บท 9: Chapter 9 - Death's Shroud
Laci stood there, staring at the man, his graying hair almost covering his deep blue eyes, eyes that never turned away from her as she left the library. He sat on the concrete bench, smoking a thick cigar, one leg crossed over the other, ankle resting on his knee as he studied her. In his other hand, he held a silver flask with the lid open. What is his problem?
With a deep breath, she took a tight grip on her anxiety and forced herself to approach the man who seemed obsessed with her. Crossing her arms in front of her, she stood in front of him, her eyes narrow slits. “Why are you following me?”
The man cocked an eyebrow at her, his lips turned up into a smirk, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. “Following you?” he asked, cocking his head as he studied her. “Why on earth would I be following you? I was outside first, you know? Would seem you were the one following me, if you look at it that way.” He took a small swallow from his flask, twisted the cap back into place, and tucked it into his jacket pocket, all while continuing to smirk at her.
Laci blew out a frustrated breath. “I don’t even know you; why would I follow you? You stared at me in the library just a little while ago, and now you’re out here, waiting for me. I want to know why?”
The smirk still plastered on his face, he held up the cigar, making sure she noticed it. “They discourage smoking in the library, so I came out here.” He cocked his head the other way, his eyes narrowing. “Do you always think people follow you?”
Laci felt her anger bubbling inside of her. “You stared at me while I stood at the research desk. Why?”
“Would you believe I wasn’t staring at you at all?” he asked. “But rather, I stared out the window behind the research desk, watching some birds flying over the lake. You just happened to be between me and the window. I am curious, though. Are you usually this paranoid?”
You have no idea. Laci sighed as she adjusted her purse strap over her shoulder. She took another deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. “I’m sorry,” she offered the stranger. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.” Years, really. “I’m just a little on edge. I apologize for misunderstanding what I thought I saw.”
He nodded, lifting his cigar to his lips and taking a long pull, his eyes never leaving hers.
Laci pressed her lips into a thin line, ready to just walk away and call the strange encounter over, but the man lowered his cigar, his wrist resting on his knee as he cocked his head back the other way. “I would imagine it has been,” he said. “You’ve seen a lot of death in a short amount of time. That can’t be an easy thing to bear.”
Her whole body stiffened as she glared at the man. “Who the fuck are you? How do you know what I’ve seen?” She called her power to her fingertips, ready to blast the man if he so much as moved an inch toward her.
He grinned, lifting his cigar and studying the end of it. “I’m Nazareth Xavier,” he told her. He took a long drag from his cigar again, taking his time as he watched the smoke curl up at the end. He then blew out the smoke, watching it as the afternoon breeze took it, stretching it into the air around him and wafting it away. “And I know about you, because it’s hanging on you like a shroud; death, that is. Your aura is soaked in it.”
“You’re a witch?” she asked, eying the man with suspicion.
He shrugged. “Not really, although some have called me that. I’m a servant of Hekate, Goddess of magic, ghosts, and necromancy. Basically, I serve the dead.” He took another pull from his cigar. As he lowered it, blowing out the smoke, he narrowed his eyes at her, his head tilted to the side a bit. “As do you.”
Laci gave a slow shake of her head. “I don’t serve anyone, especially the dead.”
He shrugged again, staring at his smoldering cigar. “And yet, death clings to you like a cloak you can’t remove.” He turned his gaze back up to meet hers. “Hekate has touched you, whether you want that touch or not. Have you not wondered why you can do the things you do? Have you not been to the Summerlands? Seen the dead? Talked to them?”
How the hell does he know that? How long has he been following me?
“You wear the touch,” he told her. “Other necromancers can see it as well as those who know what to look for. It surrounds you as I said.” He shifted on the bench, uncrossing his legs, leaning forward, his elbows now resting on his knees, hands clasped, cigar held loosely in his fingers. “The dead, however, can consume you, if you don’t learn to harness your powers, and since you don’t even know what you are, I’m positive you don’t have a clue as to how to protect yourself. You need help. More precise, you need my help.”
“I know how to harness my powers,” she told him, annoyed at his accusations and belief that she was inept at magic. “Tansy has taught me how to use magic, and I’ve been pretty successful in defending myself and my friends with it, so if I were you, I’d leave me the hell alone.”
Nazareth shook his head, nonplussed. “I’m not talking about the magic they teach you at that coven,” he said, making her eyebrows arch that he even knew about the Cauldron Coven. Apparently, he’s been following me a long time. “I’m talking about your powers, your connection with the dead. People who have died have their own energy, ghosts, phantoms, spirits. If you don’t learn to protect yourself against it, they can suck the life force right out of you.”
“How do you know so much about me?” she asked, her anger in her tone. “Why have you been following me?”
He sighed, shaking his head some more. “You are not listening. I am a servant of Hekate. She is the one who has touched you, called you to be what you are. It is also she who told me about you and sent me to help you harness your powers before it’s too late.” He took a deep breath. “I really do hope you’re not this obtuse when learning how to control your gift. It’ll make things obnoxious and our time together long.”
“I have no intention of learning anything from you,” she said, gripping her purse strap tighter. “I don’t even know you. You just show up, stalking me around a library like some dirty old man, spewing a lot of nonsense about goddesses and ghosts, telling me I have special powers. I’ve been around long enough to know bullshit when I hear it. I don’t know who you are or why you’ve fixated on me, but stalking is against the law, and I have some powerful friends. I suggest you back off.”
“Dirty old man?” he repeated, brows furrowed. “Now, that’s just rude.”
Really? That’s what he pulls out of everything I just said? Laci rolled her eyes. “So is following someone.”
He waved her off. “And I know all about your powerful friends, but they won’t be able to help you when the dead arrive. The Warrior has no power in this area, nor does the Warrior’s Blade or your coven. They could only stand by and watch as the dead consumed you. Hekate has a purpose for you, but in order to fulfill it, you need to learn what you are and how to manage the power that comes with it.
Laci felt the growl welling up within her, but blew out a frustrated breath instead. “And just what the hell am I? What has your Hekate touched me with that requires special training for me to succeed?
Nazareth cocked an eyebrow as he tilted his head. “You really don’t know?” he asked. Then he shook his head. “No, I suppose you don’t, considering how childish you’re behaving right now.” He took a deep breath, placing both hands on his knees. “Laci Valentine, you’re a necromancer, speaker to the dead, bridge between this life and the afterlife.”
Laci stared at him, her mouth ajar. I’m a what? This was so not how she saw her day going.
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