Marked by Death (Necromancer #1) - Kaje Harper Page 0,29

time since that crazy morning.

Shorts. Be certain. He pulled down his underwear and spotted the last mark, a rope coiling across his left butt cheek. Lick. Raising his hand to his mouth was harder than it should have been. He tasted dirt and sweat on his fingers, and wandered in the flavors until sounds in the distance reminded him time was important.

Grab, yank, lean forward, oops, don’t fall. He washed the handful back and forth in the water. The tug was becoming familiar, like a childhood friend pulling on his hand. “Come on, Darry, let’s go swing.” He swooshed the ghost mass around. It wriggled like a kitten he was holding too tightly and he had to grit his teeth not to open his fingers.

Then suddenly it was gone and he fell back on his heels, his hand flying out of the water. Carefully, every movement needing conscious planning, he added the last scrap to his softball of energy.

Done. Now? Now get that thing to Silas. He wasn’t sure he could stand. His head seemed a long way off his body, and the only part he could really feel was the hand with the energy in it. But he could crawl, even with just one arm, so he began making his way over the stones away from the river, the energy ball clutched to his chest.

He wasn’t sure which way to go. The fog around him diffused both green and white to splashes of color. The white was brighter and more frequent now, the green more of a steady glow. He swung his head side to side, trying to decide where the green shone brightest. That way.

What had been a fast dash with Grim became a gritty slog on hand and knees. At least the ball of energy lit his way, so he could keep to the smoother ground. As he topped a small rise, he saw Silas and Grim ahead.

They stood on another lower rise, shielded by a dome of green light. Darien couldn’t see the whips. Silas had his hands up, palms toward the dome over their heads. Every few seconds a lash of white lightning hit the dome, drawing sparks before fading out. The lightning seemed thinner and less brilliant than he remembered, but it was never returned by a green whip-crack. Either Silas was saving his strength, letting Crosby wear himself out… Or he has no strength left.

Darien tucked his globe deeper underneath him. The last thing he wanted was for Crosby to spot him first. Staying low to the ground, he crept forward.

Eventually he had to stop. The lightning strikes were making a splash zone around the dome, brilliant and deadly-looking. At this close range, he could see the way Silas’s shoulders huddled and shook with each strike. Grim leaned against Silas’s leg, tail wound up around his knee. If he was hissing, it couldn’t be heard past the sizzle and crack of the white blows.

Darien whispered, “Hey. Hey Grim. Silas.” He didn’t dare speak up, just crouched there repeating it over and over till he saw Grim flick an ear, then turn his head. The cat’s green eyes glowed.

Grim shifted his weight away from Silas and called loudly, “Hey, Crosbitch. What kind of demon fooled you into trading all your power for a mud facial and pretty eyebrows? A baby one-syllable demon-wimp? Maybe a two? Do you love the life he’s got you living now, torturing babies and playing perching stand to mangy crows?”

Crosby’s human laugh came across loudly “He helps me. I have everything I want.” The laugh rose shriller, as if going to inhuman registers, and his voice changed. The demon said, “You’re not going to get through to the conscience of a man who had none to begin with.”

A caw of “Mangy cat piss” followed it.

Silas said, “I should’ve put you down years ago, Crosby, like the rabid dog you were. If anyone was going to invite a demon to roost, I should’ve known it would be you.”

White light glittered, as the tall figure of Crosby strode toward them. A shimmer of power outlined him and the crow riding on his shoulder. Ten yards from Silas’s dome, he stopped. “Fool.” Crosby folded his arms on his chest. “You never could take me. Not when you were a little snot-nosed corpse-stealer, and not now.”

Silas’s return smile was crooked. “I don’t remember you calling me snot-nosed, back in the day. Pretty-mouthed, wasn’t that what you said?”

“How dare you! I’m no pervert.” Lightning crackled