Page 73 of Villains Never Die

“Is this what you do all day?” Rook groaned, setting aside a bulky illuminated manuscript about Medieval burial practices.

I closed a book of folklore halfway through a story about a peasant who met Death in the form of a knight on the road. I’d made it through fifty of the seven hundred books and still hadn’t found the grimoire.

“You’ve been here twenty minutes. You can’t be bored already.”

“Do your dead buddies follow you all the time?” he asked. “Are they here right now?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’re changing the subject to procrastinate work.”

“You can’t blame me for being curious. Wait, have they seen us…”

“They watch my life like it’s bloody reality television. You are their primary source of entertainment right now. They’re insufferable busybodies.”

“Ask them how I look naked.”

“They can hear you.”

If my husband looked like that, I might have found something to live for.

“Have you ever heard of TMI?” I grumbled, then turned to Rook. “They say if they’d known such a specimen while they were alive, they might have found a reason to cling to the mortal plane a little longer.”

Rook smirked and flexed one arm.

“I’m so glad you can use my unfortunate connection to the dead to stroke your ego.” I reached into my bag and shoved a stack of papers at him. “This is Wesley Lake’s proposed legal changes. Make yourself useful.”

“I could get you off instead. You’ll be more efficient if you relax.”

“Legislation. Now. I won’t be distracted by your nonsense today.” I know he caught the twitch of my mouth, that little movement in the corner I couldn’t quite suppress.

He sighed and read the first law out loud. “MS2005 - magician’s severance act - magicians will sever from the Council, effective immediately upon election, to form their own governing body responsible for handling species-specific threats and legal matters.

“SE1995-A2005 - amendment to supernatural enforcement act of 1995, magicians will have the power to carry out punishment, up to and including execution, for threats directly to their people without the oversight of the greater Council.”

I sighed and picked up the next book in the stack. “The whole Council will fall apart if that passes. Each group will want the same power.”

Rook shook his head. “The fae already do, and everyone knows it. They even have their own bounty hunters to track down people who piss them off.”

“The fae are the least of my concerns right now.”

Pain pulsed in my temples. Maybe I should have left my time with Rook to the bedroom and kept my work to myself.

“Hey,” he said, cutting through the headache. “I’m sorry. I can be helpful, I promise.”

He skimmed the rest of Wesley’s suggested changes, then reached for the next book in the stack on the table.

I turned the brittle pages of the volume I read carefully, searching for spells or rituals sprinkled in amongst stories and historical accounts—and found absolutely nothing. My eyes went dry, gritty, and the headache intensified.

“You should take a break. You look kind of pale.” Rook’s hand fell on my shoulder, warmer than I expected. When he pressed it to my neck, I leaned into the heat. I was freezing under my clothes, cold sweat dripping down my spine, shining along my temples, pooling in the creases of my elbows.

Iciness exploded at the back of my neck, and I jerked away from Rook, shouting as I fell over the table and clutched my head. Fireworks sizzled in my brain, popping and burning cold.

A figure draped in a gray cloth. Fire burning it away until only a blackened skull remained.

All at once, the pain stopped. The chill dissipated and I shook against the wood of the table until the buzzing in my ears stopped and Rook’s words broke through.

“Austin. Austin, baby, please talk to me!” He knelt down next to the table and took my hand.

“I-I’m fine.” I lifted my head and immediately regretted it; let it fall back to the wood and the open book in front of me.