Page 46 of Necromance
After a quick wash in the icy basin and pulling on a wool dress, I lit a single candle and stood by the salt line near the door. With a breath drawn deep into my chest, I hummed his name into the dark.
“Lucien.”
Nothing.
I closed my eyes, summoned a small thread of magic from deep within, and whispered again, this time louder, firmer, pouring that magic into the call.
“Lucien Wescraven.”
The air around me shifted. Cold at first, then warm—electric.
He appeared near the fireplace, just as the flame inside sputtered to life. His form was whole tonight, no flickering. But I could see the tension in the way he stood, the storm already brewing in his eyes.
“You called,” he said, a smooth grin on his lips.
“I did,” I replied, unable to take my eyes off the dimple in his cheek or ignore the way my pulse still sped up when he appeared. “I… I need to talk to you. There’s one place we haven’t searched yet. The south tower.”
Lucien glanced toward the window, toward the mist curling over the distant rooftops. “That part of the castle is… older. Twisted. But if we’re running out of time…”
“We are,” I agreed. “So let’s go.” I didn’t give him a moment more to think about it before leading him out of my bedchamber and through the twisting corridors. We walked in silence, the only sounds were the creaking of the castle and the guilt churning in my stomach. I needed to tell him about the elixir, but I didn’t have the nerve yet.
He was going to be furious that I’d left my room without him…
The south tower loomed like a crooked spine against the night sky. The halls that led to it were colder, damper, and quieter than any other part of Ravenspire. The air smelled of moss and dust,like secrets buried beneath stone.
We stepped into what once must’ve been a grand conservatory, its glass ceiling cracked and blackened, vines growing like veins through the walls and curling around shattered benches.
That’s when I saw her.
A figure, slim, hunched slightly, turned the corner just ahead, skirts trailing along the floor.
“Portia?” I gasped.
“Mia, wait—” Lucien said, his voice echoing after me.
But I was already running. I turned the corner and stopped cold. The figure I’d seen was gone, but something else waited in her place.
A tall, crawling shadow unfurled from the ceiling, its limbs too long, its form barely holding shape. It crept forward with jerking, unnatural movements, its face a blur of black smoke and glistening fangs.
I took one step back. Then another.
My voice caught in my throat. Magic flared in my fingertips, but I couldn’t move fast enough.
The creature lunged.
I barely had time to scream before it collided with me, slamming me back against the cold stone wall. Pain bloomed through my skull like fire, and the world tipped sideways.
Through the haze, I heard Lucien, his voice like thunder, and then I saw him, just for a moment, grabbingthe shadow by the neck and hurling it away from me like it was weightless.
The last thing I saw before darkness took me was Lucien’s face, fierce and furious, his eyes glowing with rage as he turned toward the creature once more.
Then—nothing.
*******
My temples pounded as I opened my eyes, groaning as I realized I was yet again in my bed… injured.
The canopy above my bed swayed gently, the shadows of firelight shifting across the fabric. For a moment, I laid there in silence, listening to the fire crackling softly in the hearth.
