Tale of the Necromancer by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

19

Present

Boston, Massachusetts

Gideon watchedas Marguerite came to, her eyes blinking as she returned to reality. She had gripped the wedding rings in her hand and had sunk deep into a fugue state. She had been lost in her memories for no more than an hour.

And during that time, he did what he needed to do. Something he should have done a long, long time ago. He knew she would be furious, and rightfully so. He loathed to do the deed, more than anything else in the world…but he had no choice. She would leave him no other option.

He had packed her a bag.

Once that was done, he sat in a chair across the room, and began to work his way through an entire bottle of scotch. He hated it, usually—tasted too much like a peat bog for his liking—but it was strong, and he had a particular need.

When she came around, he was two-thirds of the way through his goal. The world was getting fluffy around the edges, and his vision was beginning to swim.

Marguerite looked down at the rings in her palm. His and hers. Clenching her fist, he expected her to hurl them across the room at him. He deserved it. Instead, she slipped them into her pocket and leaned back in the chair to stare at him.

Lifting his hand, scotch sloshing in the glass he held, he gestured at the duffel bag on the sofa beside her. “Phone. Cards. Identification. A week’s worth of clothes, and keys to the Mercedes in back.”

Her jaw ticked. “That’s all you have to say to me?”

“No. It isn’t. But it’s all that I expect you want to hear.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Gideon, are you drunk?”

“No.” He sniffed dismissively and stared down into his glass, closing one eye as he did. “Still working on it.”

They sat in silence for a long time, simply watching each other. He had expected tears—for her to sit there and weep. Or faint. Or do anything at all. But she just stared at him in silence.

Finally, he could not take it any longer. “I am sorry.”

Marguerite burst out in laughter as though that was the funniest thing she had ever heard. There was an edge to it, and then he realized what was going on. She wasn’t sad. She was furious. She had every right to be. And honestly, he preferred her anger to her grief.

“How dare you, Gideon? Where the fuck do you get off—” She stopped herself mid-rant and shook her head. “No. Never mind. I know exactly where you get off.”

“I am not condoning a single act I have ever done, Marguerite. Not one. I do not ask for your forgiveness, nor do I believe that any of the actions I took were anything more than the acts of a selfish man who was—is—obsessed with you.” He grimaced in disgust at himself. At how pathetic he really was when it all broke down. He was just a man desperate for the love of a woman he could not have.

When he spoke again, his voice betrayed his agony. His voice cracked, and he felt his own eyes begin to water. “I love you, Marguerite.” He downed the rest of his glass and quickly refilled it. “What I did, I did for love.”

“Bullshit.”She pointed at him accusatorially. “You didn’t even fucking know me, Gideon! I was a child. Just a kid, living under my father’s wing. I was an older kid, sure, but I wasn’t ever allowed to grow up in that place. You took me from there, murdered everyone I loved, and—and holy shit, Gideon—an entire fucking village!”

He winced. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything. All of it. Every goddamn day, every goddamn death, everybody you murdered because you couldn’t stand letting me out of your reach.”

“How could I let you loose into the world, Marguerite?” Now his anger rose to match hers. “What was I to do? Your soul and mine were one, and you were a broken, shattered thing. I had to fix you before I could even—” He wiped a hand across his face, cleaning the tears from his cheeks. He didn’t know why he bothered; more were on their way. “I could not let you wander off into the world, alone and defenseless. You would be taken advantage of.”

“Right. ‘Taken advantage’ of.” She snorted. “For what it’s worth, I think those mercenaries were actually going to help me. And fucking three guys at once sounds like a fun night.” She sneered at him cruelly. “What if that’s what I want to do now, hm? What if I go find that goddamn pretty boy vampire and say ‘you, me, and ten of your most brutal friends. Let’s run a train tonight. I don’t stay dead. Let’s party.’ What would you do?”

Jealousy and fury boiled in his blood. He knew Marguerite might make good on her threat, if only to harm him. He wanted to pin her to the ground. To make her regret her words and cry for mercy as he took her with the violence she threatened to invite upon herself.

Jaw twitching, he knew there was no point. He sank back into the chair and shut his eyes. “Such is your choice.”

“You stole me, all those years ago. You stole me from my family…and you stole my ability to die.”

“Yes. I did.” And then, he said the truth of it all. “And before you ask it, yes. I would do it all again.”

Marguerite let out a long, heavy sigh. When he looked to her, she was rubbing the heels of her hands against her temples as though she had a headache. “I need to sort this out.”

“Take the bag and go. I will not follow you. I have the feeling you can handle yourself now.”

“You’ll be tracking me, though. You’re tracking the car, and probably my phone, and the credit cards, and—” She paused as he stared at her flatly. Then, she remembered. “Right. I have your soul. You’ve already got the ultimate LoJack.”

“I will always know where you are, and if you’re in pain.” He sipped his scotch. Yes, he was getting well and truly wasted. “I’ll do my best to ignore it.”

She stood and picked up the bag from the sofa and slung it over her shoulder. His heart sank as she did. He didn’t expect her to stay—what kind of a fool would think she would? But he still felt a pang of hurt as she stood there, looking toward the back door and where a car was waiting for her to take. She furrowed her brow. “Hey, Gideon?”

“Yes, princess?”

“Do I know how to drive?”

He laughed once. “Yes.”

“Great.” She shrugged. “I’m pretty sure I’d figure it out. Can’t be that hard. Besides, if I wrap the car around a tree, it’s not like I’ll stay dead.” She paused again. “I’m not going to permanently die now, am I? I don’t—I remember everything now. I don’t feel sick anymore.”

“I suspect you’re mended. As much as you can be, with my soul tangled with yours. I think we are—what’s the phrase? ‘In the clear.’” He shut his eyes. I will live an eternity now without you. I suppose that is my penance. That’s the price I have to pay for what I took from you. “Your life is your own to live, as much as I can grant it.”

“Pretty sure you couldn’t keep me prisoner anymore, anyway. Pretty sure I can just order your stupid ass around.”

“Jarringly, yes. That seems to be the case.” He downed the glass of scotch and poured himself another. “But my stupid ass plans to sit here and get trashed.”

“Apparently.”

Silence reigned for a long moment. She was going to leave him, but something was giving her pause. Something left for her to discern. She was just staring at that back door, as if she were walking through the next moments of her life in her mind.

He took the opportunity to ask a question that had haunted him since the night she died for the first time. It was one he had always wished to know. “Marguerite…I have no business to ask this of you. You needn’t answer me. Indeed, do not answer at all, if you would instead lie to me, but I—that night. You said…” He trailed off, tears brimming in his eyes again. He grimaced and swiped them away.

“I meant it.” Her voice was softer then. When he looked to her, she was fidgeting with the strap of the duffel bag. “I loved you.” It looked as though she was going to say something else, but she stopped. “In that place, before I knew the truth…I really loved you.”

He smiled mournfully and shut his eyes. “Go, Marguerite. Be free of me. And for the love of the gods, will you please take that miserable revenant of yours with you?”

She chuckled. “Yeah. I will.” She turned toward the stairs. “I guess I should go wake him up. Hey, Harry!”

* * *

Maggie headed backdown the stairs with Harry at her heels. He was groggy, confused, but seemed more than ready to leave the house. All she explained was that she remembered everything, and it was time to go. And that Gideon wasn’t coming with them.

He didn’t need any other encouragement to leave.

Algernon was perched on her shoulder, burrowed into her hair, his little paws playing with her earrings. She scratched him gently on the head and crossed the room toward the back door to Gideon’s Boston estate.

Freedom. Control. Power.

It was all hers now. Everything she could have ever asked for was right there, waiting in the driveway. The keys were in her hand. She had her best friend, and she had her pet rat.

I raised them both.

They’re mine.

With a shake of her head, she tried to wrap her head around the fact that she could do magic. And she had been able to for a very long time. She had just forgotten it along with everything else in her life.

She paused as they crossed by the living room. Gideon had finished off the first bottle of scotch and had apparently moved on to a second one. He was sitting in the chair, looking utterly despondent. Mephisto was lying on the ground across his feet, her head between her paws, doing her absolute best to cheer up her master.

With a long breath, she handed her duffel bag and the car keys to Harry—Leopold—whatever. She jerked her head toward Gideon. Harry, understanding that she had to say goodbye, but not being too happy about it, nodded and headed out to the car.

Walking into the living room, she walked up to Mephisto and crouched down by the big sheepadoodle and petted her head.

“Saying goodbye to the dog?”

Oh, boy, Gideon was trashed. Usually, she’d be amused. Instead, she just felt…sad. “Yup.” She straightened and gazed down at the man who looked as though his entire world had ended. Perhaps it had. “This had to happen. We couldn’t go on like that.”

“I know.”

“My father. Why did you do it?”

“Murder him? You know why.”

“No. Turn him into that—that thing that the Vatican kept.”

The fingers of his hand on the armrest of the chair curled in, creaking against the leather, as he made a fist. “Every stone I own, you wish to overturn.” He shook his head and let out a wavering sigh. “I was…furious that he told you the truth. I wished to ensure that you could never raise him again to cause more problems.”

“Ah. So, because you’re a murderous piece of shit, you condemned him to existing, trapped in gold, in the darkness of the Vatican vault, for the rest of time?”

“That sums it up nicely.”

She wanted to smack him. But it wouldn’t do any good—he was broken enough already. He wouldn’t even look at her. Dr. Gideon Raithe. Murderous lich. Selfish and compassionate. Kind and cruel. And he did it all for love of her.

It was too much. It was all too much at once. “When I smashed him, I tapped into my magic to free him. That’s why it worked.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“You weren’t—”

“I swear to fuck, if you tell me I wasn’t ready I’m going to break that bottle over your head.”

He swallowed his words, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and began again. “I wanted to keep the truth from you as long as I could. Because I knew once you knew, this would be the outcome.”

“Your options were this, or death.”

“Now that I experience this choice”—he took a gulp of scotch from his glass—“I am not sure which I prefer.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. He just sounded so dejected. “Melodramatic asshole.”

“Guilty as charged.” He finally looked up to her, his silver eyes ringed in red. “On all accounts.”

God damn it, why was that a kick to the gut? Why did she feel guilty for leaving him like this? She had no reason to, after all he had done. But she supposed, balanced on the scales with all the terrible things he had done…were all the memories she had of when they were together.

The laughter. The tender moments. Him.

I loved you not in spite of your darkness, but because of it.

But she had to deal with that on her own. She had to deal with everything on her own.

Reaching out, she put her hand on his shoulder. She knew she shouldn’t. She should be punching him. Hitting him. Cursing him to the pits. But for all the damage he had done, she remembered him holding her while she cried. She remembered all the times he protected her. Cared for her. Made her smile when it seemed she never would again.

She remembered all his love for her. And, stupid as it was, foolish as it was, all her love for him. “I need time to sort this out.”

He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it gently. “Go, Marguerite. Be who it was you were meant to be without my meddling. I will always be here.”

And he would be. He’d sit there in that chair for the rest of time if she told him she would love him for it.

He shut his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Goodbye, Marguerite…send the priests my regards.”

“Yeah. I guess I should deal with them.” She let out a breath. “Great. That’ll be fun.” Heading to the door, she paused and looked back at him. “Goodbye, Gideon.”

He didn’t respond.

Leaving the house, she shut the door behind her with a click that felt far more final than it should have. Heading to the car, she jerked in surprise as she turned to find a giant undead vulture perched on the railing, staring at her.

“Hi, Eurydice.”

The vulture puffed up, fluffing her feathers, and let out a low grumbling noise that Maggie could only assume was some kind of greeting, Or some kind of goodbye. The vulture was simply staring at her, as if asking her a question.

“I have to think things through.” Maggie looked off to the car. Harry was sitting in the passenger seat, playing on his phone, patiently waiting for her. Looking back to the bird, she smiled faintly. “Take care of that overdramatic dumbfuck for me, will you? Don’t let him crawl too far under a rock.”

The bird let out another grumble as if to say that was her entire job in this world. She spread her wings and took off into the air. Eurydice had never been one for small talk.

Climbing into the driver’s side, she smiled at Harry. “Hey.”

He tucked his phone back into his pocket and smiled back. “Where’re we going, boss?”

She thought about it for a moment. “First stop, we’re going to the Cape to find a nice hotel on the beach. After that? Anywhere we want.”

Turning the key in the ignition, she headed out. Yes, she could drive. But after clipping the curb, she realized it had been a long time since she’d driven a car. Snickering, apologizing to Harry under her breath, she left Gideon’s home behind her.

But something told her she would not abandon the man so easily. At least not for long. They had too much nonsense to resolve before she could walk away from him once and for all. That was her newest problem—dealing with the past she now remembered.

For now, though, she was free. She had control. And lich be damned, her mind was her own once again.

That was good enough for now.

“You gonna tell me what the fuck happened?” Harry glanced over at her as she drove.

She knew what he meant. But she let out a long rush of air. “I don’t know if I can tell it to you in the hour it takes to the Cape, but I’ll try.”

“What?”

“I remember everything. Literally everything.”

“You said.” He shifted lower in his seat, the leather upholstery creaking. His eyes were wide as he watched her. “What happened? What did he do?”

“I’ll start at the beginning.” She looked over at him at a red light and smiled sadly. “Your name is Leopold.”

He blinked then stared out at the road ahead. “Leopold.”

“Yeah.” Reaching out, she put a hand on his shoulder. She knew what it felt like to learn new facts about the past.

“I hate it.” He wrinkled his nose. “I think I prefer Harry.”

Laughing, she hit the accelerator when the light turned green and made her way toward the highway that would take them to the Cape and away from Gideon. “Harry, it is.”