Marked by Death (Necromancer #1) - Kaje Harper Page 0,64

their side wasn’t ever going to be boring, and he’d be a partner in their adventures, if he had anything to say about it.

Which he did. Footsteps silent, body not disturbing the air as he passed, as only a magic cat could, Grim headed out to patrol their domain.

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Excerpt from Powered by Ghosts

(Necromancer book 2, coming November 2020)

Chapter 1

The spell-structure Darien Green had been building collapsed with a sound like breaking glass. The power rebound made him yip in pain and grab his head.

From the doorway, a high, amused voice said, “What do you call that one? London Bridge?”

He whirled. “Grim! Dammit.”

His mentor’s big tabby cat familiar swiped a paw across the floor, where a faint shimmer of power lingered, then inspected his spread pads. “I’d say you damned it thoroughly yourself.”

Darien snorted and pushed up off the polished floor of the study. “It was an experiment.”

“Does Silas know you’re playing around with power while he’s gone?”

Silas Thornwood is not my boss. Except he kind of was, in magical stuff anyhow. Darien didn’t have a good grasp on what their relationship actually was, although Silas on his knees last night, sucking Darien’s cock, did mean the power didn’t go all one way.

He dusted his trousers off— unnecessarily since the floor was the one thing Silas kept clean and polished, ready to be chalked with runes— and rotated his stiff shoulders. Instead of answering the question, he asked, “Doesn’t it bother you that he trotted off when the council called, without bringing you—” Or me. “—with him?”

Grimalkin sat down and licked his furry shoulder a couple of times, which Darien had figured out meant the big cat was less calm than he was pretending to be. “The meeting was at Necromancer Worthington’s house. His wife is deathly allergic to cats.”

“Seriously? That was their excuse?”

“This was a boring meeting anyway. All about tithes and finances. I didn’t want to go.” Grim’s pink tongue swiped across his fur again, neck cranked at an angle only cats and owls could manage.

Darien rubbed his own aching neck, then jumped as the front door banged open. A flash of fear swamped him— Crosby, getting in— before the sound of Silas’s voice registered. Embarrassed, he yanked back down the glowing shields he’d snapped into place.

Grim was eyeing him, and his face heated, but the cat only said, “That’s not a bad reflex. Keep it,” before calling more loudly, “We’re in the study, O Thumpy One.”

There were a couple more thuds and grumbles before Silas appeared in the doorway. His dark hair was more rumpled than usual, and his thick brows were drawn down. From his lean height he peered down at Grim, then shifted his gaze to at Darien. “What were you two up to?”

Before Darien could decide whether to lie or confess, Grim said, “Wondering why you didn’t bring us along to liven up that finance meeting.”

Silas ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it into place. “I should have. Even if it did make Mrs. Worthington turn purple and expire. Serve those hidebound, cheapskate, pennypinching old hedgewitches right.”

Grim stretched, flexing his twenty-pound body up and back, and yawned. “I take it we’re not getting paid.”

“Were you supposed to get money from them?” Darien asked. He still had only the faintest idea how the bread and butter of the magic world ran. In the week since they’d defeated a demon in the Guild’s own hall, he’d spent half his time sleeping— or in bed doing even better things with Silas— and the other half in some apparently elementary magic exercises, trying to get a handle on the talent he hadn’t realized he had.

“We were supposed to get paid,” Silas said. “You and me both. After all, we rid the council of not one but two demons. That should’ve been worth a good-sized bounty, and I figured that’d give you some money of your own.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Silas didn’t seem to be short of funds, but that didn’t mean Darien had enjoyed being taken out and supplied with clothes like a kid on an allowance. Getting paid would’ve been good. “No dice, huh?”

“They ruled that since we were among those directly threatened, and since the council didn’t actually ask us to do the job, it fell under voluntary work. Not entitled to payment after the fact.”

“I could’ve paused with that demon under my shield and passed a hat,” Darien suggested. “Pay up, or I turn him lose.”

Silas’s gray eyes lightened. “I’d have paid good money to see that.