Curse of the Necromancer: Book Three in the Hejate Trilogy

By Anna Brio

Can true love truly conquer all? Kauey and Tyler put their love to the test when Gregorio tries to perform a ritual that will make him infinite. And what does he call for? He needs only three ingredients: the horn of a unicorn, the wings of an angel, and the Key to Time. When everything and everyone is trying to make you fail, how can you succeed? The Five have come.can they finish what they came for? New friends old enemies one death. Who will it be?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 6, 2006
• ISBN: 9781456726263

Anna Brio

Anna Brio grew up on Long Island and is currently living there with her family and her hamster, Belle.  She worked on this story for four years until she finished.  She gets inspiration from her friends and support from her family.  She is now thirteen and working on the sequel to Tale of the Protectors.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Prologue

Old Acquaintance

Chapter One

Storyteller

Chapter Three

Visions

Chapter Three

Deceiver

Chapter Four

Prisoners

Chapter Five

Revenge

Chapter Six

Ritual

Chapter Seven

Death

Chapter Nine

Rebirth

Chapter Nine

The End

Epilogue

Prologue

Old Acquaintance

"I reached a hand out to the Tyler I once knew before falling into darkness…."

Eryk Kinsley took his fingers off the keyboard and took a deep breath. He closed his stormy blue eyes and waited. Nothing came to him.

He had been at his desk for hours and now he had come to a blank. He leaned back in his hard oak chair, pushing his weight onto the back legs which caused the front to lift into the air.

Eryk was writing what he had affectionately nicknamed, the story of a lifetime. For the past four years of his life, all he had done was write. There were four different thesauruses on the floor beside him and a Pocket dictionary within his reach on the top shelf attached to his desk.

He hadn’t had such a bad case of writer’s block until now.

With a growl of frustration, he pulled at his chestnut hair and repeatedly banged his forehead on the edge of his desk.

Come on, story! Come on! he moaned as he continued his fervent pounding.

The door burst open.

Mr. Kinsley, are you all right? I heard the noise and wanted to make sure you were well. Mrs. Hist, his elderly housekeeper said breathlessly, her bosom heaving, one hand on her heart.

Mrs. Hist, you ran two flights of stairs for my sake? I must insist that you take a short break from your duties to rest. But I am grateful for your concern for me. Eryk said with a soft smile that no longer held the traces of guilt and sorrow it had once possessed. The elderly woman went towards him and wiped her hands on her white apron that was stained with that morning’s coffee.

"Sir, after your parent’s tragic….accident, I promised that I would always look after you. Sometimes I worry for you, cooped up in this room all the time," she said before pushing the hair off his forehead. Mrs. Hist kissed his head.

Thank you, Mrs. Hist; you are too kind to me, really. Eryk said as she walked out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Eryk scratched his head and went to open the dark maroon curtains. The street below was bustling with activity. The bakery across the street had rolls, buns, and cakes displayed in the glass window.

He lived in his house, number 15, with his housekeeper on Main Street. The town was in the countryside and was very old fashioned but only in the sense that it was considered rude not to hold the door open for on comers, to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, and etc.

Sara, the baker’s daughter was standing on the sidewalk. She stretched before stepping back inside. Her dark hair was cut short to her shoulders and even though it was too far to see, her eyes were chocolate brown. Eryk knew without looking.

Eryk could see her from his work window. He based many a character on the baker’s only daughter. He wished she could see him from where he was.

He looked for his coat. He’d go for a short walk to clear his mind.

When he was outside his house, some of the people turned to stare.

Good morning to you, Mr. Kinsley, one of his neighbors greeted with a hesitant wave.

Eryk crossed the street, narrowly avoiding a collision with an automobile car. His road rules were a bit rusty.

He stopped to look at the rolls and pastries in the front window.

Out of the corner of his right eye he could see Sara in the kitchen, rolling the dough, a hand swipe of flour across her cheek. She had a tiny braid in her hair held in place with a lavender ribbon.

He strolled in, the bell on the door ringing out, announcing his presence with frenzied enthusiasm. She looked up from her work, dark brown eyes shining, and smiled the smile that brought the sunshine.

If my eyes do not deceive me, I do believe it is Eryk Kinsley! she said as she wiped her hands on a wash towel that was laid haphazardly on top of the cash register.

Before Eryk had gone into his almost half century isolation, the two had been good friends. They grew up together in the small town, meeting almost entirely by chance one day in the fifth grade when Sara was being bullied about being the baker’s daughter. Young Eryk had told them off and got suspended from school for a week for punching the larger boy in the nose. They had been inseparable all through school.

Why, Miss Sara, how are you on this fine day? he asked pleasantly as he leaned an elbow onto the counter. She put her hands on her hips.

You haven’t come out of your house for practically four years and all you ask is of my health? she exclaimed. Eryk chuckled.

I see you haven’t changed, still the same outspoken Sara that I remember, Eryk said as another customer walked in. I’ll take a dozen cinnamon buns, please! he said with a smile.

Sara returned the gesture and hurried to fulfill the order. She didn’t ask anymore questions but you could tell she was brimming with them.

The man who walked in watched this with a bemused expression.

Why, Eryk Kinsley. I didn’t know it was you! he exclaimed. Eryk looked at him with both alarm and amusement. He raised an eyebrow.

Mr. Sampson, is it really you? he asked after he further examined the crevices and wrinkles on the man’s face. They clasped hands.

I leave you to write on your own and you don’t even leave the house, my, my! Did I have that much of an influence on you? he inquired with a voice filled with as much good humor as concern for the lean man before him.

Now, good teacher, I only used your skills to help improve upon my own. I have been writing all those years I have been in my home, Eryk replied with good nature.

And are you finished? Mr. Sampson said as he put his hand in his coat pockets.

No, I simply need some fresh ideas. I need to clear my mind a bit, he replied as Sara came up with a box full of the warm pastries.

That’ll be eight dollars, she said as she clicked in the numbers on the cash register. Hope you like them. I made them this morning, just fresh out of the oven, she said with a sweet smile. Her hand lingered on the edge of the box as she handed it over to him. When another customer walked in, Eryk grabbed the box.

Here, keep the change, he said before walking out. He hurried to the house. He had just been given a brilliant idea and it would be written before the night was out.

He started up his computer, impatiently tapped his desk as it loaded. When he had opened the document, his skilled fingers were poised above the keys. With a deep breath, he began.

Kauey held out a hand to the Tyler she once knew….

But what happens next? Kyle asked as his grandmother paused from speaking….

Walking alone on a beach of bloody water,

Seeing only the vast sea of scarlet surrounding me,

My footprints are washed away as soon as they appear,

I am by myself in this barren world.

The silence hurts like steel knives pushing into my heart,

You promised to return to me.

I wait for you.

No one can save me but you.

Come back to me.