NECROSIS (Nerys Newblood Book 2) Read online

  Necrosis

  Lucy Smoke

  Copyright © 2018 Lucy Smoke LLC

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission in writing from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s rights.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no endorsement, implied or otherwise, if any such terms are used.

  Necrosis is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The author holds all rights to this work and it is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author herself.

  Cover Design by Maria Spada

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  This year has been especially hard. There have been a lot of changes, both personal and professional. But I wanted to take a moment to thank all of the people who have stood by me and been my friends—even after they found that I could be just as human as everyone else. I am so grateful to the people who love me and care for me even when I can’t do the same for myself. For the people who accept my mistakes and faults and love me anyway.

  Thank you Kel, for staying. Thank you Liz and Des, for loving me. Thank you to my wonderful team of support—Jen, Kristen, Mary, Anita, Amara. Thank you to the rest who are always there.

  And thank you, finally, to my triple Fs—friends, family, and fans. Without you, this book wouldn’t exist. Thank you.

  For Michelle—the sister of my heart.

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  1. Mind Palace

  2. Changes in Euron

  3. The Rescue

  4. Homecoming

  5. Safe Places

  6. Secret Meetings

  7. Eye of the Storm

  8. Reassurance & Salvation

  9. The Sanctuary

  10. The Favor

  11. Passing Time

  12. Guilt

  13. Desires for Us

  14. Fire & Ice

  Epilogue Part 1: Luca

  Epilogue Part 2: Titus

  Epilogue Part 3: Holden

  Epilogue Part 4: Nerys Reborn

  Want more?

  Heart of Tartarus

  Sky Cities series

  About the Author

  Also by Lucy Smoke

  1

  Mind Palace

  I am alone in the shadows, in the quiet place I’ve constructed in my mind to think when the real world falls apart. Right now, the real world isn’t falling apart—it’s being razed to the ground. This is the only place that I can escape to, but not for long, I realize, as the soft sounds of Obidian’s steps echo nearby. I turn my head towards him. I’m not quite sure how sound can infiltrate here, but I assume it’s my mind filling in the blanks of what should be. Obidian is this hulking mass of ebony skin and stone-like muscles in his human form. He steps over a broken broom, turning so that when he lands, he doesn’t inadvertently crush the crystal sitting next to it. He sighs as he comes to stand in front of me, and I slam my eyes closed.

  “It’s time to go,” he says. “You need to get out of this place.”

  “I’m thinking,” I reply through gritted teeth.

  I’m thinking about every piece of fragmented time that sits around me. I’ve gone over every memory that applies to the objects I’m collecting. Infancy, childhood, adolescence. Trying to figure out where I went wrong. Trying to figure out what crime I committed to be punished, to have my friends punished like this.

  “Nerys.” Obidian grunts as he leans down into my face. The sound of his big body bending, skin shifting under his clothes, and the feel of warm breath on my forehead tells me exactly where he is. “They worry about you.”

  “Let them worry.” Coen not only deserved my sole focus, but he needed it. I didn’t need to be soothing hurt feelings or reassuring Booker, Titus, Holden, or Luca.

  That didn’t necessarily mean I didn’t want to soothe them, but what about Coen? They had each other to rely on. Who did Coen have but me? And I had failed him.

  “If you don’t leave this place, I will have to force you out.” He sighs again, and the warmth of his breath fades away from my face as he moves back.

  My eyes pop open. “It’s my mind,” I defend. “You can’t lock me out.”

  Black eyes scorch me, and I shiver under his glare. “I didn’t say lock. I said force,” he replies with another sigh. “Go to your potentials, Nerys. They need you as much as you need them.”

  “Fine,” I say after a long silence. Uncrossing my legs, I stand, and the objects I’ve gathered disappear as I make my way to the door. “But don’t you dare lock me out of here, Obi. I need it.”

  “I’ll do what I must in order to keep you safe, even if it’s from yourself.”

  I pause, my hand on the door leading back into the real world, away from my internal sanctuary. “I need it, Obi,” I repeat.

  His big form moves up behind me, and his hand—the size of my face—rests on the top of my head and rubs. “That is why the doors have remained open. But be warned, if you continue to spend extended lengths of time in here, you may never be able to return. The palaces our minds make are addictive in their safety.”

  I turn my eyes to the black and white marbled flooring and the tall off-white columns that adorn the sides of the great room. I sigh. This has been my safe haven. The place I close my eyes and go to when the guilt of losing Coen becomes too much. I find that I don’t want to open my eyes and see the real world. I don’t want to admit that everything we’re facing—the guys and I—is because of me. I’m the reason Coen was captured. I’m the reason we’re all rushing against time and straight into only the Gods know what because of me. I don’t want to see the regret in their eyes, the hopelessness, the blame. I blame myself enough.

  “Go, Nerys. They are waiting.”

  I turn back to the door. “I’ll be careful,” I promise as I turn the handle...

  ...and open my eyes.

  “Nerys?” Titus leans forward on the threadbare, puke-colored settee on the other side of the tavern room we’ve rented. “Are you okay?”

  I nod and uncross my legs before standing and stretching my back. “How long was I…?” I let the question trail off, not completely sure how to explain where I was or what I’ve built inside my head.

  He frowns as he watches me move across the room to the window overlooking the newest city we’ve entered. It’s a nameless town with faceless people, in my opinion. It’s not Euron, my home kingdom. Matric’s kingdom. Coen’s prison.

  “Couple of hours,” Titus finally answers.

  The door opens and Holden and Booker walk in with Luca tied to a rope held loosely in Booker’s fist. Luca barks once at me before shifting back into his human form and pulling the makeshift leash from his throat. I seek out the window and don’t take my eyes off the street where vendors and their victims sprawl as Luca pulls on a pair of pants.

  “Did you find anything?” I ask. It’s a hopeless question because the answer is always the same.

  “No sign of him, no word of an escape. Nothing.” Holden’s voice is tinged with grief and guilt. I know he feels partially responsible for Coen’s capture. They all do. But it’s not their responsibility to carry. It’s mine. And Coen’s. I know he did it for a reason—lied about being the daimon Matric was after—but it still doesn’t make me any less angry. These days I’m consumed with that emotion.

  “We’ll find him,
Nerys,” Luca says. He strides up behind me and places a warm hand on my cold shoulder.

  “I know exactly where he is,” I reply. “He’s back there. In Matric’s kingdom. We need to go there.” I turn away from the window and Luca’s hand falls away. “We shouldn’t be here cooling our heels. We should’ve already been on our way to Matric’s kingdom. We’re at least a few days travel away unless we can find another vehicle. The train won’t take us even close.”

  Booker steps forward, deep green eyes filled with some unknown emotion that’s both sharp and deep. “A tradesman is heading that way soon. We’re meeting with him tomorrow morning and he’ll take us at least halfway to our destination.”

  “Matric’s kingdom?” I confirm.

  Booker nods as Titus looks between us.

  "Then we should probably get a good night's sleep," Luca says quietly. "I'll take first watch."

  "Why bother?" Holden asks. "They aren't looking for us anymore. They think they have what they want."

  And the things they are probably doing to him right at this moment make me want to vomit.

  Nerys. My eyes jerk to Titus as his voice sounds inside my head. His jewel blue eyes meet mine and there’s a host of emotions ranging from sympathy to concern to untapped rage. We will find him.

  It takes me a moment to respond. I’m still not used to any of them being inside my head. I’m still working on how to block them out. Working on building up my walls so that they’re always there and not just when I’m thinking about them. It’s partially why I built the mind palace.

  I know, I finally say. He continues to look at me meaningfully before his attention is diverted by Holden and Luca’s conversation about whether or not someone should take watch.

  As I turn back to the window, Obidian fills my mind. Since his binding was released, it’s become second nature to sense him. He’s always there, in the back of my mind and, usually, he gives me the space I need. But there is no true separation for us. His nudges have become much more prominent and we speak in longer discussions. Since the release of his binding, I haven’t once felt the soul-shattering pain in my head or fainted. At the very least, I have that to be thankful for.

  He is right, you know.

  I watch the people pass by outside without truly seeing anything. Can you predict the future? I ask.

  I cannot, he says, but I know how dedicated your friends are. The chosen are potentials and potentials always have a basic instinct of protection. It’s stronger because of your bond with Coen.

  The chosen, he said. In my periphery, I watch them. Booker, Luca, Holden, and Titus. After everything went down—the scheming alchemist, Coen’s deal with the King, our rush to leave Cephei—Obi and I had metaphorically sat down for a heart to heart in which he explained all that he had truly done to protect and help me.

  Coen had already been my friend, but in him, Obi had seen a kind heart and a strong soul. Obi’s power as a spirit guide had merely enhanced the bond Coen and I had already formed as children. Holden and Titus were two that Obi had sensed nearby. He had used up most of his strength and power to overtake me once while I was sleeping. He had written the letters to them, delivering them by following whatever tether they had to him as potentials to be daimons.

  As our journey continued he grew weaker because of that one act of possession—one that I had made him swear to never attempt again without my explicit permission, and he had readily promised. He had pulled Booker into the inner circle because of the deep-seated, old power he had sensed in his druid heritage.

  In essence, it merely felt as though all of my friends were around me because of Obi and some strange connection I didn’t know how to explain to them. It broke my heart that they may not even care for me if things had been different and we had simply met on a street somewhere.

  Titus catches me watching them again and tilts his head in my direction. I sigh and turn back to the window. I haven’t talked to him further about our kiss. Neither have I said anything to Holden about ours. When I catch a moment in which I’m not obsessing over what’s happening to Coen, those two fill my head.

  “Then it’s decided,” Booker announces as I let the dust-coated curtain fall back over the smudged glass and nicked frame. “We will not take any chances. Luca will take watch for the first half of the night and I’ll take the second.”

  The darkness of night falls quickly and I lie in my bed, the one closest to the rented room's window and stare out over the tops of buildings. The sky is midnight and covered in a fine dusting of stars. My heartbeat picks up as a floorboard squeaks under booted feet.

  Titus sits down on the edge of the bed, facing away from the moonlight. He doesn't speak for the longest time. Then he shifts back and a warm hand finds mine under the covers. Though I hate myself for the weakness, I clutch his hand with my cold fingers. Needing the heat and the reassurance, I blink against the onslaught of tears. I've already cried too much.

  I almost expect Titus to say something, anything. He and the rest of the guys have been kind about avoiding my mind as I have been about theirs. It is a lot easier than I thought it would have been and considering that the action I took to bind them to me mentally is irreversible, I'm thankful. I fall asleep with Titus' hand in mine and the stars blurring in my vision as silent tears make tracks against my cheeks.

  When morning comes, we gather our things and meet the tradesman at a shop on the outskirts of the nameless and faceless city we have just spent the night in. He's a portly man with a round face and rounder belly. He jiggles when he laughs, which is a lot. Once again, Booker does most of the talking while I stand with Titus, holding his hand once more.

  Holden watches us quietly as we begin to load into the back of the tradesman's cart which is, unfortunately, a poor man's cart with two horses instead of an engine. I wonder if perhaps the technological vehicles used expressly for military purposes in Matric's kingdom are only used for the same everywhere else. It would make sense since Booker informed me that there were people who protested the use of such vehicles after their initial invention.

  "Nerys, are you ready?" Booker holds his hand out to assist me into the back of the tradesman's cart and I take it.

  Pausing before I step up, I turn to him and lean close. "Thank you," I whisper to his surprised face. His astonished expression softens and he bends down the several inches he must to reach my face.

  His lips press lightly against my forehead. "You're not in this alone," he whispers back. "You will never have to be alone again if you don't want to be."

  My eyes burn with more tears and I fight to keep my face calm. After I've settled in amongst the tradesman's wares, Holden, Luca, and Titus climb in after me. Titus retakes my hand as he settles close and though Holden eyes our clasped palms with lowered brows and pinched lips, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he wiggles closer and rests his head against my shoulder.

  I close my eyes, listening to the murmurings of Booker and the tradesman as they talk outside and Booker asks to sit up front. I assume it's because, with the wares and four others in the back of the cart, there will be no room left for him. As it is, Luca begins to pull his clothing away in order to shift and Holden and Titus hold up hands at the same time to cover my eyes.

  A small chuckle escapes me as their hands brush and they look at each other. Neither of them moves away, though, until Luca is fully unclothed and shifted into his dog form. A warm snout nudges my lap and I lift my free hand to rub it down the top of his head. Leaning back against the wooden slats on either side of the cart, I listen as Booker and the tradesman climb into the front seat and begin to converse.

  The cart jerks forward as the horses begin to walk and I close my eyes.

  "Just tell me the truth. I deserve to know. Even if it means my death, I deserve to know." The woman speaking appears fragile and petite. Wild red curls frame a delicate face where eyes, more gray than blue, stare unfocused at something or someone I cannot see.

  There is an unknown answe
r to her demands that sets her off as her eyes flicker in anger and her teeth clench down.

  "I've given up my very life for this and I'll give it up again for you. Just tell me, Obidian. Do you or do you not love me?"

  I gasp, but the sound does not reach my ears and once again, I realize that I have fallen back into yet another of Obidian's memories. Why I cannot hear his responses this time escapes me. I now know who the girl is.

  I always pictured Joan of Andromeda to be a strong and fierce woman, almost as big as any man. But that is not the creature that stands before me. This Joan of Andromeda is shorter than me. Her heart-shaped face is soft and her body is waifish. Even so, she is beautiful, a fire crackling in her spirit as she lashes Obidian's unheard responses with her eyes and reactions. I wonder, oddly, why she's speaking aloud as though he is standing before her as a man instead of a disembodied voice.

  "You fear it," she says. "Love." Her lips tremble as she speaks and she bites down on the lower one, gathering her calm about her like a shroud before she speaks again. "Well, I don't. You're my mentor, yes. My teacher. But you are also my friend. Perhaps the only great friend I have ever known. I love you as the soil loves the rain and when I die, because Gods know that I will eventually as humans are meant to do, l know you will miss me like the moon misses the sun."

  I can only interpret the long silence that ensues as Obidian's bid to stop her from loving him. Knowing the future for both of them, it still breaks my heart when a small cry slips from her lips and tears descend down her cheeks. A greater love was never felt, I believe, and a greater loss in the end for Obidian was never had.