Page 2 of Deadly Deception (Necromancer Tales #2)

Chapter

Two

Franklin

On my way to the station.

I stared at Boone’s text and rubbed the tightness from my chest. I hadn’t liked this latest job of his, even if he took it as a favor to me. Brendon Devonshire was sketchy as hell. The circumstances surrounding his stepfather’s—and now his stepbrother’s—deaths pinged on my bullshit radar. Cody Stevens’s death hadn’t been ruled a homicide, and did truly appear to be nothing but shitty luck. His father’s death hadn’t been ruled a homicide either. But it never hurt to take a second look, and having a talented necromancer warming my sheets was damn handy sometimes.

The dead don’t tell tales. At least, that’s how the saying goes. When Erasmus Boone held the strings to the soul, all bets were off.

“Must have been good news,” Officer Ebony Becks said as she passed my desk. When I raised an eyebrow in question, she chuckled and said, “You’ve been strung tighter than a tick the past few hours.” Waving a hand in my general direction, she added, “And now here you are, all leaned back in your chair, shoulders resting at ease, and a far-off look in your eyes.”

I ran my fingers over my chin, wincing at the rough feel. I’d shaved this morning, but ten hours later one could hardly tell. “It’s reassuring news,” I answered finally.

“Always the best kind,” Becks said before slipping into her chair and hiding behind her computer screen. Compared to me, Becks was a damn savant when it came to anything electronic.

I contemplated Becks’s words and couldn’t disagree. Boone could take care of himself, especially with his father’s charms near at hand. That didn’t ease my concern. Necromancers weren’t thought of fondly, and Boone had a tendency to piss off his clients. I’d nearly lost him four months ago. There’d been a cold pit of fear lodged deep in my chest ever since. Considering how often Boone’s father, Warlock Nikodemus Holland, checked in on his son, I wasn’t the only one left with residual insecurities.

Necromancer lineage be damned, Boone was one of the good ones. He had a moral code he lived by. It wasn’t anything complicated or written in stone. It was better than that. It was the innate ability to see the dividing line between right and wrong. In so many ways, Erasmus Boone was one of a kind. As far as I was concerned, those who couldn’t see the amazing soul behind the necromancer skin were worse than fools. Their stupidity was my gain. I could see Boone. I saw him in all his technicolor beauty, and I’d fallen head over heels. I’d given up trying to slow my descent. Falling wasn’t nearly as scary when you knew what—or, in this case, who—was waiting for you at the bottom.

Content that Boone was on his way back to me, I hunkered down and got to the irritating business of the computerized version of paperwork. Staring at a screen didn’t make it a hell of a lot less irritating. It was necessary evil we all put up with.

The minutes ticked by and none too soon, Boone sauntered up to my little corner of the bullpen.

“Brendon Devonshire is an even bigger jackass than we imagined, and let me tell you, I’d already imagined a lot,” Boone lamented as he dragged a nearby chair toward my desk. The chair legs screeched across the linoleum floor, causing everyone to flinch. “Sorry!” Boone shouted while casting his apologetic gaze around the room. “Won’t happen again,” he promised. “Why the hell aren’t all the chairs around here on wheels?” The way Boone threw his body into the chair, if it had been on wheels, he would have rolled halfway across the room.

“I’ll pass along your furniture complaint to Captain Cicely.”

Boone held up his hands, palms out. “No need to bring the witch into this.”

Boone wasn’t insulting my captain. Lorretta Cicely was an actual witch. She belonged to a local coven. It was unusual for human law enforcement to have a witch on board, let alone at the level of captain. Frankly, I thought every human precinct could benefit from a witch, warlock, fairy, or brownie or two. I’d be open to other species throwing their hat into the ring as well. Unfortunately, most saw humans as personae non gratae. In the pyramidal chain of respect, humans were at the very bottom. Only necromancers were viewed with more derision.

I smirked as Boone threw a concerned look toward Captain Cicely’s office. The two of them got along just fine, and my captain was smart enough to realize what an asset Boone was to the department. She didn’t view him as shit on her shoe, which made me respect Captain Cicely all the more.

“It’ll stay between the two of us,” I answered finally, tossing Boone a wink that made his cheeks flush adorably.

I wanted to close the distance between us and taste Boone’s lips, but that would be horribly unprofessional. Boone’s haphazardly tousled brown hair—always a little too long and in need of a cut—casually draping across his left brow, allowing barely-there glimpses of shimmering green eyes and dark lashes set against creamy pale skin. He was almost too tempting to ignore. Boone’s well-worn hoodie covered his lean but well-muscled body, and his thin jeans hugged his long legs, ending in tennis shoes that appeared comfortable but long past their prime. If Warlock Holland could see his son now, he’d roll his eyes in exasperation.

“Probably best,” Boone answered before shifting in his chair.

Deciding to take pity on my man, I asked, “So, you weren’t impressed with Mr. Devonshire?”

Boone scoffed. “Not in the slightest.”

Intrigued, I asked, “Did you learn anything? Do I need to go to Captain Cicely and ask her to reopen a case?”

Boone’s lips twisted into a grimace before he gave a single headshake. “No. Brendon might be a dick, but he’s not a murderer. At least, that’s not what I got from Cody.” With a heavy sigh, Boone related what had gone down in the cemetery tonight. I listened and grunted with disgust more than once. When Boone got to the part about Mr. Stevens’s will, I nearly choked on a burst of laughter. The part about his girlfriend walking away was also pretty gratifying. I wasn’t sure if she’d be back or not, but regardless, Cody Stevens had gotten the last word and that word had put a nail in Devonshire’s coffin, not his.

“I kinda wish I’d been there,” I mused.

“Aurelia found it interesting enough to hang around.”

My ears perked up like a dog that heard an alarming sound. Like so many, I had a ton of mixed emotions when it came to the powerful-as-fuck djinn that seemed attached to Boone. Aurelia was a loose cannon, and I never knew which direction she was pointed in. She’d helped save Boone’s life—because it was something she wanted to do. Aurelia was all about choice, and woe to the one that took that from her or tried to order her around. From what I understood, all djinn eventually found a way to kill their masters, and since they were immortal, djinn had all the time in the world to find a workaround ending in murder. So far, Aurelia’s current master, Peaches, had avoided that fate. Considering Peaches was bound to a vampire and was thus nearly immortal himself, Aurelia’s circumstances had changed significantly. As with all things, time would tell.

When I remained silent, Boone quietly said, “Aurelia wasn’t impressed with Brendon either. She said he was like a lot of her old masters.” Boone winced as he said that last word. All of us hated using that word, but that was the term Aurelia used. It seemed fitting considering the control they exerted over her.

“Did Devonshire even know she was there?”

“No,” Boone answered. “She kept herself hidden. Honestly, I was afraid Aurelia was going to act on her, uh…dislike.”

“Shit.” That word seemed insignificant, and yet summed the situation up as well as any.

“Yeah, that was pretty much my sentiment too.” Physically shaking himself, Boone said “Anyway, Brendon’s still alive. Although if what Cody said is true, he may wish he weren’t soon enough.”

“You think Brendon Devonshire’s really penniless?”

“Probably not in the sense you and I think about it but compared to how well off he was before his stepfamily died… But yeah, I’d say he’s going to feel the hurt soon enough. He’ll also be regretting spending his money on my services, especially seeing as how his discretionary account is a hell of a lot more anemic than he figured. Sounds like Brendon’s mom, Cody’s stepmother, is going to be taken care of to an extent, but she won’t have a lot of extra to throw her son’s way. I got a feeling from Cody that Brendon’s mom isn’t the sharing type.”

“Sounds like it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.” I drummed my fingers along my desk and asked, “You sure Devonshire and his mom didn’t have anything to do with the Stevens’s deaths?”

Boone shrugged and held his hands out to the side. “Not completely, but I can attest that Cody doesn’t think they caused his father’s death or his own. Cody didn’t like Brendon, but the accusation of murder wasn’t fueling that hatred.”

A deep sigh rattled through me. “Then I’ll let it go.”

“I think that’s best,” Boone agreed.

Rolling my shoulders, I tilted my head back and forth, attempting to get the kinks out. I’d been staring at my computer most of the day researching, chasing down leads on cases, and completing forms. My eyes were dry and my attention span shot. I was ready to call it a night.

Boone knew me well enough to read the signs and asked, “You want to grab something to eat and come back to my place?”

I was already shutting down my computer. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”

“Aw, shucks. If you weren’t a homicide detective, that would make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. As it is, I don’t think my offer’s had much competition.”

Standing, I grabbed my suit jacket and slid my arms inside. I hadn’t worn another jacket on top of it. While the temperature outside was definitely cooler and far more consistent with my upper Midwestern roots, it was nowhere near cold enough to warrant a heavier coat.

“Let me just—” My phone rang and when I checked the caller ID, I recognized the area code and number. I sent Boone an apologetic glance before hitting the accept button and lifting my phone to my ear. “O’Hare,” I answered.

“Franklin. God, it’s been forever since I’ve heard that deep voice of yours.”

Captain Tompkins’s voice was as familiar to me as my nana’s. The two of them were nearly the same age. Right or wrong, I’d always thought of Captain Shane Tompkins as a grandfatherly type. He’d been a great mentor. Oddly easygoing but tough when it counted, Tompkins was a man I deeply respected.

“Captain Tompkins,” I answered. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

Gentle laughter echoed through my phone. “Retirement means you don’t have to call me captain.”

“I’ll always call you Captain Tompkins.” Nothing could or would change that fact. When I glanced at Boone, his head was tilted to the side and he had a bemused smile on his face.

“Yeah, I hear you. I felt the same when I was in your position.” Captain Tompkins cleared his throat, and his tone became more serious. “Listen, I’d like to say this is a social call, but that would be bullshit. I need a favor, Franklin. I’m afraid it might be a big favor. Truth be told, I’m not even certain you’ll be able to help, but I thought it was worth a try.”

Every muscle went tense, the friendly nature of our conversation long gone. “Anything you need, you know I’ll be there.” Sensing the mood change, Boone shifted closer and settled his hand on my arm, his fingers squeezing just enough to let me know he was there.

“Thanks. I’ve been keeping up with your career down there. You’re doing good work in Mississippi.”

“I’m trying,” I answered honestly.

“I know. We were all sorry when you put in your notice and moved south. Chicago lost a good detective when you left.”

“There are plenty of other good detectives still there.” That was also the truth. Every department had their good and bad. Hell, we’d had a serial killer under our roof and hadn’t known until Dr. McCallister nabbed Boone. McCallister hadn’t just been a bad apple; he’d been rotten to the core.

“True, true, but not anyone who’s on friendly terms with a capable necromancer.”

My mouth opened, ready to spill words I could barely contemplate, let alone utter. I’m not sure what Captain Tompkins read into my silence. His next question made me wince.

“Is it true he’s sane?” There was no judgment in the question, no harsh condemnation, simply a logical question based on the fact we were discussing necromancers. Necromancer numbers were low and mental instability was high within those ranks. Boone was lucky. His warlock father hadn’t abandoned him like most did their necromancer children. I didn’t know if it was the stability of two loving parents, if Boone was far more talented than most necromancers, or if it was a combination of both. Whatever the reason, Erasmus Boone had retained his sanity and had a lovely, wicked sense of humor to boot.

Offering Boone an apologetic glance, I answered, “He’s very sane.”

“Good. That’s excellent news. The reports I read made it sound like he’s the real deal and able to cope with his abilities better than most.”

I’d only met two necromancers. Boone was the second. The first had been lying on a slab in the morgue, dead by suicide.

Boone’s eyebrows shot towards the sky and he quietly mouthed “Me?” I nodded as Captain Tompkins’s words sank in. “Read about?”

“You made the news. It was a remarkable story. Sounds like the situation was dicey. Not sure why the Magical Usage Council didn’t get involved. That’s what they’re supposed to be there for, to handle shit like that.”

I couldn’t agree more and said “From what I understand, they were stretched too thin and couldn’t send anyone our direction. Since Captain Cicely’s a witch, they thought she could handle things.”

Captain Tompkins scoffed. “I’m just glad you came out of it alive.”

I was glad too. I was even more glad Boone was all right.

“And you and the necromancer, are you still on good terms?” Tompkins asked.

Blinking, I stared at Boone. Were we on friendly terms? Considering we generally slept beside each other every other night, I guess you could say that. Clearing my throat, I answered a quick, “We are. What does this have to do with Necromancer Boone?” Hearing his name out loud, Boone shifted even closer. I didn’t think he was close enough to hear Tompkins’s end of the conversation, but considering the litany of charms Boone was packing, God only knew if there was an enhanced hearing one he’d just activated.

Captain Tompkins’s sigh was long and deep, the sound adding ten years to his already hefty tally. “We’ve got a…situation.”

“I think I’m going to need more information.”

“And I’ll be glad to give it to you once you’ve landed.”

“ Landed? Where am I flying to?”

“Not just you, Franklin. I need you to bring the necromancer too. I need you both in the Chicago area.”

“I—” I stared into Boone’s curious eyes. They always appeared luminous. When he used his necromancer abilities, they actually glowed green. I always thought they shimmered a bit brighter than what most humans considered natural. Right now, they were filled with concern and curiosity.

“I’m not sure I can get away, Captain Tompkins. I’m in the middle of two cases and—”

“And if you don’t get your ass to Chicago, an innocent will most likely go down for murder.”

“Wait. What? What innocent?”

“Like I said, I’ll explain when you get here. Just make sure the necromancer comes too. I think he might be the only one who can get through to Navarre. I don’t care what you have to do, Franklin. Just get on a plane and head north. Call me when you have your travel details. I’ll see you soon.”

The call ended and I was left staring at a darkened screen while wondering what in the hell Captain Tompkins needed me for. No, not me. He needed Boone. While I didn’t know what this was all about, that part was perfectly clear.

The other perfectly clear point was that it didn’t matter what Captain Shane Tompkins needed me for.

Without another thought, I started scrolling for flights while asking Boone, “You feel like heading to Chicago?”