How to Claim an Undead Soul (Beginner's Guide to Necromancy #2)

“I didn’t disabuse them of the notion we were too late to stop Ambrose from consuming Oscar. They’ll believe me since there’s no trace of him aboard the boat, but Amelie might out us if Ambrose gets control of her again.”

“They weren’t interested in Oscar except as bait,” I reminded him. “I doubt they care what happened to him as long as they got their man. Woman. Whatever.” A pathetic huff of oxygen masquerading as a laugh escaped me. “I still don’t believe it. I saw it with my own eyes, and I…” I mashed my lips together, swallowed hard once. “Where is she?”

“Amelie is being held in a cell at the Lyceum until sentencing. They can’t proceed with the trial until all the affected clans have been notified and given a chance to attend. They’ll also have to gather documentation proving the vampires belonged to them, who made them, and how much they paid for the service and when.”

“So it all comes down to money.” How typical. A life’s worth reduced to a figure on a ledger.

“That’s how these things usually go. Vampires are less sentimental than necromancers, but there’s always a chance one of the clans will have had a human turned for love rather than simply allowing a wealthy addition to tithe their way into the collective. The age of the victims will be the biggest determining factor. Older vampires are more revered, but they grow distant with age and lose touch with the modern world and their contemporary kin. Such a loss might be considered a profitable write-off, since a vampire’s clan is its sole inheritor. Younger vampires, however, cling to their humanity. A clan would be more upset to lose such potential.” He noticed the look on my face and sighed. “I’m sorry, Grier, but that’s the way the Society works. You asked me a question, and I answered it using the same formula I learned at my mother’s knee.”

“I didn’t mean to be judgmental, it’s just this whole situation is surreal.”

Linus parted his lips, pressed them together, then opened them again. “You never suspected her?”

“Of being a cross-dressing ghost eater?” I leaned back against the pillows. “No. I thought she was tired from work and school. She explained it away as studying for finals. I have no idea now if that was true or not.” But when I shut my eyes again, I recalled each time the voice in my head warned me away from sharing secrets with her. Why listen if I trusted her? Maybe, after all this time apart, the most obvious answer was…I didn’t. And this newest betrayal only made me feel that much worse. “We’ve had trouble reconnecting since…” I waved a hand in the air. “I didn’t push. I thought this was more of that. Us finding our way back to each other. Discovering our new normal.”

“I’m sorry,” he said plainly.

“Me too.” I curled around Oscar like he was a plush toy, and he didn’t seem to mind. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do. I have money. I can pay whatever tithes are leveraged against her.”

“You understand this isn’t your fault.”

“I…” Words failed me. “That’s how it feels.”

“You can’t help who or what you are any more than she can. You grew up together. She had plenty of time to come to terms with the disparity between your classes without embracing possession as a coping method.”

A tiny spark of anger on her behalf threatened to ignite my temper. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“She cast blame on you,” he kept going, taking me literally. “She knew you would bear the weight, and she cast it off her shoulders onto yours. She considered this for a long time before she reached a tipping point. I won’t dishonor her by implying she had no intentions of using her newfound powers as she claimed, but your abduction was a spark next to a powder keg. If Volkov hadn’t happened, then there would have been another trigger. She was a loaded gun waiting to go off in a crowded room.”

His earnest argument doused the worst of my irritation. “I can’t cut her out of my heart.”

“I’m only asking you to be careful. Her family won’t take this well. They’re going to side with her, and they’re going to blame you.” His fingers pressed into his eyes. “You haven’t been dating Boaz long, and he’s the Pritchard heir. They’re going to come down hard on you and hope he breaks things off before it gets serious. You need to harden your heart against what’s coming.”

A single tear escaped my eyes in acknowledgment that he was right, that I knew he was telling me the truth, but I didn’t want to say it out loud. I didn’t want it to be real yet.

The Pritchards had never been fond of me. His parents had made their stance on my romantic feelings toward their son clear. A union between a High Society dame and a Low Society scion would muddy the waters for both our bloodlines. Our children, if we had any, would struggle to find their place the same way I did thanks to my unorthodox upbringing.

Except, in my case, I had been playing human alongside the Low Society kids. At any point, Maud could have tired of the charade and dropped me into a new life that glittered diamond-bright before me. Linus might have filled the role of older brother or raging crush had I been schooled alongside him and my High Society peers. But I hadn’t been.

Our children wouldn’t have the option of choosing. Our children would be Woolworths. They had to be, or Maud’s line would end with me. I lacked her reputation to protect them. The family name would have to do that, and that meant Boaz renouncing his position as Pritchard scion and assuming an almost consort position. And since Amelie was about to fall from grace, the future of their bloodline would rest on the youngest Pritchard’s shoulders.

Macon was a good kid, but he hadn’t been groomed to lead the family since birth like Boaz. He hadn’t been nudged along as a spare like Amelie, either. Life as he knew it would end. His dreams would be cut from his head and new ones whispered in his ears. And the worst he could do was what Boaz had done—rebel. For all the good it would do him. There were different rules for male scions. Even Boaz’s rebellion hadn’t done more than earn him a title as a modern-day rake. All his acting out hadn’t saved him from his familial obligations, and it wouldn’t spare Macon either.

“I’m tired.” I made a valiant effort to keep my eyes dry. “I’m going to nap if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll wait out in the hall.” He pulled a faded blue crochet blanket over my shoulder. “I’ll leave Cletus with you.”

Eyes already shut, I pretended to sleep while he strolled out the door.





Sixteen





Ice spread through my chest, cutting a path between my breasts, and I gasped fully awake. “Cletus?”

“I’m insulted you called out another man’s name during foreplay,” Boaz drawled, leaning over me as he braced his elbows on the bedrail. “The ice cube move is a classic.”

I shoved upright, my heart attempting to catapult from my throat, but the brass button was cold in my palm, and Oscar was wherever Oscar went when he wasn’t here. Odds were good Boaz couldn’t see him without help since I struggled with his perception too, but I didn’t want to find out like this. Or at all. Not yet.

The Elite had been ready to sacrifice the kid to get what they wanted, and I was happy having him off their radar.

“That was foreplay?” The front of my gown was soggy and cold from the ice cube he’d stuck down my neckline. “Huh. All this time, I thought I was missing out on the whole sex thing, when foreplay with you is the equivalent of dumping a cold drink down the front of my shirt. I’ve done that plenty. Guess I’m less virginal than I originally suspected.”

“It doesn’t count when you do it,” he teased. “Dumping ice down your shirt is fun, sure, but having someone else do it is life changing.”

“Hmm.” I blotted my chest dry. “Are we talking about masturbation or sex?”

“I have a one-track mind, but self-pleasure is an activity I’m willing to explore with you.” His smile made my heart twist. “All couples need their hobbies.”

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