Free The Importance of Being Emily by Robyn Bachar

aid you in spotting Farrell, but I would prefer to discuss the details of the spell privately.”
    I grimaced, not liking the sound of that, and I turned to Lord Willowbrook, expecting him to reject the idea. Instead he nodded slowly, and I wondered if Simon had some sort of mind-control magic I wasn’t aware of. Surely Lord Willowbrook could not be agreeing to endanger my life.
    “Where do you wish to begin searching?” Willowbrook asked.
    “The wine cellar,” Simon said.
    “We will wait for you there.”
    I watched in shock as he left the room, and then I turned to Simon. “I did not agree to lead the search for the killer.”
    “You are uniquely qualified to do so. We can see that you are protected.”
    “How? Does Lord Willowbrook have a spare suit of armor lying about?” Anxious, I stroked my throat and shivered.
    Michael touched my shoulder. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
    “I don’t want anything to happen to you either.” His mentor, on the other hand, I might not mind falling victim to an unfortunate demise, though Michael would be upset by it.
    “Then I suggest we resolve the situation quickly so that everyone is safe,” Simon said.
    I sighed in defeat. “What did you wish to discuss?”
    “I think I may be able to aid you in spotting the master necromancer, or at the very least be able to view him as well, with your help.”
    “What sort of help?” I asked.
    “Your blood.”
    “No,” Michael and I said at the same time.
    “If you’ll allow me to explain—”
    “No.” I stepped away for emphasis, and Michael placed himself between us.
    “A small amount,” Simon continued, undaunted. “Chroniclers feed upon the magic within blood, not the blood itself. As such it is possible for a chronicler to borrow the abilities of the magician they feed upon. Temporarily. I have had some success with it in the past.”
    “A small amount?” Michael repeated.
    “Yes, of course.”
    Michael turned to me, and I knew he was about to convince me to allow it. I hid my face against his chest and held out my arm awkwardly to the side. “Fine, but do it quickly before I come to my senses.”
    He patted my hair, but this time I felt little comfort, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I tensed as cold fingers brushed my wrist, pushing my sleeve back.
    “It’s all right. It only takes a moment,” Michael assured me, but I flinched when the fangs pierced my skin.
    To be honest, it did not hurt. In fact it didn’t feel like much of anything at all, as though my wrist had been numbed. There was a bit of an odd sensation as his mouth pulled at my skin, but it wasn’t bothersome, and it was over quickly, as promised. But before it was, a tingle of energy traveled up my arm—not Simon’s doing, but instead it was an impression of him. He was terribly lonely, more than anyone I had ever met before, and I saw that Michael was the first friend that Simon had had in decades. I was struck by the realization that Simon was just as afraid of losing Michael to me as I was of losing Michael to him, only for different reasons. I felt quite sorry for him. It explained why he was unpleasant toward me.
    When my wrist was free again, I pulled away from Michael to examine it. There were no marks, not even a hint of a bruise, and I was surprised by that.
    “Do you feel well?” Michael asked.
    “I feel fine.” I glanced at Simon, but he was quiet and expressionless.
    “See, nothing to worry about.” Michael smiled. Only a murderous master necromancer hidden somewhere within the house, a vision of Michael’s death hanging over me and the impossibility of a future with my soul mate. No, nothing to worry about at all.
    “How do you feel?” I asked Simon.
    He frowned. “I was expecting a stronger reaction.”
    “Reading auras is quite complicated. Unlike most magicians I did not have the luxury of a teacher and learned how to control my abilities on my own. The best advice I can give you is to look past your