Page 15 of Deadly Deception (Necromancer Tales #2)

Chapter

Fifteen

Erasmus

Dinner was delicious, filling, and best of all, without incident. The trip back to the hotel was short and Franklin decided it would be best to check out and head somewhere different. If we were being monitored, it was most likely a futile effort. We did it anyway. Our next hotel was similar to the first. This time of year, and during the middle of the week, most surrounding hotels had plenty of vacancies. Give it a month and that would most likely change. Harvest Day was still the most popular travel time in the US.

I’d just settled my bag on the bed when my phone rang. Digging it out of my coat pocket, I checked the caller ID. I didn’t recognize the number but given my profession, that wasn’t anything new. I considered letting it go to voicemail but thankfully answered. “This is Erasmus Boone.”

“Necromancer Boone?” the caller questioned, his voice vaguely familiar.

“That’s me. How can I help you?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one that called me. This is Agent Frost.”

Ah, that’s why he sounded so familiar. “Sorry, I thought you sounded familiar but couldn’t place the voice.”

“That’s fine. What can I do for you?”

I liked that Frost got directly to the point. You never knew with pixies. They could be a vivacious group and that often came through in their speech patterns. But Frost wasn’t like most pixies. In fact, I thought he might just be one of a kind. He was a pixie/Pallas’s cat shifter. It was a miracle his mother had conceived him, let alone carried him to term. Frost’s pixie temperament was heavily influenced by his Pallas’s cat heritage.

Replying in kind, I got down to business and related my concerns regarding Navarre and his need for a medium. Frost patiently listened, humming in some parts and offering a gasp or two in others. I finished with “Does the Magical Usage Council employee any mediums?”

“We’ve got three.”

“Three? Wow.” I wasn’t certain they’d have one, let alone three.

“Mediums have varying levels of abilities, probably similar to how necromancers differ. I think two of our mediums might be up to the level to help Navarre. I doubt the third would be. That’s not a judgment, simply a fact.”

“I understand.” I swallowed and shared a concerned look with Franklin who sat down on the bed beside me. I couldn’t even remember sitting myself. The next question was the most difficult but needed to be asked. “Honest opinion, Frost, will the Magical Usage Council be willing to send a medium to help Navarre?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Frost’s denial was immediate.

“He’s a necromancer,” I answered, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

Spluttering sounded from the other end of the line. Frost’s voice grew quiet and I got the distinct impression he was speaking to someone else. When I heard him say, “I know that, Leon.” I knew who was listening in. Frost’s vampire beloved was nearby. Vampiric hearing was excellent, negating the need for speakerphone.

With a heavy sigh, Frost seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and said, “I want to be angry that you asked that, but Leon pointed out that would be hypocritical. He’s going to be very full of himself tonight, knowing that I had to admit he’s right. Thank you for that, by the way.”

My lips twitched. I had a feeling Frost and Leon had a rather interesting relationship.

“I want to tell you that of course they’ll help, but you could have a horrible point. I say horrible because it shouldn’t matter. It will probably depend on who I ask, so leave that part to me.”

I held my hand up and Franklin high-fived me, or maybe side-fived me considering we were sitting on the bed. I’d definitely contacted the right pixie/shifter for the job.

“I’ll see what I can do. Scratch that. I will get you a medium. If the council gives me any blowback, they’ll see just what a pissed-off pixie can do. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll shift and scratch and bite the shit out of them. Trust me, a pissed-off pixie is nothing compared to a pissed-off Pallas’s cat.” Frost darkly chuckled. “If it weren’t so important for Navarre, I almost wish they’d tell me no just so I could go feral on them.” There was a pause, and I could hear another voice in the background. Frost came back and said, “Leon says he’ll back me up.” There was another pause, and then Frost surprised me by saying, “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll remind the council members that, at this point in time, you’re the only known individual that can stop a djinn.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know that I want that getting around. Besides, I have no plans on putting Aurelia’s soul back unless she asks me to.”

“I’m not just talking about Aurelia. There are other djinn out there besides Janus and Aurelia. We all hope they’re peacefully sleeping within their object of attachments or that they’ve got a sane and benevolent master.” Frost spat the word master his tone making it obvious how likely he viewed that possibility. “The point is, no one knows for certain if, or when, another djinn will pop up, and until someone figures out another solution to their infinite power, then you’re all we’ve got. You and possible other necromancers out there that might be able to do the same. That should be reason enough to take an interest in your species. I’m not above reminding the council of that important fact.”

It was a shitty fact of life that usefulness gained you aid. Protecting a life, or a species, simply because it was the right thing to do didn’t carry as much leverage as it should.

“Thank you, Frost.”

“No thanks needed, but still appreciated. I’ll make some calls tonight and get back to you no later than sunset tomorrow. Take care, Erasmus.”

“You too.” The call ended, and I tossed my phone across the bed before flopping back on it, arms spread wide. Franklin loomed over me, and I welcomed his cocooning presence.

“That sounded encouraging.”

“It did.” I blew out a garlic bread-fueled breath. “Sorry about that. I don’t think the mint I had after dinner helped that much.”

Franklin chuckled before leaning down and kissing me breathless. His tongue slipped into my mouth and danced across my palate. When he pulled away, Franklin said, “We both ate a lot of garlic, so it’s okay. The only time I’d hesitate to kiss you is after you’ve thrown up.”

“Ew. Talk about a mood killer.”

“Just saying, that’s my only hard limit when it comes to putting my lips on you.”

I grinned like a joyous kid. “Good to know.”

“Now, since you haven’t vomited within recent memory…” Franklin’s eyebrows waggled suggestively before he leaned down again, capturing my lips and snaking his hands under my shirt. I arched off the bed, loving the feel of his thick fingers dancing across my skin. Wrapping my leg around Franklin’s thigh, I pulled him closer, rubbing our hardening cocks together.

Ringing sounded in the distance and I vaguely recognized Pops’s ringtone. I let it go to voicemail. I’d probably pay for that later. Right now, all I could think about was how quickly I could get out of my pants. If Franklin’s frantic movements were any indication, that’s all that was on his mind also. It was good being in sync with your significant other.

L ying in bed, completely, blissfully, fucked out was heavenly. The hum of the shower sounded in the background. Franklin would most likely take another one in the morning. The man loved being clean. Tonight, I’d settled on a quick wipe down with a warm, wet washcloth. I was too sleepy to contemplate hopping in a shower. I was clean enough I wouldn’t stick to the sheets or Franklin, and I was definitely planning on covering Franklin’s body like a human blanket when he crawled into bed.

I yawned, and my eyes slipped closed. Pops’s ringtone pulled me from my blissful mental wanderings. With a groan, I rummaged through the covers, looking for my wayward phone. I found it under Franklin’s pillow. I managed to answer right before the call went to voicemail.

“Hey, Pops,” I answered on a yawn, making my words garbled.

“Erasmus? Is that you?”

“Sorry, it’s me. I’m just…tired.” That wasn’t a lie, but I wasn’t about to tell my pops why I was so tired. You did not discuss sexy times with your parents.

“I’m sorry for bothering you. I was mostly calling to check in on you. I’ve been worried.” Pops sounded genuinely worried.

“No, it’s okay.” My grin was automatic. Franklin was right. Being loved could sometimes be a burden, but it was 100 percent worth it. No contest. “I don’t like that I made you worry, but I like that you care.”

Pops grumbled something. Warlock Nikodemus Holland didn’t do sappy. I could easily envision his twisted lips and narrowed eyes, his gaze tracking anywhere but directly at me. Wanting to ease Pops’s discomfort, I said, “Besides, I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

“Oh? What about?” Pops was instantly curious. “Do you need refills on any of your charms?”

“No, not yet.” If things kept going the way they were, I’d need more pain charms and possibly more protective ones. That also reminded me that I hadn’t set the alarm charm. Reluctantly, I pushed the sheets aside and scanned the floor for my jacket. Rummaging around in a pocket, I found the charm I was looking for. “Just a heads-up, in case you’ve rigged this charm to alert you too, I’m getting ready to activate the alarm charm. Franklin and I are in for the night.”

“I will only be notified if that charm is tripped by unwanted visitors,” Pops noted. I was glad he couldn’t see me roll my eyes. I had no idea what he expected to do all the way on the West Coast when I was in the Midwest.

“Lovely,” I deadpanned.

“It is, isn’t it?” There was a lot of satisfaction in Pops’s tone.

I sighed, knowing this argument really wasn’t worth the effort. Like all of Pops’s other charms, this one was easily activated. Crawling back under the covers, I said, “I want to try and find other necromancers.”

The silence was near deafening. Pops’s single question of “why?” was all the answer he finally offered.

Finding the words wasn’t nearly the struggle I’d thought it would be. “Because they weren’t as fortunate as me.”

Pops’s released a deep breath. “Erasmus, that’s because—”

“I know what you’re going to say. I’ve heard it before and that’s not the argument I want to get involved in right now. I don’t care about their warlock fathers, and I only care about their human mothers as a possible way to find them.” All my earlier blissful ease was gone, replaced by a growing sickness forming in my gut. My voice was barely audible when I finally said, “You didn’t see him, Pops.”

“Who?”

“Navarre, the necromancer Franklin and I were called to help. But I could only clear him of murder charges. Navarre needs so much more than that. And you and I both know he’s not the only one. Necromancers have been left floundering for too long. They live on the fringes of society, trying to make it off the scraps they’re thrown. It needs to stop. I want to make it stop.”

Pops was so silent I was afraid the call had been dropped. I sat there, patiently waiting for him to process my words. Pops didn’t let me down. I didn’t know if he was capable of doing anything less. “It won’t be easy. In fact, this task might be impossible. While you may be able to locate them, I do not know how you plan to help.”

“Truthfully, I’m not sure either. I’m going to start with Navarre and go from there—one necromancer at a time.” I relayed my discussion with Frost and my hopes that the Magical Usage Council would get involved.

Pops listened attentively. When I was done laying everything out, Pops simply said, “I do not know if this plan will bear the fruit you desire, but as always, I will do what I can to assist. I will need to speak with the Warlock Council to get permission to obtain the names of necromancer mothers. I was able to bypass this step before because the search parameters were far narrower and a young warlock was a victim. I have influence, but I may not have enough.”

“Do you think Vander would help?” Vander Kines was a pretty exceptional warlock living on the East Coast. He’d found his one and only in a pixie named Parsnip. Vander was younger than Pops and probably didn’t have as much warlock clout, but he made up for it by having interesting friends.

Pops scoffed. “I doubt that will be necessary, but I will bear it in mind and utilize his name as a last resort.” If Pops had an Achilles’ heel, it was his pride. Arrogance made the list too.

“Thanks, Pops.”

“Of course.”

“I love you.” I realized I hardly ever said the words first. Typically, I repeated them after Momma or Pops said them.

“I love you too. Never forget or doubt that, Erasmus. Be safe and goodnight.”

I watched my phone screen darken never realizing just how long ago the shower turned off or the fact Franklin stood there, leaning against the bathroom door in nothing but a damp towel tied around his waist.

For some odd reason, I felt embarrassed, and my face flushed. “Hey,” I managed.

“Hey,” Franklin repeated back. His arms were crossed over his broad chest as he stared at me. “How’s Holland?”

“Good,” I said, swallowing hard. “How much did you hear?”

Franklin shrugged. “Enough, I think. Is he going to get a list of the necromancer mothers?”

“He’s going to try. I guess he has to get special permission from the Warlock Council first. I have no idea if that will be difficult or not.”

“I’m sure if anyone can do it, your pops can.”

I chuckled. “You’re probably right. And if they say no, he’ll just badger them until they’re tired of hearing his voice.”

Franklin moved, his towel sliding off as he slipped a pair of navy boxer briefs on. He tossed the damp towel back into the bathroom before slipping into bed beside me. “Lights on or off?”

“Off,” I decided easily.

Franklin hit the side light and eased under the covers. As soon as he was settled, I crawled over him, clinging like a monkey. “This okay?”

“Always,” Franklin answered. His fingers slipped into my hair, massaging my scalp and easing the stress from my body.

“I was all sleepy and relaxed, and then Pops called. On the plus side, it reminded me to activate the alarm charm. Probably should have done that before we took our clothes off.” That would have been the wise action. It would also have been a cockblock. Sometimes, chances had to be taken.

“Hmm…probably. Looks like we’re still in one piece, so no regrets on my part.”

“Me either.” My pulse calmed. Skin-to-skin contact with Franklin often settled me in ways nothing else could.

“Get some sleep, Boone. Tomorrow promises to be a busy day.”

“That’s what you said last night. I don’t like the busy today was.”

“Nor I, but tomorrow will take care of itself. Let it wait until then. Rest now, fight later.”

Words to live—and hopefully not die—by. Considering I couldn’t argue the sentiment, I closed my eyes and did as Franklin suggested, allowing the day to slip off my shoulders and welcoming night’s comforting embrace.