Page 10 of Deadly Deception (Necromancer Tales #2)

Chapter

Ten

Franklin

“Are you sure you’re up for meeting Nana and my family tonight?” I asked while driving toward her house. Boone was putting up a valiant front, but he had to be wiped out.

“I’ll be fine. Stop fussing,” Boone insisted. Somewhere along the line his hand had fallen to my thigh. Boone didn’t add any pressure. The simple, intimate gesture was enough.

“It’s my right and privilege to fuss,” I answered and wholeheartedly believed those words. Boone’s soft chuckle warmed and loosened my chest. Unfortunately, that tightness didn’t stay away for long.

I got the feeling DeWayne Foster’s interview had kicked open a hornet’s nest. I also got the feeling that Sheriff Hanson knew more than he let on. Not that I expected him to spill the conspiratorial beans to me. I’d offered to lend a hand, even if it was just an ear to bounce theories off. I had no idea if Henson would take me up on the offer and had even less of an idea if I wanted him to or not. On the one hand, the sheriff needed help. Vanja should be dead, buried, and long gone. I didn’t know who or what the victims thought Vanja was, only that they truly believed that’s who was behind their deaths. Vanja was more than just a noncorporeal ghost. Someone made of flesh and blood was behind the killings, and they needed to be stopped. If what Foster said was true, then Sheriff Henson had a hell of a lot more trouble on his hands besides bringing a necromancer to town.

Boone lay his head back, humming the lyrics to the song on the radio. Boone liked listening to radio rather than streaming music. He appeared peaceful, and I hated to derail that peace, but I couldn’t stop the thoughts repeating in my head.

“You know he’s going to ask you to bring the other souls back.”

“I know,” Boone answered.

“You don’t have to do that.” I wanted to make sure Boone understood that whatever his decision, I was behind him.

“I know,” he repeated.

“But you’re going to do it anyway,” I assumed.

“I will. What Sheriff Henson does with that information is up to him.”

“And if Sheriff Henson is one of the cops on the take?” I didn’t truly believe that, but wanted Boone’s opinion.

Boone’s head rolled my direction, his green eyes no less dull for their tiredness. “I doubt that. If he were, then why would he ask me to bring the other souls back? I suppose that’s assuming that this Vanja persona has something to do with their deaths also. Probably not all, but it’s possible some of them owe the end of their lives to this asshole. And if that’s the case, I doubt Henson would want their statements known.”

I shifted in my seat, trying to get more comfortable. Boone wasn’t wrong. “I don’t see Henson involved either. For one thing, I trust Tompkins, and he vouched for Henson. People deceive others so it’s not a hundred percent, but our limited interactions with Henson make me think the man’s too proud to take a bribe.”

Boone snorted. “Henson’s something. Proud is just one of those things. Honestly, I kind of have a love-hate thing going on with the good sheriff.”

“Care to elaborate?” I didn’t think Boone referred to any romantic feelings, but jealousy was a fickle, often irrational beast, and I wanted to quell mine before it got revved up.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, most of the time I want to throw one of Pops’s charms at the man. Probably one that would make him itch uncontrollably.”

“Boone, I don’t want to know what kind of illegal charms your dad has—”

Boone waved off my concern. “The itching subsides after twenty minutes or so. It’s nothing permanent. Perfectly legal as a gag.”

I wasn’t so certain about that but let it go.

“Anyway, the point is that the guy’s not making it onto my Christmas card list anytime soon. However, occasionally he does or says something that makes me think he’s not horrible at his job and that he actually cares about the people he’s supposed to be protecting. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have agreed with Tompkins to bring me in. Oh, sure, he’s pissy as hell about it, but asking for my help might be even more admirable given how much the guy obviously hates my presence.”

I didn’t completely disagree and kept my silence on the subject. “I want to find out more about Vanja. Around these parts, the name’s synonymous with the bogeyman. His name’s brought up around nighttime campfires where children abound and frightening tales are commonplace.”

“Was he a real person?”

“Once upon a time. Henson’s right. Vanja existed decades ago. Whoever this is, it can’t be the same monster from back then.”

“Hmm…that brings up all kinds of sticking points.” With a deep sigh, Boone said, “You and I both know that dead doesn’t always mean dead .” Boone brought up a good point. “Human or not, alive or not, he sounds like a sociopath. Not that I’m medically certified to make such a statement. But anyone who’d authorize the level of torture that was done to DeWayne while he was alive…” Boone shivered despite his heated seat. “Let’s just say I don’t want to run into this guy anytime soon.”

I didn’t either, and hated the niggling feeling that despite our wishes, Boone and I had definitely landed ourselves on Vanja’s radar.

“At least we cleared Navarre.”

Boone hummed. “I’m not sure we did much else for him. I’ll say it again, Navarre needs a medium. He also needs… Honestly, I’m not sure what else he needs. Somewhere safe to stay, somewhere far away from the dead. I just don’t know how to make that happen.”

Traffic picked up the closer we got to the east side of Chicago. Nana’s house was in a suburb on the southeast side. Depending on traffic, it would take us fifteen minutes, more or less, to get there. This time of day, most of the traffic was headed out of Chicago, not into it.

“I’m going to call Agent Frost,” Boone said. “I might be overstepping, but I think it’s the best bet. I’m not sure if the Magical Usage Council can or will do anything to help, but I think it’s worth a try.”

“At the very least, this Agent Frost might be willing to give you the lay of the land. He’ll tell you if it’s a fool’s mission.” Boone had relayed some stories regarding the night Alpha Arie Belview was finally put down. Thankfully, Boone had been out of the heavy fighting, tucked safely within Peaches’s boundary. As a bonded nature pixie, Peaches’s orchard was an invitation-only kind of place, and Boone had the golden ticket for entry.

“I’ll call him later tonight. Thankfully, Sheriff Henson agreed to let Navarre stay for a few days longer. Granted, the accommodations suck, but at least he’ll be safe.”

“From others or himself?”

Boone cringed and answered, “Both? Navarre’s managed to stay alive this long, but I think it’s just a matter of time before that changes. Whether it’s by his own hand or someone else’s, I don’t think Navarre is long for the world without some outside help.”

By way of agreement, I laid my hand on top of Boone’s, entwinning our fingers as I took the exit to Nana’s house.

Boone stiffened and became quieter as we wound through quaint neighborhoods. Nana’s home was a traditional-style rowhouse. Her neighborhood was middle class. Some of the homes were better cared for than others. Nana’s house could use updating, but it was in excellent condition and well kept. My brothers and sister had made certain of that.

I pulled into an open spot by the curb and let the SUV idle, keeping the heat on for Boone. Bending down, I stared across Boone’s lap and out the passenger side window. Nana’s house felt like a second home. While I hated how nervous Boone was, I couldn’t deny the peace seeing Nana’s house brought me.

“I swear, she’s going to love you,” I promised Boone.

His voice shook when Boone replied, “I know you think that, but—”

“But nothing. Listen, I can’t begin to fully comprehend all the shit you’ve had to put up with in your life, and I’m not going to belittle those experiences by telling you to forget them. What I am saying is that the apple doesn’t always fall far from the tree.” Pointing at the house, I said “I’m the apple, and the woman in that house is the tree.”

Boone let loose a weighty sigh, but managed a hesitant smile. “I hope you’re right.”

I patted his thigh and said “I’m always right. Haven’t you learned that yet?”

Boone laughed. “And humble too. Very humble.”

I shrugged. “We all have our faults. Now, come on. Let me introduce you to the most important woman in my life, along with the rest of the family.”

Boone and I slid out of the SUV. He waited by the passenger’s side door while I made my way around the front. Grasping his hand, I tugged gently, and we were on our way. We climbed the three steps leading to Nana’s front door, and she opened it before I had a chance to ring the bell.

“I wondered if you two were just gonna sit out there all night or if you were going to grace this house with our presence,” Nana scolded gently. “Get in here and give your nana some love.” Nana had never been a small woman. Her strong German roots gave Nana a pale complexation and dirty blond hair that was heavily shot through with silver. Nana’s broad, strong shoulders were made for picking up her grandchildren and her ample hips made an excellent spot to park that child upon. Nana never skimped on her affection and believed that tight hugs, warm cookies, and a cozy bed were all the medicine a small human needed to grow into a healthy adult. I didn’t think she was entirely wrong.

“Nana,” I wheezed as she hugged me tight. I would never grow too big or add enough years to my life to not warrant a hug. “It’s good to see you too.” Nana released me, and her attention fell on Boone. Nana’s pale blue eyes were partially hidden behind thick corrective lenses. Pushing her glasses higher, Nana gave Boone a clinical once-over.

“Nana, this is Erasmus Boone. Boone, this is my nana, Violet Klein.”

Hands clasped behind his back, Boone gave a deferential nod and said, “Ms. Violet, it’s nice to meet you.” Boone’s easy, southern drawl softened the edges of Nana’s name.

“ Ms. Violet , how come when you say my name it sounds sugary sweet, and when that man at the bank says the same, it sounds like I’m in trouble?” Nana gave Boone a wide grin. “You can call me Nana or Ms. Violet, whichever you’re more comfortable with. Now, come on in and take the chill off.”

Nana swept us inside and we quickly shuffled out of our coats. Nana always kept her house toasty warm. I’d probably be sweating soon, but the temperature would be to Boone’s taste.

“Come on into the light, so I can get a better look at you.” Nana waved us into the kitchen and toward some heavenly smells. Without thought or question, Nana cupped Boone’s face, placing her palms directly on his skin. Boone’s eyes widened in surprise, but Nana didn’t pull away. “My, my, aren’t you a handsome one. Found yourself a little southern eye candy.” Nana gave me a salacious wink before pulling away from Boone. “Oh, the look on your face, Franklin.” Nana merrily cackled. “I might be up there in years and my eyesight might not be what it once was, but I can still recognize a handsome face when I see one.”

Boone’s pale cheeks flushed crimson. I’m not sure what either one of us would have said because just then, my brother Evan burst into the kitchen. “Franklin!” Evan boomed, his voice, as always, far louder than needed. “God, it’s been an age. How in the hell have you been?” Not waiting for an answer, Evan charged forward and followed up Nana’s hug with an even more breath-stealing one. I’d never considered myself a small man, but my younger brother made me feel diminutive.

“C-can’t b-breathe.”

Evan dropped me and patted me so hard on the shoulder he almost sent me careening into the kitchen table. “You always were a lightweight.”

“Boys,” Nana scolded, making me feel like I was twelve all over again.

“And who’s this?” Evan glanced from Boone to me and waggled his eyebrows. “Gotta say, big brother, it looks like you’re dating above your paygrade. How in the hell did someone like you snag a looker like this?”

“I…” Boone’s flush deepened. “Franklin is very handsome,” Boone defended my physical honor.

“Maybe he’s as blind as Nana,” Evan playfully said. “Is that a necromancer trait?”

I held my breath, waiting for Boone’s response. Knowing my brother, I understood he was just teasing, but did it read that way to Boone?

“No,” Boone answered. Twirling a finger by his temple, he said, “Our mental stability is sometimes questionable, but we see just fine.” Boone’s grin and Evan’s answering boom of laughter let me know they were on the same page when it came to inappropriate humor.

“Great, now we’ve got two of them.” My sister Lynn lounged in the kitchen doorway, a glass of red wine in one hand while the other rested against her thigh. Lynn and I’d inherited our father’s ginger features. Lynn’s hair was a deeper red than mine and hung past her shoulders. She had a light smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks, and her skin absolutely hated the sun. Evan took after our mother’s German genes. My older brother, Erik, was a mix of both. He and his wife lived in Phoenix and wouldn’t be at our impromptu family gathering.

“Hey, Lynn,” I greeted, closing the distance between us and giving her a hug. “Is Glen here? What about the girls?” I hadn’t seen my nieces in a little over a year. They’d most likely grown another one to two inches in that time.

Lynn took another large drink of wine. Her skin was flushed, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or Nana’s warm kitchen. When Lynn wouldn’t meet my eyes, I knew it was neither. “Glen and the girls couldn’t make it.” Lynn’s gaze flicked Boone’s direction before landing on her feet.

I stiffened, the implication clear. “Couldn’t come, huh?” I’d never had much use for Lynn’s husband. But she’d chosen him, and I’d always tried to make the best of the situation. It was her life, not mine, and I’d always tried my best to be supportive.

“Drop it,” Lynn said under her breath.

“For now,” I agreed, but knew Lynn and I’d be having an important and most likely unpleasant conversation later. Thankfully, Boone appeared ignorant of our mostly unspoken words.

“Hello, Miss Lynn, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Erasmus.” Boone didn’t hold out his hand and Lynn didn’t try and tempt him into a handshake.

“It’s nice to meet you, Erasmus.” Lynn’s smile was forced, her lips a little too thin and taut for the sentiment to be true.

“So, what’s for dinner, Nana?” Evan clapped his hands, rubbing them together. “I’m still a growing boy, you know.”

Nana tossed a wooden spoon at Evan’s head. “Yes, but which way you’re growin’ is the question.”

Evan covered his heart with his hand. “Nana, I’m hurt.”

“Bah, more nonsense. Erasmus, do you see what I’ve had to put up with all these years?”

Boone’s laughter was sincere and joyous. “I do. I’m beginning to think you might qualify for sainthood.”

“Finally, someone who understands.” Nana reached over and gave Boone a one-armed hug. Lynn stiffened and her grip on her wine glass tightened. Evan just picked up the wooden spoon and made his way to the stovetop, dipping the spoon into the pot and humming his appreciation when he tasted Nana’s homemade marinara sauce.

Nana’s slap to Evan’s arm did little to dissuade him. Instead, he leaned over and kissed Nana on her temple before lowering the spoon and retreating to the refrigerator, rifling around until he found a few cheese slices to nibble on.

Conversation was light, mostly questions fielded by Evan with a few follow-up comments from Nana. Boone smiled and laughed, and I could tell it wasn’t forced. Lynn remained distant. Her lips would occasionally tilt up at the edges, but mostly she stood there, practicing her resting bitch face. Lynn was a year older than me. We’d practically grown up in each other’s back pockets. I’d harassed the hell out of her when we were younger, but we’d always been fond of each other. Lynn’s marriage strained that fondness but hadn’t destroyed it. Her actions tonight just might.

“That was wonderful,” Boone praised Nana’s cooking as he polished off his slice of pumpkin pie. It was a little early in the season for it, but Nana knew how much I loved her pumpkin pie and had made it especially for me. “Momma would love this.” Boone tapped his clean plate.

“Is that your human mother?” Lynn asked. She kept her voice carefully neutral, but her words were clipped. Nana stiffened and Evan’s head snapped Lynn’s direction, his eyes wide. My jaw clenched but I waited it out. I’d step in if needed, but in my experience, Boone was more than capable of handling himself.

“She is,” Boone answered, fondness for his mother easily bleeding through. “Bless Momma’s heart, she’s never been a good cook and she’ll be the first to admit it. She did well enough though, and her sweet tea more than makes up for it.”

I took that bone and ran with it. “Boone’s not lying. His momma, Lydia, makes fantastic sweet tea and it’s always on tap. I swear, the woman has a kegerator filled with the stuff. I just haven’t figured out where she hides it yet.”

Boone chuckled. “Pops is a sucker for it too. Momma ships it to him now and then.”

I leaned back in my chair, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t know that. I can’t believe that—”

“Your warlock father?” Lynn cut in.

“What the fuck, Lynn?” Evan asked, ignoring Nana’s scolding over cursing at the table. “Of course Erasmus has a warlock father. That’s how necromancers are created.” Evan checked with Boone to make sure. “Right?”

Boone gave a slow nod. “That’s true. Momma’s human and Pops is a warlock.”

Nikodemus Holland wasn’t just any old warlock. He was the most powerful warlock on the West Coast. Maybe even west of the Mississippi. Hell, he might even be the most powerful in the whole damn United States. The point was, you didn’t mess with Boone’s dad.

Lynn’s eyes scrunched with thought, the skin in between wrinkling into a V. “I didn’t think warlocks cared about their necromancer children.”

“Jesus Christ, Lynn.” Evan threw up his hands.

“Evan,” Nana hissed. “I will not have you taking the Lord’s name in vain at the kitchen table.” Nana had a thing about cursing while at the kitchen table. It was as if the area were sanctified. The rest of the house was fair game, but the kitchen and its holy table not so much.

“What?” Lynn protested. “Isn’t that the point of tonight? Getting to know Franklin’s latest boyfriend?”

I bristled. Since moving to Mississippi, this was the first man I’d brought home to meet the family. “You make it sound like there’s a new guy in my life every other month, Lynn.”

Lynn had the grace to flush. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” I asked.

Lynn’s frustration became clear. “Why can’t I ask questions? I’m not being rude about it. I’m trying to understand. From what I know, warlocks don’t give a shit about their necromancer kids. They leave them to their human mothers to raise. But listening to Erasmus, that doesn’t exactly sound true.”

I started to answer, but Boone’s palm landed on my thigh, giving a firm squeeze. When I glanced his direction, Boone’s smile looked tired. “It’s okay, Franklin. I’ve got this.”

“I don’t—”

“Shh, it’s really okay.” Squaring his shoulders, Boone’s attention focused on Lynn. I was silently delighted when she squirmed uncomfortably. “You’re not wrong, but you’re not entirely right either. Nearly all warlocks do abandon their necromancer children, but it’s not because they don’t care. It’s just very difficult for them. Necromancers have human life spans. Compared to warlocks, our lives are fleeting. Imagine loving a child that much and all the while knowing that you will undoubtedly outlive them. I’m not saying it’s right, but the vast majority of warlocks choose to avoid that pain by not becoming a part of that child’s life. They distance themselves so they won’t become attached. But my pops is different. Pops says it’s not strength that compelled him to remain in my life, but weakness. We can sit here and debate the validity of that statement, but I’d rather not. As far as I’m concerned, I’m very lucky. Very lucky indeed.”

I’m the lucky one , I thought silently. Later, when Boone and I were alone, I’d prove to him just how lucky he made me feel.

Lynn silently contemplated Boone’s answer and I sincerely hoped that would be the end of her Q&A. Sadly, I was mistaken.

“Franklin says you charge people to raise the dead.” Lynn set her fork beside her plate, barely the tip of her pie eaten. Arms crossed and chin jutted out, Lynn followed up with, “Is that true?”

Evan leaned his head back, stared at the ceiling and silently mouthed, Why? I couldn’t say I disagreed.

I wrapped my fingers around Boone’s hand, squeezing tight. “That’s a simplified version of how I described Boone’s profession, and you know it, Lynn.”

She shrugged. “Maybe so, but I don’t hear him denying it.”

“ He has a name,” Evan said.

Lynn rolled her eyes and huffed. “Yes, Evan. I know that. I didn’t mean anything by it. God, you’re all so damn touchy.” Tossing a hand Boone’s direction, Lynn continued her verbal descent. “You want me to bring my children around him. You want Glen and I to act like he, Erasmus, is just like everyone else at this table, but he’s not. He raises the dead. Doesn’t that bother any of you? Once someone is gone, they’re gone. It isn’t up Erasmus or anyone else to go against God’s will. Nana, surely you understand.” Lynn sent Nana her most pleading eyes.

Boone remained silent as we all waited for Nana’s response. I’d grown up in a Christian household. Nana still went to church on Sundays and sometimes on days in between. I’d never doubted she’d treat Boone with respect, that she’d accept him, but Lynn’s inquiry had me holding my breath.

I should have known better than to worry. Nana had yet to disappoint me, and she wasn’t planning on breaking that record today.

Folding her napkin, Nana set it next to her plate. She never once looked my direction. She never looked to me or Boone for permission to speak or for approval. Nana simply did as she always did and spoke her mind.

“Lynn, my faith and belief in the good Lord is not shaken by Erasmus Boone. If the Lord is as almighty as I believe, then a necromancer cannot challenge his authority. If God doesn’t want a soul returned, then it won’t be returned. To me, it’s a simple as that. My mind, soul, and moral compass are not rattled by Erasmus’s presence.” Dismissing Lynn, Nana turned her attention to Erasmus. Reaching her arm across the table, Nana offered her hand and Erasmus took it. Nana’s wrinkled skin looked sallow next to Boone’s ivory flesh. With a mischievous grin, Nana said, “With that said, I would appreciate it if you kept the soul raising outside my kitchen.”

Boone’s grin split his face and eased his shoulders. “I think I can promise that, Ms. Violet.”

“Good.” Nana released Boone’s hand, patting it before pulling back and asking, “Now, who wants more pie?”

And that, as they say, was that.