Page 28 of Deadly Deception (Necromancer Tales #2)

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

Erasmus

Ah…the joys of Halloween…

There wasn’t always a lot of joy to be found in my profession. Nights like this were the exception to that dreary rule. Laughter freely flowed through Meadowbrook Cemetery. Not just laughter, but drunken, raucous belly laughs. Leaning against Edith Merriweather’s headstone, my lips twisted into a grin. I stood back, allowing the friendly reunion to play out with as little interference from me as possible.

I’d done what I was paid for. I’d brought Henry Joseph Clemon’s soul back from beyond the veil. It was clear he’d been well-loved while alive. Not by blood relations, but by a group of friends that he’d found common ground with. The three men who’d hired me clearly missed their friend, and by the looks of things, age hadn’t slowed their love of an alcoholic beverage or twelve.

“Oh my God, Henry, you should have seen it.” Virgil said while slapping his hand on his thigh. Virgil was easily eighty-plus years old. His dark skin had grooves that only deepened as he laughed. Virgil’s deep brown eyes sparkled brighter as his inebriation increased. His living friends were no different.

“It wasn’t that bad, Virg,” Doug huffed. I figured Doug was even older than Virgil, although I couldn’t be certain and hadn’t carded the man. Doug’s features were weatherworn, showing the tell-tale signs of a man who’d spent too much time in the sun with far too little sunscreen.

“I never said it was bad ,” Virgil insisted. “It was funny as hell. That’s what I’m saying.”

When Doug started to protest, their third friend piped in. “Don’t be a stick-in-the-mud. Virg is right.” Standing, Daniel pushed himself off the grass. It took him a couple of steps before he managed to shake out the kinks. Pulling out his phone, he ran his finger over the screen and approached Henry’s casket. “I got a couple of pictures.” Daniel winked as he held the phone up for Henry to look at. Thankfully, Henry had been decently preserved and his eyes were still intact.

Opening his mouth, Henry laughed. I wasn’t sure if it sounded the same coming from his corpse as when he’d been alive, but all three living men chuckled along with him, barely missing a beat.

“You did not take pictures of that!” It took Doug a couple of attempts and more than a few curse words before he managed to get into a standing position. “I told you we should have brought some lawn chairs,” Doug grumbled as he stalked toward Daniel. “Give me that thing.”

Daniel sort of hopped back. He was taller than Doug and held the phone out of reach. “No way. You’ll erase it.”

“Damn right I’m erasing it. It was an easy mistake to make. The signs for the restrooms said, ‘Gents’ and ‘Gals.’ You know I didn’t have my glasses on. It was just a stupid mix-up.”

By now, Virgil was standing too. He leaned his head back and howled with laughter. “Tell that to Betty Dixon. Good lord. You should have heard that woman scream. Who knew Betty had a set of pipes on her like that? She come runnin’ out of the loo, hands thrown in the air and her teeth hangin’ out of her mouth.”

Henry’s mouth slipped open and his eyes widened. “No.”

“Yes, sir,” Virgil said with a shit eating grin. “Old girl was more embarrassed about the teeth thing than anything else.”

Doug scoffed. “As if we all don’t have substitute parts at our age.”

And so, the night progressed. Holding onto Henry’s spirit was a simple affair. His soul was happy being back and hummed with gratitude. It felt good, and I knew I’d be sad when I had to release him. I shot off a quick text to Franklin, letting him know I’d probably get home later than I’d originally planned. I’d been paid for one hour but had no intention of holding Henry’s friends to that. As far as I was concerned, they could stay and relive old, and new , times until they either fell asleep or passed out drunkenly. I gave it fifty-fifty odds of which would happen first.

“They are different than your typical clients,” Aurelia said as she walked next to me. I didn’t need to be near the group to hold onto Henry’s soul and had decided to take a leisurely stroll through Meadowbrook Cemetery. It was about a level four on my personal scale. That meant I most likely wouldn’t come back here unless a client asked me to. However, it wasn’t horrible either.

“No. It’s refreshing.”

Aurelia didn’t comment and continued alongside me. She kept her typical two-to-three-foot distance. I wasn’t offended. I didn’t think Aurelia stayed away because she was afraid of catching my necromancer cooties . I thought she simply liked her personal space.

The grass was neatly trimmed, although this late in the season it hardly needed mowing on a frequent basis. Still, Meadowbrook was a well-tended cemetery. The plastic flowered wreaths and bouquets propped up against several headstones were evidence Meadowbrook was still frequented by the living. Most of its residents were content, but there were a few who clearly were not. As with the living, the malcontent dead drew the most attention.

The silence stretched on. The air was crisp, but not cold. A long-sleeved shirt, a vest, and a lightweight jacket were all I needed to feel comfortable. Per usual, Aurelia wore a faded flannel over a dark tank top. Her jeans were torn, and her combat boots looked like they’d truly seen action. Her overly large ears held multiple piercings that gleamed in the moonlight. Glancing again in her direction, I found I missed the backpack she’d carried around with her for those few short days we’d been in the Chicago area.

“Do you miss her?” I asked more on a whim than after true consideration.

“Miss who?” Aurelia sounded genuinely perplexed.

“Little Fang.”

I’d expected a quick no. What I got was more drawn-out silence until Aurelia finally answered an oddly truthful, “I am unsure.” With a shrug, she said, “I do not understand the concept well enough to be certain.”

“Oh.” That was all I had, and couldn’t fathom another word that should go with it.

“I did check on her. I felt it my responsibility to make certain Little Fang was being cared for properly.”

Now that was a bit of a surprise. “You visited Navarre?”

“It is a simple enough thing.” Aurelia said it like everyone could travel all over the world with a mere thought.

Ignoring Aurelia’s casual view on travel, I asked, “And was she? Being taken care of properly?”

“It appears so. Little Fang has grown, and she rumbles even more than when she was in my care.”

“Purrs, not rumbles,” I corrected, even though I didn’t know why. Aurelia didn’t really care about proper terminology. I should count it a win that she no longer called Little Fang the creature . Predictably, Aurelia didn’t comment so I asked, “And what about Navarre? How is he?” I hadn’t heard much beyond the fact that Tabitha and Navarre had arrived safely and were settling in.

“I believe he is the same, but cleaner. The necromancer doesn’t smell as poorly as he did before.”

“I see. And did he know you were there?”

“I do not know. I did not try and hide myself from him, but I am unaware of his perception of me.”

“Ah.” This time, I understood. “Tabitha said it may take a while to sort through and remove all the spirits attached to him.”

“Time is a mortal construct,” Aurelia answered. She didn’t sound judgmental. To her, it was simply fact.

Considering I was as far from immortal as could be, I didn’t feel I had the right to question Aurelia’s perception.

Peace settled in again. We’d walked far enough that I could barely hear the higher-pitched laughs coming from Henry’s group. The continued joy made me smile. That smile remained even when I glanced over and found Aurelia was gone. Shaking my head, I walked to a nearby tree and leaned heavily against its trunk. My worn sneakers were damp from dew as I crossed one foot over the other and pulled out my phone. I wasn’t sure if Franklin was still awake or not, but decided to text him and see if I could find a better way to pass the time.

I’d no more pulled my phone out than its soft ringtone filled the air. My hopeful glance that it was Franklin was dashed when I saw the caller ID was unknown. I considered allowing it to go to voicemail. Chances were it was spam, but considering my profession, one never truly knew.

Hitting the accept button, I lifted the phone to my ear and said, “This is Boone.”

The voice that answered was deep and scratchy, as if its owner had smoked away their lung capacity, leaving their speech raspy with just a hint of feral desire. “Necromancer Boone.” It was more statement than question.

An odd sensation swept down my back. My nerves flared and danced uncomfortably as they fired across my body and through my toes. “That’s me.” I kept my tone light as my fingers fidgeted along the edge of the phone. “What can I do for you?”

“Hmm, what an interesting question.” Their quiet laughter echoed with that same raspy scratch. “Oddly enough, I believe the question should be, what can I do for you?”

I shifted, rubbing my back along the tree’s bark. The sting of the harsh bark over road the uncomfortable sensation of this guy’s voice. Becoming irritated, I asked, “Who is this?”

“Apologies. I’m afraid my manners are not what they once were. My name is Tenzen Huxley. I am the Director of the Magical Usage Council.”

I swallowed hard and stood a little straighter. Why in the hell was this guy calling me? The Magical Usage Council hadn’t given two shits regarding necromancers in the last…oh, I don’t know, never number of years. They hadn’t seen fit to send someone to help when Dr. McCallister was offing varying species and stealing their innate abilities, shredding their souls in the process. They’d seemed to care even less when Tabitha was kidnapped along with Navarre. Honestly, I’d kind of written them off in the whole “who ya gonna call” category.

Tapping my fingers along the bark, I drew out an “okaaay?” which sounded far more like a question than an answer.

Tenzen’s smokey laughter echoed down the line again. “I understand your hesitancy. The council’s record regarding your species is woefully poor.”

It wasn’t just poor ; it was nonexistent.

“Certain facts have come to light recently illuminating the fact that the council’s ignorance is not acceptable. It has also come to my attention that as a community, we are unaware of the number of necromancers in existence or what their capabilities or misfortunes might be. I would like to remedy that situation and would appreciate your assistance.”

“Me?” My eyes narrowed, and I wished dearly that Franklin were here with me. I wouldn’t hesitate to place this call on speaker. “Why me?”

“I would think my reasons would be obvious. Regardless, it is late and perhaps there is a better time to speak further. You now have my number. Please call at your earliest convenience. I will be waiting to hear from you. Have a good evening, Necromancer Boone, and a pleasant Halloween.”

The call ended and I stood there, staring as the screen faded to black. My thumb moved to wake my phone back up and contact Franklin. But I hesitated. Not that I wouldn’t tell him about this the minute I saw him. It was just… I honestly didn’t know what it was. I felt unsettled and wasn’t certain why. Hadn’t I just been telling Franklin that I wanted to find other necromancers? That I wanted to help where I could? Having the support and resources of the Magical Usage Council would go a long way to making that desire a reality. So why did I feel so hesitant?

A louder burst of laughter jerked my head up and pulled my attention back toward Henry Clemon’s gravesite. His warm and happy soul tugged at my necromancer abilities and chased away my unease. Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I headed back toward their happy presence. I’d stay out of their way as much as possible, little more than a fly on the proverbial wall.

When the time came, I’d release Henry’s soul and put him back to rest, hopefully more content than when he’d passed through the veil the first time. I’d give them as much time as they wanted. Given the ages of the three living souls surrounding Henry’s casket, they’d soon join him in the ever after. I could only hope that meant they’d be together, laughing and joking, enjoying each other’s company until the end of time. Maybe beyond that if Aurelia’s concept of time was to be believed.

I’d worry about Tenzen Huxley later. And worry I would. I had a sneaky suspicion one did not simply ignore or turn down offers from the Director of the Magical Usage Council. As a lowly human, I didn’t think Franklin would have a lot of advice when it came to Tenzen Huxley. Then again, Franklin had good instincts. Regardless, I knew speaking with him would make me feel better.

That was the beauty of being able to go home to a place filled with love. No matter what ailed the spirit, unconditional love was the cure, and with Franklin O’Hare in my home, my spirit would be healed in no time.