VoodooMoon (22 page)

Fiona pulled away from him and he admired the curve of her thighs and sway of her hips as she walked to the bathroom to retrieve the robe she’d worn earlier in the day.

She flashed him a grin as she settled down at the food laden table. “I’m not bringing you dinner in bed. And I can’t guarantee that there will be anything left if you lay over there too long. This stew smells delicious.”

Ian rose, grabbed his own robe, and joined her at the table. Mrs. Gary had provided venison stew, rolls, butter, honey, and a plate of sliced fruits and vegetables. There was a pitcher of lemonade to wash it all down. “Well, I promised a feast, and Mrs. Gary delivered,” he laughed.

“This is amazing. Do you eat like this all the time?” Fiona asked munching on a cucumber slice as she dished hot venison stew into her bowl.

“Yes and no. Mrs. Gary, or the cook on Mrs. Gary’s instruction, cooks three meals a day and afternoon snacks. The food is always delicious. But usually, except for tea and a snack, I eat down in the cafeteria with everyone else. As Mrs. Gary says, just because I own the place doesn’t mean I’m any better than anyone else that works here.”

Fiona laughed. “She makes you eat downstairs doesn’t she?”

“Yep,” Ian said, sheepishly.

“She seems like a wonderful woman, and she definitely cares about you. Has she worked for you a long time?”

“All of my life. Mrs. Gary was my nanny when I was a kid and the housekeeper at the main house in the compound when I was older. She and her husband came to live here and work for me when my father died. She’s like a mother to me.”

“So, why did you get to eat up here tonight?”

Ian laughed. “It’s you. I think she likes you. She probably thinks you are better than the guys that work here, or at least more special.”

“Well, I’m not one to argue,” Fiona laughed, popping a piece of roll into her mouth.

While they ate they talked companionably about whatever came up, but steered away from work. But, by the time they had finished, the conversation had rolled back around to the case they were working on.

“I think the key to figuring all of this out is going to be in finding out what he is doing to the bodies. How is he able speak through them, and then cause them to dehydrate?” Ian said.

“It seems to me that he is somehow controlling or removing their life energy, their spirits and turning them into zombies. I know you say it’s not possible, but it sounds like necromancy.”

“This wasn’t done by a necromancer,” Ian’s voice was tight.

“No?” Fiona’s voice was filled with barely veiled sarcasm.

“I realize you are skeptical. You believe in what you can see or feel. That because you cannot see or feel the energy of spirits you don’t believe in them.”

“No, that is not true. I’m a Mage, Ian. My power lies in feeling energy around me, even energy others can not feel or manipulate. I believe the energy of the dead remains, and can communicate with mages with certain powers, necromancers.

“What I do not believe is that all who say they are necromancers, are. What I don’t believe is that those who are necromancers always tell the truth. I think they prey on people who are vulnerable and willing to pay anything for a connection with a dead loved one. I think that practice has been going on for hundreds of years and it’s not likely to stop.”

“After all of the years you’ve spent working with me and other necromancers why do you still have such a poor view of us? I can’t think of any case that would cause you to feel that way.”

“I hate Necromancers because one killed my mother.”

She’d said the words calmly, as if she were saying, “The sky is blue.” A calm, factual statement. Her face was devoid of emotion.

His mind spun trying to remember what he knew about Malaina Hernandez and her death. He’d made it his business to know the professional background of any Blade or City Guard he worked with, though is interest in Fiona’s history had been a bit more personal. He had full security clearance within the Blades and had read her mother’s file long ago. From what he remembered, Malaina had been killed taking down a smuggling and slaving gang. It had been the same gang that had killed her husband nearly seven years before, only Malaina had managed to take down the ring leaders before she’d died. Ian didn’t remember the mention of a Necromancer in the files.

“A necromancer killed your mother?” He did his best to keep his voice casual. He wasn’t sure how to approach the subject, and was a little surprised she had.

“Well, she wasn’t really a necromancer, and she didn’t shove the sword through my mother’s body, but for all intents and purposes she killed her. She, and others like her stole my mother’s life long before the blood pumped out onto the ground.” Her voice was cold, hard steel.

Though her voice was steady and her face blank, he could see the sorrow of old grief in her eyes. He wanted to know what put that sad look in her eye, but he was afraid to pry. Fiona was not the sharing type, and other than last night in his bed, it was the first time she’d allowed him a glimpse of real emotion. If he pried, she could shut down.

If Ian had a weakness, other than his all consuming desire for Fiona that had not yet been slaked, it was his unfailing curiosity. His curious nature was what drew him to books and learning. It was even what made him teach, because even as he taught his students he was constantly learning from them. That natural eagerness to know the unknown paired with his feelings for Fiona created a lethal combination.

He wanted to know everything about her, what made her happy, what made her sad, all of the ways to make her gasp and moan. He knew as much about her past as any outsider could, but that was all academic. Facts. Even though he lived his life by facts, he knew that there was so much more to life, more to knowing Fiona. Right now, something about her mother’s death that had nothing to do with the public facts was upsetting her. His need to know more worked against him, until he had to ask her about it. Though he knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t help himself.

“How did a Necromancer cause your mother to die?” He wasn’t sure how else to put the question, but once it was said he knew it had been the wrong thing to say.

Her eyes flashed with anger. “Look, Barroes, just because we are sleeping together doesn’t mean you get to stick your nose into my life and ask about things that are none of your business.”

At least she’d said “sleeping together” as if it were going to be an ongoing activity. That was good. But she was wrong about it not being his business. She was his business, even if she wasn’t aware of it yet.

“I have to, honorably, disagree with you, Fiona.” He put emphasis on her first name to remind her they were on a first name basis. He knew she’d used his last name to put some emotional distance between them. He wasn’t going to let her.

“Ok, Ian, I’ll bite. What do you disagree with?” She casually strode across the room to the bed where her clothes were strewn across the floor.

She shrugged off the robe and his mouth went dry at the sight of the bare skin of her back, soft and silky and begging to be touched. He ached to drag his fingertips from the base of her neck down her spine, over the full swell of her ass and down to the back of her knee. He wondered if she was sensitive there. If he pressed his lips to the indention there would she moan?

The echo of her moans from an hour before ghosted through his mind. He went hard. He wanted her. Even after barely getting any sleep last night, even after spending an hour making love to her before dinner, and even though they were arguing, he wanted her right now.

He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from crossing the room and…damn!

She trying to distract him from the topic of discussion, and for a moment she had been successful. He pulled himself together as she slipped the her shirt on, covering most of her nudity. It did nothing to slake his lust, but he was pulling himself back together.

He took a breath, and tried to sound as neutral as possible. It wouldn’t do for her to know he wanted nothing more than to forget the entire conversation and tumble back into the bed with her for several more hours, or days. “First, I should point out that we are partnered on a case right now, which means we need to trust each other. I’m a necromancer and if you distrust all necromancers then we have a problem.”

She threw him a look over her shoulder as she pulled on the pants. “Okay, I’ll give you that. It still isn’t your business why I feel the way I do, but I will concede that I have no reason to distrust you, personally.”

“It’s a start, but not quite good enough.” He strode over to her and pulled her around to face him. Though desire was still pulsing through him, now that she was clothed he felt like he could touch her without losing his mind.

His voice was deeper, huskier than he meant it to be. “I know you are used to no-strings fuck partners, but I’m not one of them. I told you last night that I wanted more than just sex, that I want us to get to know each other, to see what this is between us. That means we are going to have to talk. Eventually you are going to have to let me past that shield you have erected. Don’t give me that look. If you can trust me enough to let me into your body, you should be able to trust me enough to let me into your life just a little.”

“It’s not that simple.” Her voice was quite, almost a whisper.

“I know it’s not. And I don’t think it should be simple, or easy. But if you can’t do it…I told you I want more than just sex from you, I need more than that. But, I can compromise and say maybe right now isn’t the time to go into this.”

Relief flooded her face, but he went on before she could say anything. “Eventually you are going to have to trust me enough to tell me why you hate me and my kind.”

He let her go and walked back over to the table and sat down. He nibbled on a roll and drank some tea while she sat on the end of the bed pulling on her boots.

For a few moments she was quite as she laced up the boots. The dark fall of her hair shielded her face from him. He hadn’t expected her to say she didn’t hate him, and she didn’t. Though, he didn’t really think she did.

When she had the boots tied she got up and joined him back at the table, sitting across from him and sipping her tea.

“Okay. Tell me why you are so sure this wasn’t done by a necromancer,” she said.

“Necromancy is, at its core, about communication. Necromancers communicate with the dead, we don’t control them. The idea of necromancers taking control of dead spirits while in their bodies and creating undead creatures that prey on human brains is a fictional creation from the Age of Technology. How, in a time where magic is known to be a scientific fact, such a ridiculous myth can still be given any credence…”

Fiona held up a hand. “Calm down.”

Ian took a deep breath. He hadn’t realized his voice had been rising as he spoke. When he spoke again the cool, professional dignity had returned to his voice. “I am perfectly calm. I do apologize, however. I do have a sore spot where this particular subject is concerned. The fact remains, this is not a matter of necromancy.”

Fiona sighed. “So, what you are telling me is zombies don’t exist, right?”

“They don’t.”

“So, how do you explain what happened to me last night? How do you explain the two dried up, spiritless bodies in the morgue?”

“I can’t. I’ve never seen anything like this.” And that concerned him more than he wanted her to know.

He took a deep breath, trying to decide how much to tell her about what he did know. How much could he really trust her? As she’d already made clear, just because they had sex didn’t make them confidants, and it didn’t mean she trusted him beyond the bed. Why should it mean he could trust her?

It didn’t. But he felt like he could trust. Not because they’d had sex, but because he knew the type of person she was. Perhaps the way to make her trust him was to show her that he trusted her.

He couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t hate him or even fear him when she found out, but he knew she would keep his secret. That is, if she heard him out and believed he’d had nothing to do with it. He couldn’t be sure of that, but it was a risk he had to take.

He paced across the room, his hands thrust in his pockets and his posture stiff.

“Look, this is the bottom line of what I know. Necromancy is specifically about speaking to spirits and not about putting spirits back into bodies. It is not possible to put a spirit back into its body.” He blew out a breath, but continued quickly before she could speak. “But, it is possible to re-animate a dead body using energy. But, there is no way that is what was happening last night. There is no way the body of the person that attacked you last night had been dead before.”

“Really?” she asked skeptically. “And how can you be so sure of that?”

“Because I can re-animate the dead.”

And there it was, what he’d feared the most was there in an instant, abject horror on her beautiful face.

“You can re-animate the dead? Since this mess started that is the one thing you have been telling me over and over can’t be done. Now you are telling me you can do it.” She grabbed the vest he’d lent her and put it on as she stalked towards the door. “You know what, this is all a bit much. You can tell me tomorrow just how you can make the dead walk again.”

“Fiona, wait.” He started toward her, but stopped short at the stay-back glare she gave him. “Let me explain. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

She rolled her eyes then strode over to stand toe to toe with him. “Get over yourself Barroes. I’m not afraid of you.” Her voice was deadly calm, but she punctuated each word with a finger poke to his chest. Her point made, turned and walked back to the door. “I’m going home to get some rest because it has been a long two days. A lot has happened, you know, with guy turning to a desiccated corpse and falling on me, then sex with you, then hours and hours of reading, then more sex. I’m a wee bit tired and have been, for the past half hour, wavering between wanting to punch you in the face and wanting to kiss you.

“After you dropped your little bombshell and then looked like me as if I were going to run screaming, the punch-you-in-the-face urge intensified. Since I might want to have sex with you again in the future, that probably isn’t a good idea at this time. So, to keep that from happening I’m going to go home, get some rest, and try to process the past two days. I suggest you do the same. While you are at it, you might try to give me some credit for being able to understand, and not freak out, about having a power that is odd and a little scary.”