The Necromancer's Dilemma (The Beacon Hill Sorcerer Book 2) Read online

  “You can do it. I know you can. That power lives in you, just waiting for you to take it out and make use of it. I can block Daniel’s pain as his master and supply energy for his recovery, but you’ll have to do the hard work.” Angel shook Isaac gently, impatient, though he made sure to hide the worst of it. Isaac had something holding him back, and his magic was sporadic, his aura flaring and dulling. Seeing Angel’s impatience would get his back up and make him balk. Yet his little brother was a powerful sorcerer—all the Salvatore scions were. He could do this.

  “The magnitude of the injury is irrelevant. It is fire touched, and it answers to you,” Angel whispered to his little brother, and Isaac breathed out before taking a deeper, steadier breath.

  “Oh…okay,” Isaac gasped out, and Angel smiled. They had to hurry, or it would be harder to heal. Angel could feel the pain tearing at Daniel’s mind through their link, and the boy would soon wake regardless of the knockout spell Angel used on him. Angel opened the apprenticeship link—one similar though not as intimate as the Leannán link he shared with Simeon. Daniel’s mind was close to awakening, the pain overriding the spell, and if Isaac didn’t hurry this was about to get really bad—healing an injury like this while the victim was awake would be torturous. Angel soothed Daniel as best he could, and poured energy into the boy’s reserves as Isaac began to recite the spells under his breath.

  Isaac always cast as if embarrassed—his Latin was spot on, and his spell work was solid. He was talented, as most fire mages were; Isaac’s doubts came from that inner mental hiccup Isaac carried around and left Angel flabbergasted. One eye on Isaac’s casting, another on keeping Daniel out and supplying his body with the energy to heal—the conversion of energy to matter was taxing, the drain tremendous, and there was plenty to repair and replace in his hand—Angel remained removed, watchful, but Isaac knew what he was doing once he started.

  Slow motion, a horrific CGI scene in reverse, the wound and ruined flesh flowed as liquid. In the early years of his participation in the Blood Wars, Angel saw many terrific wounds, and the majority were caused by fire-based spells. Fire mages were frequent combatants in war. Burns and scorch marks, seared flesh and crispy appendages were forever etched in his memory, and yet it was still hard for him to watch as the damage done to Daniel was repaired. A decade removal from combat may not have erased his reflexes or his inability to back down from a fight, but it certainly took from him his iron stomach. He could deal with decaying zombies and corpses of deceased friends, but seeing someone under his protection so injured was too much for him. Angel swallowed back bile, since Isaac would likely vomit as well if Angel lost control of his urge to throw up. Remaining stone-faced and stoic was killing him, and he was beyond thankful when Simeon moved into his line of sight behind the couch.

  His lover smiled at him, white fangs flashing in the bright morning light. Angel funneled energy into Daniel, the surge more than sufficient to fuel the healing Isaac was directing, and Angel gave Simeon a grateful smile of his own when he felt a wave of power come along the nascent mate-bond that shimmered between them. Simeon’s core was a bountiful wealth of power, an expanse of primordial death magic that animated Simeon as one of the undead. Angel could tap the veil to fuel the energy he was sending his apprentice, but Daniel would feel the surge in ambient magic fields, especially this close, and it might wake him early. Simeon sending him so much power, and so selflessly, made his heart swell and tears prick at his eyes. Simeon was the better man by far—Angel wasn’t worthy of his sexy vampire.

  Death magic, smooth as funereal silk and cool as the taste of ice wine on a heated tongue flowed over him, through him, more than Angel was accustomed to handling outside reaching for the veil. He swayed, eyes shutting, and he breathed in and out, the magic one note of perfection, singing in his soul and making every cell in his body chime in harmony. The bond between him and Simeon was a golden cord of light, visible only to his inner sight, the once thin and fragile bond growing more solid, substantial, and the selfless gift from Simeon to Angel made it flare even brighter.

  Daniel jerked, and Angel blinked his eyes open. The damage was gone. Isaac sat back, exhausted, but his work was impressive for a sorcerer who’d rather watch television than cast spells. Angel held his breath as Daniel coughed, his dark eyes opening. Sweat darkened his blond hair at his temples, and his lips were dry, but he was recovering. Angel and Isaac managed to abort the process of falling into shock, but the upheaval to his system in the last hour probably had the boy feeling wretched.

  “Angel?” Daniel whispered, tears running down his temples. His poor apprentice sniffled, his arm limp in Angel’s grip, and he figured the boy was terrified he was still hurt.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Angel smiled, and he gently took Daniel’s now restored hand in his and squeezed. “Everything is fine. Your hand is all better. Can you feel my hand?”

  Daniel nodded, and carefully squeezed Angel’s hand back.

  “Did you heal me?” Daniel asked, voice cracking.

  Angel looked at Isaac and smiled. Isaac was tired and leaning back on the coffee table, and his face flushed, but he smiled back at Angel. “I didn’t. Isaac fixed you right up. Good as new.”

  “You did?” Daniel asked Isaac, surprised. Isaac nodded, and awkwardly patted Daniel’s knee, biting his lip and not saying anything.

  Daniel and Isaac may be close in age and they hung out the most, but they were still new to each other. Daniel had switched from his fear of Salvatores to needing Angel like a lifeline—the degree to which Daniel needed him was worrisome, but Angel would make sure to release Daniel from his apprenticeship as a well-trained sorcerer and balanced adult, and at this stage such dependency meant Daniel trusted him above all others. Isaac was already trained, his issues came from whatever lead to his anger and magic-abhorrent behavior, and Isaac needed less from Angel as means of support. Angel had raised his little brother after their whole family died, learning how to be something other than teacher and parental unit was hard for Angel, and weird for Isaac. They were brothers, and they needed to learn to act like it. The boys were close, but the differences in how both interacted with Angel were drastic and it made things off-kilter sometimes in their own relationship.

  “Thank you,” Daniel whispered to the both of them. The lanky kid curled up on his side and his slow blinking and pallor told Angel that Daniel was about to fall into a natural sleep. Simeon came over, and looked down at the exhausted apprentice.

  “Should I carry him to bed?” Simeon asked, and Daniel tensed. The young man was still dealing with the abuse and mistreatment he’d received at the hands of the vampire Deimos, and though he liked Simeon, the vampire made him nervous.

  “No, that’s ok. Isaac is gonna help Daniel to bed,” Angel said, and he was grateful for his brother’s short nod in agreement. “Isaac, take a nap yourself. I’m very impressed. You did a good job, little brother.”

  Isaac looked back at him, surprise and something like happiness in his eyes. His little brother nodded, face red and flushed, as he leaned down and carefully helped Daniel to his feet. Angel withdrew from the bond with Daniel, the boy sufficiently recharged. Sleep would help him more than anything. Isaac drew Daniel’s arm over his shoulder and all but carried the blond out of the room to the hall. They disappeared around the corner and Angel frowned, eyes to the kitchen.

  Angel got up, and walked to the threshold of the kitchen, one hand on the old brick arch that marked the two rooms. He could see the whole room, and the spilled kettle had ended up on the far side of the room, blackened lines in the hardwood marking the kettle’s journey from the stove. Simeon came up to his shoulder, and a cool hand gripped the back of his neck, squeezing hard enough to make Angel groan as his tense muscles relaxed. Simeon always knew what he needed, easing his tension before he even registered he was stressed.

  “What happened?” Simeon asked quietly. The sounds of the boys talking
down the hall filtered up to where they stood, so anything they said may be heard as well. His apartment wasn’t all that big.

  “I’m not sure. What did you hear?” Angel asked in turn. He looked up at Simeon, his lover towering over him. Simeon was at least a foot taller than Angel, and half again as wide. He was strength, wild yet reliable, and Angel leaned back into his hand, Simeon immovable and steady.

  “I was reading the paper in the front hall,” Simeon replied, “the door was open and I wasn’t listening, but the boys were talking to each other as Daniel made tea. I think they may have been arguing, as their tones were sharp, but I was not paying attention on purpose.”

  Simeon often went to get the paper, as the windows in the hall and landing of the staircase outside his apartment were now warded in such a way that Simeon could safely step into the hall during the day and not get fried. Originally runes and wards that Angel designed to protect Simeon while letting him enjoy actual daylight didn’t extend past his apartment, but Angel soon fixed that by extending that corner of his wards to include that one window. If he needed to, Simeon could now exit during daytime, heading down to the rear exit to the alley behind the building, the tall walls blocking out the sun.

  Simeon could hear for a solid block in each direction, and the vampire had learned the seemingly backwards ability of turning his super-hearing off. Angel could hardly stand humans in small quantities, so being able to hear veritable strangers talking about inane details of their lives would drive him batshit crazy. If he were Simeon, he’d stop listening, too.

  The water was cold, though the damage done while it was hot was pretty severe. Not even counting the damage done to Daniel’s hand, the kitchen was sorely wounded. The floors were original to the building, and the generations of layered varnish and shellac had turned to waxy gray and in some places peeled up in gooey strands.

  “How hot did the water get?” Simeon asked, stunned as they took in the widespread damage.

  “Hot enough to destroy Daniel’s hand and my security deposit,” Angel sighed. “That old kettle should have melted, but instead it scorched and burnt the floor and ends up against the far wall. Water is everywhere in here, damn near, and just dropping the kettle would have led to a smaller area of damage. This was magic, not just an accident.”

  “Daniel or Isaac?” Simeon said, his big thumb rubbing along the side of Angel’s neck.

  “I’m thinking both. Neither of them have the best control. Isaac from lack of effort and practice, and Daniel from his bad education. Kid can summon a demon and not get eaten, but some of the easiest spells and matters of control escape him. I really want to visit Leicester Macavoy and bitch slap him for letting Daniel out in the world with such huge holes in his training.”

  “Are they a danger?” Simeon didn’t look worried at all. He would be more worried for Angel’s safety, but he could handle his apprentice and little brother.

  “I think this incident may be the wakeup call they both need,” Angel said. “I’ll keep an eye on them both, but they’re smart. Sometimes bad things happen and it’s the slap a person needs to become better.”

  “You sound like you know from experience, my love,” Simeon tugged, and Angel went into his arms. He rested his cheek over the spot where a heart should be beating. The silence there once left him feeling odd, but now it was familiar and normal, reassuring. Simeon existed, and loved him, despite the lack of heartbeat. Even Death could love.

  He smirked at himself and his romantic thoughts, and hugged Simeon tight for a moment before leaning back in his lover’s arms. “Soo…” Angel started, Simeon arching a dark auburn brow at him as he waited, “Mop or bucket?”

  Chapter Two

  Not His Bodies, Not His Circus

  Having a dragon draped all over you was a good way to get attention. Some good, some bad, most of it annoying. In this case it was annoying, as the woman in front of him in line kept turning around and outright staring at Eroch. His familiar was snuggled around Angel’s neck, the collar of his heavy weatherproof sweater opened enough so the dragon could get next to his skin. Angel wore a scarf, and Eroch was tangled up in it, purring contentedly, soft puffs of smoke coming out every time the woman ogled him. Eroch was annoyed, and Angel was about to drop a hex or light the hem of her skirt up with hellfire when Simeon coughed loudly, making the woman jump and turn around. He sent a narrow eyed glare at his lover and Simeon smiled back at him, one big hand holding his elbow and reminding him he was supposed to be a grownup.

  The Thinking House, a long-standing gourmet coffee house on Tremont, was overflowing with people needing their coffee hit. The line moved up, and Angel regretted his burning desire to have a peppermint latte. It was early evening, the weekend officially started, and Angel was after caffeine fortification before heading out to battle. Or shopping, really, but they felt like the same thing. He disliked people in general, and hated shopping. He got his groceries delivered, and shopping during the holidays was enough to make him exceedingly short-tempered.

  This year the people he had to shop for presents for was doubled, and he still felt odd about that. Simeon was simple, all he had to do was raid the Salvatore Mansion and rescue an ancient tapestry that dated back to Ireland in the 11th century. It was small, only about the size of a movie poster, but the battle scene depicted ancient Picts and Celts, covered in woad battle markings and carrying weapons of a bygone era. It was presently wrapped up in a cotton sheath and in a pine box, the restorers able to clean the tapestry and repair a decade of dust and damp damage. The mansion may have been locked up and the furniture shrouded, but Angel hadn’t been thinking clearly when he closed the old house up and he’d missed some things.

  Milly was even easier to shop for. He spent all of thirty minutes searching online for a diamond necklace and a hundred-dollar gift card to The Cheesecake Factory. His teaching partner adored diamonds and cheesecake, and he had yet to vary from that very reliable and successful gift arrangement. Worked like a charm for birthdays, too. The one year he decided to change things up, she’d flat out told him to stick to what he knew, and that’s what he did.

  Simeon insisted it was only polite that Batiste, the Master of Boston, receive a present from them. Angel had accepted Simeon’s courtship and Angel was now considered part of the bloodclan. He refused to obey Batiste or live in the Tower, and while Angel had the feeling that such a stance wouldn’t be accepted from any other pair, Batiste let it go. Angel was in that gray area of being a practitioner and a vampire’s bonded mate, so both sides had a claim of authority over him. Well, if he listened to any authority other than his own that is—he had trouble listening to the police, let alone the Council of High Sorcery that supposedly ruled practitioners. Though how much ruling a council of stuffy, snobbish, elitist sorcerers could do from across the ocean in Europe was beyond Angel.

  Angel had no idea what to get the Master, but Simeon said he would take care of it and Angel would just have to sign the card. He’d shrugged, signed the card when Simeon brought it to him, and went back to stressing over what to get Isaac and Daniel.

  He had no idea. Daniel had been in his care since autumn, two months of living under his roof and accepting Angel as his master. Daniel quickly shed any hints of his past identity, which left Angel confused and pleased, and worried on top of that. The young man was twenty years old, and had been ten years old when his whole family and two other magical clans had enslaved a vampire clan and sent them after the Salvatores. Daniel, his father Leicester, and a few retainers were all that remained of the Macavoys after the human authorities stepped in after the tragedy. Leicester avoided prison somehow, and Daniel was raised by a man who succumbed to alcoholism and agoraphobia. Daniel was no longer terrified of Angel, but he also wasn’t opening up. Angel sucked at interpersonal relationships—hell, he’d never had a lover before Simeon, and he certainly didn’t count a handful of hookups, and Angel was still learning as he
went. Knowing how to get Daniel to open up to him and be his own man was outside his experience, especially since Angel was convinced he’d fucked up Isaac while raising him.

  Isaac was the biggest mystery. He knew his brother yet didn’t—he knew his brother’s likes and dislikes, but the man? No idea. Isaac steadily shut down on Angel when he turned eighteen, and grew worse as the years went by, and Angel was still in the dark as to the cause.

  Angel was deep in thought when he got to the counter, and the barista coughing at him brought him back. Angel glared at the rude ass but ordered his white chocolate and peppermint latte. Simeon was in line just to keep him company, but Angel ordered a small hot chocolate for Eroch, and a scone. Eroch chirped in thanks, and the barista’s eyes went huge when he noticed the dragon curled under the collar of Angel’s sweater. Angel swiped his card, and had to reach over and grab his receipt from the machine when the guy kept staring. Eroch ate the attention up, puffing out tiny bursts of smoke and slow-blinking his bright yellow eyes.

  “Stop flirting, I want my coffee,” Angel chided, and he went to wait down at the end of the counter. The barista kept on staring and Angel huffed, turning his back to the counter and crossing his arms. “My dragon. He can stare at his own. It’s so rude, like no one has ever seen a dragon before.”

  Simeon laughed, and leaned next to him on the counter. “My love, no one has seen a dragon in this realm in hundreds of years. Would you be so sanguine if a unicorn were to be carried in someone’s purse like a pet?”

  “I would want one immediately,” Angel said primly, arching a brow. “And I would never keep a unicorn in a purse.” He was kidding. One fantastical beastie was enough—God help him if there were unicorns out there, too. Eroch gave a meep and poked his snout at Angel’s cheek. “I’m kidding, my wee beastie. You’re it for me, I promise. No sparkly horse with an antler can ever replace you.”