Page 15 of Necromancers Don't Raise

Wait, he was buying it? I grinned in the dark. “It’s brilliant, Monsieur Mercury.”

“Why do you call me Monsieur?”

“You’re French, aren’t you? Sometimes your accent is decidedly French. Also your clothing and aftershave.”

“Hmph.”

“Hmph? Even that sounds elegantly disgusted. Well, Mercury, my handsome hero, my light in the sewer, my provider of armored clothing and dust, will you hire me to teach Bones to cook?”

I waited in the dark, holding my breath while I tried to look at him. He helped me by turning on the lamp next to the bed. He was still fully clothed, including boots, and so was I. There would be so much chafing, but I wasn’t thinking about that right now. I wasn’t thinking about the shadow on his cheeks that gave himan even more dangerous and attractively seductive edge, either. Or the open neck of his shirt that gave a hint of chest that goblins would pay to see. I wasn’t in his league, which meant that I could say whatever I wanted, however shocking, and he would never, ever take me up on any of it. It was depressing, but also somewhat liberating.

“Are you certain you can cook?” he asked, looking skeptical.

I rolled my eyes and picked at his black silk-velvet sleeve. “Of course I can cook. Why would I lie when you’d find out five minutes into the affair?”

“Affair?” His eyes glinted, and he looked decidedly seductive lounging in my bed. Was he trying to look seductive, or could he not help himself?

I stared at him for a long time while I inwardly drooled. “Are you offering?” I finally asked. “Because the goblin in me could probably be very interested in you without a shirt.”

He rolled off the bed and straightened his jacket. “And somehow you’d sell tickets. Yes, I know exactly why you’d be interested in an affair with me.”

“That’s good. At least one person knows something,” I mumbled, irritated at myself for thinking for a second he was interested in getting in and out of affairs with me.

He turned to frown at me. “I know many things, one of which is that Bones is eyeing your produce with a great deal of interest. I’d give him ten minutes before he took matters into his own hands.”

I rolled out of bed and started looking around for something to wear that wasn’t armored.

“The underpinnings would be in the armoire on the shelf, carefully wrapped as the salesperson left them,” he said softly.

“Oh, thanks!” I beamed at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he was looking at the bed with a dark frown.

I looked at the bed, and saw how small it was, and how my head had been in the center of the only pillow, and he must have been falling off all night next to me. I looked at him and leaned close to check the dark circles under his eyes.

“Did you sleep at all? How could you, perched on the edge like a bird?”

“I like birds.” He pushed my face back and then turned towards the door. “Nine minutes.”

I hurried to the armoire and took the whole bundle, which was very large, and carried it with me to the bathroom. He was already gone by then, moving silently. He could be very quiet, and with his magic, couldn’t he just spell me to sleep if he was worried about me waking up?

I hesitated at the thought. I’d held onto him all night. I’d needed something to hold onto, and I was his pathetic dead whose feelings and emotional health he had to safeguard, however hideous I was. I’d woken up feeling so much better because I wasn’t alone, because he’d been watching over me while I clung to the only thing I could rely on in my new life. He really was dedicated to his dead. I was so lucky that his rats had found me, that he’d come to get me. Otherwise, I’d still be trapped in that tiny chamber, unable to live or die.

I shivered and opened the package, focusing on the ridiculous underwear. I found a hard lump in the middle and fished out my phone. Aha! I did have some time for trouble this morning.

I’d memorized almost every number I’d ever called, so I had no problem remembering the place that we sourced IDs for unfortunes without any other alternative. As in victims who were trying to escape their pasts, but the government couldn’t help them because they didn’t find them useful enough. My mother had started the program, not exactly legal, but it made areal difference in the lives of ordinary people. Right now, I was the one who needed help.

If Mercury wasn’t the one who found me…

I shivered again and called, going through the ridiculously bright and impractical underwear while I listened to the dial tone.

Finally, she picked up. “How can I help you?”

“I need a new identity,” I began.

“Yeah, I figured since no one else would use this number. How many do you need?”

“Just one. Five-seven, blonde, I can send a picture now through this number.” I pulled down the towel so I could look at my reflection, still shockingly bald, with those creepy pale green-blue eyes that were not goblin gold, but just as creepy. My eyes couldn’t see in the dark, either.

“Great. What’s your routing number?”

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