Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
“You’re lying. You haven’t told anyone yet.”
He spits more blood out of his mouth before swallowing hard. “No. No, all right? I sent a message to Alaric to let him know I have an emergency update regarding your whereabouts, but he must be preoccupied with the newest surge at the Nether. No one knows that you’re here yet, but it’s only a matter of time before the finest bounty hunters come to rain down hellfire upon?—“
Baelfire’s growl cuts him off, his voice more gravelly than usual. “Let me kill him now, my mate.”
He doesn’t usually refer to me like that. Not to mention, he seems far more bloodthirsty than usual. Either he really doesn’t like this overly prying caster, or his dragon is once again making himself known.
I peer down at the seething, bloodied mage. “You have two options. Make me a blood oath of complete loyalty, and we’ll leave you alive…or else we’ll do this the fun way.”
“A—a blood oath? I cannot!” Gibbons sputters. “There is no priest or priestess here to bless such a thing on behalf of the gods!”
I lean down to meet his one remaining eye better. “Here’s a secret: you don’t need them. Even a filthy, cursed abomination like me can make a binding blood oath. So, what’ll it be? Will you swear your allegiance to me until your final breath, or does my quintet end you here and now?”
Gibbons shakes his head in terror, struggling hard again. “N—no! I gave you answers for my freedom! I only attacked you for the sake of the future of the mortal realm. H—how could you possibly justify killing me now that I cooperated? It’s not right! You know it’s not right! How could you do that to a respectable, old legacy like me?”
He pouts his bloodied lips, trying to appear frail and pitiful.
I roll my eyes. “If you’re hoping I’ll have a moral conundrum, that’s a grave mistake. Emphasis on grave. Besides, you’ll be more useful to us dead.”
Everett frowns. “But…how? He’ll just be dead.”
“Actually, he’ll be a puppet once Silas uses the spell I can teach him.”
Reanimation usually takes a few tries, but given how powerful Silas is as a caster in general, I have high hopes.
All four of my matches absorb that, and Everett covers his face. “Oh, dear gods. No. This is way too fucking dark, Oakley.”
Such a baby. Besides, it’s not like I’ll make Silas do it if he doesn’t want to. When I look at him, the fae’s crimson gaze is unfocused far away, as if he’s deep in thought.
I want to use him to throw the Legacy Quintet off our trail for a few more days, but not if it makes you uncomfortable,
I tell him through our link.
Morally speaking, I know it’s a bit
?
—
He scoffs. “As if that’s an issue either one of us has. Give me a moment. I’m just trying to recall the correct spell. I’m certain that I read it somewhere.”
Gibbons begins to scream and shout again, terrified of this new fate. The others glare down at him. Before I can decide how to end the problematic interim headmaster, Baelfire reaches down and snaps the mage’s neck with an angry snarl.
It’s so sudden and unexpected that even Crypt raises his brows. Silas jolts, gawking at the place above Gibbons’ body. I’ve known enough necromancers to know he’s staring at Gibbons’ ghost.
The moment the body stops twitching, Baelfire grips his head, shaking it as if to clear it before he blinks in surprise at the dead interim headmaster.
“Whoa. Fuck, that’s my bad.”
“Are you seriously implying that was all your dragon just now?” Everett asks indignantly.
Bael glances at me, his golden gaze both apologetic and relieved, as if now he can think straight. “Honestly? My memory is a little spotty for the last few minutes. I mean, I remember wanting to kill him for hurting Maven, but…I didn’t mean to actually do it. Feel a lot better, though.”
Crypt releases the dead body with a sharp hiss as his markings light up.
“Damn it all,” he mutters, standing and glowering in a random direction.
His markings are lighting up far more often. Is his curse getting worse, somehow?
Then it clicks.
Fuck. Of course, it’s getting worse. Since two members of the Immortal Quintet are now dead, the Divide is weakening, which creates more turbulence in Limbo, which he has to deal with alone.
What will happen to the Nightmare Prince when only one member of the Immortal Quintet is left?
Unease washes over me. I frown up at Crypt, but when he sees it, he just offers a tight smile. “I’ll be swift, darling. Hopefully, by the time I return, we’ll have a new puppet to play with if Crane doesn’t muck it up.”
Silas does not respond as he continues staring at something only necromancers can see.
Crypt shrugs and kisses the top of my head before vanishing.
I grumble like a petulant child about him leaving. Now, on top of carefully enacting the next steps of my plan, I also need to figure out a way to keep Limbo from turning into perpetual warfare, or he’ll have to pay the price for my gambit.
Everett brushes soothing, gentle fingers over the skin of my newly healed stab wound as he looks at Silas. “Well? If we’re going to dive feet-first into the dark arts, let’s just get it over with.”
Silas continues to stare pale-faced at the place above Gibbons with wide eyes like he just saw…well, a ghost. I frown. Surely he’s not this terrified of a specter? That seems unlike him.
Baelfire sighs. “Great, he’s lost it again. Si? Hello, earth to Silas?”
“I…believe I just saw the reaper goddess,” the fae finally manages, his voice hoarse.
Everett startles. “You what now?”
“Syntyche. She just reaped Gibbons in front of me. I only caught a glimpse of the cloak and scythe, but…” Silas breathes out, shuddering and rubbing his face. “That was acutely horrifying.”
Interesting.
“None of the necromancers in the Nether ever saw Syntyche because, for whatever reason, the spirits there aren’t reaped,” I muse aloud.
Everett frowns. “If they aren’t reaped, what happens to the ghosts?”
“They wander the Nether, looking for a way to pass into the Beyond. When I was young, I used to stay up late at night listening to their whispers. They would gather outside my window to weep and beg for a final resting place. Some of them haunted me for a while.”
In fact, they followed me around constantly. It annoyed the necromancers that I could see the spirits until Dagon finally placed a powerful hex on me so that I could no longer perceive ghosts. My ghostly groupies allegedly moved on once they realized I couldn’t hear or help them.
My guys stare at me until Baelfire sighs heavily. “We need to get you into therapy, Boo.”
Weird take after I just shared one of my most nostalgic memories.
“Did everyone see ghosts in the Nether, or was it just you after you were turned into…you know?” Everett asks, brushing the frost off his fingertips.
I shrug, but the truth is it was just me—and I could always see ghosts, even well before they started experimenting on me. Lillian hadn’t seemed surprised whenever I told her about the specters, but she told me not to mention them to anyone else.
Maybe she knew it would bother the necromancers.
Finally, Silas pulls his shoulders back and regards the corpse on the asphalt. Snow is falling lightly now, and the quiet peels of holiday music in the distance lend a somewhat eerie tone to this situation.
“All right. I remember the spell. Don’t stand too close.”
Everett backs the furthest away. We all watch as Silas begins softly chanting in Nether tongue. I feel the familiar prickling chill skitter over my arms when I hear him start the ritual to raise a corpse. I’ve heard it so many times that I could recite it in my sleep.
As Silas completes the ritual, his eyes darken entirely until no whites are left. His fingertips blacken where they’re extended over Gibbons’ dead body, which begins to twitch and spasm. A final wave of unearthly dread sweeps through the cold air before Silas staggers back.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
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