High Society necromancers learned early how to tap their own veins, but Boaz’s training wouldn’t have been the same. Given the circumstances, I wasn’t about to suggest he allow Linus to do the honors, and I was too out of practice to offer to do it myself.
“Amelie is under my protection,” I informed Heinz. For the next six months, I was her sole means of support. “Contact whoever can do whatever she needs and send them out here. I’ll cover the bill.”
The look Heinz turned on me conveyed many things, but chief among them was gratitude for taking care of his friend by providing for his sister. “I’ll do that.”
Once the paramedics left, Boaz carried Amelie inside then made her comfortable on the couch. Wanting to give them a moment of privacy, I waited for Linus on the porch. I was a tad concerned Woolly might bar his entrance now that Amelie was out of danger. I needn’t have worried. Linus appeared not five minutes later, exchanged words with the house, then joined me near the door.
“We can’t send those samples to a Society-owned lab.”
“You’re worried someone will trace her condition back to me.”
Hearing our voices, Boaz snapped his head toward us, his gaze bouncing between us. After kissing Amelie on the forehead, he ambled over to add his two cents.
“What do you propose we do then?” An ugly, bitter noise rose in his throat. “You must have all the answers, right, Professor?” Muscles fluttered in his jaw. “You’re the one who oversaw Grier when she designed the new wards on Woolly, and you’re the one who tattooed my sister. Seems to me if you don’t know what you’re talking about, then you ought to get a damn clue before you go around handing out advice.”
Linus stared him down. “We both know there are extenuating circumstances.”
Vertebrae popped when Boaz jerked his head from left to right. “What do you propose we do?”
“Discuss this in private, for one.” Linus still wasn’t looking at me when he said, “Put her to bed then meet me at the carriage house.”
“We’ll be there,” Boaz assured him before turning to me. “Help me get her upstairs.”
Imperiousness must be bred into Society males of all castes.
“Yes, sir.” Snorting, I saluted him then headed inside after shooting Linus an apologetic look that glanced off his cheek. He went his way, and we went ours. At the couch, I wedged my shoulder under Amelie’s armpit to give me leverage to heave her onto her noodly legs. “Whatever you say, sir.”
“One day that smart mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble,” he threatened, eyes glinting.
“Gonna be…sick,” Amelie moaned. “Stop flirting. It’s disgusting.”
“I won’t take that personally,” Boaz said magnanimously, “since you’ve suffered a fainting spell and possible head injury, which would explain your lack of respect for my prowess.”
I turned my head against my shoulder to stifle a laugh, but they both heard, and Amelie grinned.
“I don’t need a head injury to know you and your moves are gross.”
“She is your sister,” I reminded him. “I’d be more worried if she did admire your, uh, prowess.”
A full-body shudder rolled through him. “Good point.”
Once we situated Amelie on the bed in her room, Boaz and I approached the carriage house.
The door was shut, of course, and required knocking, which made my jaw clench. He was expecting us. Surely, he would have confined Julius by now. Why not leave the door open? Or at least greet us when we arrived?
Linus appeared six knocks in and gestured toward the kitchen, indicating we should sit at the table. He opted to stand in his usual spot near the sink, like he had set himself apart on purpose, and that self-imposed isolation got on my last nerve.
Maybe I was just having a bad day.
“I have a friend in Atlanta who can conduct the tests we need done.” Linus got straight down to business. “I can drive the sample there for testing. Reardon will handle the case personally, I can assure you, and I will remain with him at all times to ensure the sample is destroyed along with all testing supplies. No one else will have access to Amelie’s blood.”
“Who’s this Reardon?” Boaz demanded. “How do we know we can trust him?”
“Reardon McAllister is a made vampire with no affiliations to any clans. He’s technically a rogue, but he considers himself neutral.”
“What about the clan that made him?” They didn’t vouch for humans they didn’t mean to hold on to.
“He has no clan.” Linus leaned a hip against the counter. “His wife was a necromancer, but she didn’t tell him. He died in a carriage accident early in their marriage, and she turned him against his will.”
“That’s horrible.” I linked my fingers in my lap. “Even so, the Undead Coalition just let him go?”
“Oh, they want him returned to the fold,” Linus said, a cold smile in place, “but he was a human victimized by the Society, and that puts him under the Grande Dame’s purview. He’s a brilliant chemist. His mind is what attracted his wife to him despite his humanity. He teaches at Strophalos, has for decades. That’s how we met. He’s one of the few teachers with dispensation to live on grounds year-round, safe behind the wards.”
“You’re going to Strophalos?” I strained forward like that might get me closer to the acclaimed college for the necromantic sciences. “How long will you stay?”
“Three days at most.” Slowly, his gaze met mine. “You’re welcome to come.”
On my periphery, Boaz tensed, a stone-cold statue hewn from granite.
“I…” the moisture dried in my mouth, “…can’t.”
A flicker of something—disappointment?—shadowed Linus’s face, but he nodded as if I had done what he expected.
“I have to consider Woolly. I can’t leave her alone.” Unable to let it go, I rambled. “And Amelie. I can’t leave her unsupervised. Keet would be fine, but then there’s—” I clamped my mouth shut before I outed Oscar in front of Boaz, “—work.”
“I understand.” Linus kept his tone all business. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
The towering stack of valid reasons I had for not going tottered under that direct hit.
I wanted him to look at me like this was any other night, like there was a breakfast spread between us. I wanted him to listen to me the way he did when we discussed our lessons, not tune me out when he got his answer and it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
I hated when he reverted to this aloof version of himself who couldn’t be bothered with anyone who failed to meet his exacting standards. Tip his nose up any higher, and he’d drown if it rained.
“Would it help?” Boaz asked, voice strained. “Having Grier there?”
“If there are any markers in Amelie’s blood that are magical in nature, it might help to crosscheck them against Grier to see if we can isolate the cause and create a cure. Otherwise…” grim lines bracketed his mouth, “…she can’t practice if there are known side effects to her magic.”
Which put me right back to square one. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to be a Society lackey who asks how high when the Grande Dame tells me to jump, but practicing necromancy was a dream out of my reach for so long. Having it offered up to me only for it to be snatched away again was a cruel joke.
“That’s not all, though, is it?” Boaz studied him. “You’re dropping everything to hand deliver this to a reclusive colleague in Atlanta. What aren’t you telling us?”
“Mother’s interest in Grier is contingent upon her ability to practice.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, but I saw them ball into fists through the fabric. “She views her as an investment.”
Boaz asked what I was afraid to wonder. “What happens if there’s no payoff?”
“Atramentous,” I whispered, folding in on myself, sick with possibilities.
“Double jeopardy,” Boaz soothed. “You can’t be tried again for the same crime after an acquittal.”
Unwilling to be coddled, I bit out, “Forgive me if I have my doubts about the legal system.”