fuck is the matter with people?” she said. “How could anyone—”
“Faeries,” I said. “They don’t have morals. Humans are like toys to them.”
Isabel pulled a tissue from her bag and wiped her mouth. “Ugh. What now? Going to see your boss?”
“I should probably call him first.”
“Do that. Last night was weird. I don’t think he’s mad at you. He’s worried about you. There’s a difference.”
I sighed. “I wanted a date, not a dead body.” Welcome to my goddamned life. I pulled out my phone and hit Vance’s number.
“Vance,” I said. “I’ve been—” The sound of a dial tone interrupted me. “What the hell?”
“He’s not there?”
“Nope.” I hung up, fury beginning to simmer. “Damn you, Vance. Fine. I’ll go it alone.”
Isabel caught up with me as the high fences of shifter territory ended, giving way to houses and gardens. “Go where?”
“The necromancers. If I’m going to be sensible and not hop over the veil, I’ll have to do it the legal way. Otherwise known as the bloody impossible way, because Lord Evander hates me.”
Isabel chewed her lip. “Not alone. Let me come with you.”
“To the necromancers?” I hesitated. “I suppose they’re less dangerous than the half-bloods or shifters. But bring salt. Lots of it. They’ve had trouble controlling their undead lately.”
“Yippee,” said Isabel, in such an accurate impression of me that I laughed.
“Come on.” I led the way home, leaving the shifters behind. En route, I tried to call Vance twice but went straight to voicemail. Giving up, I gave him a recorded message telling him to call me back.
When we reached the flat, Isabel ducked inside and returned carrying several containers of salt.
“Good,” I said, taking one of them. “Last time I went there a half-faerie ghost showed up, so watch out.”
“You can see the dead?” She stashed the salt container in her handbag.
“Not usually. Only when the veil’s thin.” I made sure my own salt shaker was secure in my inside pocket.
“All right,” said Isabel. “I’m glad you aren’t turning into a full-fledged necromancer. No offence, but they’re creepy as hell.”
“Gotta agree with you there.”
And on that note, we headed to see the necromancers.
CHAPTER NINE
I fidgeted on the doorstep of necromancer HQ, casting an uneasy glance at the locked gate to their back yard. I half expected the half-faerie ghost I’d met once to show up—or another, worse ghost. Chills raced across my skin, and the squat, jet-black building seemed to push the sun’s rays as far away as possible.
The door opened. My heart sank. I’d hoped the leader of the necromancers wouldn’t answer the door in person. No such luck. Lord Evander—short and slight, dressed in a smart suit that made him look comical rather than frightening—glared at me. “Ivy Lane. I thought I informed your boss that you aren’t welcome here.”
I let my dignity slide away. “I wish to hire a necromancer. I’m investigating a murder and require your services.”
“Absolutely not,” said Lord Evander. “The last time you were near a summoning circle, people died. Specifically, you killed one of my apprentices.”
I swallowed. “He was possessed. I acted in self-defence. I didn’t mean to kill him.”
“I don’t think you do anything by accident, Ivy Lane.”
I kept my expression neutral, with difficulty. The dick was asking for a punch to the throat. “Whatever you think of me is irrelevant. I’m asking you in a professional capacity.”
“Then let me hire you,” said Isabel, stepping forward. “I’m investigating this murder case, too. I’m happy to pay your rates, whatever they are.”
Lord Evander scowled at her. “Witch, are you?”
“The Laurel Coven’s Second,” said Isabel. “I’ll bring in our leader, if need be.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
I gaped at little. Isabel of
“Faeries,” I said. “They don’t have morals. Humans are like toys to them.”
Isabel pulled a tissue from her bag and wiped her mouth. “Ugh. What now? Going to see your boss?”
“I should probably call him first.”
“Do that. Last night was weird. I don’t think he’s mad at you. He’s worried about you. There’s a difference.”
I sighed. “I wanted a date, not a dead body.” Welcome to my goddamned life. I pulled out my phone and hit Vance’s number.
“Vance,” I said. “I’ve been—” The sound of a dial tone interrupted me. “What the hell?”
“He’s not there?”
“Nope.” I hung up, fury beginning to simmer. “Damn you, Vance. Fine. I’ll go it alone.”
Isabel caught up with me as the high fences of shifter territory ended, giving way to houses and gardens. “Go where?”
“The necromancers. If I’m going to be sensible and not hop over the veil, I’ll have to do it the legal way. Otherwise known as the bloody impossible way, because Lord Evander hates me.”
Isabel chewed her lip. “Not alone. Let me come with you.”
“To the necromancers?” I hesitated. “I suppose they’re less dangerous than the half-bloods or shifters. But bring salt. Lots of it. They’ve had trouble controlling their undead lately.”
“Yippee,” said Isabel, in such an accurate impression of me that I laughed.
“Come on.” I led the way home, leaving the shifters behind. En route, I tried to call Vance twice but went straight to voicemail. Giving up, I gave him a recorded message telling him to call me back.
When we reached the flat, Isabel ducked inside and returned carrying several containers of salt.
“Good,” I said, taking one of them. “Last time I went there a half-faerie ghost showed up, so watch out.”
“You can see the dead?” She stashed the salt container in her handbag.
“Not usually. Only when the veil’s thin.” I made sure my own salt shaker was secure in my inside pocket.
“All right,” said Isabel. “I’m glad you aren’t turning into a full-fledged necromancer. No offence, but they’re creepy as hell.”
“Gotta agree with you there.”
And on that note, we headed to see the necromancers.
CHAPTER NINE
I fidgeted on the doorstep of necromancer HQ, casting an uneasy glance at the locked gate to their back yard. I half expected the half-faerie ghost I’d met once to show up—or another, worse ghost. Chills raced across my skin, and the squat, jet-black building seemed to push the sun’s rays as far away as possible.
The door opened. My heart sank. I’d hoped the leader of the necromancers wouldn’t answer the door in person. No such luck. Lord Evander—short and slight, dressed in a smart suit that made him look comical rather than frightening—glared at me. “Ivy Lane. I thought I informed your boss that you aren’t welcome here.”
I let my dignity slide away. “I wish to hire a necromancer. I’m investigating a murder and require your services.”
“Absolutely not,” said Lord Evander. “The last time you were near a summoning circle, people died. Specifically, you killed one of my apprentices.”
I swallowed. “He was possessed. I acted in self-defence. I didn’t mean to kill him.”
“I don’t think you do anything by accident, Ivy Lane.”
I kept my expression neutral, with difficulty. The dick was asking for a punch to the throat. “Whatever you think of me is irrelevant. I’m asking you in a professional capacity.”
“Then let me hire you,” said Isabel, stepping forward. “I’m investigating this murder case, too. I’m happy to pay your rates, whatever they are.”
Lord Evander scowled at her. “Witch, are you?”
“The Laurel Coven’s Second,” said Isabel. “I’ll bring in our leader, if need be.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
I gaped at little. Isabel of
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