Zombies. Black magic. Romance. Nobody said necromancy was easy.
All Evanthe wants is to hone her necromancy skills and gain the affections of her reclusive mentor, Morrow. And just when she thinks he might reciprocate her feelings, a face from his past threatens the life Evanthe is working so hard for. Now she's up against rogue necromancers, smarmy demonologists, and blood-thirsty zombies as she and Morrow fight to protect a secret that could kill them both. Evanthe's a talented necromancer, but that might not be enough to guarantee her a happy ending.
The smell hit her at the church gate, rotten and stomach-churning. The little pizza she'd managed to eat rose up in her throat. Evanthe covered her mouth, stopping dead. She gripped the iron bars of the gate, peering into the shadows hanging over the church, and reached out with her magic. Cool tendrils of power crept into the dark, reaching for anything wrong, anything that shouldn't be there.
A nasty voice in her head whispered zombie. That stink, like bad meat and rotten eggs, what else could it be? Fear trembled in her gut as Morrow's story drifted back to her. Zombies were dangerous, even for talented necromancers. She was certain Morrow wouldn't raise one and let it roam free like this. What the hell was going on?
Her magic hit something vile and unclean, and she pulled it back, flexing her fingers round the gate bars. What did she do? She knew her limits, knew a zombie was beyond her, but if she was going to get to Morrow, she had to get past the zombie.