The Nerdy Necromancer (The Deadicated Matchmaker Book 1) Read online

  I took the books and stood. "Perfect," I said.

  "See you then."

  I nodded, turned, and headed out of the nursery with Margo walking beside me. I felt his stare on my back all the way out.

  When I got home, I led Margo to the utility room, plopped an obscene amount of food into her bowl and headed into the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat. I'd need to look at my calendar before I went to bed so I knew what appointments I had tomorrow. I knew for a fact I had a court date to attend for a woman who was convinced her deceased husband meant to leave her everything. This, of course, meant she also thought he left his kids nothing. I was mentally exhausted just thinking about it. Although it was easy money, contesting wills meant drama and lots of it.

  I opened the fridge only to see I desperately needed to go to the store. I didn't know a lot of single people who cooked, but my mother had taught me when I was very young. This ensured I always had something to eat even with meager ingredients. Except...ingredients for good food could be expensive so when I was saving for this place, I had to buy as cheap as possible. But once I had the place and the money from my business, my fridge was usually full.

  Unless I was a total slacker, which this week I was.

  I groaned as I looked at the meager offering, closed the door, and walked over to the pantry. I had the staples: flour, sugar, salt, butter, etc.

  “Waffles,” I murmured. “We shall have waffles!” Margo had finished inhaling her supper and she sat down beside the kitchen island as I got out all of the ingredients. Her head tilted to the side when she saw my massive containers of flour and sugar. I’d gotten tired of constantly buying bags of pantry staples, so I’d bought three massive ten gallon jars. One had flour, one had sugar and the other was full of brown sugar. They were heavy, but it was worth it not to have to buy them all the time.

  I took out a stick of unsalted butter, unwrapped it and popped it in a bowl to melt in the microwave. I whipped a few eggs until they were light and fluffy, and added the rest of the ingredients to the bowl. I mixed it just enough to incorporate everything and left it to sit on the counter for a bit. I dug out my waffle iron, plugged it in and turned it on.

  While I was waiting for it to heat, my doorbell rang and I practically growled. Who dared interrupt the sanctity of waffle time? Margo didn’t bark. Instead she trotted over to the front door and sat.

  I peeked through the privacy hole.

  “Hey!” I exclaimed as I opened the door.

  Pepper stood there looking gorgeous as usual. Dark black hair fell in a shower of curls down to her waist. Big blue eyes were staring at me, but my friend, usually one to have a quick grin for anyone, wasn’t smiling.

  “Pepper?” I held the door open.

  She brushed past me and came inside, not seeing the large puppy waiting for a pat on its head.

  When I closed the door, Pepper spoke. “You hired Hank?” she asked quietly.

  “Uh, I’m considering hiring Hank. Why?” I pointed to the kitchen. “Waffles?”

  Her gaze brightened but she frowned. “Don’t try to seduce me with your delicious food. Why in the world would you hire Hank over me?”

  I had started to head back to the kitchen but stopped so quickly, Pepper ran into the back of me. “Wait. You never claimed to have any interest in landscape design. Why in the world would I know to hire you?”

  “Because I’m a gardener! Because I love plants! Because I’m your best friend!” Pepper stepped out from behind me and walked over to grab a bottle of wine from the top of my fridge. She rummaged through a drawer for an opener and went to work.

  The waffle iron beeped. “I didn’t think about it, Pepper. Honest. Plus I hadn’t planned to hire anyone. Hank dropped my plants by when I missed my pickup time and he shamed me into looking into permaculture.”

  Pepper’s hand stilled as she was pouring wine into a red plastic cup. “So,” she drawled, her voice a little more relaxed, yet sharply interested in the subject. “Hank’s going to be spending some time around here, is he?”

  I rolled my eyes as I sprayed the waffle iron with olive oil. “Don’t even go there.” But I gasped as I realized I hadn’t told her what happened. I poured the first batch of batter in, shut the iron, flipped it, and poured more batter into the second waffle holder. I flipped that back over and clapped my hands together.

  “OH MY GOD!” Pepper shouted, her wine forgotten, as she got down on her hands and knees and rubbed her hand through Margo’s fur.

  “Who is this adorable little baby? And how did I not see her when I walked in?”

  “Because you were boiling angry at me and I’d never had a dog before.”

  “Who’s a cute little girl?” Pepper cooed. “I wasn’t boiling,” she corrected. “I was annoyed.” She tore her eyes away from Margo. “Where did she come from?”

  I told her about the note from the agency.

  Pepper’s hands stopped rubbing Margo. “Uhh. That’s unheard of. They brought you a puppy?”

  Margo barked.

  “Yes, you’re adorable,” Pepper said in her baby voice. “But of all the people you chose, you decided to stay with Helen?”

  “Hey!” I glared at her as the waffle iron beeped. “No waffles for you.”

  “You wouldn’t deprive your very best friend of waffles, would you?”

  I carefully lifted out the waffle and put it on a plate. “I certainly would. But not today.” I slathered it with butter and maple syrup and pushed it her way. “As long as you’re nice to me.”

  “I’m always nice. You just don’t like the truth.” Pepper stood up, washed her hands, and dug into the waffle with the fork I handed her.

  “I love the truth. What’s so weird about me having a puppy?”

  Pepper’s mouth was full but her answer was rolling her eyes. She chewed for a second.

  “You have dead things here all the time! Haven’t you seen a single movie?”

  “I’m a necromancer! I can’t help it.”

  “Has Margo seen anything dead come back to life yet?”

  I glanced down at the puppy now lying on the floor staring up at my best friend like she was the best thing since beef jerky. “Not yet.”

  Pepper harrumphed. “Well, let’s see what happens when she does.”

  For some reason I didn’t think it was going to be an issue. Nothing had fazed her yet. I shrugged and popped my waffle out of the second holder. I slathered it with all the good things and sat down on the bar stool across from Pepper. “If she isn’t fine, she’s always welcome to go back to the agency.”

  Pepper waved her fork. “Speaking of the agency, why in the world would they give you a puppy?”

  “I don’t know about that, but they said they had someone for me.” I paused. “And that he was dead.”

  My friend promptly choked on her waffle. She chugged down some wine and I winced at the combo of maple syrup and Merlot. “Dead?”

  I nodded. “I’m assuming they meant a vamp or something,”

  Pepper’s gaze became predatory. “Or a ghoul?” A smile ghosted her lips.

  I snorted. “I thought so at first. But Hank rejected me soundly. He said he didn’t like blondes.” I let one of my shoulders lift and fall in a shrug. “Also, he doesn’t seem to like me much, either. Regardless of my hair color.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone not liking you, Piper. But you do have a bit of an abusive relationship with your plants.”

  I laughed. “I guess I never thought of it until Hank shamed me yesterday.”

  “Plants have feelings too,” Pepper said over a mouthful of waffle.

  “Well, it’s possible my yard might become the most Earth friendly place in Midnight Cove.”

  Pepper finished wolfing down her waffle. “You need to incorporate some magical elements. Rosemary by the front gate, Hawthorne to keep out ghosts…”

  I snorted at that one. “Maybe we will skip the Hawthorne. I don’t want to be bankrupt.”

  “H
olly for protection and luck.” She waved a hand around. “There’s a lot you can do with this place, but Hank won’t know the lore.” Pepper winked. “That’s where I come in.”

  “Pepper -” I began in a warning tone.

  “Relax. A whisper to you here and there and he’ll never know I was your puppet master. You need these. I’ve been itching to get you to incorporate certain plants for years. You’re more of an aesthetics person than a magical person. Which, given your proclivity for raising the dead, makes it even more amusing.”

  She was right. My house was cute. It wasn’t magical. And even though I had a bunch of land, my house couldn’t be considered big by any means. It was a cute, three bedroom historical home. Burnished wooden floors glowed with love and care, but the bathrooms were small and the closet space was close to non-existent. When I moved in, the kitchen was so small I had to get special permission from Midnight Cove to upgrade it. I’d replaced the tiny stove with a state of the art Viking, complete with a fryer and double oven. I’d torn out the old formica island and replaced it with a massive one topped with a huge piece of oak that doubled as a butcher’s block. I’d torn out the small cove of old laminate cabinets and replaced them with upcycled wooden cabinets I’d chalk painted and antiqued myself. To keep myself from scratching the paint, I’d made sure to install cabinet handles with a copper base on the back. The kitchen looked farmhouse chic and, based upon the explosion of waffle mess we’d created, well loved. The rest of my house was well loved, too, if not a bit eclectic. And while most of it looked normal, if you knew where to look, you’d find a secret hatch that went down to my tunnels and into what I liked to call my diabolical lair.

  Of course, this was me, and there was nothing diabolical about my lair, but if you were a regular human and you didn’t know what I did for a living, there might be some cause for concern. Necromancy wasn’t an innate magic. It took hard work, focus, and a whole lot of practice to ensure proper raisings.

  In the beginning, some of my work looked more like horror movies than people. It ended up terrifying both me and the person I’d raised. My parents, not being necromancers themselves, helped as best they could, but I ultimately considered myself to be self-taught. The lab, with its beakers and needles and threads and numerous books could be off-putting, but it was the result of years of my hard work and research. Now I was not only the best (forget that I was the only) necromancer in Midnight Cove, I was able to now ensure the raisings I performed looked more like their old selves instead of artificially preserved or skeletal. It was an odd talent and one I couldn’t quite figure out where I’d gotten, but it was both my talent and the results of scientific research that enabled me to do what I did now.

  There were other necromancers scattered across the country and in one of our sister cities, but I was the only one who could bring a flesh and blood, cognizant and aware being back to life. I was proud of it.

  But I did have to agree with Pepper. My research wasn’t exactly clean. I’d gotten my hands dirty with some unimaginable yuck over the years while I honed my craft, so I guess I made sure the other part of my life stayed clean and wholesome. I was a picture of contradictions.

  “I don’t really need protection here,” I told Pepper, “but I’m willing to let a little bit of magic in.”

  She wiped her mouth with a napkin and stood. “Good girl. I’ll email you some things to ask Hank for.” On her way out she waggled her eyebrows. “Let me know if Hank suddenly has a hankering for blondes.” Pepper winked, grabbed her purse, and sailed outside, waving at me as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She didn’t thank me for the waffles.

  She never did.

  It was like she had some honed sixth sense for knowing when food was going to be available.

  Margo trotted over and sat beside me while I locked up the house. I reached down and patted her head. “Come on, girl. Let’s get ready for bed.”

  I took her outside to do her business, let her sniff some bugs for awhile, and then arranged the blanket on the floor for her to sleep on. She liked it as much today as she did yesterday, as evidenced by her haughty snort. I grumbled at her to get over it as I rummaged through my dresser looking for some pajamas.

  When I settled in to bed, I flipped on the lamp I had on my nightstand and picked up my calendar. I had a 9:30 case down at the courthouse. After that was lunch, then two more appointments here at the house. All in all, a relatively easy day. I wrote Hank in for 6 p.m. tomorrow, ignoring the funny little jolt my stomach did at seeing his name.

  “Get over yourself, Helen,” I grumbled to myself as I shut off the lights and snuggled into my blankets.

  With a soft woof, Margo agreed with me.

  3

  I woke up to something soft tickling me in the face. I sputtered and tried to whack it away, thinking maybe it was a spider or something. But when my fingers plunged into a whole bunch of softness, I abruptly sat up.

  “Bear!” Was I being attacked by a bear? I rubbed my eyes and opened them only to see Margo staring at me like I was an idiot.

  I inhaled a gasp. “Margo! Get off the bed!”

  She rolled over and lolled her tongue at me.

  “Bad dog,” I grumbled and shoved her over a little bit. I looked over at the clock, surprised to see it was already 6:45. I headed out to make some coffee and called Margo, but she was completely uninterested. I got her food ready, set it on the floor, and realized I didn’t have a plan for what I was going to do with her today.

  “Crap!” I measured out enough grounds to make an obscene amount of coffee, poured the water in, and started the pot. No one even knew I had a puppy besides Pepper and Hank. But she didn’t wake up before 10 and would gladly murder me if I called her before then. How she kept such weird hours while running a nursery I couldn’t say, but everyone in this town loved her. However, she was kind of inconvenient if you needed something before noon.

  The only other person I might be able to call was the last person I wanted to ask for a favor, especially since he was coming over tonight at 6 anyway. But Margo loved him.

  It would be totally irresponsible of me to leave her at home. She was too young. Plus...I didn’t have a dog door and I had no idea if she was prone to chewing on anything yet.

  I removed the pot from the coffee maker and shoved my mug underneath. This woman waited for no brew. As my cup began to fill, I resigned myself to my fate. I was either going to have to throw myself on Hank’s mercy or take my chances I’d still have a house when I got back today. It was only for a few hours.

  I slurped down my coffee, gasping as it burned my tongue, and grabbed my cell phone.

  Hank at 7:30 in the morning was way hotter than Hank in the afternoon. It was almost like it was so early he’d forgotten to put on his grumpy face. He looked a little rumpled, a little bewildered, and a whole lot of delicious.

  Margo agreed. Hank had barely gotten through my front door before the delighted golden retriever let out a delighted yap and jumped straight into his arms. Hank stumbled back with the effort to catch her, a startled “aaaagh” coming from his mouth before he started to laugh, a deep rumbling chuckle that had my bare toes curling.

  Snap out of it. He was not the droid I was looking for.

  Margo nestled in his arms like a furry baby, arms around his neck like he was the best human she’d ever known.

  “Traitor,” I grumbled.

  Hank lightly shoved my door closed with his boot and came in. “I smell coffee.”

  I puttered into the kitchen and poured him a cup. When I tried to hand it to him, Margo glared at me. I never knew dogs could glare.

  Hank tried to set her down and her paws scrabbled against him like if he let go of here it would be the worst feeling ever. I kind of wanted to feel like that too. Once she was on the ground, he accepted the cup from me.

  “I’m so sorry to have to call you,” I told him. “She was kind of dropped in my lap and I haven’t yet really sat down and worked out all the do
g ownership kinks.”

  He took a sip of coffee. His gaze was direct. “You need a crate.”

  I nodded. “I know. It’s too early to go to the pet store.” And it was. Just about everything in this town opened late because of the undead population. I guess there was no need to open certain things when half your customers wouldn’t make it in until after 6.

  “I’ll pick you up one today,” Hank offered.

  I almost dropped my mug. “Uh. Okay. That would be wonderful. Text me the cost and I’ll make sure I have cash to pay you.”

  Hank reached down to pat Margo. “You ready to go, girl?”

  I gathered the bag of stuff I’d put together for her. “I already fed her this morning. There’s a bag of treats and two of her new toys.” I winced. “I’m not sure if she’s potty trained. She hasn’t had an accident in the house yet.”

  Hank shrugged. “I work in a nursery. It will be fine.”

  “Thank you so much,” I gushed. “I’ll be back no later than one to pick her up.”

  Hank polished off the rest of his coffee, took the bag from me, and led Margo happily out the door without another word. His scowl must start around 8 a.m. or something because it was fully back into place by the time he’d gotten in to his truck. Margo stuck her head out the window immediately. I shook my head at her antics and went back inside to get ready for the day.

  The Midnight Cove County Court was a small beige building with zero personality. The guards hired there had the sense of humor of a rotten apple and the decor could put a hospital to shame. It was ran with the brutal efficiency of a Swedish masseuse and the management or whoever it was who ran things there, hired judges with perpetual frowns and bad hair.

  Today it was Judge Sinclair, a dour woman who kept pictures of her cats on her desk. All twelve of them. I couldn’t quite tell what she was, but the sickly green undertone to her skin told me she was probably one of the undead. I’d never been able to place her scent, though, so she definitely wasn’t a vamp or a ghoul. After my experience with Hank the other day, there was no way I was going to ask her, either.