The Necromancer's Betrayal (The Final Formula Series, Book 2.5) by Becca Andre Page A

but—”
    “Grams.” Elysia closed her eyes.
    Grams heels tapped the hardwood behind her, then her hand gripped Elysia’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t ask if there was any other way, but we need his help.”
    Doug’s help. The Deacon’s help.
    “Please, Ely. Doug’s not a bad guy. At one time, I think you actually loved him.”
    At one time, perhaps. Then she figured out where his true loyalties lay.
    “Stay the weekend,” Grams squeezed her shoulder. “Tell me you’ll think about it.”
    What could she say? “I’ll think about it.” She rolled her shoulder out of Grams’s grip and led James from the room.
    “Are you really considering… this?” James asked as soon as they were alone in the hall.
    Elysia didn’t want to rehash it with him. “It’s none of your concern. Let’s get our things. There are plenty of guest rooms. A hot shower and—”
    He touched the back of her elbow, stopping her. “You’re here because of me. That makes this my concern.”
    She turned to face him, her frustration boiling over. “I screwed up. I bound you, and I will free you.”
    “But—”
    “No buts. Drop the subject. Go get your things.”
    A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he turned on his heel, heading for the stairs.
    Elysia rubbed the back of her neck, watching him go. Nice one, Ely. Snap at the only person who has shown you compassion.
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered. But he had already disappeared down the stairs.
     
    Elysia scooted back on the worn leather couch and opened the photo album she held on her lap. She was grateful she had the den to herself. The shower hadn’t helped, so she turned to memories. The Family photo album. These pages showed what Grams was trying to save. Elysia respected that; she really did. But was it worth sacrificing herself?
    She traced a finger along the edge of the page, her eyes drawn to the snapshot in the center. It had been a bright summer day when the Family had posed on the front steps of this house. A big smile creased her three-year-old face as she sat on her mother’s hip. Her mother held her close, her mouth open in a laugh. It was a wide-angle shot of over fifty people, but Elysia could still pick out the paleness of her mother’s once blue eyes. Elysia remembered her eyes. What she didn’t remember was her laugh.
    She turned the page, revealing more photos taken that day. It had been a Family reunion, the weather had been gorgeous and the turnout excellent. Glancing over the photos of cousins, aunts, and uncles, some distant, some close, she found herself picking out those who had eventually gone insane. Some, like her mother, already showed signs, while others had lost it with little warning.
    Another page turn revealed a photo of herself holding a disheveled bird, her brown eyes nearly white. She had been a source of wonder then. If people knew what she could do now, she still would be.
    She felt him enter the room before she heard the snap of the latch as he closed the door behind him. A moment later, the couch shifted as he sat down beside her.
    “When I got out of the shower, you weren’t in your room. Are you okay?” James asked.
    “If I said yes, would you believe me?”
    “Probably not.”
    “I’m sorry I… lost it with you earlier.”
    “Hardly lost it, but it’s okay. I knew it wasn’t me you were angry with.”
    “That’s not an excuse.”
    “Maybe not for you, but it is a reason for me to keep my temper in check.”
    She smiled. He truly was a good person. As considerate and thoughtful as he was powerful. But no necromancer would ever see that. They would stop at powerful. James was a thing to be controlled—or little more than an object to win the Deacon’s favor.
    “Is that you?” His voice interrupted her thoughts, and she glanced down at the photo of her and the bird.
    “Yes.”
    “I assume it’s common for necromancers to take pictures of their kids holding dead animals?” A smile colored his voice.
    “Not that common.