Marked by Death (Necromancer #1) - Kaje Harper Page 0,17

sure it would work, he might’ve— “I was willing to lose a hell of a lot more than a little life force to get the voices out of my head.”

“Except your life energy’s so crowded with ghosts that I can’t say what will be left when I remove them all.”

“Oh.” Well, yeah. His skin was so marked up he’d sometimes wondered what would happen when every free inch was gone. If his soul was equally smothered— “But I can’t live like this.” His voice shook, and pain reverberated between his temples. “I can’t. I don’t care. Whatever’s left, it’s got to be better than this.”

“All right.” Silas’s eyes looked uncertain but his voice was firm. “We could start with one. That’s routine. And then—”

“This one?” He shoved his arm with the boat tattoo at Silas. “Can you pick which one?”

“I— Yes. Was that the first?”

“No. The first was the bridge. And all that ghost did was cry for its mother. And I thought, well, I wanted to be an architect back then. So maybe I did get drunk and go out in a blackout and get a new tattoo. And my mother died when I was fifteen and though it was years ago, maybe the grief was something inside me.”

Silas touched his knee. “I’m sorry.”

“The boat was second. And that ghost—” He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering waking to the tattooed speedboat he’d never have put on his skin in his right mind, and the strange voice in his head ranting and cursing. “I thought I was going crazy. Or possessed. I went back and forth. Possessed was the less scary option.”

“You didn’t seek help?”

“Where? From my father’s priest, who thinks a gay man deserves to burn?” He stopped short, too late to catch the confession back. What if I’ve been misreading him? What if he’s an arcane version of a queer-basher?

Silas’s gaze remained steady. “As a necromancer and a man who enjoys other men, I’m not a fan of priests. They served a purpose once, but they’ve long since forgotten it.”

The rush of relief left Darien giddy. He snatched on the second part of that as distraction, so he wouldn’t do something stupid about the first. “Priests served a purpose?”

“A measure against demons.” Silas waved an elegant hand. “Now’s not the time for a history lesson. You didn’t see a doctor either? A psychiatrist?”

“I didn’t want to end up in the loony bin. For either the voices or the disordered sexuality.” He’d visited Aunt Sally in one as a kid, and come away with memories of hopelessness and smells and wailing cries that he’d never forgotten. “I thought I could ignore it. Go on with my life, while I researched for answers. But there was almost nothing in the libraries that wasn’t fiction or religion, and it got so bad— I couldn’t cope, couldn’t think.” Dropped out. Holed up where I couldn’t hurt anyone. Tried some drugs. Tried some herbs. Sold most of what I owned. Wished I was dead.

“It’s a measure of your strength, not weakness, that you survived this long.” Silas patted the floor. “Lie down. No, wait.” He pulled off his sweater and folded it neatly in both directions. “Here. Put your head on that.” He set the sweater down like a pillow.

Darien gave up any reservations he had and stretched out. The sweater under his cheek smelled faintly of Silas. Some deep part of his brain recognized it as safety and support, and uncoiled a fraction. The wood floor was hard against his shoulder and hip. His head throbbed.

“On your back. Here.” Silas tugged him over gently, and settled him back on the sweater. Those long fingers moved across Darien’s head, probing and pressing, almost stroking.

Despite the little waves of pain, it felt good. Friendly. How long since I’ve been touched by friendly hands? “Now what?”

“You close your eyes and try to relax. I’m going to chalk some marks around you.” Silas hesitated, then added, “Runes of protection. This house is warded, of course, but it’s wise to add protection when I’m working.”

“Of course.”

He thought he’d kept his tone even but Silas said dryly, “Fortunately you don’t have to believe me for this to work.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to believe. I’ve been living the crazy for months. But somehow…”

“It’s the universal concealment spell. Every time someone starts to think too much about magic, it makes it seem childish and unlikely. My house wards block the active spell, but it’s a hard habit to