Grave Promise by D. D. Miers & Graceley Knox

Author:D. D. Miers & Graceley Knox [Miers, D. D. & Knox, Graceley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chaotic Press
Published: 2018-06-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

"You know," Ethan said through a mouthful of pizza, squinting at an old text on European magical traditions. "I expected necromancy to involve a lot more human sacrifice and a lot less menstrual blood."

"Yeah, early European witchcraft loooved their menstrual blood," I agreed. I had my feet stretched out on his lap and a slice of pizza in my off hand. I'd started flipping through Forgotten Royalty, though so far there wasn't much in it beyond some minimally interesting trivia.

"There isn't even that much in here about actual necromancy," Ethan said.

"It's hard to find books dedicated just to necromancy," I said, distracted as I read about a Byzantine prince banished to a Turkish island. "Usually it just gets folded into other books of dark magic, when it gets addressed at all. Purely necromantic texts tend to be personal works passed down through families and never published. Aunt Persephona has all of ours."

"She seems like an interesting lady," he said.

"You don't want to meet her," I said. "I just found out she is apparently wildly prejudiced against werewolves."

“Well, I should have seen that coming,” he said with a sigh that implied it was a common occurrence.

“Oh, shit,” I said, sitting up and putting aside my pizza.

“What? Did you find something?” Ethan asked, scooting closer to examine the book I held.

“Not about whoever took the candle,” I said. “But read this, I’m in here! I mean, my family is.”

I pointed out the section I read and Ethan leaned close to read, putting an arm around me in the process. I tried not to think about it too much, though his warm skin against mine was very distracting.

“Prince Aethon Tzarnavaras,” Ethan read. “Briefly heir-by-marriage of the Empire of Trebizond, a Byzantine Roman state that fell to the Ottomans in 1475.”

“My great-uncle had a portrait of him,” I told Ethan, excited. “I saw it earlier today. He was holding the candle in it.”

“Do you think maybe he’s the one who made it, or whatever?” Ethan asked.

“Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “It appears like he kind of came out of nowhere. No title, no history. They’re not even sure how he got close to the royal family. There are rumors the king met him at a brothel and they had some kind of relationship, but that may have just been slander made up later when they tossed him out. He married the king’s daughter and the king declared him his official heir. But when the king died, there was apparently some dispute, which ended in Aethon declared as a witch and exiled to an island where he presumably spent the rest of his life. The princess and his children were exiled, too, to a convent on another island. But I’m guessing they didn’t stay there, since I exist.”

“Sad story,” Ethan said sympathetically. “They couldn’t have at least banished his family to the same island?”

“Yeah, that does suck,” I agreed. I reached for my phone, figuring I’d text Aunt Persephona about our royal ancestors, when I noticed what time it was.

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