Marked by Death (Necromancer #1) - Kaje Harper Page 0,24

maze was out there, its cedar hedges getting darker as the sun dropped lower. Above it, the crows still swirled in numbers, diving, their cawing cruel and harsh in the stillness.

They’re attacking something. He knew good sense meant he should go back and ask Silas for some boots and a coat. Maybe a shotgun too, if he had to ward off the crows to save… whatever it was. But urgency beat inside his head. He was a long way from the occupied rooms at the front of the house, and he wasn’t sure he knew an easy way to get back there. By the time he geared up and came back they might’ve plucked out the victim’s eyes.

I’m going to feel stupid if they’re going after a dead skunk or a pile of garbage. He couldn’t fight his certainty that time was of the essence.

His socks were filthy anyway, and he felt great after whatever the woman had done that morning. A quick peek couldn’t hurt. Then it’d be faster to run around outside the house to the front than work his way back through the confusing halls. He pulled the door wider, wrapped his arms around himself, and stepped out onto the frozen ground.

Clang! Something rang like a gong. He couldn’t tell if he was hearing it with his ears or his head, or maybe his body as his very bones seemed to vibrate with it. He took two steps toward the maze, determined not to let it scare him, and then froze as a man strolled out of the trellised entrance.

The stranger was tall and lean and young, with sharp cheekbones, thin lips topped with a mustache, and fair hair worn sleek and long. He walked easily toward Darien in high leather boots, a cloak flowing from his shoulders. It was the kind of look Darien would’ve teased his housemates for back in college, but on this guy the drama looked natural. Real.

Overhead the crows whirled and banked, and then dropped to flutter above the man’s head. One landed on the man’s shoulder, not so much as breaking his stride, and Darien realized he might’ve made a bad mistake.

Oh shit! Darien scuttled backward, feeling for the doorway, unable to take his eyes off the man striding toward him.

“Stop.” The man’s tone was conversational, but Darien’s body froze obediently.

Shit! No! Silas! He tried to move a foot, or even a hand, but he was stuck like a waxwork, as the man approached.

Even up close, the man looked ordinary. Handsome, yeah, the kind of guy Darien would’ve taken to bed without stopping to think twice. Not supernatural, not threatening. But when the man held out his hand, Darien’s own rose to meet it, no matter how hard he tried to turn and run.

Cool fingers closed around his wrist. “Oh, how kind,” the man said, voice rasping oddly. “He’s sent me a snack.”

From the ground behind Darien’s knee, twenty pounds of striped tomcat leaped and fastened sharp teeth into the stranger’s wrist. The man screamed and jerked back. For an instant, Darien was free of both grip and command. He whirled and sprinted back in the door.

As he shoved on it to slam it shut, Grim said, “Too late. Run! This way.”

The swing of the door thudded into the man behind them as Darien put his head down and raced after Grim down the dusty hallway. The man shouted, “Stop” but for whatever reason, the command didn’t take hold. Darien skidded round a corner after Grim’s raised tail. Footsteps echoed close behind him. A crow flew past Darien, feathers brushing his neck. It stooped onto Grim, claws out, only to be batted aside and slammed into a wall. Grim leaped to a door handle, swung it open, and ran on.

Charging past the huddled crow, Darien saw its dark eyes blinking as its wings twitched. Not dead.

They hit a familiar part of the house and passed the kitchen. There was no sign of Silas. Grim opened a new door to a set of stairs leading downward. “Incoming!” Grim called out as he bolted downward. Then sharply, “Don’t step on the lines.”

That made more sense as they hit the bottom of the stairs and Darien saw the intricate network of designs patterned across the slate. At the far side Silas stood with a hand raised, his hair moving as if in some invisible breeze. He called, “Come here. Fast as you can but carefully.”

The stranger’s feet thudded on the first stairs above them.