Marked by Death (Necromancer #1) - Kaje Harper Page 0,6

away. “Picture me about yeah-high—” He held his dripping hand about three feet off the tub bottom. “—and unable to stop asking questions.”

Expressions flitted across Silas’s face, too fast for Darien to interpret them. Then his forehead smoothed out. “Darien?”

“Yeah. Long time no see.” All the stress of the night suddenly caught up with him and he slumped into the water, shudders racking his body. I’m safe. No matter who or what the necromancer is, I trust Silas. He wouldn’t work for someone evil.

He’d been ready for anything— to be turned away and die in the cold, to have the necromancer demand his blood or his body or his soul in return for help, even to be fed to demons. At least then his head would finally be quiet. He’d never expected to find a friend working for the necromancer.

If he could call Silas a “friend.” Because most of that “friendship” had been hero worship on his part, and tolerance from ten-years-older Silas. Maybe not a friend. But someone I don’t think will feed me to demons. He’d always trusted Silas unquestioningly.

He closed his eyes. It’d been so damned long since someone was on his side. His shuddering eased down to little twitches, there in the soft, warm water—

“Stop!” A hard grip on his arms pulled him up higher in the tub, even as water up his nose made him snort. Silas glared at him. “You can’t sleep in there. Get up.”

“I—” He suddenly realized he was almost naked, all his secrets bared on his skin, and his privates outlined by wet underwear. Thank God, he was too exhausted for anything more embarrassing to be going on there. “Just a second— “

“No.” Silas had surprising strength in his lean hands. “Up you come.” He dragged Darien to his feet, supporting him in the slippery tub. “Out now, right leg.”

Darien clung to him because there was no alternative and lifted one leg out. The mat under his feet was fleecy and thick, and he was dripping all over everything.

“Left leg.” Silas didn’t let go of him, as he managed to get the other foot over the rim and stand, shivering.

“I c-c-can— “

“Towel.” Silas let go with one hand to grab a big white one, and wrapped it around Darien, rubbing his upper arms through the cloth.

The rubbing was vigorous, even rough, shoving him back and forth, but it eased his shakes. He clutched the towel around himself and stepped back to the edge of the mat. “I can do it. I’m not helpless.”

“You’re a mess.” Silas sounded angry. “You’re skinny as hell and half frozen and—” Silas reached out with one finger toward Darien’s neck. He held still and let that finger touch him, trace down his skin where he knew the tail of the cat was now inked. “What did you do?” Silas’s voice dropped to a whisper, like he didn’t expect an answer. “Who sent you here?”

“No one sent me!” He clung to that, a badge of pride. The voices in his head sometimes pushed, suggested, begged for random things, but no one in the whole damned world told Darien Green what to do. Not anymore. Not ever. Unless the necromancer— He cut that thought off. Deal with one thing at a time. “I heard a necromancer had moved in here. Folks who believe in that nonsense—” He stopped, because that was pretty insulting, and after all, here he was. “—people said he’s powerful. I figured if anyone could help me, he was the one.”

“You thought it was nonsense, and then came to ask for help in the middle of the night?”

“Don’t people ask him to do stuff? Like exorcisms?” Darien’s empty stomach gurgled and he felt lightheaded. “I know they probably pay him a lot, and I can’t, all right? But I can work it off or do something, anything. If you’d just ask him.”

“Him?” Silas’s eyebrows climbed.

“Yeah. I mean, it doesn’t have to be tonight.” Now that he had room in his head to think, he felt sick at how he’d barged on up here to disturb someone that powerful from his sleep. He had a memory of leaning on the doorbell, maybe yelling insults— “Of course, not tonight! I’m already so much better. It’s fine. In the morning. Or whenever he has time. I can wait.” As long as whatever happened keeps the voices quiet.

Silas was still staring at him as if he had two heads. Darien shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Isn’t he here?”

“Of course he