Page 23 of Deadly Deception (Necromancer Tales #2)

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Erasmus

This wasn’t what I expected. “We’re in the ’burbs,” I said while looking around at the nearby houses. “The nice ’burbs,” I amended. It wasn’t a gated community or anything, but the homes in this area were clearly upper middle class. I knew what they’d sell for back home, but figured that number would be higher near Chicago.

The heavy thud of Franklin shutting the driver’s side door echoed in my ears. I tried not to flinch but failed miserably. My anxiety was high and had only increased the closer we’d gotten to our destination. It was odd hearing that apathetic, monotone voice spitting out directional commands as we made our way closer and closer to the unknown.

“Do you know this area?” I asked Franklin as he walked up next to me, our coat covered shoulders bumping.

“No. This is the north end. Not my typical stomping grounds.” Franklin’s eyes scanned the well-lit area. The surrounding homes had lovely landscaping and were decked out in decorative lighting. Some of the homes were decorated for Halloween. The festive orange, purple, and green lights seemed surreal given our current situation. The overgrown skeletons and more gruesome Halloween displays were more appropriate. That didn’t make me feel a hell of a lot better.

“Here,” I said while shoving a handful of charms into Franklin’s coat pocket. “The one that feels rough and pebbly is a shield charm. It’s just like the one I used on the SUV when those assholes shot at us. It dissipates magic as well as bullets. Just remember, once activated, you can’t get out for at least twenty minutes. The completely smooth one is a pain charm, just in case… Well, just in case.”

“And the one that feels like a spike?”

I swallowed hard. “That one you use only in case of a very dire emergency. And I mean, very dire.”

Franklin’s eyelids blinked as he stared at me. “That’s all I’m getting?”

I shrugged. “You’ve told me numerous times that you don’t want to hear about any of Pops’s questionably illegal charms. I’m just trying to give you plausible deniability.”

“Christ, Boone. What in the hell does this thing do?”

I grinned. “Hopefully you don’t have to find out.”

Franklin ran his palm over his face. My man needed a shave, but I didn’t care. I loved a little ginger scruff on Franklin’s cheeks and chin. Honestly, I didn’t think there was anything that would make Franklin O’Hare less attractive in my eyes.

Sheriff Henson pulled up, parking behind us. He was professionally dressed, but his vehicle was either unmarked or his personal transportation. I knew Franklin was carrying traditional human weapons. While his were more hidden, the sheriff’s weapons were on full display.

“Gentlemen,” Sheriff Henson greeted us. His tone was flat, and his eyes were sharp despite the obvious fatigue dogging him. His ever-present cologne was less potent given our outdoor location. “I figure I’ve got another thirty, maybe forty minutes before my caffeine high crashes. Best get this show on the road.”

Franklin glanced at the house before focusing on Henson. “Do we have a plan beyond barging through the door?” Franklin no more than said the words than the front door opened. No one stood in the doorway.

“Looks like barging won’t be necessary,” I mused. “At least we won’t be arrested for breaking and entering.”

Sheriff Henson grunted and the three of us headed up the sidewalk. “I’ve got no plan beyond pulling my gun and shooting anyone that aims at me. Just to be clear, they don’t have to aim first. You get my meaning?”

I did and swallowed hard. Franklin did too. “I doubt we’ll be the only ones armed in that house. I’ll also be surprised if we’re allowed to keep our weapons.”

“You never know,” Henson replied. He stopped just outside the door and inhaled, holding that breath for half a beat before saying, “In case shit goes sideways, I just want to say that I appreciate everything the two of you have done. I know I can be an ungrateful hardass, but I wanted to say the words.”

I appreciated the sentiment. “You’ve grown on me, Sheriff. Pleasantly. More like moss than mold. At least moss is spongy and pretty.”

Henson’s eyebrows rose and his lower lip dropped open before his lips twisted into a grin. A bark of laughter shot out of his mouth. My smirk was obnoxious and playful. “You are nothing like I expected, Necromancer Boone. I mean that as a compliment.”

“Boone is one of a kind,” Franklin said. He meant it kindly. The truth was, I could very well be a singular anomaly. I’d yet to meet a necromancer with my abilities. Then again, I hadn’t met many necromancers in general. Assuming we lived through tonight, I hoped to change that soon.

Henson’s smile faded slowly as the weight of the situation settled on our shoulders again. “Shall we?” Henson asked while pressing a hand against the barely open door.

“I suppose there’s never a good time to be an idiot,” I answered. “Let’s go.”

Henson pushed the door open and the three of us walked into a house we might never leave again.

The foyer was warm, and would have felt cozy if it weren’t for the two men standing at the periphery holding guns that put Franklin’s and Henson’s to shame. They were the kind of weapons where aim wasn’t terribly important, as one had numerous opportunities given the number of bullets in the clip.

“Which one of you is the necromancer?” the larger one on the right asked. Middle-aged with a slightly paunchy gut, I guessed he was human. If he was another species, he’d really gotten the short end of the genetic stick.

“That would be me,” I answered while stupidly holding up my hand.

He nodded and motioned the gun toward my coat. “Boss says you need to empty your pockets.” The guy’s grin showed he’d had good dental work as a child. “We’ve seen the type of charms you carry around. They ought to fetch a good price. You try and activate one of them and my buddy will shoot your boyfriend.”

I pushed down the spike of fear. This asshole wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t expected. Reaching into my pockets, I turned them inside out. Nearly two dozen harmless charms tumbled out, hitting the ground.

“Good. Now, you two, leave the guns here.”

“That didn’t take long,” Franklin mocked while pulling his gun from the small of his back. He had another tucked into his boot. Henson removed three weapons. They laid them down on a nearby hall table.

“Let’s go.” Two guns were trained on us as we were guided down a hallway, deeper into the house. I’d expected to be led to the basement, or some other underground hidey-hole. Instead, we were led to the kitchen.

The smell of coffee filled the room. A television with the volume turned down low played in the background. The kitchen appeared to be recently remodeled with natural stone countertops, antiqued white cabinets, and lovely hardwood floors. Momma would have loved having a listing like this.

A large island separated the bulk of the kitchen from the attached family room. I could see the back of someone’s head as they stared up at something on the television. There was a woman I didn’t recognize sitting at the island bar and another man with yet another weapon guarding the French doors I imagined led out to a patio. Standing behind the island, casually sipping from a large coffee mug, was Sara Tompkins. Sometimes it royally sucked being right.

Henson indicated he agreed when he said, “I’d hoped we were wrong.”

Sara’s smile was halfway hidden behind her large mug but her crinkled, mirth-filled eyes were on full display. “You’ve been wrong about so many things, Alfonse. It’s amazing you got something right for a change.”

Henson stiffened and his fists clenched, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

Setting down her mug, Sara’s disinterested gaze swept up and down Henson. “I figured you’d show. I gave it fifty-fifty odds you’d show alone, not counting them.” Sara waved toward Franklin and me.

“You clearly didn’t care if we contacted others,” Franklin said.

“That’s true,” Sara answered with a nod. “Honestly, you could have brought the entire department and it wouldn’t matter.” Sara shrugged as if the thought of killing everyone in the precinct wasn’t disturbing. Was her friendly disposition a total act? “Before you ask, Navarre and the medium are fine. Rita, if you’d be so kind.”

The woman at the island twisted a laptop our direction. Live video played on the screen. Navarre was sitting on a window seat in the distance while Tabitha sat on the bed, her head bent so I couldn’t see her face. Regardless, it certainly looked like her.

“How do I know that isn’t recorded footage?” I asked.

“You don’t,” Sara answered with a shrug. “But that’s the best you’re getting.”

“What in the hell happened to you, Sara?” Henson asked, his confusion plain as day. “This isn’t you.”

Sara’s laughter wasn’t sinister. It was simply amused. “Oh, this is very much me. It’s what they made me.” Her head cocked to the side and for the first time, a touch of sympathy graced her eyes. “I shouldn’t be so hard on you, Alfonse. You weren’t sheriff when everything went down, when my life changed and I was thrown to the wolves. I have no idea if things would have been different if you’d been sheriff instead of Myers.” I wasn’t certain who Myers was, but Sara’s tone made it clear she thought they were the scum of the earth.

“I would like to meet this Myers ,” Aurelia said. I hadn’t even noticed she was in the corner of the kitchen and wondered if she’d been there the whole time or just popped in. Regardless, the fact no one so much as glanced her direction indicated I was the only one that could see or hear her.

“Marcus Myers? The previous sheriff?” Henson said. “What does he have to do with—”

“Everything!” Sara spat, losing visible control for the first time. The woman at the island momentarily tensed. Paying more attention, I realized she’d been tense the whole time. Sara’s outburst simply highlighted her barely-concealed anxiety.

Running her hands over her loose ponytail, Sara’s eyes slid closed as she regained her composure. When her eyes opened again, they were shimmering blue pools of calculation. “Myers was a narcissistic ass. Nothing was ever his fault. He lorded over the precinct like he’d been given the authority of God. The man was despicable.”

Henson nodded. “You’ll get no argument from me. Marcus Myers was one of the main reasons I ran for sheriff.”

Sara’s smile was soft and held a hint of gratitude. “I know, Alfonse. Unfortunately, your election was too little, too late. By then, the damage had been done.”

“What damage?” Franklin asked.

Sara’s weight shifted and her face twisted in pain. “Damage to my body, my career, my pride, and most importantly, my bank account.” Hands flat on the counter, Sara leaned across the surface. “Myers ordered me to investigate a location. The backup he promised never came. He failed to put in the request. I was outnumbered and outgunned. Do you know why I survived at all?”

I shook my head. I wasn’t even certain what situation Sara had been sent into. Maybe it didn’t matter. The point was she hadn’t been enough, much like the three of us wouldn’t be enough now.

“Uncle Shane,” Sara fondly answered. “I was a fool, but I wasn’t a complete one. I knew what Myers was like and before I went into that hellhole, I called Uncle Shane. My retired uncle, a calvary of one. In this case, one was thankfully enough. Uncle Shane got me out and to a hospital. The doctors saved my life, but the damage was too extensive to completely heal.” With a sneer, Sara said, “I was placed on desk duty. My pay was cut and the department refused to pay my medical bills. Do you know why?”

Again, I shook my head. Henson had an answer. “You were cited and brought before a judiciary panel. Myers claimed you disregarded orders to wait for backup. In fact, he went so far as to say he’d explicitly told you not to raid the house. He even said you weren’t technically on duty.”

Sara slammed her hand against the counter. I jumped. So did the lady sitting there. The guy by the French doors tensed but not much else. Franklin and Henson were solid rocks of envious stone.

“Wasn’t there an investigation?” I asked.

“Oh, there was, but Myers doctored the evidence. It was my word against his, and the bullshit authorities chose his.” Sara stood taller and spread her hands wide. “And thus, here we are.”

I couldn’t exactly make the mental leap. Franklin made it for me. “If you can’t beat ’em—”

“Join them and do a better fucking job than everyone else.” Sara smiled while reaching for her mug of coffee. She brought it to her nose and inhaled, obviously enjoying the aroma. After swallowing a significant amount, she set the mug back down and fixed her gaze back on Henson. “Why build a reputation from scratch when the bogeyman’s already so well known?”

I could practically hear Henson’s jaw crack. “Vanja’s dead. Gone and buried.”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Sara waved her index finger in the air. “Dead maybe. Buried, no.” Sara’s gaze heavily landed on me as she said, “Cremated, and I’ve got his ashes.” Sara’s eyes traveled past me into the connected family room. I twisted, following her gaze. It wasn’t difficult to see where her attention laid. The room had a fireplace, an old wooden mantle stretched over its length. And there, sitting atop the mantle, was a rather nondescript urn.

My heart plummeted as the realization dawned on me. “Vanja, I presume,” I said, my voice toneless.

Sara’s grin stretched across her face. “You assume correctly.”

“How in the hell do you know those are his ashes?” Henson asked. “Those could be anyone’s. Queen Millicent killed Vanja. I hardly think she would have taken the time to burn the man. There are at least fifty stories regarding Vanja’s end, and all of them are different.”

“I’ll admit, it took some time weeding out the rot from the truth. Imagine how disappointed I was when I found out Vanja had been cremated.” Sara shook her head, appearing truly distressed. “I knew it was a long shot, searching for his body. Even if I found it, I’d need a necromancer to bring back Vanja’s soul. Finding a necromancer is difficult enough. Finding one that’s not insane is yet another obstacle. Finding one that can truly bring back the dead… Now there’s a trick. And then when I did locate Vanja, it wasn’t his body but his cremains. I’d given up hope at that point.”

“Hope for what?” Franklin asked. “What do you want from Vanja? The man was as psychopath.”

“A very wealthy psychopath,” Sara answered with a grin.

“Fuck. You’re looking for his loot,” Henson said. “You actually believe it exists.”

“Oh, it exists all right. Vanja might have been a sadistic bastard, but he wasn’t stupid.”

“Thinking Queen Millicent would change him into a vampire simply because he ordered her to sounds pretty stupid to me,” I pointed out.

“I won’t argue with that,” Sara agreed. “Vanja overestimated his value, but not his wealth. No way would he have planned on living a vampiric life as a pauper. Vanja’s treasure is out there, and I plan to find it.” This time, Sara’s grin was as malicious as her actions. “With a little help from the very capable necromancer that’s landed on my doorstep.”

I hadn’t exactly landed anywhere. Been cajoled and blackmailed into walking through Sara Tompkins’s door was more like it.

Thinking of blackmail… “What does Navarre have to do with anything? Or Tabitha?”

Sara waved a hand and pulled out a barstool I hadn’t seen earlier. She sat heavily, a slight grimace pulling her mouth as she eased into a seated position. Her casual pose indicated just how little of a threat she considered the rest of us.

“Nothing beyond getting you here. I’d heard rumors of a necromancer wandering the streets. It was pure coincidence when Navarre was brought in. The press got wind he was a suspect in some unknown murder, and Uncle Shane contacted me.” Sara sighed. “By that time, I didn’t believe a necromancer could even do what I needed. I mean, you require a body, right?” Again, Sara’s grin made me flinch. “I was worried at first. That reporter knew things. Maybe she hadn’t put all the pieces together, but she was building the puzzle. I couldn’t let that happen. By the time Daisy Vasquez came on the scene, I had a nice little business going on. I was a trusted officer. I could work the system to my advantage. It was easy enough, knowing who was on duty and their beat. My criminal activities were far more lucrative than my legitimate, professional paycheck.” Sara looked around the house and said, “You should have seen the shithole I was living in two years ago. This is a definite improvement, and I plan on upgrading again soon. I pay my employees well. Only a handful know my true identity, and I’ve earned their loyalty through cold, hard, cash. They’ve done wonders spreading my borrowed identity, and reigniting fear of Vanja in the heart of locals.”

Henson placed his hands on his hips and glared across the kitchen island. “This is never going to work. Others know now. Your uncle—”

“I’ll be long gone by the time Uncle Shane recovers enough to realize what I’ve done.” There was a hint of regret in Sara’s tone. “I really am sorry Uncle Shane got hurt. It was a necessity, but not something I relished. He’s such a trusting man.”

Franklin tensed. “I don’t think it’s that odd, a man trusting his niece.”

“I’m sure you don’t, Franklin. Regardless, Uncle Shane trusted the wrong person. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone Navarre was at his house, and to be honest, I didn’t truly care. I had no designs on Navarre. He’s no threat to me. Navarre can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t. When killing the two of you didn’t pan out, I shifted gears and decided to get rid of the bodies. If I could do that, then I wouldn’t need to worry about Boone resurrecting them. All threats would be eliminated. My people removed the bodies from the morgue and ignited them in one hell of a barbeque out on the Indiana dunes. That should have been the end of it. The bodies were destroyed, there was nothing for Necromancer Boone to use to bring their souls back. Imagine my surprise when I heard that wasn’t the case.”

I shifted closer to Franklin. So far, Sara hadn’t threatened us. She also hadn’t threatened Navarre or Tabitha. Did she even need them any longer? I wasn’t sure. Sara had Franklin, and as long as he was in danger, Navarre and Tabitha were unnecessary.

Swallowing hard, I said, “You’ve got me now. Let Navarre and Tabitha go.”

Sara’s fingernails tapped along the side of her mug. “You know, I don’t think I will. At least, not yet. You might be surprised to know I don’t actually plan on hurting them, at least not as long as you cooperate. I’ve no desire to get on the wrong side of the Magical Usage Council.” Sara huffed and stared hard at the man guarding the French doors. “I was displeased when the medium was brought along with Navarre.” The guy’s face went a little ashen, and I wondered exactly what Sara had done in the past to instill this level of fear. Sara might call it loyalty, and maybe it was, but it was a loyalty built on fear—and that was a weak foundation.

Given the Magical Usage Council’s responses thus far, I wasn’t so certain they’d care, but didn’t voice that opinion.

“I think I’ll hold on to them a little longer. You know, I really do have a soft spot for Navarre. I’ve no desire to hurt him. Not that I won’t, just that I don’t want to do so. I’ve learned the hard way that you don’t always get what you want. If you can trust one thing, Necromancer Boone, it is that I will do what is necessary to get what I want.”

“And what you want is money,” I deadpanned.

“Greed,” Aurelia commented. She’d been oddly quiet throughout and now sounded impossibly disappointed. “She is no different than the masters.” There was a new layer of disgust in Aurelia’s tone. “This is not nearly as interesting as I’d hoped.”

I gritted my teeth, swallowing my irritation. I thought about voicing my annoyance to the seemingly empty air. Franklin would understand. Sheriff Henson might too. Sara and the rest of her murderous gang would be confused, but I wasn’t sure I cared. I could try threatening her with a djinn, but if Aurelia wasn’t willing to play along, it would be an empty threat.

When I looked back up, Aurelia was gone.

Pushing thoughts of Aurelia from my mind, I said, “You’re putting a lot of faith in my abilities and in Vanja’s supposed treasure. What if you’re wrong?”

“About you or the treasure?”

“Either. Both.”

“Oh, I’m not wrong.” Sara grinned again. “And once I have my hands on the loot, I’ll finally have enough money to disappear.” Sara made a poof motion with her hands. “I’ll be gone. Untraceable. I’ll pay my people well, or maybe leave the operation to one of them. Anyone can be Vanja.”

“We’ll know,” Henson said. “I suppose you plan on adding our blood to your hands.”

Sara shrugged. “That depends. As long as I get what I want, I’ve no need to make you bleed. I can’t guarantee what my successor may or may not do.”

“It’s like the Dread Pirate Roberts ,” Franklin whispered. “It’s all in the name.”

Another time, I would have laughed. Right now, my fear overrode my sense of humor. I didn’t know if I hoped the ashes were Vanja’s or not. On the one hand, I didn’t relish the thought of touching a soul that foul. On the other…Sara was convinced they were Vanja’s remains. Would she believe me if they weren’t? I suspected I knew the answer, and decided I did have a preference.

Sara’s fingers tapped against the stone countertop. A look of utter boredom came over her face. Even though she was seated and lower than me, she still had the ability to stare me down.

“Explanations are well and good, but I believe it’s time we get to the main event.” Without inflection, Sara said, “Charlie, would you be a dear and bring me Vanja’s urn?”

Movement came from the direction of the couch and when I turned to look, the guy who’d been previously engrossed in the television had already grabbed the urn and was on his way back to us. He had a rather impressive-looking weapon hanging across his chest. Like all of Sara’s other minions, this guy looked more like a soccer dad than a hardened criminal.

The lip of the urn caught on the edge of the counter, clinking loudly.

“Careful,” Sara hissed. Charlie’s hands shook harder, and the urn trembled within his sweaty hands as he attempted to gracefully place it on the counter. The rattling of the lid betrayed Charlie’s efforts.

With a bowed head, Charlie stepped back, wiping his palms vigorously along his pant legs. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt the need to console the guy and said, “It’s okay. Even if you’d dropped it and the ashes scattered across the floor, I could still bring him back.”

Charlie’s eyes glanced my direction, but his head remained bent, showing off the crown of his balding scalp. He gave a miniscule nod before asking, “Anything else I can do for you, Sara?”

“You’ve done enough,” Sara answered cryptically. I thought Charlie might pass out on the spot. His skin turned ashen and his hands shook even more. Charlie backed away until he hit the edge of the couch. I figured that might be the only reason they guy remained vertical. Paid them for their loyalty my ass.

Franklin’s palm landed on the small of my back, the weight warm and comforting. His free hand was shoved into his pocket. Sara’s minions hadn’t asked Franklin to empty his pockets. The charms I’d given him earlier were still within his possession. For that matter, I was still in possession of the charms I’d deemed worthy of confiscation. Sara’s guys were amateurs if they thought I only placed Pops’s charms in my coat pockets. My clothes were casual, but there was always one feature I made sure they had—pockets. And if my pants and shirt didn’t have enough, then the vest I threw over it or the coat layered on top did. I had enough hidey-holes lining my clothing to stash two dozen charms. The problem was getting to them quickly.

“Necromancer Boone.” Sara raised an eyebrow, her gaze hard. “If there’s a problem, I assure you I can find proper motivation.” Sara inclined her head toward the guy guarding the French doors and he raised his weapon, aiming it at Franklin.

The problem with threatening to kill someone in order to get the other person to do what you want was that it was a threat with no wiggle room. It was all or nothing, and if you killed that person, then all your leverage was gone.

Sara must have seen those thoughts in my eyes because she said, “There are a lot of ways to cause someone pain.” Lips twisting into a malicious smile, Sara added, “Trust me, I’ve had time to discover all those neat little possibilities, and more to the point, I’ve found I enjoy implementing them. Now, if you’d be so kind as to bring Vanja’s soul back so I can ask him a few questions.”

Franklin shifted closer but remained silent. This was all on me. I didn’t bother looking at Henson. He’d seen me do this before and again, there was nothing he could do at this point. Inhaling deeply, I closed my eyes and concentrated. I gave it fifty-fifty odds these were truly Vanja’s ashes, and was only partly surprised when I located the connecting string and found that it was truly him.

“Vanja Simon Velchev, I call your soul to return.” Gaia, this human’s soul was horrid. It wasn’t the worst soul I’d brought back, but it was definitely in the top ten. Its foul taint rubbed against my necromancer powers, pulling on them. That was new. I’d never known a soul to take without my express permission. I grimaced and clenched my fists.

“Boone, what’s wrong?” Franklin’s worried words sliced through my head, anchoring me.

“Grab my hand and squeeze hard. Make it hurt.” I ordered Franklin. “This jackass is trying to drain me.”

“Fuck.” Franklin did as I asked and his thick fingers wrapped around mine, squeezing hard. I chased the pain and used it as a barrier, slamming it between myself and Vanja’s soul. The urn’s lid popped open, dropping to the counter and rattling before it settled. Vanja’s ashes lifted out of the urn, swirling in the air, coalescing into something more solid, yet ever-shifting.

“Necromancer.” Vanja’s voice slithered into the deceptively cozy kitchen. I felt Vanja’s soul trying to tap into more of my power. If I wasn’t careful, he’d drain me until I passed out or worse. He fought desperately for control, just as desperately as I denied it.

“Enough!” My power pushed through the room and even the living flinched back. “I am in control, Vanja. You will do as I say, or I will decimate your soul. When I am finished, there will be nothing left and every part of you will cease to exist.” It was a threat I’d made before yet never followed through on. There was a first time for everything, and I felt like today might be that day.

“You think to control me? You are nothing.” Vanja spat. His tone was meant to humiliate. This guy obviously didn’t know who he was talking to.

“Silence,” I ordered. I could feel Vanja’s rage. He wanted to speak but couldn’t. Despite his efforts, I was in control. “I am a necromancer and hold dominion over the dead, and you, Vanja, are well and truly dead.”

Volcanic anger roared through the bond. Vanja had wanted to live forever and wound up getting his life cut short. Vanja’s soul was prideful. He was perhaps the most narcissistic soul I’d ever come into contact with. I could feel his disbelief, his confusion regarding why his plans hadn’t worked. Vanja would never understand why Queen Millicent hadn’t turned him. It was impossible for him to fathom she did not see his worth.

While Vanja’s soul continually battered against the shields I’d thrown up, my grasp on his soul was now secure enough for Sara to ask her questions. “Vanja Simon Velchev, you will answer the questions asked of you honestly. If you lie, I will know, and the consequences will not be pleasant.”

Vanja’s soul hit me with the equivalent of a psychic fuck you . My head pounded and by the time this was over, I’d need a shit ton of candy and more than a few pain charms. I could fall apart later. Right now, I had a job to do. “Ask your questions,” I told Sara. When silence answered me, I took a moment to truly look around. I’d been so concentrated on my battle with Vanja’s soul that I hadn’t paid attention to my surroundings. The woman, Rita, who’d been sitting at the bar top was plastered against the French doors next to the guy with the weapon that was still pointed Franklin’s way, the angle off just enough for me to realize he’d changed aim and was now gunning for the swirl of ashes angrily flashing through the air. I figured Charlie was still behind me but wasn’t certain. As for Sara… She was standing again, her eyes wide. They should have been filled with apprehension. Instead, there was excitement there. A maniac kind of wonder that scared me more than Vanja’s grab for power.

“Amazing,” Sara whispered. She licked her lips with anticipation as her gaze glanced between Vanja’s resurrected ashes and me. I didn’t like the calculating look she gave me. “You truly are worth your weight in gold.” I liked those words even less. I recognized the intense scrutiny Sara gave me. She looked at me like I was her next meal ticket. That was the problem with people like Sara. There would never be enough . All Vanja’s riches wouldn’t fill the void in her soul. She’d keep searching, thinking that if she just had more, she’d be satisfied.

People like Sara Tompkins were destined for a lonely life of want, and I had no intention of becoming one of the ways she attempted to fill that void.

Vanja’s attempts to drain me combined with bringing back so many souls yesterday were quickly depleting what little reserves I had. My necromancer abilities were maxed out. If Sara didn’t get busy and start questioning Vanja soon, I’d have to let him go. I think I spoke for all of us when I say that wasn’t a swimming idea.

“Get to it, Sara,” Franklin said. Gaia bless him, he knew I was struggling. “Boone isn’t a machine. His services have been overused, and now blatantly abused. Ask your questions and get this over with.”

A mild narrowing of her eyes was the only indication Sara gave that she found Franklin’s words offensive. Right now, I couldn’t give two shits if Sara’s feelings were hurt.

Palms firmly planted on the island countertop, Sara was the only one that leaned toward Vanja’s swirling mass of ashes. I’d give her this—when Sara finally got down to questioning Vanja, she didn’t mince words. “Where did you stash your fortune?”

Vanja’s outrage sang through our bond, and he remained stubbornly silent.

“Answer,” I commanded while pushing more power into the order. My body quivered with the effort.

Sara leaned ever closer. “You had a plan. You weren’t a complete idiot, Vanja. You planned on living forever and you were going to do it in luxury. Where. Did. You. Hide. It?” Sara’s smile stretched wide, showing pristine white teeth.

Vanja’s determined reluctance faded into malicious humor. His cold laughter sent shivers down my spine. “Even if I tell you, you will never find it.”

That wasn’t a lie. Vanja truly believed that, and I said just as much. “He’s telling the truth.”

“You let me worry about that part. Tell me where it is.”

If he’d had a body, Vanja would have been grinning from ear to ear. “The bottom of the lake.”

For the first time, Sara looked uncertain. “The bottom of what lake?”

“Michigan.” There was far too much glee in that particular answer.

Sara shook her head. “You wouldn’t have placed it somewhere unretrievable. That would be pointless.”

“Unretrievable to a human. I wasn’t planning on remaining human. Vampires don’t need to breathe. There’s no harm taking a stroll along the bottom of a deep, frigid lake.”

“Boone,” Sara hissed. “Is he telling the truth?”

“Yes,” I answered. “He’s telling you the absolute truth, and he’s very pleased with himself too.”

Sara’s body stilled, every muscle stiff before she moved, her arm arcing wide, slamming into Vanja’s urn and sending it sailing. The ceramic hit the tile floor and fractured into a million pieces. The crash made everyone but Sara jump.

“I need more specifics. I need coordinates. I have resources. It will take time, but I can and will find it.” There was a note of desperation in Sara’s voice I didn’t like.

“Coordinates?” Vanja laughed again. “I have no idea. I took a boat to the middle of the lake and threw everything over the edge.”

“Truth,” I said before Sara could ask.

Sweat trickled down my temples and along the back of my neck. Holding a soul as vicious and malicious as Vanja’s took too much energy. By now, Franklin was doing more than just placing a comforting hand on my back; he was holding me up. I needed to let Vanja’s soul go, and I needed to do it now.

“Vanja Simon Velchev, I release your soul.” I barely heard Sara’s outraged denials and orders to bring Vanja back. It wouldn’t do any good. He’d told her the truth. Just because it wasn’t what Sara wanted to hear wouldn’t change the facts.

“Boone.” Franklin pulled me to his chest, holding me tight as my body shivered. He shoved a piece of candy into my mouth. I couldn’t be more grateful. Surprisingly, Henson moved up to my side too.

“You okay?” Henson asked. There was true concern lacing his voice. A touch of trepidation too. “Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s not your fault, but I don’t think Sara likes what just happened.”

I didn’t either. There were different levels of rage, and just as many ways people expressed that emotion. Sara Tompkins was the silent but severely lethal type. She stood there, perfectly still. Her demeanor was deceptive. At a casual glance, Sara appeared calm. The tick in her jaw, her strained muscles, and her glinting eyes told a different story.

Tone unbelievably calm, Sara said, “I believe this might take a bit longer than I’d hoped. Keeping all of you will be far too troublesome. Jay, if you’d be so kind, please escort the sheriff to another room and dispose of him.”

The guy guarding the French doors moved, raising his weapon and aiming it Henson’s way.

“Come on,” Jay coldly said while pushing the business end of his gun into Henson’s gut. Henson didn’t budge and Jay’s grin twisted. “You gonna be a tough guy?”

“Fuck you,” Henson said, straightening his back. “If you think I’m just going to willingly walk off with you to be slaughtered more conveniently, then you’re an idiot.”

“Sara?” Jay asked as he took a step back and raised the gun. Jay sounded like he was asking for permission. I sharply inhaled and frantically searched my pockets for something I could use. Unfortunately, I was shaky and weak. Franklin had to hold me up and that didn’t leave a lot of room for me to maneuver. Panic had well and truly set in.

“Very well,” Sara said, waving her hand in the air. “It’ll be messy, but the tile will clean.”

The grin on Jay’s face was pure glee. Unlike the vibe I got from Charlie and Rita, this guy liked killing. I scrambled more, pushing at Franklin. Even if I fell on the floor, the position would let me get to my remaining, hidden charms.

Franklin wouldn’t let me go. I wiggled harder, throwing everything I had into it. Why the fuck was Franklin so calm? Why wasn’t he fighting or…doing something?

I flinched and pressed my face into Franklin’s chest when I heard the echo of the gun go off, the sound horribly loud within the confines of the house. That singular shot was followed by another, and then another. The sound was rapid fire. I slapped my hands over my ears, trying to muffle the pounding auditory pain.

The rattle of gunfire seemed to go on forever. Most likely it was only a few seconds. I shook uncontrollably, Franklin’s arms wrapped around me and holding me tight to his chest. My ears rang and it took several more seconds for me to be able to hear anything, and when I did, it was a litany of curse words haphazardly strung together combined with Henson’s heavy breathing.

“Holy shit,” Henson’s quiet exclamation filtered into my brain, and I slowly registered he was still alive. Hot on the heels of that revelation was the one that we were surrounded by one of Pops’s protective shields.

My head snapped up. At this angle, I was staring at Franklin’s scruffy chin. Leaning back enough that our eyes could connect, Franklin gave a soft grin and said, “Warlock Holland’s charms—never leave home without them.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed. The sound was insane and completely inappropriate. That didn’t stop me.

“My, my.” My head snapped in the direction of Tabitha’s voice. She stood at the opposite end of the kitchen, behind Sara. “Looks like I’m a little late to the party.”

Mouth hanging open and laughter no longer a problem, I stared disbelievingly at Tabitha. My gaze traveled to the djinn standing behind her, casually leaning against a nearby doorjamb. Aurelia simply raised a single eyebrow, the movement creasing the tattoos above it.

With a disinterested shrug, Aurelia merely said, “I was bored, so I released the medium.”

Well, shit.