directions, and then came back in again, bringing with it sparks and colors, all condensing down to where we stood. Leander released another word and the dome went back up and my powerblew through me as it erupted inside of the sphere and then dissipated.
I ended up on my ass, breathing heavily, eyes wide with shock.
Leander knelt in the center of the circle, one forearm draped over his bent knee and his head hanging low.
My brain scrambled to make sense of what had happened. I’d never seen anything like that before. Never even heard of anything like that before. “What the hell are you?”
His head lifted. His eyes glowed and then slowly faded.
He stood, brushed off his jacket, and then regarded me with a curt expression. “And that concludes this portion of the interview.”
I rolled my eyes and got up. Leander wasn’t too bad at trash talk and sarcasm, either. “Can I have my clothes and weapons back now?”
He snapped his fingers and everything was back where it had been.
“So what exactly was the light show about?” I had an idea but I wanted to hear it from him, mainly because it seemed so impossible.
“I have business to discuss with you. Your power escaped the confinement circle. Sachâth coming here would’ve delayed proceedings. I hate delays. You should make a note of that.”
“So you brought it back. My power. You pulled it back and manifested the circle to contain it. Areyou a siren?” I’d seen beings manipulate powers that weren’t their own, but this . . . this was commanding my energy with voice and word. And if Leander could do that, then he could’ve kicked my ass anytime he chose. I was lucky to be breathing.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Done yet?”
“No, not yet.” I was too intrigued to stop now, and if the guy had wanted me dead, he’d have done it by now. “How do you even know about Sachâth? And how do you know about me? And Hank? Is he alive?”
“I know many things, Charlie Madigan. How I know them is not important. I will tell you this . . . your partner lives.” My knees went weak. “And dies.”
I blinked. “What?”
Leander walked closer to the column to stare out at the dark blue sky. Only a few slashes of muted orange remained. “Putting it mildly, the Circe can be . . . cruel.” He smiled ruefully, his voice dropping low. He turned to me and there was a brief look of empathy in his eyes. “Death might be the most merciful option for Niérian now.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry and my heart pounding. Before I knew it, I was next to Leander, grabbing his arm and jerking him around to face me. “Where is he?” My voice broke.
Leander said nothing. His hand covered my own and instead of removing the death grip my finger had on his bicep, he closed his hands over mine. “Surviving the NecroNaMoria is . . . rare. I’m sorry.”
I flung his hand away and released him, steppingback. “Then you don’t know Hank. If I can get to him in time, he’ll heal from this . . . Necro thing. He’ll sleep for a long time and then he’ll be fine, he’ll . . .” Leander’s eyes turned sad, resigned, as though Hank was already gone, and it pissed me off, this sympathy. “Fuck you. I’m not giving up. That might be how you do things, but not me. And not Hank.” A tear slipped from my eye and I wiped it away angrily. “You’re going to tell me where he is or I swear to God I will unleash everything I have until nothing remains of this house or you.”
His look said yeah, right . “I don’t know where your partner is being held, but I know he is here and I know of the NecroNaMoria because that kind of crafting defiles a place, corrupts the energy of this world like a slow disease. No matter how hard they try to hide it . . . Once you’ve tasted soul crafting, you never forget the stench it leaves behind.”
“And the NecroNaMoria, what’s it do?”
“It’s a spell that tethers a soul to a body that has died. It forces the soul back from the
I ended up on my ass, breathing heavily, eyes wide with shock.
Leander knelt in the center of the circle, one forearm draped over his bent knee and his head hanging low.
My brain scrambled to make sense of what had happened. I’d never seen anything like that before. Never even heard of anything like that before. “What the hell are you?”
His head lifted. His eyes glowed and then slowly faded.
He stood, brushed off his jacket, and then regarded me with a curt expression. “And that concludes this portion of the interview.”
I rolled my eyes and got up. Leander wasn’t too bad at trash talk and sarcasm, either. “Can I have my clothes and weapons back now?”
He snapped his fingers and everything was back where it had been.
“So what exactly was the light show about?” I had an idea but I wanted to hear it from him, mainly because it seemed so impossible.
“I have business to discuss with you. Your power escaped the confinement circle. Sachâth coming here would’ve delayed proceedings. I hate delays. You should make a note of that.”
“So you brought it back. My power. You pulled it back and manifested the circle to contain it. Areyou a siren?” I’d seen beings manipulate powers that weren’t their own, but this . . . this was commanding my energy with voice and word. And if Leander could do that, then he could’ve kicked my ass anytime he chose. I was lucky to be breathing.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Done yet?”
“No, not yet.” I was too intrigued to stop now, and if the guy had wanted me dead, he’d have done it by now. “How do you even know about Sachâth? And how do you know about me? And Hank? Is he alive?”
“I know many things, Charlie Madigan. How I know them is not important. I will tell you this . . . your partner lives.” My knees went weak. “And dies.”
I blinked. “What?”
Leander walked closer to the column to stare out at the dark blue sky. Only a few slashes of muted orange remained. “Putting it mildly, the Circe can be . . . cruel.” He smiled ruefully, his voice dropping low. He turned to me and there was a brief look of empathy in his eyes. “Death might be the most merciful option for Niérian now.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry and my heart pounding. Before I knew it, I was next to Leander, grabbing his arm and jerking him around to face me. “Where is he?” My voice broke.
Leander said nothing. His hand covered my own and instead of removing the death grip my finger had on his bicep, he closed his hands over mine. “Surviving the NecroNaMoria is . . . rare. I’m sorry.”
I flung his hand away and released him, steppingback. “Then you don’t know Hank. If I can get to him in time, he’ll heal from this . . . Necro thing. He’ll sleep for a long time and then he’ll be fine, he’ll . . .” Leander’s eyes turned sad, resigned, as though Hank was already gone, and it pissed me off, this sympathy. “Fuck you. I’m not giving up. That might be how you do things, but not me. And not Hank.” A tear slipped from my eye and I wiped it away angrily. “You’re going to tell me where he is or I swear to God I will unleash everything I have until nothing remains of this house or you.”
His look said yeah, right . “I don’t know where your partner is being held, but I know he is here and I know of the NecroNaMoria because that kind of crafting defiles a place, corrupts the energy of this world like a slow disease. No matter how hard they try to hide it . . . Once you’ve tasted soul crafting, you never forget the stench it leaves behind.”
“And the NecroNaMoria, what’s it do?”
“It’s a spell that tethers a soul to a body that has died. It forces the soul back from the
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