Primal Law (Alpha Pack #1)(50)
And the eyes that shone like emeralds in that face . . . He'd expected someone older. Thirtysomething. God, he was young, barely more than a kid who might be old enough to order a beer. And there was something else.
Kalen Black radiated power from every inch of his body. Ancient spine-curling power that created an aura around him, not so much visible as present in the air like the pressure, electricity, and the earthy scent from a coming storm.
Ryon posed the question in all of their minds-What the f**k is he?
The love child of Criss Angel and Adam Lambert? Jaxon tossed back.
His friend gave a soft snort that might've been a laugh. With a little Nikki Sixx thrown in, sure.
He couldn't hear the others' thoughts, only Ryon's since he was the Telepath, but he imagined they were pretty much in agreement. He couldn't tear his eyes off the kid, who was now searching the headstones. Carefully, Black picked his way up one row, down another. Oddly enough, he'd stop every so often, crouch, and trace the deceased person's name that was carved into the granite. Sometimes the date of death, too, but never the date of birth. Weird.
What the hell was he looking for? It was almost as if he was considering each for some purpose, and was discarding them one by one. Yeah, that's exactly what he was doing, but they'd have to wait to find out why.
This process continued for almost a half hour, the pack keeping as close as possible from their cover. Finally, Black's fingers paused over the name of one Henry Ward, recently departed from the world. He closed his eyes for a few moments, and then let go of the stone to kneel beside the fresh grave. They watched in rapt fascination as he removed some items from the backpack and arranged them in a circle over the mound. Then he opened a vial, sprinkled a white powdery substance over the circle, and put the small container back into his pack. He began a low chant, hands spread palms-down above the mound.
At first, Jaxon thought whatever floats the freak's boat. But in his profession he should've known better than to be so quick to dismiss the kid, especially given the power he wore like a mantle. After about fifteen seconds the earth began to tremble, vibrating the ground under their paws and shaking the very leaves on the trees. Jax and his brothers exchanged uneasy glances.
Tell me he's not doing what I think he is.
But none of them could reassure Ryon that his suspicions weren't on the money. Especially when the soil on top of the grave began to rise like a cake baking in an oven, splitting in the middle, the items that had formed the circle rolling down the sides. Through the split a hand appeared, gray and withered, gnarled from age and death. Then the skinny arm, followed by the head and shoulders of an old man with only a few silvery wisps of hair clinging stubbornly to his scalp.
My God, Jaxon projected to Ryon. The kid's a Necromancer!
Oh, yes, but he's much more than that.
Jaxon was afraid his friend was right, but they didn't have time to speculate further. The ground seemed to give birth to the old man in a gruesome manner as he clawed from his former prison and sat on the edge of the seam in the earth, staring blankly at his liberator.
Still kneeling, the young man waved a hand at the corpse in a slow palm-out motion, and spoke, his voice ringing with authority. "Henry Ward, I command you to speak with me, to answer all of my questions truthfully so that I may return you to your eternal rest. State your full name for me so I know we're ready to begin."
Jax and his brothers were riveted to the scene.
The corpse blinked at him, the eyes little more than gooey pewter marbles in his skull. "Who . . ." The old man's voice cracked and he coughed, apparently from using vocal cords that were never again supposed to be in working order. "Who are you? Why have you disturbed me?"
The Necromancer sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Why do they always answer questions with questions?" He looked at the old man, redirecting him. "I'm Kalen Black. State your name, please."
"Humph! Henry Allen Ward." Henry glanced around, his confusion apparent. "Where am I? My daughter is expecting me for dinner and I'm going to be late."
"No, Henry," the young man said gently. "She's not expecting you. Someone hit you over the head three weeks ago as you were walking home. Do you remember?"
Jaxon wondered where this was going. Had the kid killed the old man for his wallet or something, and now he needed to find out who might've seen the crime? But that didn't seem right.
"I . . . Wait. Yes, I do." The old man paused. "I bought milk and bread, and walked home. I had just enough time to get home and get ready for dinner. My Tina makes a great stroganoff." He gave a gummy smile that was decidedly macabre in his hollow face.
The kid didn't react to the sight. "I'm sure she does. But I have to ask you about what you saw right before you were hit on the head. You lived in a semirural area outside Cody, correct? Close enough to walk home but not many other houses on your road?"
"Yes."
"And as you walked home that afternoon, your path took you past a side road where you saw something and went to investigate."
"I did."
Black leaned forward, intent. "What did you see, Henry? This is very important."
The old man thought. "A truck-No, a van. Dark blue. Pulled into the trees. Thought it was odd cuz I never seen it before, so I walked that way. Maybe somebody had car trouble."