Tale of the Necromancer (Memento Mori 3) - Page 72

Ally immediately went to the contacts section and started typing. “You’d get along. And if anybody could give you life advice about the lich, it’d be her. If nothing else, you could commiserate.”

When she handed Maggie her phone back, she looked down at the screen. A name and a number that was labeled as a cellphone. Maxine Parker.

“I really don’t understand, but sure.”

“She’s a good friend. A good friend to us all, in fact. I think they’re in Chicago now?” Ally let out a hum. “No, wait. San Francisco. They moved a decade ago.” She laughed. “See? Things change too fast. And that’s just between us immortals.”

“And I can just contact her out of the blue? Say ‘hey, my friend gave me your number, let’s be buds?’” Maggie sipped her drink again. It was fruity and amazing, and she had to remind herself that it was stronger than it tasted. “Kinda weird, innit?”

“Not for immortals. We’re either ignorant of each other, always searching for kin…or making enemies. We have no middle ground.” Ally let out a long breath. “I guess, what I’m trying to say here is…you don’t have to be alone, in the end.”

“But I’m not alone. I have Harry, and Algernon, and you guys.”

The knowing smile on the demoness’ face gave her pause, however. There was sadness in the woman’s eyes. As if she pitied Maggie for some reason Maggie herself didn’t understand.

She shook her head. “No more sad talk. You just got married, lady.”

“That is true!” Ally laughed. “And I am entirely too sober.” She reached out for a hug, and Maggie didn’t hesitate to meet the gesture. “You go find your old cat. I should probably talk to my father at least once tonight.” She made a face.

Maggie chuckled, standing up from the bench. “Not a fan?”

“Oh, it’s all right. Astaroth is just so angry all the time. I guess that’s what happens when one is an aspect of wrath.” Ally gripped the wheels of her chair and headed off. “See you in the morning?”

“You bet.” She had booked the hotel for a few weeks. She had never been to Hawaii, and she wanted to spend some time really exploring the islands. And maybe take up scuba diving. It’s not like I can permanently drown if something goes wrong. Sharks might be a problem. That seems like it’d hurt.

Getting a refill on her drink, she began searching for Harry. He had come down to the afterparty and then disappeared. She’d gotten distracted talking to an angel about what Heaven was like, and totally lost track of her friend. Finally, she resorted to texting him. “Where’d you go?”

A pause, three dots, and then “Left. Beach.”

With a shrug, fetching a beer on her way past the drink bucket—figuring he’d want one—she headed off across the stone patio into the darkness. She made it a hundred and fifty feet, far from the reach of the lights of the hotel, before she saw movement by the line of high tide. Harry was sitting on large piece of driftwood.

“Hangin’ out in the dark?” She snickered and walked up to him, handing him the open bottle of beer.

He took it and sipped it. “Just thinking.”

Sitting down next to him, she leaned on his arm. His tone was faraway, and instantly she frowned in concern. “About what?”

After a very long pause, he let out a breath. “I’m tired, Mags.”

“Well, you can go back to our hotel suite, and—”

“No. Not like that.” His jaw ticked. “Not like that.”

She could barely make him out in the darkness, but her eyes were starting to adjust. The stars overhead were beautiful, and even in the shadows the rush of the dark ocean was beyond peaceful. The warm tropical air was a nice change to the frigid New England winter they had come from.

“Oh.” That was the best she could do. A rush of fear washed over her. Fear, and the familiar prick of tears in her eyes. “I…” She knew what he was asking for. He didn’t have to say the words.

“I promised to be at your side as long as you needed me.”

“You’re my best friend, Harry. My best friend in the world, and you always have been.” The tears she tried to fight broke free and rolled down her cheeks. “I—I don’t want to be alone.”

“But you aren’t alone. Not anymore.” He wrapped an arm around her, hugging her close to him. “You don’t need me.”

She put her drink down in the sand to wrap her arms around him, twisting sideways to squeeze as tight as she could. “That’s not true.” She buried her head against his chest. “I need you.”

“Do you? Honestly? You’re—you’re healed. You’re better now. You’re powerful. Nobody wants to mess around with you. Did you see how those freaking demons and angels looked at you? Like you were something special.”

“I’m just Mags. I haven’t changed.”

Tags: Kathryn Ann Kingsley Memento Mori Fantasy
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