Page 2 of For Dear Life

“I imagine Maxwell’s someone with other powerful witch friends who’re connected to the situation. Not the best person to murder,” says Rowan.

“Why? Who would be the best person to murder?” I frown. “Maxwell’s suspected involvement in the town killings places him as a reasonable person as far as I’m concerned. Not sensible, but deserving.”

Leif mumbles something and sits on the black leather sofa. He’s barely spoken since returning from his task of depositing Kai on the roadside, and I sense a barrier around his mind. Not one he’s deliberately created, but as if Leif doesn’t want to let the world in.

“You should’ve reanimated the bastard, Violet,” says Grayson darkly. “That would’ve helped us.”

“Grayson. You’d removed Maxwell’s heart and relocated it to the lake bank. I can restart a heart, but don’t have the surgical expertise to reconnect one.” I wrinkle my nose. “And the organ looked rather damaged too. And his ribs were shattered. And—”

“Alright!” he interrupts. “Just saying, you’re always so proud about how you’re a necromancer and then do nothing when that magic’s needed.”

Rowan takes a sharp breath as I make a concerted effort to keep my hands by my side and not move them to around Grayson’s neck. Luckily for Grayson, I’m weak after the death and used a lot of the remaining energy on the blood magic spell to move us from the woods and into my parents’ house. Instead, I patiently reiterate that the dead subject needs all organs intact—in the right place—for the necromancy to work.

“What if the shifter remembers?” asks Leif gruffly. “He ran past me and Rowan into the trees. Saw us all.”

“Well, he didn’t die, so that’s good,” I say. “I mean, die again.”

“The shifter that we’ve no clue who they are or what else they saw,” says Rowan. “I hope he forgets what he’s instructed to do.”

“He won’t die?” asks Leif cautiously. “Like, his master or whatever’s dead, so he dies uh… properly?”

“He—or she—won’t meet a permanent death unassisted, no.” I chew on my lip. “As for memories? Possible but unlikely. What’s the point in creating something to use for nefarious acts if said creature is compos mentis. A necromancer’s revenant remains living in their old world and keeps their personality and memories, thus they’re undetectable by most people.”

“Which is how the Dominion used them to infiltrate shifter society before the Dominion and Confederacy stopped existing,” says Rowan, “they planted thoughts and ideas to turn revenant shifters against the witches and vamps. The victims never knew they’d died and had become puppets.”

“That’s messed up,” says Leif.

“And a legacy that colors our world still,” says Rowan. “As we all know.”

“We need to find who this shifter is, and soon. The injuries I inflicted will heal more easily on a shifter, but not as quickly as a normal supe’s attack would.”

“Grayson told us he attacked the shifter,” says Rowan, and frowns.

“I did,” he puts in and doesn’t look at me. Why is Grayson telling them this when clearly I did?

Rowan looks between us in disbelief. “Sure.”

“I have this,” says Grayson in a swift distraction, and places a hand in his pocket. “From when I checked Maxwell’s pockets before I left the room.”

He holds up a black rectangular item. A phone? But nothing like one I’ve seen before.

“Why do you take things and never tell us, Grayson?” I ask and point at Leif’s pendant. “That’s the second time.”

“You never asked.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Is that a burner phone?” asks Leif and takes hold.

“What?” I shove at his arm. “Will that explode? A magical phone?”

Grayson almost cracks a smile. “No. A burner phone is a basic one that you can destroy when you don’t need it anymore. Used to hide who you are because the number is one of those pre-paid cards.”

“I don’t understand half of that, but do you mean this belonged to the dead witch?” I ask.

“Probably.”

“But this isn’t the phone we saw him using, Violet,” says Grayson.

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