Page 7 of Devil Bound
My eyes flew open.Trony had a point, and I felt idiotic for not seeing it.Nelly was a necromancer with possible amnesia.Definitely a necromancer though, and they liked power.Centuries ago, it had been standard practice for them to keep a small horde of zombies around to do their bidding.
Buying a necromancer who liked power some pizza and thereby technically indebting him… Yes, that would have irked.
“Trony, I think you have a point.Romance.Yeah, I can romance a necromancer.”
The painter whistled.I ignored him.
Trony nodded.Her smile never reached her eyes.“I can tell you the first step toward reaching that goal.Shower and soap.So much soap.”She wrinkled her nose again.“I did get you a new conditioner.Maybe that’ll help.”
“Trony!You do care.”
“I care that you smell.Now go.I’m not done with the artist yet.”
He looked up.“You’re not?”
Trony struck quite the impressive figure when she wore skintight fake leather and silk, like today.The artist, poor thing, only seemed to have realized it now.
“You asked for inspiration.I’ll give you that.If you’ll please follow me.”
She walked away.The artist didn’t hesitate to follow her, but he paused before he vanished out of sight to whatever inhuman delight she had planned for him.
“Good luck winning your necromancer.”
If a human felt the need to wish me luck, then…I ran a hand through my hair, and yes, maybe it was a little greasy.But still, I didn’t need luck.I was the Devil.And I had already followed Nelly around a tiny little bit.How hard could this be?
4
Lionel
Aboutthreetofouryears ago.
In the history of human invention, there was nothing quite as confounding, as annoying, as troublesome as the humble shoe.I left the site where the bags with the body parts had been dropped wearing my black Converse.They squelched, making fart sounds as I walked through the mud of the development.Sunrise wasn’t too far off, and it should’ve brightened the sky by now, but gray clouds obscured it.
“Fucking rain,” I mumbled.The drizzle that had started up just as I’d been called out here took no note whatsoever.
One of the crime scene people heading toward the scene heard me and turned.“You didn’t walk all over the scene with those shoes, did you?”he asked.
I looked up from the safety of my hoodie.He flinched.Maybe it was the uncaffeinated state of me—my coffee machine was broken—or it was my magical necromancer aura—doubtful.Then again, he was heading toward the severed heads I’d just gotten to tell us everything they knew, and severed heads talking were the kind of thing that could get even seasoned detectives to look at me differently.
“I didn’t destroy your evidence,” I said.They always assumed I did, but I always wore gloves.I wasn’t a complete idiot.
He raised a placating hand, his heavy-looking forensics kit in the other.“That’s not what I meant.Rubber boots.You need some.”
He pointed at his own.
I sighed.“I had a pair, but then a zombie…you know.”
His eyes went wide.“I don’t, and I don’t want to.I’m Simon, by the way.Just transferred here a few weeks ago.I heard one of the units at Brunswick PD has their own necromancer.That’s you, right?”
That put me on guard right away, never mind how exhausted I was.Some people were bigots when it came to magic users, even more so when it came to necromancers, and I lacked the blood caffeine level to deal with anything like that.
“Yes.Lionel Hawkes.”
I didn’t even hold out my hand.Some people who weren’t quite bigots but were superstitious clung to an unfounded fear that magic users of any kind could read their minds or control them with the simplest touch.
Therefore, when Simon held out his hand to me, I stared at it for a good two seconds before I shook it.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Lionel!One of my colleagues said you can help identify how injuries were caused and even identify cause of death, is that true?”
