“Not uncommon,” Duncan surprisingly answered. “Russian politics were always dangerous and social climbers often accused their rivals of foul deeds.”
Boggs tapped the tip of his finger on his chin. “True or not, he was burned at the stake three hundred years ago.”
“Christ,” Duncan growled. “Necromancers can raise themselves from the dead?”
He took the words straight from Callie’s mouth.
“I didn’t say he died,” Boggs pointed out in sly tones.
Callie arched a brow. Many high-bloods had extended lives. Something not commonly known among norms. But not many could survive being burned at the stake.
“Then what happened to him?”
“No one knows.” There was an edge in his voice that spoke of his annoyance at the lack of information. Boggs clearly understood that knowledge was power. “The locals assumed he died in the flames, but there were rumors a dark power swooped in to rescue him. Some say the devil rose up to claim him.”
Callie wrapped her arms around her waist, suddenly chilled to the bone.
Could it be him?
Was it possible that the man she’d encountered in Leah’s mind was a three-hundred-year-old necromancer with the ability to raise the dead?
“Do you know what he looked like?”
“The stories claimed that he had eyes of diamond.”
“Shit,” Duncan muttered as he watched the color drain from her face.
Boggs released his breath with a low hiss. “You’ve seen him?”
“Not in the flesh.” Callie shuddered. “He was in the mind of a dead woman.”
“What did he say?”
“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be answering the questions?” Duncan snapped.
Boggs waved a thin hand. “It’s an exchange of information.”
“He said that the question is—” She was forced to halt and clear her throat. “The question is ... Who are you?”
The white eyes widened. “Interesting.”
Callie frowned. It wasn’t interesting. It was ominous. And threatening. And spooky as hell.
“What did you see when you demanded that we meet the first time?” she abruptly demanded.
The doppelganger froze, as if caught off guard by her question. Then, with a twitch of his robe, he was turning to head toward his pile of junk.
“A minute,” he murmured, delicately shifting through the strange collection. Duncan muttered something about lunatics, but she remained focused on Boggs as he made a sound of satisfaction. “Ah, here it is.”
He returned to stand in front of her, holding up a tangled mound of pink yarn.
“A baby blanket?” she guessed.
Boggs held it to his face, his features becoming even more indistinct as he rubbed the material over his cheek.
“It speaks of you.”
Eek.
She ignored the way he seemed to savor the tactile feel of the cashmere against his skin. Or maybe it was the silent communication between him and the blanket.
“Why would a blanket speak of me?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps it was once yours.”
Highly doubtful, but she was willing to play along. “What does it say?”
“You’re walking through a graveyard.”
“That’s it?”
“The dead are stirring beneath your feet.”
A far too vivid image of hands reaching from the grave to touch her seared through her mind. It was a dream she’d been having all too frequently.
“Are they trying to warn me?”
“No, Callie Brown.”
A cold ball of premonition formed in the pit of her stomach.
“Then what?”
“They’re trying to follow you.”
The words hit Callie with the force of a tsunami, the stunned tidal wave of horror sweeping her under before she knew what was happening.
Falling forward, she was vaguely aware of Duncan racing to catch her in his arms before the darkness swallowed her whole.
Duncan muttered a string of curses, shifting Callie’s limp body against his side, and pointed his gun at the bastard who was surging forward.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Duncan fired a warning shot close enough to the doppelganger’s head to make him duck in fear. “Stay back,” he warned.
“Duncan, I’m fine,” Callie murmured, managing to regain her balance although he kept a stubborn arm wrapped around her waist.
He turned to study her too-pale face with a scowl. “People who are fine don’t faint.”
“I didn’t faint,” she ridiculously protested. “I was just ... surprised.”
“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.”
She turned toward Boggs, her expression defiant despite the tiny tremors that Duncan could feel still racing through her body.
“I don’t know what you saw, Boggs, but I can’t raise the dead.”
He lifted his thin hands in a pretense of innocence. “I’m just the messenger.”
Yeah, right. Duncan’s finger twitched as he tried to leash the urge to fire off another round. A bullet or two in Boggs’s spongy flesh might teach him that not everyone enjoyed his mysterious mumbo jumbo.
“Did you see anything else?” Callie asked, her voice unsteady.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to share?” Duncan snapped.
Boggs gave another lift of his hands. “I did.”
Callie shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“He spoke to me,” Fane said, his voice coming from directly behind them.
Duncan didn’t allow his attention to stray from the doppelganger as the Sentinel moved to stand beside a puzzled Callie.
“Fane?” she muttered in disbelief.
Duncan made a sound of disgust. “I presume there was a reason you didn’t offer a full disclosure.”
“After our first visit to Boggs I took Callie back to Valhalla before returning to the cave.”
“Why?”
Boggs answered. “He threatened to kill me.”
“I don’t like men who give little girls nightmares,” Fane growled, earning Duncan’s complete approval.
Boggs, however, gave a click of his tongue. “The whispers were driving me nuts. Besides, I waited until she turned eighteen.”
Duncan shot a brief glance toward Fane, but it was Callie who asked the burning question.
“What did he say to you?”
“He warned me that a shadow was growing,” the Sentinel said, his gaze trained on the doppelganger. “And that if I failed in my duty to you, I would fail all high-bloods.”
He heard Callie’s breath catch at the reluctant confession. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Fane shrugged. “You had enough to worry about.”
“It’s no wonder you’ve been uberprotective,” Callie muttered.
Duncan frowned. The warning might be vague, but unless the creature was a complete fraud then they were in some deep shit.
Corpses without hearts who disappeared from the morgue.
A crazy necro who could actually raise the dead.
And now some ominous shadow.
“So what is this shadow?” he asked Boggs, not at all surprised when the thing shook his head.
“I don’t know. All I see is a darkness creeping over the high-bloods with Callie standing in the center.” A genuine fear glowed in the white eyes. “If the darkness covers her then all is lost.”
Duncan’s fingers tightened on the gun. The thought that Callie was at the center of the brewing danger made him want to shoot something.
“You’re a master of melodrama with very few actual details that would help,” he snapped, glaring at the doppelganger.
Boggs stiffened, clearly offended by Duncan’s sharp accusation. “I have offered all I have to give.”
Callie sent him a chiding glance before stepping toward the creature. “Can you tell us anything more about the necromancer?” she asked, her voice pleading. “How do we find him?”
A dense power filled the air as Boggs seemed to swell in size, his presence an overwhelming force.
“Sometimes to see into the future you must look into the past,” he said in a voice that echoed through the room.
Duncan flinched. Oh man. He’d been treating Boggs as if he were some harmless whack-job, not a magical high-blood that could quite possibly squash him like a bug.
It was a wonder he was still standing.
Then just to emphasize the point, Boggs spread his arms wide and with a shock wave of energy, he abruptly disappeared.
Poof.
Gone.
“Fuck,” Duncan rasped in shock.
Fane snorted. “That just about sums it up, cop.”
Chapter Ten
Callie was exhausted by the time they reported their encounter with Boggs to the Mave. Even by a high-blood’s standard it’d been one hell of a day and all she wanted was to crawl into her bed and tumble into oblivion.
So why had she followed Duncan to his rooms instead of simply going to her apartment?
He was a big boy. She was fairly certain he could make the short distance without an escort. But even as she told herself to turn around and walk away, her feet were carrying her through his doorway and straight to the window that offered a view of the surrounding countryside bathed in moonlight.
“Doppelganger,” Duncan muttered as he shut the door. “What other creatures don’t I know about?”
She didn’t bother to turn; she could see his reflection in the window. The lean, hard body. The stark features that were shadowed with weariness. The hazel gaze that was checking out her ass.
He might be tired, but he was all male.
“You know I won’t answer that question,” she said.
He strolled to halt beside her. “You don’t think I have a right to know?”
“It’s not my place to make those decisions.” She shrugged. “You’re welcomed to return to the Mave and ask her if you want.”
