Marked by Death (Necromancer #1) - Kaje Harper Page 0,49

right to be tired— running, fighting. It’s not because of that missing energy I fed Silas. Surely not.

Turning to his clothes, he picked his most threadbare pair of slacks, because they were the most comfortable. Not because they were sure to annoy Silas. A thick college sweatshirt, only slightly damp in the cuff of one sleeve, was comforting over the top. He worried that his new, old body might be thicker, fatter, but his waistband buttoned loosely. Socks were easy. There. Ready.

Silas was waiting outside the bathroom door with an armful of his own clothes. Darien jerked his chin up as Silas looked him over. Do I look stupid, an old guy in student clothes? But Silas just said, “Good, you look more comfortable. I’ll only be a minute.”

“I might stretch out for a bit.”

“I wouldn’t.” Silas touched Darien’s arm. “I know you’re tired but let’s get a session in. You’ll need a nap after. If you lie down now—”

“Message delivered. I’ll go look out the window.”

“Right. I’ll be quick.”

When the door closed behind Silas and the water came on, Darien wandered to the window. The creak of the room’s door made him whirl, heart pounding, then relax as Grim sauntered in.

The cat came to him and leaped up on the wide windowsill, looking out at the white world.

“It’s snowing,” Darien said. No kidding. Brilliant observation.

“Luckily Silas has a nice Studebaker with excellent heating, so we can ride to the meeting in comfort.”

“You’re coming too?” That made him feel better.

“Of course. I’d like to see them try to exclude familiars.”

“Who’s going to be there? Can you give me some kind of warning what’ll happen?”

“Silas will tell you, if you ask him. As for who? There’s seven on the council, though they may not all be there. Six, now Crosby’s gone. Ferngold you met. Susan Snow represents the Healers. She’s reasonable enough. Locke is second to Ferngold and a stuffy academic to the core. Burns is a climber, likes power a bit too much, not too bright. If I was picking someone to fall for a demon from that bunch, I’d have picked Burns, not Crosby.”

“You don’t think he has?” Darien’s gut clenched.

“Not last I saw him. But I don’t trust him further than I can trip him. Norgaard’s quiet. So’s his familiar, Mal. He sees deep, though, and Silas trusts him. Worthington is the necromancer. He’s a dark horse, plays everything close to his chest. Personally—” Grim licked his paw slowly. “—I think he’s jealous of Silas, sees the promise in him. Take everything Worthington says with a grain of salt.”

“Not a circle of salt?” The idea of enemies within the ranks of the top practitioners wasn’t doing his pulse rate any good.

“Couldn’t hurt.” Grim head-bumped Darien’s elbow. “Don’t worry, young sorcerer. You’ve power to be reckoned with too.”

“Doesn’t help much if I don’t know what to do with it.”

Grim’s swat at his hand had just a hint of claws in it. “Better listen to what Silas says, then.” He jumped down. “I’m going to go patrol the house a bit.”

Darien leaned on the window seat and watched the big tabby go. Ferngold. Burns the climber. Snow the Healer. Worthington the necromancer. What did it mean if only half of the council members seemed to be on Silas’s side?

Silas came out of the bathroom toweling his hair. He was shirtless, his feet bare. The wool slacks he wore hugged his thighs well.

Darien pushed off the seat. “Hey, I have a better idea of how we could spend a few minutes. Get a little energy back.” He’d bet he was a hell of a lot better at sex than at whatever Silas was planning to teach him. He tried to prowl sexily toward Silas, although fatigue probably made it look like shambling.

Either way, he was looking in the right place to see the front of Silas’s trousers tighten, but Silas caught him by the arms, and his kiss was soft rather than hot. “You’re going to crash in an hour or so. Work before play, dear boy.”

Darien blinked and shoved away how much he liked still hearing boy when he looked anything but boyish. “Your loss.”

Silas kissed him again, a fast brush. “Rain check? When we finally do this, I want to take my time.”

“When, or if?”

Silas ran his hands up Darien’s arms to cup his face. “We’re a long way past if.” He stepped back and went to pull a sweater out of his dresser. “For now, there are still