Page 16 of Necromancers Don't Raise

“My routing number…” I had bank accounts, but there was no way I could touch them without my mother noticing.

“We aren’t running a charity. If you don’t have the cash, contact Clare Corp and maybe they can set you up if they consider you eligible.” She hung up without another word, leaving me blinking at my reflection, holding the phone in one hand and a neon rainbow thong in the other.

I dropped the thong and took a deep breath. I didn’t have time to freak out about the fact that one door had already slammed in my face. “Mercury will pay me, and I can set up an account, or maybe he’ll let me use his account for the money transfer.” That was logical. I nodded and then called Fin.

It took her too many rings to answer, and meanwhile I was sifting through the underwear, searching for something wearable.

“What do you want?” she finally slurred. Oh lovely. She was drunk.

“Hey, Fin. I’m…” My voice wasn’t the same, and I didn’t want her to know I was alive. “Cassandra Clarence’s cousin. I wonder if you could hack into the train station feed in Singsong city and send it to me.”

“Are you kidding me? Scammers are getting creative.” She hung up, leaving me with a shortage of time and a lurching stomach. Another door slammed in my face.

Instead of letting myself drown in frustration, I hit that lingerie with a vengeance and finally found one pair of bottoms in silver holograph that had some coverage and smoothing effect. The bra that was the most practical, the least spiked or with large flowers, or gumdrops, or… were those dog treats? In case I wanted to seduce werewolves, I guess. Anyway, it was black velvet with silver moons and bows on the straps. When I put it on, I was astonished to see how well it fit. I’d had so much surgery over the years, it was like dressing somebody else’s body. The silver holographic bottoms almost matched the silver moons on top. It was certainly a look with my bald head and asymmetrical features.

I spent too long staring at myself before I threw a towel over the mirror in disgust and pulled those leathery armored things back on.

I ran all the way to the kitchen and arrived just in time to stop Bones from dropping a feathered chicken into a pot of boiling water.

I’d never had to start from quite that much scratch, but at least the chicken was dead. I skinned the entire thing so I wouldn’t have to worry about plucking it. I didn’t want Mercury to think I didn’t know how to cook just because I’d never had to deal with feathers before.

He stood to the side, arms crossed, studying me suspiciously as I explained to Bones why we removed the organs instead of roasting them with everything else. Bones kept commentingon how well I was cooking for the master, which always made Mercury’s brow twitch. Bones discovered what measuring spoons were all about, as well as that chickens needed their heads and feet chopped off before you could cook them, along with internal organs. It was a simple dinner, not as precisely prepared as it would have been if I’d had my own kitchen and the produce from my usual market. My French instructor would have been appalled by the lumpy consistency of the mashed parsnips, but overall, everything looked edible. Delicious, actually. My mouth was watering and my stomach twisted. It had been a long time since the memorable omelet.

I stood by the table with each dish spread out on the wood surface, Mercury sitting at the end looking appropriately moody while Bones hovered behind his shoulder.

“She made such a good meal for our master. You’ll eat it, won’t you?” he asked Mercury, anxiously.

Mercury raised a fork, stabbed it into the golden chicken in the old pan and yanked it out. It looked as good as could be expected from a skinless roast, probably drier than he liked, but definitely edible. I’d taken it out three times to rotate it because the old oven was not going to cook anything evenly.

He gave me a suspicious glance before he put it in his mouth and chewed, swallowed and then said, “Excellent cooking, Miss Nova.”

I tried to look confident, you know, so he’d pay me for my efforts, but the truth would come out in the end. I sighed and let my shoulders slump. “It’s too dry. I’m not used to starting with live chickens, so I don’t know how to pluck them.”

He stared at me. “It is not too dry. It is perfect.”

I stared back at him and then slowly smiled. I was one of his precious dead, so he had to protect my feelings. “Have you ever plucked a chicken?”

“Yes. Next time, I will do it for you. If you’d said that you needed help with the plucking, I would have stepped in. You looked so confident. Now, you will sit down beside me and partake of this feast. I hate eating alone.”

“Oh. Thanks.” I went to grab the chair, but he was already pulling it out for me. “Thanks,” I said again as I sat down, my hands shaky, maybe from hunger, maybe just from coming back from the dead.

He served me, glancing at me with every scoop to get my nod of approval. I was so starving, I wanted to eat until I died from it. Finally, he set the plate beside me, and for a second I noticed how he’d arranged everything so artistically, then I ruined his presentation completely.

It was good. I moaned and wiggled as the buttery parsnips melted in my mouth. And the chicken was so delicious. Yes, there was room for improvement, but not much. And the greens, walnuts and the perfect raspberry dressing, sweet, but not too sweet, and the mushrooms in the sauce. Sigh. Had anything ever been so wonderful?

After the first wave of starvation abated, I looked up, noticing the rest of the world for a moment. Bones was staring at me with big eyes, rapt, like he’d never seen anyone eat before. Oh. He didn’t eat. And I’d been very into it.

I cleared my throat and smoothed my mouth with the napkin that had come from nowhere. “Sorry. I was hungry.” I looked at Mercury’s plate. He’d clearly served himself and eaten a little bit of everything while I’d been lost in starvation mode. I hadn’t been so hungry since I got back from Croatia.

Mercury nodded soberly. “Yes. I should have fed you the moment you woke up, but I forgot to take your aliveness and the calories required for regeneration into consideration.” He looked quite troubled about it.

I patted his arm. “It’s all right. I’m used to being hungry.” That was the price of perfection. Perpetual hunger to go with the pain.

He covered my hand with his before I could pull away. “It is not all right, either that I forgot to feed you, or that you are used to being hungry. You will not be hungry again.” That growly voice was so thrilling, particularly when the lightning in his eyes came out. He looked so dangerous, but was so sweet.

I stared at him, into those eyes, and felt giddy and goofy. “Okay. If you really want to make it up to me, how about…”

He covered my mouth with his other hand and shook his head. “No. I’m not taking off my shirt so that you can sell tickets.” He lowered his hand, and I saw the flash of humor in his eyes.

---