Bound by Memories

By Kaje Harper

Christmastime brings out memories, and ghosts.

Silas tracks down a poltergeist haunting a local tree farm. Darien hopes to convince Silas that despite experiences with demons and hells, Christmas can still be fun. Pip tries to catch his first rat. And Grim watches from a high vantage point and a position of moral superiority—he has holiday memories of his own, but cats know how to keep a secret.

- A 23,000 word holiday novella in the Necromancer series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kaje Harper
• Release date: Dec 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005703653

Kaje Harper

I get asked about my name a lot. It's not something exotic, though. "Kaje" is pronounced just like "cage" – it's an old nickname, and my pronouns are she/her/hers. I was born in Montreal but I've lived for 30 years in Minnesota, where the two seasons are Snow-removal and Road-repair, where the mosquito is the state bird, and where winter can be breathtakingly beautiful. Minnesota's a kind, quiet (if sometimes chilly) place and it's home. I've been writing far longer than I care to admit (*whispers – forty years*), mostly for my own entertainment, usually M/M romance (with added mystery, fantasy, historical, SciFi…) I also have a few Young Adult stories (some released under the pen name Kira Harp.) My husband finally convinced me that after all the years of writing for fun, I really should submit something, somewhere. My first professionally published book, Life Lessons, came out from MLR Press in May 2011. I have a weakness for closeted cops with honest hearts, and teachers who speak their minds, and I had fun writing four novels and three freebie short stories in that series. I was delighted and encouraged by the reception Mac and Tony received. I now have a good-sized backlist in ebooks and print, both free and professionally published, including Amazon bestseller "The Rebuilding Year" and Rainbow Award Best Mystery-Thriller "Tracefinder: Contact." A complete list with links can be found on my website "Books" page at https://kajeharper.wordpress.com/books/. I'm always pleased to have readers find me online at: Website: https://kajeharper.wordpress.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KajeHarper Goodreads Author page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4769304.Kaje_Harper

Book preview

Chapter 1

Silas Thornwood paused in the doorway of his kitchen. His apprentice, partner— the young man who, in a ridiculously short time, had worked his way into Silas’s heart— stood by the sink, staring somberly out the window. Sharp winter light etched deeper lines at the corners of Darien’s eyes and lit the silver strands at his temple. Silas’s breath caught on a moment of loss. That’s what he’ll look like as an old man.

Loud thumps behind him yanked his attention around. He saw a small gray shape flash past, then a larger white one crashed into his shins. He grabbed for the door frame as Pip’s resilient little rat terrier body rebounded off his leg. The dog leaped across the kitchen.

Got him! Pip yelped breathlessly, then, Aw, no, as the rat ahead of him flattened to an impossible degree and slipped under the door to the pantry. Pip put on the brakes just in time to avoid slamming into the door and barked sharply. Then the pup shook himself hard and whirled around, a panting smile on his furry face. Did you see that, Darien? I almost got him.

And almost took Silas out in the process. Grimalkin, Silas’s big tomcat familiar, strolled past him, eyes on the pup. You have to pay attention to more than one thing at a time, young Pip.

Oops. Pip shifted his gaze to Silas’s face, his wagging tail drooping. "Did I hurt you? That rat ran fast!"

No. Silas couldn’t hold back a smile. I can handle a bump on the shins.

Still, that was inexcusably clumsy. Grim bopped the dog on the rump with one big paw, then jumped to the windowsill. We have a lot of work to do.

Darien turned away from the light, looking ten years younger with a smile brightening his face. We don’t need Pip to hunt rats, Grim. You’re more than enough for the job.

Grim bumped Darien’s hand with his cheek. "Of course. But rodent hunting’s good practice for the pup: body coordination and situational awareness. Which— He bestowed a dark look on the small dog. —are still deeply in need of work."

I almost got that one. Pip bounced up and down. I think it cheated. I think it was a magic rat. He sniffed down along the pantry door. That’s a tiny space. How did anything that size get through there? We have magic rats.

Silas said, Rats and mice have the ability to compress their bodies and even skulls, through narrow spaces. Grim will take care of that non-magical rat shortly, right? He gave Grim a frown, because a rat in his kitchen became less amusing, once you took Pip out of the equation.

In good time. Grim stretched and sat neatly, staring out the window and ignoring him.

Pip snuffed once more, then tipped his face up at Darien. What are we doing today? Can we go out? The snow has stopped. Almost.

Sure, Darien said. Give me a minute to finish my coffee, and I’ll go with you.

Yes! I want to see the snow. Pip bounced out of the room and they heard his nails click down the hallway.

Grimalkin jumped down and strolled over to his dish. I, on the other hand, have seen enough snow to last me a lifetime. I think a little snack is in order. He fixed his eyes on Silas over his shoulder.

Obediently— damn it, who’s in charge here?— Silas opened the refrigerator, took out a few slivers of cooked chicken, and dropped them into Grim’s bowl.

As the cat bent over his treats, Darien drained his coffee, set the mug in the sink, and came toward Silas. Are you going to walk with us, Si?

Maybe. He wasn’t sure he liked the new nickname Darien had awarded him, and he definitely didn’t look forward to trudging through the snowfall they’d received overnight, but he’d brave more than a bit of snow to watch Darien, healthier than he’d been a couple of weeks ago, playing with his familiar. He followed Darien into the hall. What were you thinking about, staring out the window? You looked sad.

Christmas is almost here.

I guess so. Yes. The holiday hadn’t made much of an impression on him since he’d moved in with his own mentor at eighteen. Dealing with demons and the multitude of their hells leached away his faith in Christian theology. His mentor, Harrowsmith, had been an atheist, and old Vickery, who’d bequeathed him the house, had been a pagan. Years of listening to those two old men had given him a cynical view of any organized religion.

I used to love the holiday when I was a kid. Darien shrugged, downplaying the thought as unimportant, but wistfulness threaded his voice.

All kids do, I guess. His own words woke a memory of trying to rouse his father early on Christmas morning. Subtlety had not been his forte back then. Dad pretended to sleep, until my small-child excitement became frustration. Then he laughed and swooped me down the stairs in my pajamas. I recall a pleasant moment or two.

The holidays have been pretty crappy since then. The first year I was in college… Darien’s voice trailed off unhappily.

What happened?

I went home, after four months gone. Darien grimaced. Dad was… not doing well. When Mom passed, he managed the bare minimum, working and being the single parent, and though he never seemed happy, we got along okay. He kept going through my high school years, I guess because he had to. Apparently, when I left for college, he kind of collapsed. I found out he’d quit his job. He just sat around the house, staring at the family pictures, so far away he’d jump when I spoke to him.

I’m sorry.

He acted like he didn’t even notice me. At one point I even tried to tell him I was a homosexual, just to… I don’t know. To shake him up? Make him see me? He said, ‘Don’t be silly. You’ve always been normal. Nothing like that.’ He’d leave the room if I mentioned anything he didn’t want to hear. I’d come back home, it was Christmas, and he didn’t seem to care. When I headed back to campus, I told him he should sell the house and move. Start somewhere new that would be better for him.

Sounds like good advice.

Yeah. Except I found out a few months later he got rid of the house, furniture, everything that wouldn’t fit in a suitcase. Jumped on a plane and went to Paris. I got a long-distance phone call at the dorm, from France. Two minutes, to save money. ‘Sorry, son, hope you didn’t need anything from the house.’ His new address and keep in touch. Then he was gone. He sent a card now and then.

Silas knew Darien’s father now lived overseas, but he hadn’t heard this history. Did you call him when things went bad? When I let the ghosts have you? You can call him now. Long distance isn’t prohibitively expensive.

Darien shook his head.

Or you might write to him?

Maybe. Darien straightened his shoulders and glanced sideways at Silas. I spent the holidays at a friend’s pad last year, but he’d gone all fake Indian, incense and curried rice. This year, maybe we can do Christmas right?

Um. Silas didn’t want to dim the light in Darien’s eyes. You’ll have to help me figure out what ‘right’ involves.

Like when we were kids. Darien’s smile warmed Silas’s heart. Lights and a tree and tinsel and cookies.

You want all that?

We don’t have to… Darien slumped.

No, sure, a few traditions will be fun. He would do more than string some colored lights to keep Darien smiling.

Pip came bounding back to them. Did you say cookies, Darien? Can they be chocolate? Grim says chocolate cookies are the best.

Grim’s pulling your leg, Silas said.

Pip tilted his head, ears waving like semaphore flags. No, he’s not. He’s not even here.

I meant he’s teasing you. Chocolate’s not good for dogs.

What about familiars though? Maybe familiar dogs can eat chocolate.

"Gingerbread