Page 42 of Necromancers Don't Raise

He scowled at me, his face wrinkling almost as adorably as Bones. “Yes, I have a contact with none other than Winston himself. He’s a control freak. Doesn’t let any costuming go on without checking it first. It’s like he doesn’t trust me.”

I stifled a laugh. “Can’t imagine why. It’s like he’s worked with you before.”

His eyes gleamed as he looked me up and down. “You must trust the art. Never question the art. I’ll give you your contact and your dress, but you’re going to have to trust me. Understood?”

I hesitated for a beat and then held out my hand. “You can dress me however you want as long as you get me an interview with Winston the Warlock.”

He grinned as he took my hand in his. “You are going to own that auction, and your pretty little jewels, too. How long do we have?”

“Until tomorrow night.”

He grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the library past Bones. “Tomorrow night? You’re killing me. First to the cobbler, then to the fabric district. Elven made? The shoes will have to be as well.”

“Don’t forget my interview.”

He flashed me a dark look. “I have two days, and you’re fixated on meeting some movie star?”

I shrugged. “I was murdered. I’d like to know his take on it. Also, he might have done it, you know.”

He snorted. “That calculated monster wouldn’t murder anyone unless it gave his show good ratings. There’s talk of shutting it down after that debacle. Not that anyone’s saying outright that he’s responsible, but still, the connection to magical beings and disaster is a strong one. Always has been. Always will be.”

“He might have motives you don’t understand.”

“And you’re going to uncover them? You always were an optimist.” He took a moment to pat my hair in the most irritating way before he pulled out his phone. “I’ll text him, invite him to Mercury’s mansion while we’re doing the dress, but don’t count on him showing up. Do you have a name?”

“Nova.”

“Nova. Sounds avante garde. You’re too soft for that.”

“With this face?”

“Soft like water, quick, expressive, alight. Those armored things do nothing for you.”

“Other than, you know, stopping bullets.”

“And spells. I can smell the warding on them. Very, very thorough protection spells. Anyway, don’t argue with me. If I’m doing this as a favor, you aren’t going to have an opinion. I hate clients with opinions.”

“Yes, Master Sebastian.”

He chuckled gleefully as he texted. “I’ve always wanted to get my hands on you.”

Bones grunted at him. “Miss Nova is not for your hands. She is the master’s precious guest.”

“Oh, it talks.”

I said, “Yes, Bones is actually very eloquent. And his bread is heavenly.” He really had gotten everything right the last time, so the bread had been enjoyable and not just edible. “Bones, Bas is just saying that as a matter of speech. His hands won’t actually touch me.”

“Except when I drape you.”

“Except for that.”

“And undrape you.” He wiggled his bushy brows at me while his pink cheeks shone.

I sniffed. “Bones is very protective of me. If you take your teasing too far, he might accidentally rip off your arms.”

“But then, how would I design your dress?”

Bones stepped in front of Bas to peer down at him. “You’re a tailor?”

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