Touch by Michelle Sagara Read Free Book Online Page B

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     advantage.
    But they didn’t catch all of the proto-Necromancers, as Allison called them. And some
     of the ones that slipped through their fingers were also part of the modern age. Given
     that most of them were teenagers, their understanding of the finicky bits of modern
     life only scratched the surface; most of them didn’t know how their phones worked
     or where their internet connections came from.
    Then again, Necromantic magic was generally more useful than cell phones when it came
     to communication.
    They entered the apartment. “Number significant?” Chase asked, nodding at the door.
    Eric shook his head. “I don’t think they had the time.” He nodded toward the kitchen
     and the dining room beyond it. Chase headed that way; Eric headed to what were probably
     bedrooms and closets.
    The living and dining area was clean. Eric whistled, and Chase headed to the bedroom.
     “Got something?”
    “They’re here.” There was a mirror in the room, on the desk; Eric had already covered
     it.
    “All of them?”
    “Two.” He lifted passports, tossed them to Chase, who frowned. One of the two was
     twenty. One appeared to be in his thirties. “Not high in the upper echelons of the
     Court.”
    “Good. They didn’t leave much.”
    “You think they’ve already gone hunting?”
    Eric nodded. “Grab their passports.”
    “Cash?”
    “Some. Not much. They didn’t leave wallets here.”
    “Robes?”
    Eric shook his head. “They’re either wearing them or they don’t intend to grab and
     run.”
    “You think they’re going to kill her?”
    Eric frowned. “Emma opened the door,” he finally said.
    “She’ll know.”
    Eric nodded. “Every other Necromancer alive might have missed it, but the Queen will
     know. She won’t know how Emma managed it, but she has to suspect.”
    “The lamp.”
    “The lamp. If Emma dies, she won’t get her hands on the lamp.” Eric was examining
     the phone. He swore.
    “What?”
    “Car. Now.”
    * * *
    The only person Chase worried about was Chase Loern. That had been his truth for a
     long time now. Eric was his equal—or, on a bad day, his better; he could take care
     of himself. So could Chase. Anyone who couldn’t was dead and buried in some unmarked
     grave somewhere.
    Chase wasn’t afraid of death—he just wanted the bastards to
work
for it. So far, they hadn’t worked hard enough. Rania had called him suicidal, back
     in the day. She’d been a lot like Eric—proper, well mannered, well educated. Unlike
     Eric, she’d become a casualty.
    Chase had no illusions about death. Death was not a peaceful end. It wasn’t a release
     into the great, happy beyond. There was no heaven waiting, no divine presence. Only
     the Queen of the Dead. If she found Chase, he’d be a figurative lamppost in her city—if
     he was lucky. Rumor had it she held a long grudge.
    Then again, so did Chase. But he wasn’t a Necromancer. His grudge wasn’t worth much;
     he made it count by killing Necromancers. But it was a stalling action. Sooner or
     later, they were all going to end up in the same damn place.
    * * *
    “My mother’s not like yours,” Emma said. “We don’t talk about important things in
     the Hall house. I don’t know if that would be different if my dad hadn’t died. I kind
     of doubt it, though. But she talked to me about Nathan. After he died. She talked
     about my dad. It was the first time I’d really thought of him as her husband. I mean,
     I knew—but he was my dad first.
    “He was her husband. She lost him. She had me—but it wasn’t the same. I have Petal,”
     she added, with a wry smile.
    “You’re more important to your mother than Petal,” Allison said. “Sorry, Petal.”
    Emma smiled. “We had that in common. The loss. The way we understood it. I knew she’d
     survived. So I knew I could.” Her smile faded. “On some days, I didn’t want to.”
    Allison knew.
    “Maybe Dad wasn’t as important to her as Nathan is to me.