Wayne paced.

  That felt like wasted energy to me. Years of work and even my life in jeopardy because the first person I raised intentionally hadn’t known he was dead. Or because I raised them in the first place, but without raising them, I wouldn’t have gotten the spell information.

  Rather than brood about my fate, which was grim enough without anticipating it, I puzzled through the fey’s clues. There were a few different ways to force someone to do something, but the most common was a compulsion spell. The ones I’d seen that were attached to charms were good for one command, maybe two. Considering the compulsion spell the fey used required a drop of the victim’s blood and drew power from them, it had been designed to allow for more than a couple of commands.

  That also fit with how the spells had twisted to begin with. Creating a spell that drew power from a non-witch was risky under the best circumstances. Cross that with a stimulant spell, and the mix could warp into blood magic. Add to that a werewolf trying not to obey a compulsion and constantly alert from the stimulants, and the poor wolf was drugged out of his mind. He’d constantly be fighting both spells, but he’d also have to eat more than he’d ever eaten, or they’d suck him dry.

  Wayne halted his pacing and strode over to me. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

  This close, he carried the scent of rain and ozone. “What?”

  “You trusted me. I will not let this harm you.” He said it as if it was a vow, like the ones made in days now considered history.

  The storm potential charged the air. Rather than waste power matching his show, I let him see the truth in my eyes, hear it in my voice. “I’m a necromancer, damned from birth. No one can save me.”

  His anger started to fizzle.

  “As much as I would enjoy watching this drama play out, a private venue would be more appropriate,” Nash said. “Perhaps my office?”

  Wayne pushed away, muttered under his breath.

  I took two deep breaths and tried to ignore my fear. I still didn’t have my expression under control when Nash offered me his arm. I stared at it. “Um, are you, ah, sure?”

  A tiny smile softened Nash’s expression. “Have you taken to killing lately?” At my wide eyes, his smile broadened. “You can’t raise the living.”

  My hand fit nicely in the crook of his arm.

  He started us down the hall, but his attention was on Wayne. “This was your idea?”

  Wayne grunted.

  “You’re right. I did suggest privacy.”

  After years of thinking I was a necromancer because of Bubble, and all the warnings to never ever let anyone know, walking down the hall with two men who knew and neither of them seeming overly upset was a level of surreal that my brain couldn’t completely reconcile. I would’ve been less surprised if they had told me a squad of witches was on its way to haul me to a burning.

  Nash guided me into his office and to one of the chairs in front of his desk. He glanced behind us. “Close the door, would you?”

  It clicked shut, a light breeze ruffling the edges of his papers.

  Nash settled in his chair and hefted a three-foot-tall stack of papers off his desk, setting them on the shelf to his right. Pens and individual sheets of paper littered the surface, but we could see each other. He waited until Wayne perched in the chair next to me, shoulders tense and leaning forward as if he would need to be on his feet in the blink of an eye.

  Of all the threats in this room, physical violence didn’t scare me.

  “Security doesn’t have clearance to review video from autopsy.” Nash clasped his hands and rested them on the desk. “Later today, an alarm will sound, and they’ll find several of their fancy computers, including the one storing today’s video, are located directly under a water line that unfortunately leaked. I doubt anything of note will survive.”

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  Wait. That sounded like he wasn’t turning me over to the clan.

  “Why would you cover for us?” My voice was carefully empty of emotion.

  Nash watched us in a way more commonly seen in vampires. Oddly still, waiting, and not in a bit of a hurry because they had all the time in the world. He blinked, and the effect shattered. “I am tired of seeing bodies, human or animal, come into my morgue having been desecrated with blood magic, purified and cleaned of evidence, and feeling helpless to give enough useful information to stop these atrocious crimes against nature.”

  In that, he was correct. Blood magic was the opposite of all things natural. It prevented blood, death, and the energy of both from returning to the earth in a natural cycle.

  A similar logic was how necromancy had been labeled forbidden. That and some ancestors with poor judgment. Pro tip to avoid being hunted to near extinction: if you go to war with someone, don’t raise their dead family members as your army.

  “However, my actions are not without risk. The incident with the water should appear natural, but your experiment today created problems.” He shook his head slightly. “Wayne, the aggression is unnecessary. I intend Kelsey no harm.”

  “You don’t?” I think Wayne spoke the same time I did.

  A hit of color crept into his cheeks. “No harm, unless you go from raising a corpse to obtain evidence to raising armies and attempting to conquer towns.”

  I lowered my gaze to his hands, which were clenched tightly enough his knuckles were white. “Today is the third time I’ve intentionally raised something, and given the option, I’d rather not make a habit of it.”

  “Then we understand one another.” His voice cooled. “Wayne, perhaps in the future, you could attempt honesty. It’s worked in the past. Complimenting my hair wasn’t necessary.”

  Wayne turned pink, and a stray twist of wind sent the end of Nash’s ponytail dancing.

  “Ah.” Nash’s eyes twinkled. “Next time try separating the subterfuge and compliments.”

  I really couldn’t help myself. “How did you go from blood types to hair?”

  Neither of them would look me in the face. Wasn’t that interesting? And here I’d been trying hard to tread on the friend side of the boy-girl line. But it did leave me wondering why Nash had offered me his arm for the walk here.

  Wayne cleared his throat, twice. “You won’t be reporting her? Or me?”

  “Catch the monster and come to me next time you need to talk to a body in my morgue, and we’ll call it even.” Nash pushed away from his desk. “I’ll show you out.”

  Before he opened the door, I leaned close. “Thank you.”

  He smiled and tucked my hand in his arm again. “Most of us have secrets, and dark sides. That doesn’t mean we deserve death.” He opened the door and led me out.

  Rather than depositing us outside the door, he walked me all the way to the car. He faced me, expression somber. “You have what you need?”

  “I think so. It’ll take a few hours to create the spell, and I still have to get the power, but this time, I know how the werewolf came to be what he is. I can undo it.” Perhaps I should’ve hedged, but I was 99 percent sure. With the right spell, and enough power, I could strip away the spells forcing CJ to be a monster.

  “When?”

  “Tonight,” Wayne answered. “Before he has a chance to kill again.”

  Nash glanced at Wayne with narrowed eyes before returning his attention to me. “Would you join me for a celebratory dinner tomorrow?”

  “But, you, and Wayne, and the hair?” I stammered.

  “I’m asking you to dinner.” His eyes locked with mine, and the forest green drew me in.

  I stepped back and managed to trip over my own feet. Nash steadied me. With flaming cheeks, I gave the right answer, not the fun one. “Sorry, but no.”

  Wayne managed to edge Nash to the side without touching him. “Perhaps this Saturday you would enjoy coffee with me?”

  “Um, no?” I shook my head. “Again... the hair?”

  He shrugged. “It’s beautiful.”

  “What kind of elf would I be if I didn’t enjoy a flirtation?” Nash winked at me. “Or those shoulders?”

  I didn’t need this type of headache before writing a complex spell with lives in the balance. “If you find each other so lovely, go on a date together. Nash is free tomorrow night, and Wayne offered Saturday. Work it out.”

  Nash cleared his throat. “We’ve been insensitive. Are elves—”

  “Or sylphs—” Wayne added.

  “—or men not to your taste?”

  “I’m sure you taste fine.” I turned bright red as soon as the words left my mouth. I hadn’t meant it like that, but it was too late to take it back. “But I’m not dating.”

  Wayne canted his head toward Nash. “She didn’t answer the question, did she?”

  “No, she didn’t.”

  For years, the closest I’d come to a date were the letters from my stalker, and now these two were looking at me like a puzzle they’d very much like to solve.

  “It isn’t that you’re an elf or a sylph, or men. It’s... well... I’m a necromancer.” To my ears, it was a good answer, but they continued to give me that look.

  “I’ve never heard of that sexual orientation.” Nash was all but smiling.

  Wayne grinned. “Me either.”

  “Men.” I dug my keys out of my pocket and got in my car. Fabian wouldn’t ask questions.

  “You never did answer our question,” Wayne called out.

  Fabian slid into gear, but my foot stayed firmly on the brake as I rolled down the window. “You heard me! Work it out!”

  They were leaning on each other laughing as I drove away.