Page 52 of Necromancers Don't Raise

“Money means nothing to me. Of course not. I’m too old to care about money. Objects that are priceless are far more interesting to me, and I have accumulated such a vast collection that even priceless objects have become next to meaningless. You are not dead, but you are precious, much, much more precious than the gems you wear.” He raised my hand and turned my wrist, until the metal started slithering and wriggling until it slid off me in a cascading clatter against the tile floor, in a heap like they were nothing.

I frowned up at him, hating how I loved his hand on mine, hating how much I wanted to climb into his lap and have him block out the rest of the world. Hating that he was obsessed with who I used to be instead of who I was now. “Why were you obsessed with her?”

He stared at me. “Why was I obsessed with who?”

“Cassandra Clarence! You know, the person you commissioned a statue of. It’s hypocritical for you to criticize Philip for being obsessed when you’re even more obsessed, and far more clever about it.”

“Ah. You are under a misapprehension, Miss Nova. I didn’t commission that statue, or I did, but only as a broker for a client.”

I stared at him, my heart jerking painfully at the news. “Your client wanted it? Why is it in your auction house?”

“It’s very stunning, although if you dislike it there, I can have it moved.”

“You could sell it to Philip.”

“No, I couldn’t.”

“Why not? If you aren’t obsessed…”

“Because if the person, I use the term lightly, who commissioned the statue were to attack Philip in order to attain it, your old friend would not survive.”

“That brings back the point. Why do you have a statue that you didn’t commission? Was the client unable to pay?”

“There was a delay in payment, and in that time, I was able to discern who the actual client was. He hired two other agents to cover for him, but it came out…” He cleared his throat and looked at me with a very concerned frown. “Mr. Good isn’t a person I make deals with. One of his representatives was here earlier, bidding on the Daphne collection. And Mr. Good made a point to have Retta test you.” He caressed my face lightly, making my breath catch from the sweetness of the contact. “I would be very irritated if he shifted his obsession from Cassandra Clarence to you.”

“Oh.” I stared into his eyes while a million questions pounded at me. Was Mr. Good behind the fire? The deaths? My murder? No, you didn’t throw something you were obsessedwith into a sewer. Did you? Also, he’d been in prison at the time. And Philip was an enchanter? How did that fit into the puzzle?

Mr. Good was terrifying. If he was going to come for me, Mercury would stand between us to protect me and perhaps be hurt. But the demon had been here, but more like a lure than a threat. Mr. Good was playing a game with me and Mercury, but I had no idea what the rules or stakes were. My mother had testified against him in court. Was this about that? No, he’d taken my blood long before she’d testified against him. I’d actually think that her testimony was a product of his interest in my life.

“What flavor of ice cream?” I finally said.

He smiled slightly. “All of them.”

“All of them? Well, I’m not sure I can accept so many limitations.” I elbowed him again, but this time barely a nudge.

He oomphed anyway, falling over like I’d had daggers attached. “You are an impossible mistress to please, but I will try.”

I sniffed and sat there, still feeling all wobbly and disoriented. “You really aren’t obsessed with Cassandra Clarence? Is it because she was alive?”

He straightened up and said, “It’s because she was a dull, conventional beauty who was far too young and inexperienced to tempt me. She was, however, very sweet. She sincerely tried to fulfill her mission, to protect humans and anyone else who crossed her way. She gave a priceless bracelet to a ghoul once, for no reason I can tell, other than a sense of charity.”

A dull, conventional beauty? Too young and inexperienced? Oh, but sweet. Yes, she was so sweet. Harmless. Helpless. Stupid. Just waiting for someone to murder her and chop off all her fingers, because what would the naïve idiot possibly do to stop it?

I pushed myself to my feet and looked down at Mercury, angry, humiliated, and hopeless. If I couldn’t tempt him as the perfect Cassandra Clarence, there was absolutely no chance. Not that there had been, but if he’d actually disliked who I was as a person, then that was really, really depressing. “Mercury, as your mistress, I demand that you remove my shoes and holsters so I can go get on something armored. Otherwise, I’m going to die in these shoes.”

He looked down at my foot, then put his hand over the toe, sliding up to my heel and then my ankle, where he hooked his strong fingers lightly. “That does sound serious, but there are worse things than dying in a pair of shoes.”

“Dying naked with your fingers chopped off? Yes, I know that there are far worse things.”

He tugged on me and I landed on his lap, staring into those eyes while his hand held firmly onto my foot and shoe. “I don’t like that you’re unhappy. What would make you feel better? Tell me, and it’s done.”

“Other than taking off my…”

He put my shoe to the side and then wrapped his hand around my bare, sensitive foot. “Tell me, Nova. What can I do to make you happy?”

“Other than a photoshoot at the top of a cliff with your shirt off?”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m not joking. What will make you happy? You were feeling better, but now you’re miserable again. It’s that idiot golden prince, but you don’t want me to kill him. What can I do for you?”

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