The Reaver Chronicles: Raphael (Book 2)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

We woke up early, around 6:00 am. That was usual for me. My plaything was in the shower. As I stood there, listening to the sound of the water cascading down, I felt a fleeting urge to step into the shower alongside her. But it was a hollow impulse, one that I couldn't quite explain, even to myself. I didn't genuinely desire her company, nor did I feel any emotional connection to her. She was, after all, merely a plaything, a distraction from the emptiness that lay at the heart of my existence.

And yet, the more I indulged in these fleeting moments of intimacy, the more I risked entangling her emotions, binding her to me with threads of attachment and affection. It was a prospect that filled me with a sense of disquiet, a reminder that my actions had consequences, even if I didn't truly care. I sighed out loud, caught up in my thoughts when I was mind linked by Jerome.

"Sir, the Necromancer King doesn't want to agree to the deal... he wants all the bodies, not just the ones we kill. He's not budging. He told me to tell you that was his final offer and if we don't like it, we can shove the deal up our asses." His words tumbled out with a sense of pressing importance, a palpable urgency that lent his voice a sharp, insistent edge. "Fucking Necromancers, Jesus Christ. Why must they be so fucking difficult?" I snarled to myself.

The familiar pressure of my fingers against the bridge of my nose was a subtle attempt to stem the rising tide of frustration, a calming gesture that had become second nature to me.

As I took a deliberate, measured breath, I felt a faint sense of equilibrium return, my thoughts clarifying ever so slightly as I struggled to maintain a fragile grip on my composure. "Don't worry about it. Let him know that I will meet with him my damn self. We will be leaving in 20 minutes. Thank you, Jerome, for your efforts." I said through the mind link, then I closed it.

As she emerged from the shower, her skin still flushed from the warm water, I summoned the perfect attire for our impending meeting with the Necromancer King.

The stunning silver dress I produced for her seemed to shimmer and shine in the light, accentuating her curves and radiating an aura of elegance. I mirrored her splendor with a dashing silver suit, complete with a black vest and shoes that gleamed like polished onyx. My own dark hair was impeccably styled, every strand falling into place with precision, as I ensured that we presented a united front of refinement and poise, befitting our audience with the Necromancer King.

I was unable to materialize there because I had never been there, so I didn't have a picture of the place in my mind. Instead, we drove my black and silver Aston Martin.

The coordinates, etched in my mind like a promise, led us to a secluded and mysterious meeting spot, a place where Jerome had been secretly negotiating the terms of our alliance with the enigmatic Necromancers.

It was about an hour drive from my house before we reached the clearing. We rode in silence, with the exception of the Mozart I had playing in the background. I appreciated the fact that she didn't need me to entertain her on the way there. I liked this plaything more than my others because she was quiet. She didn't unnecessarily babble or annoy the hell out of me.

As we stepped into the clearing, the silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves beneath our feet. I stood beside my plaything, my eyes scanning the surrounding trees, my senses on high alert as we waited for our hosts to arrive.

But it wasn't until the Necromancers suddenly materialized before us, their dark forms coalescing into solidity as they dropped their invisibility veil, that I felt a shiver run down my spine. The realization that they had been watching us, unseen and unnoticed, for who knew how long, sent a faint thrill of unease through me, a reminder that we were dealing with beings who operated on a completely different plane of existence.