Page 14 of Necromance
I struck a match, lighting three candles—one for the past, one for the present, and one for the restless dead. Wax dripped in slow, languid trails, pooling at the base like frozen tears.
Taking a steadying breath, I placed my hands on the table, fingertips grazing the planchette, and pushed just a tiny bit of my magic into it. Not enough to exert myself, but enough to entice.
“If there are spirits here,” I said, my voice steady despite the heavy silence pressing in. “I invite you to come forward. I mean no harm. I only wish to speak.”
The flames wavered, and a hush settled over the room. The castle itself seemed to inhale, waiting. I closed my eyes, reaching with my senses beyond the veil, feeling for the presence of the lingeringdead.
A moment passed. Then another.
A chair creaked.
My eyes snapped open.
Lucien sat across from me, one arm draped lazily over the back of his chair, the other resting on the table, fingers tapping idly against the wood. He looked amused, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief, his lips curved into that slow, insufferable grin.
“Good evening, witch,” he drawled.
I exhaled sharply, pressing my fingers to my temple. “What are you doing here?”
He lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “You just summoned me.”
“I was summoninganyspirit. Not you specifically.”
Lucien tilted his head as if considering this, then frowned. “Your disappointment wounds me.”
I sighed, leaning back in my chair. I should’ve been more specific. Of course, he would take advantage of an open invitation. Despite my annoyance, however, his presence made my heart give the smallest flutter that I couldn’t ignore. His gaze flicked over my setup, the spirit board, the candles, the silver dagger.
“Expecting something dangerous?” he mused, nodding toward the blade.
“You, apparently.”
His lips curved. “Flattered.”
I ignored him, lifting the intricately carved blade, and twirling it between my fingers.
“Forgive my ignorance,” he said smoothly. “But how exactly would a knife work on a ghost?”
I smiled at him. “It’s enchanted, meant for protection against evil.IfI were to stab you with it, it would send your soul to hades.”
“But I intend you no harm,” he countered with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
I rolled my eyes, returning the blade to the table before reaching for the planchette, but before I could set my hands on it again, Lucien leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. “Tell me, necromancer,” he murmured, his voice like warm honey, “what exactly were you hoping to find tonight?”
I hesitated. The air between us felt charged, like a storm waiting to break. “Answers,” I admitted.
“About what?”
I met his gaze. “About this castle. About the spirits trapped here.” I paused. “About you.”
He tsked softly. “Digging into my past already? You must be very interested in me.”
I ignored the heat creeping up my neck. “I just want to know how to break your curse and complete my job here.”
Lucien leaned back, looking almost smug. “And what have you figured out so far?”
I studied him. He was too real, too solid to be a ghost. Andyet, he wasn’t quite… alive. Somehow he existed in the space between life and death, bound to something even he didn’t understand.
“Nothing yet. You’re cursed,” I said simply, repeating what we already knew. “And you have no memory of why.”
