Ghose laughed, his black-on-black eyes gleaming like an oil spill. “So ‘tis true. The man without a heart has found love at last. And withher, no less. For some unfathomable reason, she must care for you in return.” He gave her a half-pitying, half-disgusted look. “But your Necromancer is my Necromancer now.”
Fear constricted his chest. “She is not beholden to you. That Binding Agreement was with Ikelas. It ended with her.”
“Agreement or no, she will join us. The Queen of Rot returned half of me. Now her abomination will finish the job.”
Malachy’s memories of the late Necromancer stirred sluggishly, as if emerging from a tar pit. The previous Master Memnomancer had siphoned his memories of her after something he couldn’t remember but had been bad enough to incarcerate him in the Tribunal’s prison for several months.
When he tried to picture the so-called Queen of Rot, for some reason he saw Cora.
Malachy met his former Master’s dark, glittering gaze. “What do you want, Ghose?”
“You owe me, Realmwalker.” The demon smiled. “I’ve come to collect.”
