out into the water. He coaxed small waves to break over the marked skin across both shoulders and up to the man’s neck. As the last inch of skin below his chin was soaked, the man’s eyelids opened. For a moment, those dark chestnut eyes stared into Silas’s, and something crossed that space in recognition.
Then the man bucked upward, fighting his hold. “What the hell!” He struggled, and Silas let go as a splash of water caught his face. Sputtering, he reached out too late to keep the stranger from sliding underwater. Luckily, he seemed to be awake because he pushed up immediately, coughing and wiping at his eyes.
“Stay put!” Silas snapped, putting the level of command in his voice that made most people think twice about disobeying.
“Fuck you.” The man surged to his feet, water dripping from him. “What are you doing? Where are my clothes?”
Silas stepped back and folded his arms. “I’m thawing you out. Because you were apparently fool enough to come out on a chill night without decent clothing, and presumptive enough to pass out on a necromancer’s doorstep.”
“Thawing?” The man looked down at the water sloshing around his calves, and shuddered as if he just noticed the chill. “I—”
“Sit down,” Silas said. “You’re still freezing.”
The man sat abruptly, catching himself with his hands so the thump of his rear end hitting the tub was muffled. Silas bent to the taps to adjust the temperature warmer. He held himself ready to fight or jump back if the stranger made a move, but the man just hugged his knees to his chest and sat there in the bath, shivering.
Silas straightened. “Your clothes are over there, but I’d recommend a clean robe, and a liberal application of laundry soap first.”
A flush ran up the man’s pale cheeks. “Wasn’t m-much chance of that where I was living— Hey!” His gaze turned inward, and despite the chattering of his teeth, he brightened. “Th-they’re g-gone. The voices! I— you— d-doorstep? Did the necromancer fix me? Wow, I—”
“I wouldn’t call it fixed,” Silas warned, before the guy could get too excited. “They’re just sleeping. Fixed isn’t going to be anywhere nearly as simple.”
“Still.” The guy shivered hard, but his eyes were brilliant. “This is amazing!”
“Not that you deserved it, banging on the door at two in the morning.” A little of Silas’s remembered fear sharpened his voice. “What were you thinking? I might’ve shot you. Or left you to freeze.” I still might. He reminded himself that however familiar this guy seemed, he might be a trap, a bomb; this skin-package full of dead forces could’ve come from any enemy.
“I wasn’t thinking.” The man’s tone sounded normal, young. He slid deeper into the tub, letting the warm water rise to his chin. “I haven’t slept in so long, it’s a miracle I didn’t end up falling in the river instead of reaching this house.”
Something about those words triggered an alarm, like a fly tweaking a spiderweb. Except Silas couldn’t figure out what the tweaking bit was, so he focused on the mundane meaning. “You can spend the rest of the night here, at least.”
The man rested his head on the edge of the tub and closed his eyes. “Dear God, I might sleep, at that. It’s so peaceful.”
Silas bent close to shake him. “Don’t get too comfortable. I didn’t save you from freezing to let you drown in the bath.”
The man’s eyes popped open, staring into his own from inches away. Those perfectly-shaped lips opened to say something, but then another thought clearly hit, leaving the man’s pupils wide, and his mouth hanging open.
Silas stood back up. “I’ll get you a robe.” Did he have a spare? “Or a blanket. There’s a couple on my bed.” The man was still staring, eyes dilated as dark wells. “What?”
The young man’s throat worked convulsively as he swallowed. He whispered, “Silas? Silas Thornwood?”
Chapter 3
Darien stared up at the dark-haired, lean man standing above him. Yes? It has to be. He’d only been twelve, the last time he saw Silas Thornwood, but he knew every plane of that long face, even with uncharacteristically mussed hair and a shadow of beard-stubble. Those intent steel-gray eyes boring into his were unmistakable. “It is you.”
Silas took a step back, narrow brows furrowing. “Who are you?”
Darien flinched. But really, he’d changed a lot since twelve. And Silas had been home for his father’s funeral, and no doubt distracted. He’d changed even more since he was eight, the year Silas moved