Fall of the Arch Lich (D'Vaire, Book 6) Read online

  He’d reminded himself he had known it was trouble to get involved in the first place since he was so prone to bad decisions, but that had caused anger to boil under his skin. Chander was sick and tired of never being able to move forward. So, while he’d been rummaging through the personal effects of a pair of long-dead necromantic leaders, Chander had reevaluated his own role as Arch Lich and his life in general.

  Since he was young, he’d always strived to do his best, but he’d allowed himself to be crippled by a fear of making wrong decisions. He’d choked in terror and it had hurt the world around him. Chander hadn’t pushed hard enough to seek any measure of independence for the sentinels. The elder council had not been the only people to tie his hands; he’d obstructed his ability to do more for them. He should have fought them—not just for the sentinels but for the necromancers who’d suffered while he played political jockey with the elders. Chander had become his own worst enemy, and he wouldn’t stand for it any longer. It was time to take charge and with his title and relationship behind him, he had to decide what to do with his time.

  The short-term was easy; he was working on his quest and he knew he wasn’t that far from success. Beyond that, he had no idea. He needed to give Baxter and Benton a chance to be a couple without tripping over him every second. Chander was going to be alone, and the world was his oyster. He didn’t want to stay in Vegas where reminders of all that he’d lost, both as a mate and as a leader, haunted him. The reality was, he could apply for sanctuary; the necromancers sure as shit wouldn’t fight it, and he could start fresh from anywhere. Hell, he’d even considered applying to D’Vaire, but two of the Skeleton Lords lived there and it would defeat his desire to find a clean slate.

  He never had to worry about romance. That life had ended when things with Alaric had gone sour. He wasn’t going to give up on sex. As soon as he was in the mood again, he was breaking out his dusty toys and wearing them out. Chander wasn’t sure how soon on the horizon that was; his dick had been on vacation since the day he’d opened his email and saw Victor riding his man, but he was sure someday he’d be horny again. The lack of interest in his body didn’t bother him—he was focused on more important things.

  Which brought him to his current mission—trying to decipher the handwriting of a woman who must have hung upside down while someone swung her around in circles as she added notes to her journal, because it was that horrendous. Arch Lich-mate Domitia had apparently been the driving force behind the creation of the sentinels and with the help of Arch Lich Faustus had managed the task. There was also a dark warlock involved, but he was only brought in at the end apparently. It would be no deterrent for Chander—even though there wasn’t a living warlock who practiced black magic. His demon was going to mean the difference; he sensed that. The former Arch Liches had been a powerful force together, but he was untangling the spell and building one to rip it to pieces.

  He was trying in vain to read a word when there was a thunderous knock on his bedroom door. Chander jumped about a foot out of his chair. “What?” he roared while slapping a hand over his galloping heart. At least the damn thing didn’t hurt when he was scared senseless any longer.

  “Open this door,” Benton demanded.

  “I’m busy.”

  “Right. NOW.”

  Chander reassured himself the only reason he was getting up to respond to that screech was because he didn’t want to piss off the hotel staff. He yanked open the door and saw a pissed off sentinel with his arms crossed over his chest. “What?” he asked tersely.

  “What the fuck did you do, stick your head in a blender?”

  “Huh?”

  “Shit, Chand, you stink and what’re you wearing?”

  Looking down to answer the question, he shrugged. “Pajamas.”

  “Those are the same pajamas you were wearing the last time I saw you.”

  “So?”

  “That was a week ago,” his sentinel yelled.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “You don’t even have a job. That means you have plenty of time for personal hygiene.”

  “Fuck off, Mom. I have shit to do.”

  “Drystan and Conley are here. They need to talk to you.”

  “Fine,” Chander snapped as he tried to push Benton out of the way, so he could see what they wanted. Benton used one hand on the top of his head to stop him.

  “This is gross. Your hair is greasy.” Benton released his grip. “Go take a shower. Then you can talk to them.”

  Rolling his eyes, Chander slammed the door in Benton’s face. As quickly as he could, he grabbed a fresh set of clothes and jumped into the shower. Soap, shampoo, and then conditioner were slopped over his body and hair. He dried and dressed then stomped out into the living area of their suite.

  “Hey, guys,” he greeted the two sentinels and pair of fallen knights in the room.

  “You’re going to eat something,” Benton demanded.

  “Order a pizza then.”

  “Told you we should have ordered something good and then told him to eat it,” Baxter said to Benton.

  Ignoring them, Chander turned to Drystan and Conley. “What’s up?”

  “We’ve been told not to speak to you until you eat,” Conley revealed. “Has it really been a week since you ate anything?”

  “I don’t think so.” Chander took a seat on the couch. “I remember eating cereal or something not that long ago.”

  “The day before yesterday,” Baxter countered. “There was some missing, you must have been up in the middle of the night.”

  “He probably ate one bite and the rest of the box ran away from his awful stench,” Benton insisted. Chander offered him a glare. They made light conversation until the food arrived, and then Chander wolfed down an entire pie by himself. Once they were finished, they finally got down to business.

  “Order of Necromancia hates me. Alaric has signed the papers. I’m all caught up on current events, right?”

  “There is the matter of your investigation,” Drystan said.

  For a minute, his words were a mystery and then he remembered they all thought the photo was a fake. “It was really big of you to come all the way over here to admit you were wrong.”

  “Chand, we had the photo analyzed,” Drystan told him. “The picture is real. Or at least the original one was. Someone took a photo of you and Alaric together and replaced you with Victor.”

  Chander stared as his mind tried to process that. “I don’t understand.”

  “Yes, you do,” Drystan stated before turning to Baxter and Benton. “Can I ask you guys to step out for a second?” Once the sentinels retreated to their bedroom, Drystan began laying out a series of images. The first was the one seared into his mind from that fateful day. The others were pictures that had different portions of Victor removed until he got to the last one which was Alaric and Chander as the two were having sex. Instead of a cat shifter on his lap, Alaric was being straddled by a necromancer whose heart was currently beating erratically.

  “Drys wanted you to see how the photo was faked so we had each layer of our process printed out,” Conley explained in a kind voice.

  His head bobbed in response to Conley’s words, but he wasn’t listening. All he could see was that damn picture. Not the one etched into his gray matter three months ago. It was the last photo, the lone image of nothing but him and Alaric. They’d all warned him he was wrong. That Alaric would never betray him. He’d known better—or so he had thought. Chander had believed everything inside him had shriveled up and died when he’d received that email. He was wrong; learning the truth had ripped the last of his soul out and shattered it into tiny pieces.

  It hadn’t been Alaric who had betrayed him. Chander had done that. He hadn’t trusted him, and he’d accused Alaric of something vile. All the damage to their relationship was his fault. Chander jumped off the couch without a word and ran into this bedroom. The tears slid down his cheeks as he dropped to the floor. How could he have
been so stupid? Why had he believed a picture from someone he didn’t even know over the man chosen for him by Fate?

  He swiped his hand over his face and was glad Alaric had finally signed the papers that terminated them. The sentinel leader deserved to have his freedom. Alaric had been too good for him, and Chander was a hateful person for not trusting him. He’d never given Chander any reason to treat him that way. It was Alaric who’d pushed for them to become a true couple and who had been at his bedside after his heart attack. He didn’t have to do any of that, and how had Chander compensated him for his kindness? By telling him to fuck off and kicking him.

  His fangs punched through his gums as his senses grew sharper. Chander’s T-shirt tore as his wings struggled to spread out behind him. He had news for his demon; they weren’t ever getting their mate back. In a matter of minutes, Chander had made choices that would see them both punished for all of eternity. It was both tragic and unavoidable, but Alaric was gone and he’d never have any reason to have anything to do with Chander again. Chander was glad he could run away now and find a new life. Alaric probably cursed the day they’d ever met.

  Dragging his wings behind him, Chander crossed the room and picked up the pile of scrolls that had created the sentinels. It would do little in the way of fixing anything, but the least Chander could do was free Alaric’s men. Once that was completed, he’d go to Alaric and offer him whatever sorry words of apology he could muster. He wouldn’t ask for forgiveness—he didn’t deserve it. Then he’d find a corner of the world to go where Alaric never had to lay eyes on him again.

  Chapter 15

  The last few weeks had been difficult. While Chander was focused on building a spell to free the sentinels, he couldn’t keep his mind off what he’d done to their leader. He’d allowed his fear of making the wrong decision to propel him into doing exactly that. Anxiety had kept him from wanting to have a real relationship for so long that when he finally had one, he’d been waiting for it to fall apart. That picture had served as the ax he’d been waiting for, so he hadn’t questioned its authenticity. He’d seen what he had expected from the start; that shoe had dropped because he hadn’t had faith in Alaric or what they had built.

  It was despicable that he’d hurt someone who certainly didn’t deserve it because he was a coward. A man who hid behind worry and guilt and was so terrified of himself he wreaked havoc wherever he went. Alaric had become an innocent victim of Chander’s inability to deal with life. Chander decided he was tired of it. Sick of his own fright of needing everything to be perfect and when it didn’t work out the way it should, he would spend all his time thrashing himself mentally. That was over. He made a vow: from now on he would address his issues head-on.

  No more hiding behind fear. He’d made mistakes. Everyone did, but not everyone allowed them to be the driving force in everything they did. Chander was finished with torturing himself. It would do nothing to fix the mess he created, but he’d offer an apology to Alaric and then he’d find a way to move on. Alaric had to be in Las Vegas; it was where the Council was. Chander didn’t have that reason; he’d filled out his sanctuary papers. As he had expected, they’d been signed off by the Order of Necromancia. Legally, he was no longer a necromancer.

  Chander belonged to only himself. He had resources—he didn’t require a sanctuary, and he wouldn’t take up a spot someone in need could use. After casting the spell to free the sentinels, he’d find a quiet spot to live. It would be up to Baxter and Benton if they wished to find a home close by. He wasn’t going to allow them to follow around the now untitled Mr. Chander Daray. It was ridiculous to have two sentinels guarding him; there was no danger and they were finally going to have the freedom to do whatever they wished.

  Magically he was ready to liberate the sentinels. He’d worried over how it would affect both races and wasn’t sure if it would cause pain or even cause everyone to black out for a few seconds. Since discovering he was demonic four months earlier, he’d read or acquired all there was to know about the race. He didn’t learn a whole lot; demons were more mystery than not, but he’d found a mass compulsion spell. Chander decided that was what he would use to facilitate his big plan.

  He’d cast it over all necromancers so they would seek safety before he tore their souls from the sentinels. It would prevent anyone from being hurt by driving off the road or some other disaster while their bodies adjusted. At night, after his own sentinels were sleeping, he’d practiced it on unsuspecting hotel patrons. It didn’t appear to last long, a few minutes at best, but that was all the time he needed. He’d also snuck out to find a cave to cast in. His scheme would unleash a monster amount of magic, and he needed a private place to accomplish it where no one and nothing would interrupt him.

  As luck would have it, there was a cave system in Red Rock Canyon, and he’d found the perfect spot. The last issue he’d had to address was what to do with his own sentinels while he was casting. He didn’t want to let anyone in on his project. The truth was, he hoped it worked but wouldn’t know for sure until it was done if it was the right incantation. And he certainly didn’t want to debate with Benton or Baxter about the merits of it. He had no idea if they would appreciate him severing the bond they shared with him. Chander needed them out of the way to get it done.

  He considered doing it in the middle of the night while they slept, but he was going to be using every ounce of power given to him by Fate. It would accelerate his heartbeat at the very least, and he could lose consciousness. Those kinds of bodily changes would wake them up and alert them to what he was up to. After he’d considered all his available options, he realized the only thing he could do was tranquilize them. Which posed a significant problem since the Order of the Fallen Knights were the only people who had a weapon strong enough to take out a sentinel. It was something he personally had helped to create.

  The only solution was going to seriously piss off his sentinels, but there was no choice. It was a Friday afternoon, and Chander decided it was the perfect time to see his plan through. He’d just showered and changed into a pair of comfy jeans and a T-shirt. He left his bedroom and headed out to the living area of their hotel suite. He was in luck; his sentinels were snuggled on the couch watching television.

  Benton sat up. “Wow, Chand, long time no see.”

  “And he’s showered and everything,” Baxter added.

  “Yep, I have plans.”

  “Where are we headed?”

  “We’re going to Red Rock Canyon,” Chander replied. “I have a picture of a cave we are going to teleport to, but I need one of you to volunteer for a task before we go.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Baxter asked.

  “I could do it too, you know,” Benton told Baxter.

  “Too late, I volunteered first,” Baxter answered and then turned back to Chander. “What’s my task?”

  “I need you to go to the storage area at the Fallen Knights’ Headquarters and grab two tranquilizer guns.”

  “What the fuck, Chand? Are you turning to a life of crime now? I’m not going to steal shit from the fallen knights,” Baxter retorted.

  “Yeah, you are and we both know I can order you to do anything,” Chander replied. “And no, I’m not turning to a life of crime. In fact, I am going to give the guns back to Drystan as soon as I’m done with them.”

  Benton eyed him with suspicion. “What do you need them for?”

  “I’ll explain later.”

  “How in the fuck am I supposed to take shit from under the noses of the fallen knights?”

  “You’re a sentinel. You can do it.”

  Baxter stormed out of the room and returned with his cloak. He put it on and tugged Benton close for a kiss. “I don’t like this,” he told Chander.

  “I know and I’m sorry, but I have no choice. Go get the guns,” Chander ordered.

  “Whatever,” Baxter grumbled before teleporting out.

  “What the hell is going on?” Benton demanded.

&n
bsp; “I can’t tell you,” Chander insisted. “Not yet anyway, but I promise it’s nothing nefarious. I’m sorry for putting you and Bax in this position.”

  “You’ve never taken advantage of us like the other necros have with their sentinels. I’m shocked you would even contemplate it.”

  “If there was any other way, I would have done it.”

  “You’re acting so fucking weird.”

  Baxter shimmered back into the room and handed Chander two tranquilizer guns. “Here.” The word was terse and Chander knew he was pissed.

  “I’m sorry,” Chander replied. “Thank you.”

  “Now what the fuck are you going to use them for?” Baxter asked.

  Chander pulled his phone from his pocket and showed them the picture of the cave he’d picked out. “Meet me here.”

  Without a word, Baxter did as he asked. Chander transported himself with a quick spell and Benton arrived a few seconds later. As soon as Chander got there, he created a fire in the center so he could see.

  “Now will you explain what’s going on?” Benton demanded.

  “Not quite yet.” Chander knew he was going to have to act fast to tranquilize them both before they grabbed the weapons from his hands. Turning to face the cave wall, he placed a gun in each hand. Then he teleported himself a few feet away and, hands raised, he fired them. He heard Baxter shout before the pair hit the floor. Walking over to make sure they were all right, Chander apologized to his sleeping sentinels and created a magical envelope. He emblazoned Drystan’s name on it and sent the package to his desk. Chander knew he’d have to explain where he got them, but he would worry about that later.

  Chander pulled off his T-shirt and, bending his spine slightly, called upon his demon. His gums stung as his fangs punched through, and his vision grew sharper as his eyes switched to their red counterpart. The muscles of his back tickled as a beautiful set of sleek black wings emerged from behind him. He loved his demonic side. Closing his eyes, he whispered the words which would compel every living necromancer to seek safety. He added visuals of pulling over a car and heading indoors. It couldn’t hurt to include a few suggestions.