Marked by Death (Necromancer #1) - Kaje Harper Page 0,47

the pose, like it was meant to convey calm, and didn’t. “He was a power in the Guild, a council member, even when I first met him. My mentor told the council I was stronger than he was, and that piqued Crosby’s attention. He came to me privately, hinting that we should work together. My talent intrigued him.”

I bet he was more intrigued by your fine ass and gray eyes. Darien hadn’t missed the byplay as they’d fought. “He wanted to fuck you.”

Silas blinked. “You don’t know the meaning of the word decorum, do you?”

“I have manners. But when it’s just you and me, I like truth.” All those haunted months had taught him to pare life down to the essentials and omit polite fictions. If I’m not going to die, I might have to rethink that. Later.

“Ah. Well, yes, he did. I think at first he genuinely wanted to see if he could harness my talents to his spells. Necromancy and sorcery are two arms of a similar practice. One of the challenges is always access to power, and sorcerers are envious that necromancers have a supply outside their own strength that isn’t tainted.”

“Tainted?”

“We necromancers take what the ghosts give us. It’s already stolen from their hosts, or lost at death. No moral choices to be made, and the personality is wiped clean from it by the River. Sorcerers can draw power from people, animals, and plants, to add to what they have in their own right. But it’s tricky, and demands constant self-control.”

“Oh. So sorcerers can do what I did with my arm?”

“In reverse. They take, not give. What you did was unique, to offer your body’s power freely.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t take it directly from me?” Had that been a lie?

“I can’t. I’m a necromancer. But if you don’t have shields, a strong sorcerer could. They could eat every bite of your power, if they chose. Even without the demon, even without the ghosts, Crosby could’ve taken your life force and fed on it.”

Darien shuddered. “What keeps the bastards from taking over the world and eating everything in it?”

“The energy from plants and animals is very low, though safe. Rarely worth the effort. Stealing power from people tends to warp and taint the spells it’s used for, and the more power a victim had, the worse it warps. That helps keep many of the strongest sorcerers dedicated to the light. Just as necromancers hunt demons, ethical sorcerers track and take down the dark ones.”

“I’m sorry, but Ferngold against Crosby? The crow would’ve eaten his lizard while Crosby snacked on his bones.”

Grim said, “Crosby without the demon would’ve feared the council. Maybe not Ferngold alone, although you shouldn’t underestimate him. But put three or four sorcerers together and they’re a force indeed. The dark ones don’t trust each other enough to power-share. So usually they lose.”

“Usually?”

“World War Two was a time when a cabal of dark sorcerers rose, draining the power from millions of deaths to drive their spells, seeking to make everyone their cattle.”

“How did we stop them?” The war had been horrific enough, but to know there was magic behind it? His father has always been haunted by what he’d seen over there. “Ten million deaths in the camps…” What kind of spells could that power?

Silas said, “It took amazing spellcraft and courage and luck. If they’d trusted each other more, if they hadn’t had to struggle to control their death-fueled spells, we might’ve lost. But they split apart after a while, each afraid the others were plotting to turn on him. So the Guild worldwide fooled them into attacking the strongest of them first, out of that fear, and they weakened, fighting among themselves. It was a close-run thing.”

Darien bit his lip, imagining—

Silas leaned forward and set a hand on his on the table. “But that’s ancient news. And— please all the gods— we’re keeping better watch for future warning signs. What we deal with here is on a much smaller scale.”

“Small-scale can still kill you.” Crosby might’ve wiped Silas off the face of the Earth. I might never have gotten to kiss him properly. He turned his hand over and gripped Silas’s, before letting go to fiddle with his empty cup. “So what did the council want on the phone?”

“Oh. Yes. They require us— well, invite, but it amounts to the same thing— to attend a meeting tonight at seven.”

“What for?”

Silas was watching him carefully, and his tone seemed deliberately level. “I