Dangerous Creatures(47)

Nox didn’t know why, but he depended on her.

The candles were smoking. Halfway melted, down to inch-high stumps of white wax. Necro’s head tipped back, exposing her pale neck.

Necromancers happened to be the most valuable when they were the most vulnerable. Sleep created the clearest connection.

He was running out of time. He could only have so many of these conversations before Necro would remember. Besides, the Royal Barbados cigar box on his desk at Sirene was almost empty now.

His mother had always kept the box full, for those times when Abraham visited, which was probably the reason the cigars were such powerful conduits now. Nox could still recall Abraham sitting on the creaking settee on the veranda of his family’s island home—hovering like a threat over his parents, like the dark cloud Abraham had been for as long as Nox had known him.

He was the one family friend who most often dropped by, to be anything but friendly. Which was understandable, considering Abraham Ravenwood was so busy being too many other things.

Say, for example, an extortionist. Or a thief. Or a prison guard. Sometimes even an executioner.

All the while savoring these nasty cigars.

Nox stared at the golden cigar paper and touched the tiny crown stamped on its side. Lost in another time.

If my mother had only listened. If my father had only believed me. If only Abraham hadn’t had the whole Dark world wired to his own puppet strings.

Even from the Otherworld.

Hopefully this business would wrap itself up soon, one way or another. Nox needed to move on. There was only so much living in the past a person could stand before they started to lose their mind.

Particularly when the past was this toxic.

There was no putting it off any longer. Nox lit the cigar and looked away.

Better get this meet-and-greet started.

Almost instantly, Necro’s eyes opened. “Boy,” the voice bellowed out of her limp mouth.

“I’m right here.” Nox nodded across the tracks. “Like I said I’d be, when you sent that posse of Vexes to rattle around at my place last night. Message received, old man.”

“You talk a big game, yet you continue to be a disappointment.” Necro’s gold eyes rolled up as she spoke, leaving the glowing white that always made Nox think of the inside of an oyster.

“You’re still singing that same song, Mr. Ravenwood.” Nox flicked ash from the cigar. The smoke burned in his nostrils. “The song of a dead man.”

“I’m done singin’. Like I’m done waitin’ for you to fight my battles.”

“Good. I was getting tired of fighting them. Unlike some of us, I have a life to live.”

“I said I was done waitin’. I didn’t say I was done with you.”

“I thought—”

“You don’t think about anything but yourself and your idiotic clubs. You’re a stain on the Caster race, Lennox Gates. Come to think of it, you have been since you were a little boy.” Necro gave him an angry smile.

Nox snapped. “If that’s the case, then why I am the one you’re talking to? Where are your own beloved grandchildren now? Because I’d be happy to leave your nasty affairs to them.”

Necro shook her head, swinging her wild blue faux-hawk. “None of your business. Not anymore. Now that you’ve outlived your usefulness.”

Nox averted his eyes and blew on the cigar ash, holding it away from his face. “Name one person who still visits your grave. Even one, Abraham.” Nox waited, and smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

Then the word came, suddenly and improbably, flying at him from out of the blue. A brick through an unsuspecting window.

“Silas.”

Necro smiled as she said it, all teeth.

The cold seeped through Nox at the sound of the name. He started to say something—most likely, something as bitter as he felt—but caught himself.

Careful. Silas Ravenwood is nothing to joke about. Watch yourself.

Nox cleared his throat and began again. “Silas Ravenwood is a busy man. And from what I hear, he’s a whole lot Darker than his son, Macon. More like his grandfather, wouldn’t you say?” His heart pounded. He needed to get out of this conversation, fast.

“Silas has always done me proud.”

“That criminal? I hear he’s too occupied with building the biggest Blood Incubus syndicate in the Underground to visit anyone’s grave. If he had time for you, why hasn’t he been dealing with your business instead of me?”

The answer was a slow, low drawl. “Not everyone has a Necromancer in their employ, boy. Makes you easier to reach than most, from where I sit. You’ve always stood too close to this side of the veil, like you already knew you were a dead man.” The old man’s laughter echoed through the tunnel. “Don’t you worry about Silas. He has a part to play in all this. Unlike you, he’ll be ready to play it when the time comes. In fact, he’ll be stopping by Sirene to give you my regards.”

The thought made Nox’s stomach twist into a knot. He tried to sound like himself, but he was suddenly having trouble remembering what that was supposed to sound like. “I look forward to it.”

“If I wasn’t clear enough, boy, that was a threat.”

“I picked up on that.”

“You know what you have to do. Make sure you do it, or Silas will.”