Born Wicked

I break the knob getting inside the door, and walk in, pushing it closed behind me.

“Who is it?” a startled voice asks in the dark.

I flick on the dim light for his benefit and find Markus Lontoc, the Necromancer, lying in his cot, shielding his eyes.

I should say something. Should have words for this man who’s done some pretty unspeakable things. But I find myself just looking at him, silently wishing I was coming to him under different circumstances.

We all have strengths. Gifted, vampire, or not, everyone has something special and unique to them. Markus can literally bring people back from the dead. Think of the good he could do with that gift.

Instead, he used it to bring back a murderer.

“What do you see for your future?” I ask finally. Markus stares at me, his booted leg stretched out before him. The bruises are all gone. The only evidence of the injuries he sustained from Roman tackling him out a second story is his leg. “When you get out of here, where will you go?”

“Didn’t have much reason to believe I was ever getting out of here,” he says darkly, looking at me with resentment in his eyes.

“Imagine it for a second,” I say coolly with the shrug of one shoulder.

He holds my gaze for a second, and I can tell he knows I’m testing him. I hold the upper hand. Markus’ gift might be exceptional. But against me, if it came to hand to hand, I could rip him to pieces in seconds. He wouldn’t stand against me for even a breath.

“I have extended family in both India and Germany,” he says, surprising me. I had wondered at his ancestry before. “Gifts run in both sides of my family. I have questions for some of those who have passed on.”

Sounds innocent enough. Except that I don’t know what gifts those dead family members possessed.

But is it really my job to police the world?

“Are you planning on doing shitty stuff like running with Archer King again?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.

He’s confused, and I can tell he’s struggling to keep up with my line of thought. I know I’m not making a ton of sense. When you’re not always sure you’re a good person yourself, are you really fit to dole out evaluations of others?

“Look, my conscience isn’t going to allow me to let you rot in here for the rest of my days. Turns out, my mother was cremated, and we’ll never recover her ashes. So, now it’s up to me to decide what the hell to do with you. But the reality is that you’ve done some pretty bad stuff in your life, so… I don’t know exactly what to do right now. Morals, you know? Sometimes they do make your life a little inconvenient.”

“So wrong answers, and you’ll rip me apart, I assume?” he sneers.

“You’re really not making this any easier,” I say with an exasperated sigh. “Look, I’m thinking it’s easiest to just put you on a one-way flight to Germany and let them deal with your nonsense. I don’t think you’re a good person, but I also don’t think I have it in me to kill you. So, I think I just have to settle on making you someone else’s problem.”

“Fine by me,” he says, hope and excitement creeping into his tone.

Ugh. I really, really hope I’m not making a mistake.

I pull my phone from my pocket, hit his name, and hold the phone to my ear.

“How’s Kansas?” Roman answers.

“It sucked pickled balls, but I’m actually home now,” I answer, keeping an eye on Markus. “Question: do you have any way to get a fake ID and passport in a matter of say… hours?”

“Of course,” he says. “What for?”

“It’s time I dealt with the necromancer,” I answer, watching as Markus gets up and hobbles to the shelf with his things. He pulls a shirt on and sorts through the contents. “I’ve settled on banishment. How’s that for my first Night Councilwoman decision?”

“Let’s hope it’s not one that comes back to bite us in the ass,” Roman says. “I can have the passport in an hour.”

“Meet me at the airport,” I instruct and end the call. “Pack your bag, corpse groper. You’re going to Germany.”

An hour and ten minutes later, I’m back at the airport for the second time in just a few hours. Markus stands at my side with the aid of crutches, looking rather nervous. He knows what I’m capable of. He knows if he tries to run, I’ll be on him in a second. So, he’s a good, cooperative little necromancer. When Roman walks through the doors, searching the space for me, I smile in relief.

Roman eyes him darkly as he walks toward us. For a few weeks, Roman thought he was dead. Till I fessed up to what Sebastian did.

When will it end? Having to clean up Sebastian’s messes?

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