Page 26 of Deadly Deception (Necromancer Tales #2)

Chapter

Twenty-Six

Franklin

“Are you okay?” Boone knelt by Navarre. Little Fang was still in his lap, curled up and looking far more content than I’d seen her appear previously.

Navarre was peacefully humming, his fingers a constant scroll across the kitten’s fur. He didn’t answer until Boone placed his hand on the kitten too. Navarre’s head raised and his large, brown eyes blinked as they focused on Boone. “You’re real?”

A soft, sad smile lifted Boone’s lips. “Very much, and thankfully, still alive.” All of us could say the same, and yet I remained silent. Tabitha was somewhere in the house, making a few phone calls. I figured one was to the Magical Usage Council, not that I thought it would do much good.

Having evidently forgotten the question, Navarre simply answered, “She’s very soft. I like her purr.”

“The sound is irritating.”

My gaze snapped to the corner. “Nice to see you, Aurelia.” I hadn’t been sure if she’d taken off or was still around. Considering Little Fang was still within Navarre’s lap, I figured she was still around. Somewhere.

She didn’t comment. Aurelia continued staring at the kitten, her expression unreadable.

“Most humans find a cat’s purr soothing,” Boone said, defending the kitten.

“I am not human.”

Boone refrained from saying, but you once were . At least we assumed that’s what Aurelia’s original form had been.

Standing, Boone swayed. He waved me off before I could lay a hand on him. “I’m fine, Franklin,” Boone lied with a smile. “Well, maybe not fine , but I’ll live. Which is more than I can say for Jay, those guys we met at the door, and probably Sara.”

“Sara will probably wish she were dead by the time Queen Millicent gets done with her,” I said. Despite what she’d done, I took no joy in the statement. Boone’s shiver indicated he agreed.

With a heavy sigh, Boone sat on the bed beside Navarre. His fellow necromancer barely noticed, his mind still fixated on the kitten.

“They’re a good fit,” Boone said. “Remind me to ask Tabitha if Navarre can get a cat, or maybe some other pet where he’ll be staying.”

“He can take Little Fang,” Aurelia said with absolutely no inflection or emotion.

Boone and I stared at her, and I said, “That’s not necessary. There are a lot of cats and kittens in the world in need of a home. You don’t need to—”

“It is fine,” Aurelia assured as she waved off my concern. “I grow tired of the creature. It is unfair to expect her to go against her natural hunting instincts and not consume the sprites in Peaches’s orchard.”

I stuttered, unsure what to say. Boone thankfully spoke up. “That’s very insightful of you, Aurelia.”

She cocked her head to the side and asked, “You believe so?”

“I do.” Boone looked down on the kitten again before asking, “Are you sure you’re okay giving her up?”

“It is for the best,” Aurelia answered. I had no idea what her true feelings were. I’d thought she was growing fond of Little Fang—or maybe tolerant was a more accurate assessment. I’d had enough experience with Aurelia to recognize the signs she would leave soon, that she was essentially done with whatever passed for conversation with her. I think she started to leave, but stopped, her gaze fixed on me and then Boone. She appeared undecided, or perhaps confused. Considering how rare an emotion it was, I wasn’t certain.

Aurelia’s lips twitched before she said, “Your concern is…strange, but not unwelcome.” And then she was gone.

Boone and I remained silent for a beat, the sound of Little Fang’s purrs filling the empty space. Finally, Boone muttered, “Huh?”

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

“Our escort should be here shortly,” Tabitha Clark announced as she walked back into the room, missing Aurelia’s presence completely. Like Boone, Clark looked tired, but had recovered from the destructive charm Sara released. Boone told me earlier that he was once more connected to his necromancer abilities. He’d exerted a lot of energy earlier and his reserves were low, but he said he could definitely feel his necromancer side. Boone’s relief was palpable.

I was thankful Boone remained seated. I took it upon myself to bring up the kitten. I had no idea what we’d do with Little Fang if Clark told us Navarre couldn’t take her with him. “He seems pretty attached,” I said while pointing at Fang. “Is it possible for Navarre to take the kitten with him?”

“Absolutely,” Clark agreed readily. “I’m glad he has an anchor to reality.” With a sad head shake, she added, “It will take me months to weed through all the souls clinging to him.”

“What about Benny?” I asked. I couldn’t remember his last name.

Clark waved me off. “I’ve already sent him beyond the veil. Benny found his earlier outburst very satisfying. He was content to shuffle off. Unfortunately, he is one of many. Benny was one of the easier spirits to tease free of Navarre.”

“Oh.” Yup, that was the extent of my response. I had nothing else.

“When is your escort supposed to be here?” Boone asked.

“Within the hour.”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Boone finally looked up and said, “Tabitha, I don’t know how to tell you this or if it’s my place, but I’ve got serious doubts about the Magical Usage Council. I called them when we realized you’d been taken, and let’s just say they were less than concerned.”

Clark’s eyes danced and her lips twitched. “That’s because I’d already advised them not to intervene, that I was currently fine.”

Boone and I shared a confused glance before I asked, “Are you telling me Sara didn’t confiscate your cell?”

“Oh no, she took it.” Clark was clearly annoyed. “It took me forever to find it. That’s what took me so long earlier,” she huffed.

“Then how…?” I let the question hang in the air.

With a wink and sly nod, Clark said, “I’m a medium. I don’t mean to boast, but I’m no slouch. If I’m familiar with a spirit and have a good relationship with them, then I can contact that spirit from hundreds, even thousands of miles away. Elvira passed along my message.”

“Elvira?” Boone questioned.

“Well, that’s not her birth name. We don’t speak her given name. Suffice to say, Elvira’s life while she lived under her original moniker was not…pleasant. Elvira’s taken a liking to the Magical Usage Council headquarters. She’s come in handy more than once and seems to enjoy being helpful.” Clark blew out a frustrated breath. “Of course, she also enjoys her fair share of mischief as well, but those are stories for another time. The point is, had I needed or wanted their help, all I needed to do was contact Elvira and she would alert the council members.”

“Why didn’t you ask for help?” Boone questioned.

Clark shrugged. “Because it wasn’t needed.” With a winning smile, she closed the distance between herself and Navarre and patted him on the shoulder. “I’d say things worked out very well.”

It took several seconds for me to register my mouth was hanging open. “How do you figure that?”

“Easy. We’re all still breathing, aren’t we? That’s a win in my book any day.”

Once again, words failed me. Considering Boone’s stunned silence, I figured we were once again on the same page.

I t had been a long day and an even longer evening. Boone and I were ready to crash. We could have booked our room for another night. That would have been the wise thing to do. Our desire to get out of the Chicago area overrode any sense of wisdom.

We briefly stopped by Nana’s house to say goodbye. She was understandably concerned by our haggard appearance and shoved more pumpkin pie my direction. Boone and I ate slices on our way to the hospital. It was our last stop before the airport and our flight back to Mobile. As far as I was concerned, we could sleep on the plane. I’d see how I felt when we got back to Alabama. If I was too wiped, we’d get a hotel room and drive the rest of the way home tomorrow.

We’d gotten word that Sheriff Henson was in stable condition and had been moved to a private room in the progressive health unit. I’d gotten a text from Captain Tompkins that he’d been discharged but was staying close to Henson. Emotion didn’t come through well in texts, despite the litany of emojis available to do just that. While I couldn’t be certain, I imagined there was a loadstone of guilt flowing through Tompkins’s words and actions.

Boone and I rode the elevator up to the third floor. Boone had Henson’s room number scribbled on the back of our hotel receipt. I don’t think either one of us had enough faith in our exhausted brains to remember Henson’s room number without a visual copy to remind us.

“310 should be down this way,” Boone pointed to a wall plaque with room numbers and hall directions.

“Lead on,” I mumbled, and we shuffled down the pristine floor. The fluorescent lights reflected brightly off the hard surface. If it hadn’t been for one of Holland’s activated pain charms, the light would have added its own symphony to my pounding head.

“308, 309…310,” Boone beamed and shoved the crumpled paper into his puffy coat pocket. It was probably keeping company with Holland’s recovered charms. The LaPorte County Sheriff’s Office was in the process of confiscating Sara’s ill-gotten and illegal charms. They’d probably need to call in a witch and warlock to oversee the collection of evidence to make certain no one harmed themselves.

Boone peeked his head inside the doorframe. “Knock, knock,” Boone said by way of announcement. “Up for some visitors?”

“Come in.” Henson’s voice sounded more gravelly than full of smooth resolve.

I followed Boone inside. As expected, we hadn’t been Henson’s only visitors. The room was filled with plants and the occasional flower or balloon. The color brightened up the otherwise sterile recovery room. Hospital quarters were a far sight better than they used to be, but for obvious reasons, they had to retain that easy-to-clean, sterile vibe.

Henson lay in bed, his head and back propped up. He had one IV line but at least two different bags hooked up to it. Oxygen tubing wrapped around Henson’s face, two small prongs situated inside his nostrils. I could see bandaging material stretching across his torso beneath the gown, along with thin wires that weaved beneath that same gown. The sound of Henson’s steady heart keeping time on his bedside monitor was music to my ears.

Overall, despite Henson’s obvious pallor and gaunt appearance, seeing him awake, coherent, and alive was a relief. What wasn’t so much of a relief was the dejected man sitting beside him. Shane Tompkins appeared to have aged ten, maybe twenty years. The strong man I remembered was a will-o'-the-wisp compared to his former stature. Forget about a strong wind—the barest hint of a breeze looked like it could lay him flat.

I swallowed hard, and felt Boone’s fingers lace with mine. His gentle squeeze and even lighter tug pulled me forward, deeper into the room. When Tompkins looked like he might stand and offer us his chair, Boone thankfully waved him off and said, “Thank you, but we’re fine. Franklin and I will spend plenty of time sitting on the plane ride back to Mobile.”

“You headed out soon then?” Henson asked, his voice full of that same sound of gravel scraping across his vocal cords.

“We are. Boone and I need to be at O’Hare within a couple of hours to get checked in,” I answered. “How are you feeling?” I aimed the question at Henson, but my gaze inadvertently tracked in Tompkins’s direction.

“Better now than I’ll probably feel in a couple of days.” Henson gave a contented sigh. “They’ve got me on the good stuff right now.”

Boone shifted forward, resting his free hand on the bedrail. “Any permanent damage?” he asked.

“Not that they know of. The shot was clean. Physical rehab will probably be hell, but I’ll get through it if it means getting full range of motion back. I’ll be right as rain in no time, won’t I, Shane?”

Tompkins managed a watery smile. “I’ve never known anything or anybody to be able to keep you down, Alfonse.”

“Damn right. This is nothin’ but a flesh wound.”

I appreciated Henson’s attempt to lighten the mood. It was thoughtful. It was also futile. Shane Tompkins was one of the strongest people I knew, but there were some things that hit harder than others. Some offenses couldn’t be swept under the rug or locked away and forgotten. Sara’s deception had to have cut deep on a multitude of levels. One didn’t slap a bandage on something like that and call it a day.

I gave Boone’s hand a squeeze before releasing it. “Captain Tompkins, you look like you need some coffee. Want to make a café run with me?”

He rose with great effort, arms shaky as they pushed Tompkins out of his chair. Without a word, he followed me out the door and into the hall. Neither one of us spoke as we headed down the hall toward one of the little alcoves with more comfortable seating. A coffee station was set up along with a couple of vending machines. I’d meant to take Tompkins to the café in the lobby, but instead, he veered into the cubby and reached for an empty cup. I didn’t argue and followed suit.

I waited for Tompkins to doctor his coffee and take a generous drink before saying, “It’s not your fault. You know that, right?”

Tompkins barked out an abbreviated laugh. “Do you think that makes this better?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Let’s face it, there’s nothing I can say that will change how you feel. But I’m human and I care about you, so I still feel the need to try.” I wasn’t blowing smoke. My affection for him was almost familial. “I’m the detective I am because of you. I’m the man I am because of you, and I like to think I turned out damn fine.”

This time, Tompkins’s chuckle was more heartfelt. His tired eyes crinkled with his momentary grin—there and gone far too quickly. “And so humble,” Tompkins mused while affectionately slapping my shoulder. Taking another drink, Tompkins became somber again. “I keep going back over everything, every interaction, no matter how small. My mind can’t stop recalling the years since Sara was wounded.” Head bent and staring unseeingly into his nearly empty cup of coffee, Tompkins grimaced. “Maybe there were signs, but I just can’t peg them. There were little things here and there, but…I didn’t know things were that bad between Sara and the department. I knew Marcus Myers was a piece of shit. That’s the main reason I encouraged Alfonse to run for sheriff. The people deserved better than that self-serving asshole. Sara deserved better.”

“From what I understand, you weren’t wrong.”

“No, not about that. Everything else, but not that.”

I laid my hand on Tompkins’s shoulder. “Not everything. You can’t spend the rest of your life second-guessing past or future decisions. That’s no way to live and you know it.”

Tompkins’s sigh sounded soul-deep. “Logically, you’re right. Logic doesn’t always conquer emotion, and in this case, I think I’ll be second-guessing myself for years to come.”

I squeezed Tompkins’s shoulder before releasing my hold. “If you’re ever in a bad place, I’m just a phone call away.”

“I know, and I’m grateful.” Lifting his head, Tompkins rolled his shoulders and popped his neck. “Do you think she’s dead?” Tompkins’s voice was so soft I had to lean forward to hear the words.

I could only assume Tompkins was asking about his niece. I wanted to lie and tell him yes, but I figured Tompkins had been lied to enough lately. “I don’t know.”

Tompkins winced. “I never thought I’d wish Sara was dead, but I do now. That would be better than…” He couldn’t finish the thought, and I didn’t blame him. In this case, the alternative to death was not a pleasant concept. “Even after everything she did, I can’t wish further pain and suffering on Sara. Does that make me weak?”

“It makes you human. Some of the other species might think it’s a weakness, but we are what we are. You’re Sara’s uncle, and the situation isn’t black and white. Did Sara commit heinous crimes? Yes. But that’s not all she was, especially to you. Your memories are tangled up with a younger version of the woman she became. You remember Sara as a child, growing up, playing, laughing. You remember a time when she was filled with hopes and dreams that were illuminated with every color of the rainbow, not the shadowed corners that claimed the end of her life. Life would be far easier if emotions were a switch you could randomly flip on and off. For better or worse, that’s not how it works. You can hate what Sara’s done, but hating her is another matter. I don’t expect that of you and I’m sure your friend, Sheriff Henson, doesn’t either.”

With his head bent, I couldn’t see the tears tracking down the familiar territory of Tompkins’s cheeks, but I could see how his hands shook as he wiped them away. I wanted to take the man in my arms and give him one of my nana’s comforting hugs. Instead, I rested the palm of my hand on his back and rubbed it.

We stayed there, staring aimlessly at the vending machines, our small alcove lit by their light. Seconds passed into minutes until Tompkins finally said, “You’re one of the good ones, Franklin. I knew it the day we met, and I’m even more sure of it now. I’m glad you found someone to love, someone who obviously loves you back. Do me a favor?”

“Anything,” I answered automatically.

“Don’t fuck it up. If there’s one bright spot in my life, it’s thinking of you living your best one, that young necromancer in there by your side. Fight for what you’ve got and don’t let anyone, and I mean anyone , tell you different. Love is a gift far too few of us willingly accept.”

My chest eased for the first time since spotting Tompkins lonely figure sitting in that chair by Henson’s bed. “That, my friend, is a promise I can easily make.”

“Good to hear, Franklin. Very good to hear.”