Page 19 of Necromancers Don't Raise

“All the same, thank you. Didn’t you mention that you have the train station feed? Do you mind letting me watch it somewhere? I’d hate to take more of your time when you’re clearly in the middle of another important project,” I said, gesturing at his desk, and then frowned and moved closer when I realized that they were newspapers.

Every headline had the same theme. The three gems had burned to death, trapped beneath the fallen metal ceiling joistsof the conference center on the outskirts of Singsong City. Each headline tried to make the story more shocking and outrageous, with so many photos of me, Callie, and Bree.

I sat down abruptly on the chair that Mercury put behind me so I wouldn’t land on the floor. I seriously needed padded floors if I was going to be falling over every day.

“Why did you get these?” I whispered, grabbing onto Mercury’s hand and holding it tight.

He cleared his throat, eyes concerned. “I did research on all three of the gems, the blue diamond, the red ruby, and, of course, the emerald flame. You don’t have to tell me which of them you were. I understand that there is a lot of pressure in those elite circles. Still, can you tell me who would have wanted to kill you?”

I stared up at him. His voice was gentle, but the words were terribly confusing.

“You think that someone started the fire intentionally?”

He crouched down so our faces were level, so I could see the spirals of silver in his eyes more impressively. “Nova, you didn’t have any burns. You weren’t there during the fire. You were either killed before or after, but absolutely not the way the video portrayed.”

I stared at him and then closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against his while I tried to think. I was intelligent. I had a good business sense and a good people sense, but this made no sense at all. “You’re saying that the video was manufactured to make it look like we died in the fire? So it’s possible that my friends are still alive and being held somewhere and tortured like I was? Have your rats found any other bodies dumped in the sewers?”

He pulled me into a hug so I could rest my head in the crook of his neck instead of awkwardly against his face. “I’m sorry, no. You really don’t remember past the train?”

I shook my head against his neck and swallowed down the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry. I only remember Bree laughing and then…” I had to get it together. I took a few more seconds before I straightened up and gave him a wan smile. “Clarence corporation has a lot of enemies.”

“You think that she was the target?”

She? I glanced at the photo of the three of us standing together, perfect smiles and postures in our evening gowns for the camera. This me looked more like Callie than Cassandra. Callie’s plastic surgery had been a little more obvious, too perfect, too luscious, like her lips, larger than my mother would consider tasteful. He thought I was Callie? Come to think of it, she was always falling out with her family and being disinherited. It made sense that she’d be looking for work, worrying about her portfolio and not wanting to tell her parents about her current troubles. My family always had an unbreachable show of unity as far as the media was concerned. Callie made her drama shockingly public at times, particularly when she was drunk, like the time she’d thrown herself at my fiancé and told him loudly that she was in love with him and that Cassandra was too cold and perfect to ever understand what desire was, all of which was overheard and recorded by a socialite who loved to tear down the circles above her.

Callie had apologized a hundred times for that, and every time, I told her that I knew that she didn’t mean it. She’s the one who had introduced me to Philip, hoping that I’d be perfect enough for the picky workaholic. We’d hit it off well, and she’d been delighted. When she caused the drama, she’d been upset because she’d just broken up with her latest boyfriend after he heard about her family disinheriting her. Again. Everyone makes mistakes, and getting drunk publicly was definitely one of them. At any rate, that was years ago, right after Philip and I had gotten engaged.

I could be Callie. In spite of her flaws, she had a business sense and a love of fashion that would marry beautifully once she went forward with her independent business plans that I’d been more than happy to raise funding for.

Except that she was dead. There would be no fashion empire in her future unless she wasn’t actually dead. How many days had it been?

I rubbed my chest to try and breathe around the pain. “So someone killed me and used the fire as an excuse? Do you think the fire was intentional as well?”

His eyes were so soft as he carefully brushed my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “How quickly it spread, how it doesn’t have a clear source? Yes. I think it may have been intentional. Would you like me to craft you a draught to help you with the shock?”

I raised a brow and pulled down his hand. “I’ve slept two days away. I don’t have time to cope with shock. Show me the feed. We’ll have to go to the scene of the crime at some point. If Clarence was targeted, then there should be a trail. It’s usually money.”

“You’re referring toThe Detective Warlock’smethods? In my experience, it’s usually madness and power that cause this kind of destruction. We’re dealing with magic here. Nova, I would like you to let me find the killer. I don’t think it would be healthy for you physically or emotionally to dig into the darkness that ripped you apart. You can trust me to pursue your vengeance as far as possible.”

I laughed and cupped his face, gazing into those mesmerizing eyes. “Thank you. I am more grateful than I can ever say that you’re the one who found me, but vengeance is out of the question.”

He blinked at me. “Beg your pardon?”

“Justice, Mercury. I don’t want vengeance, but justice. I’m not going to let you delve into the darkness alone. If watching Vilus has taught me anything, it’s that dark sorcerers need their hands held when they might otherwise lose sight of what’s truly important.”

His brows furrowed in consternation. “And what is truly important, Miss Nova?”

“I’m once more relegated to miss? You’re so French when you do that. Stopping this from happening again is what’s important. Keeping you from becoming as bad as the bad guy that killed me is also essential. Just because you’re a dark sorcerer doesn’t mean you have to be a bad guy.”

“You are going to protect me from being a bad guy? I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Little Nova.”

I winced. “Little Nova? That was even more French than anything else. Admit it.”

He smiled slightly. “I did live in France for some time. If I don’t let you work with me, you’re going to get into trouble on your own, aren’t you?”

“Trouble is my middle name.”

“Nova Trouble Nativitae? That’s about right. Well then, Little Miss Trouble, let me show you the feed of you and your friends at the Singsong station.”

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