Marked by Death (Necromancer #1) - Kaje Harper Page 0,60
breath and pushed to his feet. “We’re going home. After I…” He walked unsteadily over to where Norgaard sat hunched over, his familiar standing in front of him.
“Don’t you dare hurt him,” Mal said as Silas approached, the hair on her back standing on end.
“I won’t. I just need to be sure.”
“Stand down, Mal.” Norry’s voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well. “He more than has the right.” He got up and spread his arms wide. “Whatever you need Silas. I’m so sorry.”
“Just shut up.” Silas dug deep for the dregs of his power and touched two fingers to Norry’s wrist. His sniffer spell went zipping through Norgaard, hunting demons, hunting… Silas pulled the spell back and dropped the contact, turning to Ferngold. “Just a smirch, like standing too close to a fire. He’s all yours.”
He knew he should say something comforting to Norgaard. Being forced to turn on a friend had to be horrifying. But his soul still echoed with the memory of being bound, frozen, useless while Darien faced a demon. Be the better man. He managed, “Take care of him, Ferngold. He’s a good man. Get Susan for him, maybe?”
“I’ll do that.” Fernwood cleared his throat. “Would you like one of the staff to give you a ride home?”
Silas was in no shape to drive. “Darien, do you have a clear head and a valid license?”
“Hell, yeah,” Darien said. “Let’s blow this joint.” Grim gave a brief yip of agreement.
“Then no. Thank you.”
“Wait. This first.” Fernwood came to him and sketched a rune of power transfer in the air. “We owe you. All of us. The least I can do is offer something to get you home.”
Do I trust him enough for that? He shook his head.
Ferngold looked offended, but Locke moved up beside him. “From me, perhaps?”
Locke might be a stuffy academic, but he was known for his honor. Silas still thought about refusing, on principle. But the other, better principle was never turn down clean power you might need. When Locke raised his own transfer rune, Silas sketched a rune of acceptance, and maneuvered it to match up. They each adjusted, getting the runes to line up, linking them. Then a rush of cool power flowed into him. It wasn’t Darien’s warm gold, and it was a trickle, compared to the flow of Darien’s gift. But it cleared his head enough to feel steady as he nodded to Locke, pulled the big door open, and stepped out of the room.
Several of the Guild staff were gathered in the foyer, staring at him as he emerged. “Mr. Thornwood,” Jarvis said. “What’s the trouble? Can we help?”
“It’s over now. You can get us our coats.” He gestured at Darien behind him, and added, “Did someone see that Miss Snow has everything she needs upstairs?”
“Yes sir. Mary’s with her. But… in there?” Jarvis pointed through the doors.
“Mr. Ferngold will let you know,” Silas said. A wobbly chuckle fought its way loose. “A new carpet, at least. Maybe a bookcase.”
Jarvis gave him an odd look. “I’ll ask Mr. Ferngold. Let me get your coat, sir.”
He didn’t remember putting it on. Maybe Jarvis did it for him. The next awareness he had was of sitting in the passenger seat, Grim heavy in his lap, as Darien drove them through quiet winter streets.
“Well,” he said with an effort, “You made an impression on the council. And they didn’t stop you leaving with me. So I’m calling it a win.”
“We set fire to the Guild hall carpet, killed a member of the council, and damaged some very expensive-looking books. That’s a win?”
“The demon did those things.” He shivered, remembering the blast that fried his hair, and Darien unshielded, facing the demon’s power. “We survived. We walked out the front door together. Hell, yes, it’s a win.”
Darien was silent for a moment, then asked in a low voice, “Why’d you kill Burns?”
“It was a mercy.” He didn’t want to talk about it, except Darien should know. “When the hellgate closes, everything in the containment is going to get sucked through. The hells are populated by demons. I wouldn’t want my worst enemy to be sucked through alive.” Burns had been ambitious and foolish and callous, even before the demon, but whatever his crimes, he didn’t deserve that.
“Oh.” After another block, Darien took a hand off the wheel to place it warmly on Silas’s knee. He didn’t object. He also didn’t complain when Grim bumped under his chin with