Page 12 of Deadly Deception (Necromancer Tales #2)

Chapter

Twelve

Franklin

I couldn’t believe it. Twenty-three bullets and the rental SUV didn’t have so much as a scratch on it. So far, my security deposit was safe. But if the latest incident was any indication regarding how the rest of our stay in the Midwest was going to go, I didn’t hold out a lot of hope of getting that money back.

“Why would someone do this?” Tompkins asked. His question wasn’t aimed at anyone in particular. In fact, I thought he was simply speaking his thoughts out loud. A lot of us did that when trying to figure out a case. Looked like Boone and I’d landed in that dubious category. The burning question wasn’t just why, but where did we fit in?

“Who knew we were on our way to the station?” I asked. Sheriff Henson, Tompkins, Boone, and I were crammed into his office. Technically, Boone and I were about an hour late. Just like Warlock Holland said, the barrier dissipated approximately twenty minutes after it was activated. The bullets sticking within it tumbled to the ground. The exit was open again and the innocent people who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time had all been sent on their way. They’d have interesting stories to tell when they got to work.

Boone gave a better description than me of the vehicle who’d pulled up beside us. It was a white, extended cab truck. Newer model or at least in decent shape, according to Boone. All I could remember was the thundering base thudding through our SUV. Unfortunately, Boone couldn’t recall any specifics about the shooter. He thought the assailant was male but couldn’t be certain. Understandably, Boone’s overriding memory was the barrel of the gun aimed our direction. If not for Boone’s quick thinking and actions, we’d both be dead. It was a humbling and terrifying thought.

Boone’s fingers tightened around mine. He hadn’t released his hold on my hand since we sat down, and I had no compulsion to loosen my grip either. My heart was still racing. Right now I was in track these fuckers down and destroy their asses mode. Later tonight, when the adrenaline wore off, I’d be on that precarious cliff of falling apart. My own mortality was frightening but thinking about losing Boone… That was what was unacceptable. That was the true fear threatening my ability to reason.

“It wasn’t a secret,” Henson answered my question after a few seconds of careful thought. “Honestly, I’m not sure who did or didn’t know. At this point, I don’t believe we could get an accurate accounting.”

The sheriff looked like he’d hardly slept the night before. He was still impeccably groomed and his cologne was just as potent as ever, but there were signs he couldn’t hide without the aid of make-up or a charm. It looked like the sheriff hadn’t chosen either option.

“Shit, I never even considered keeping it on a need-to-know basis,” Sheriff Henson chastised himself.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Alfonse. I doubt I would have done any different.” Tompkins attempted to console him. I wasn’t so certain I agreed, but let it be. It looked like Henson was beating himself up enough. Ganging up on him wouldn’t improve the situation. Henson struck me as the type of man who learned from his mistakes and didn’t repeat them often.

I considered the situation and said, “We can’t say for certain it was someone in the precinct. Boone and I could have been followed from the hotel. We were on the interstate for most of the trip. Waiting until we exited to make their move would have been logical.”

Boone sounded quieter than usual when he said, “That’s true, but I think it’s safe to assume that whoever attacked us did so because of the DeWayne Foster case.”

“Or all the other bodies you found,” Tompkins suggested. “It could be regarding something we’ve yet to find out—something someone is afraid we’ll discover.”

The room grew quiet. My eyes connected with Henson’s, and we shared an understanding look. When he nodded, I knew we were on the same page. “That does make the most sense. It still doesn’t rule out DeWayne Foster, but going after Erasmus and Franklin after the fact doesn’t make much sense. Whoever did this, they’re trying to protect their ass and that means protecting a secret. Given that they went after our visiting necromancer, it makes me think this has something to do with raising the dead.” Henson gave me a wry grin and added, “No offense, Detective O’Hare, but I think in this instance, you were collateral damage and not the intended victim.”

I shook my head. “No offense taken, although I’d rather them come after me instead of Boone.”

“That’s bullshit,” Boone scolded me. When I glanced his direction, Boone’s eyes were narrowed and simmering with anger. “My life is not more important than yours. You need to stop thinking that way. You don’t want to lose me? That’s fan-fucking-tastic. But don’t you think for a minute that I don’t feel the same way and suggesting that you be the one…” Boone inhaled deeply and said, “That doesn’t offer me an ounce of calm. Do you understand me, Franklin O’Hare?”

It wasn’t his pops Boone was channeling, but his momma. Lydia Boone was a force to be reckoned with.

I squeezed Boone’s hand and said, “I’ll remember. I’m sorry.”

“Damn straight you’re sorry,” Boone huffed but the anger was gone, replaced by weary sadness. “In the spirit of honesty, I am getting sick of being shot at. It’s not nearly as exciting as the movies make it seem.”

Henson leaned forward, arm on his desk and asked, “You’ve been shot at before?”

Boone waved him off. “It’s a long story, but yes.”

Henson’s eyebrows rose as he leaned back into his chair. “Speaking from personal experience, getting shot at is never a fun time.”

“No, it certainly is not,” Boone agreed. He sounded agitated and his leg bounced as he tried to remain seated. Boone looked like he had something on his mind, but I had no idea what. Finally, he said, “I think I need to stretch my legs, and I’d like to check in on Navarre if that’s okay.”

I started to get up, ready to go with him, but Boone held up a halting hand. “It’s okay. You stay here and discuss police things. I’ll be fine.”

I wasn’t so certain. “There might be a mole in the Sheriff’s office.” I hated to think this way, but it was the truth. “It might not be safe.”

Boone’s smile was indulgent. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a couple pockets full of Pops’s charms. If someone comes after me, they’ll be in for a shock and a lot of discomfort.”

“I’ll call Sara,” Henson said, already reaching for his phone. “She can take you to see Navarre. Maybe you can get him to eat something.”

Boone frowned. “He’s no better?”

Henson raised a hand and tilted it back and forth. “Maybe a little. Sara got him to drink some water and take a couple of bites of food, but that’s it. He is making eye contact and I think Navarre hears and understands us now, but he’s not very communicative.” Henson held up a finger and spoke into the receiver, “Sara, can you escort Erasmus Boone to see Navarre? Thanks.” Henson hung up the receiver and said, “Sara will be here shortly.”

No sooner had those words exited his mouth than Sara knocked on the door, opening it before Henson told her to come in. With a parting squeeze of my hand, Boone got up and followed Sara out the door. My chest squeezed when he left my sight.

“He’ll be fine,” Tompkins tried to assure me. “Sara will see to that.”

It wasn’t that I doubted Tompkins’s faith in his niece, it was more that I didn’t know the particulars of what we were dealing with. The unknown was always the scariest place to be in an investigation.

Giving my best nod of reassurance to Tompkins, I turned my attention back to our newly formed trio. Tompkins surprised me when he said, “You’ve got a leak, Alfonse.”

Sheriff Henson grumbled something low and unintelligible. “Thank you for pointing that out, Shane. I have no idea how I’d do my job if I didn’t have you telling me the fucking obvious.”

Tompkins didn’t seem offended. He simply shrugged and leaned back into his chair. “I just wanted to make certain we were all on the same page.”

Channeling Boone, I said, “I’d like to turn this page. This page sucks.”

Tompkins’s eyes widened and his lips quivered as he fought a grin. “You’re sense of humor has improved since you moved to Mississippi.”

“I don’t think it’s the state so much as Boone.”

My response seemed to short-circuit Tompkins’s brain. He sat there, staring at me like I’d either lost my mind or smacked my head on something hard and unyielding.

Interrupting my odd stare-off with Tompkins, Henson said, “I’ll be honest, I don’t know where to start. I’ve got a handful of employees that are more suspicious than the others, but those conclusions are based more on my gut than on actual physical evidence. I can start running down the bodies that were found and who was placed on those cases, although that will take time and unless there is a very common denominator, won’t be proof in and of itself.” Leaning back toward his desk, Henson’s elbows rested on the edge, chin cradled within his linked fingers. “Truth be told, I can’t believe Erasmus discovered so many deceased bodies. At best, that’s sloppy police work and at worst it’s…”

“A cover-up,” I finished.

Henson gave a reluctant nod.

“It could be more than one,” Tompkins said, and I think Henson and I both cringed. “I know none of us want to think or believe that, but it’s possible. If that’s the case, then it would have to be someone out there with a lot of pull.”

I knew the name I was thinking and Henson agreed. “Vanja,” Henson said with a growl. “This shouldn’t be possible.” Henson looked to Tompkins and asked, “I don’t mean to throw ageist stones, but this shit with Vanja went down in your time, not mine.”

I couldn’t agree more. While I’d heard rumors and campfire tales, Tompkins would have been an adult, probably already on the force.

Tompkins swallowed, and I swear it looked like he was barely keeping down his breakfast. Skin pale and pasty, Tompkins didn’t look well. His fingers gripped the arm of his chair, blanching his knuckles.

Henson and I shared a concerned look, and it was the sheriff who asked, “Are you okay, Shane? Do I need to get a—”

“I’m fine.” Tompkins shook his head. “Well, that’s not true. I’m far from fine. I’d hoped to never hear that name used in the present tense again. By all rights, it shouldn’t be used that way now.”

I scooted forward and gave Tompkins my full attention. “Who was he? Was he human or—”

“Vanja was human all right. At least that was his species designation. We can sit around and argue what makes someone human and if Vanja fit the ethical criteria.” Tompkins inhaled, his eyes slipping closed as memory took over. “It was a bad time. A really bad time.” Tompkins swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m not joking when I say the streets were stained red with blood. Vanja was ruthless. He ran a gang—more like a mob—and if you crossed him…death was your reward, and it was never a simple bullet to the heart or slice across the neck. It wasn’t clean. Vanja made it as messy as possible. Every death was meant to be a statement.”

“What did he peddle?” I asked. In my experience, even the most deranged boss was in it for the money.

Tompkins shrugged. “Whatever he could get his hands on. Vanja didn’t discriminate based on species. Drugs, charms, weapons, species trafficking… You name it, he profited off of it. The man probably tried his hand at everything. He became extremely powerful, buffered on all sides by a living wall of sycophants.”

I’d heard variations of similar stories over the years. What I didn’t know, was how Vanja had finally been brought to justice and asked just that. “Who ended him?”

Tompkins barked an unhappy laugh. “I can tell you one thing, it wasn’t the police. Not the human police.”

“Fairy?” Henson understandably asked.

“I think eventually they would have, but the vamps didn’t give them a chance.”

“Vampires?” Henson sounded as incredulous as I felt. “Why would they care?”

Tompkins smirked. “Vanja got a little too full of himself. It eventually happens to all narcissists. They start to believe their own hype, their own immortality. In this case, Vanja truly wanted that elusive dream. He went to the Midwestern Vampire Queen and demanded she turn him. Turns out, vampire queens don’t really appreciate taking orders, especially from lowly humans. The way I heard it, Queen Millicent agreed she’d do it. She staged a huge party, invited all of Vanja’s friends too. But when the time came to do the deed… Well, let’s just say that Queen Millicent changed her mind after she ripped Vanja’s neck apart. From what I understand, her nestmates feasted well that night. It’s rumored Vanja left a fortune hidden somewhere in Chicago or the surrounding area. After all, Vanja didn’t go there that night expecting to die. People have been looking for it for years. If it’s out there, no one’s found it yet.”

“Fucking hell,” Henson cursed, and I found I couldn’t disagree with the sentiment. No wonder Tompkins looked like he could vomit any minute. Hell, right about now, I could relate.

“Okay. That’s really disturbing,” I finally managed a few words. “It sounds like Vanja should really be dead.”

“Absolutely,” Tompkins agreed.

“So, whoever this is can’t be the Vanja of old,” Henson said.

Tompkins shook his head. “I wouldn’t think so. But why anyone would want to claim that name is beyond me.”

“Fear,” I answered, drawing Tompkins and Henson’s gazes. “You heard it in the souls Boone brought back. The name itself evokes an immediate sense of dread.”

Henson scrubbed his palms over his face, inhaling deeply. “It’s deviously clever.”

“Dangerous too,” Tompkins said.

“How so?” I asked.

“Queen Millicent,” Tompkins answered. “She’s still in charge, and I can’t believe she’ll be happy if she catches wind of some imposter claiming to be someone she personally dispatched over thirty years ago. Vampires are a proud lot. Whoever is masquerading as Vanja is playing with fire.”

“It could even be more than one person,” Henson mused, and we all sat for a few quiet moments while we digested that. Shaking off his thoughts, Henson said, “Regardless, if it’s one person at the top or a group, what they tried today was risky, and done in broad daylight.” Henson shook his head. “That’s a ballsy move right there.”

I didn’t disagree. “It was ballsy and would have been surprisingly effective if it hadn’t been for Warlock Holland’s charm and Boone’s quick reflexes.”

Henson hung his head. “We really need Necromancer Boone to bring the others back. Today wasn’t meant as a warning. It was meant as an execution. Will Necromancer Boone still be willing to help?”

My grin was genuine. “Oh, he’ll help. Boone doesn’t shrink from a fight, especially one that’s been taken to and targeted to him. Whoever attacked us today royally fucked up. Boone survived. Boone’s got a moral core that is unshakable. He would have gone after these assholes even if we hadn’t been attacked, but now they’ve gone and made it personal. You heard him. They tried to kill Boone, but more importantly, they could have killed me too. If you wanted to scare Boone off a case, these idiots went about it in the worst way possible. They didn’t scare Boone off. If anything, they made him more determined to bring them down.”