Page 4 of Deadly Deception (Necromancer Tales #2)
Chapter
Four
Franklin
One thing about living in northern Illinois I hadn’t missed was O’Hare International Airport. The place was huge, packed, and teeming with bodies hustling from one gate to another. Maybe that was one of the reasons I’d moved to southern Mississippi, to get away from the crush of sentient life. I’d come to appreciate a more sedate pace, and the scene surrounding Erasmus and me was anything but sedate.
“ Oof .” Erasmus was yanked from my side as someone slammed into his shoulder, barely offering an apology before they jogged off, their wheeled suitcase screeching behind them. One of the wheels was janky and kept tipping the suitcase to the side.
“You okay?” I asked, pulling Erasmus a little closer.
“Yeah,” he answered while rubbing at his arm. “Might have a bruise later, but I’ll count myself lucky. I don’t think that guy had any idea I was even here.” There was a note of fascination in Erasmus’s voice. “I’m so used to people not wanting to touch me that I hadn’t even considered someone doing so by accident.” His wide eyes blinked up at me.
“Their loss,” I answered. “Selfishly, that just gives me more skin to claim as my own.” Damn the crowds. I stopped, leaned down, and kissed Erasmus. His lips were always warm, pliant, and more than eager. When I was finished, Erasmus’s lips were plump, damp, and rosy red. His cheeks matched the color.
“Hmm… I could definitely get used to that.”
“Good,” I answered while slinging an arm around Erasmus’s shoulders and cinching him next to my side. “Because I definitely enjoy kissing you.”
Erasmus remained quiet. Each of us had a small carry-on bag slung over our shoulder. The crowd thinned some as we made our way to baggage claim. I could only pray our bags had made it along with us.
Erasmus must have been thinking along similar lines because he said “Pops will throw a fit if my bag is lost. There’s a small fortune in charms tucked inside.”
Knowing Warlock Holland, I had little doubt regarding the validity of that statement. “Did you bring all of them?”
“At least one of everything and multiples of some.” With a hand in one of his many pockets, Boone rattled a few charms and said, “I’ve got plenty of pain charms.”
“I hope we don’t need them.”
“Me too, but as Momma always says, ‘Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.’”
“Wise words to live by. My nana says something similar.”
“Never doubt the wisdom of a seasoned woman,” Erasmus answered. “But next time you’re around Momma, don’t tell her I called her seasoned .”
“My lips are sealed,” I promised.
Erasmus and I waited for our bags to roll around and were relieved when each one poked through the opening and fell onto the conveyer belt. Luggage in hand, we headed for the car rental kiosk, picked up the keys to our ride, and headed to the car lot. I stared at the small SUV and sighed.
“You want to go back in and ask for something larger?” Erasmus asked.
“No. This will work fine. At least it’s not a compact car. Thankfully this isn’t a busy time of year for travel. Give it a month and we’d be lucky to get something more than a moped.” Harvest Day was coming up soon, and it claimed top spot as the busiest travel time of the year.
I hit the key fob and unlocked the car, popping the hatch and loading our luggage inside. I’d just finished when my phone decided to wake up and give me the text message alerts it had repressed during airplane mode. I pulled the phone from my pocket before I got into the driver’s side of the SUV. Erasmus was already buckled in, his own phone in hand.
“I’m sending Momma and Pops a group text letting them know we landed okay and have already picked up our rental.”
I was still reading through my own texts and only listened to Erasmus with half an ear. My mind was tumbling over the latest text from Captain Tompkins. “You might want to tell them we’re on our way to Michigan City.”
Erasmus’s head popped up and he asked, “We’re going to Michigan?”
“Oddly enough, Michigan City isn’t in Michigan, at least not the one we’re going to. This one’s in Northwest Indiana. It’s less than an hour from here.” I waved my phone in the air. “Captain Tompkins wants us to head there as soon as we land. We’re headed to the LaPorte County Sheriff’s Office. Whatever Tompkins wants, it’s there.”
“Will Shane Tompkins be there too?”
“According to the text he sent.” My thick fingers struggled across the small buttons. I made more mistakes than I wanted and cursed and praised autocorrect within the same breath. “I’m letting him know we’re on our way.” I took a minute to text Nana and my brother Evan too. They’d let the rest of the family know I’d arrived in Chicago safely. My text to Nana apologized that it would be later than I’d like before we met up. I hadn’t expected Captain Tompkins to want Erasmus and me to hit the ground running. An afternoon to recover from travel and get settled into a hotel would have been nice. I’d planned on getting a room close to Nana on the east side of Chicago, but now I wasn’t so sure.
Erasmus stretched before burrowing into his thick sweatshirt. He’d layered up, but there was no way his current clothing would be warm enough if the temperature dropped further. A quick scroll of the local weather let me know a shopping trip would be needed before tomorrow morning.
“We’ll need to stop somewhere and get you a thicker coat,” I said while putting the SUV in reverse and heading out of the parking lot. “I just checked local weather and the highs are only supposed to be in the upper forties the rest of the week. You don’t want to know what the lows are going to bottom out at.”
“Freezing?” Erasmus asked.
“Lower,” I answered.
“Fuck, that sounds cold.” He shivered despite the heat kicking on.
“Yeah. It’s a bit chilly, even for this time of year. Remind me not to bring you back here in February.” Hell, I didn’t want to be here in the winter either. That was one of the major reasons I left the upper Midwest.
“Duly noted.” Erasmus’s mouth cracked open with a wide yawn. “I think I’m gonna need a little caffeine boost if we’re going straight to work. Maybe some food too.”
“I’ll swing by a drive-thru,” I answered. “I could use some calories too.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Erasmus shifted in his seat, his eyes tracking the passing scenery. With his head turned, I barely heard him when he asked, “Did you contact your family?”
“I texted them after Tompkins.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I knew what he was worried about and reached across the console to grab his hand. “They’re going to love you.”
Erasmus’s fingers gripped mine tightly. “I just…I know you think that, but not everyone is as open-minded as you. Experience has taught me that. I just don’t want to embarrass you, or—”
“I could never be embarrassed of you. You’ve got it all wrong. You’re way too good for me, Erasmus. Trust me, with you, I’m dating way above my pay grade.” I drew his hand to my lips and kissed his knuckles. Besides, if my family had a problem with Boone, then it was their problem, not mine. While I wanted them to love Boone as much as I did, it wasn’t a deal breaker. It’s not like I thought Lynn’s husband was a winning catch. The guy was a cocky, know-it-all asshole. I couldn’t understand Lynn’s attraction to the guy, let alone why she’d married him, but that wasn’t my decision to make and I accepted her choice and tried my best to swallow my irritation when he was around.
Sometimes, that’s what family was about—accepting and spending time around people you’d otherwise avoid. If there was one constant in the universe that transcended all species, it was that family was complicated.
I ncluding our longer than expected trip through a drive-thru, it took over an hour to reach the LaPorte County Sheriff’s Office. I texted Captain Tompkins when we arrived. It was a little after four p.m. and the sun was already starting to fade behind a thick overhang of clouds. The temperature dropped steadily as we drove east and was now down to forty-seven according to the SUV’s dashboard.
I got a text back that said Tompkins was already in the parking lot and he wanted to know what our vehicle looked like. I texted back a description and soon saw him jogging across the parking lot, headed in our direction.
“Is that him?” Erasmus asked as he leaned against the passenger’s side door. “You didn’t tell me he looks like Keith Morris.”
I wracked my brain and finally came up with, “The Dateline guy?”
“Yeah. The handsome older one with the silvery-white head of hair.”
My eyebrows shot skyward. “I didn’t know you had an older guy kink.”
I caught a glance of Erasmus’s flushed cheeks as he threw me a scathing glance. “I have a kink for handsome men, regardless of age. Lucky for you.”
Considering I was about ten years older than Boone, I couldn’t agree more and answered, “Damn right.” My answer replaced Boone’s stink eye with one of appreciative affection.
Our playful banter stopped when the back door opened and Captain Tompkins slid into the back seat, a blast of colder air accompanying his presence. Boone shivered and my body gave a commiserative wiggle. Tompkins didn’t seem to notice.
“Franklin,” Tompkins said, a genuine smile pushing up his weathered cheeks. “It’s damn good to see you again.” Thrusting out his arm, Tompkins offered his hand, and I grasped it easily and shook. If we’d been standing outside the vehicle, I probably would have pulled him in for a one-armed hug.
“Good to see you too,” I answered easily. Tompkins wore a thick sweatshirt and seemed content with the weather outside. Some people were like that. I remembered that it had to get close to zero with a windchill to boot before Tompkins so much as shivered.
Turned in the front seat, Erasmus peeked around the edge, his green eyes observing my mentor cautiously. “Captain Tompkins, this is Necromancer Erasmus Boone.”
Boone didn’t offer his hand, and I noticed sadly that Tompkins didn’t either. I filed that information away, making a permanent mental note.
“Necromancer Boone,” Tompkins replied. “Thank you for coming all this way.”
“You’re welcome,” Boone answered immediately. “Feel free to call me Erasmus. Franklin typically calls me Boone because he has a habit of calling everyone by their last name.”
Tompkins eyes widened and he shot me a quick, unexpectedly pleased grin. “True enough. Please call me Shane.”
Boone nodded but remained silent and watchful. I suddenly wondered if I should have had this initial meeting somewhere more out in the open. Was Boone uncomfortable? I hoped not. Tompkins might be, but it had been his decision to hop in the car knowing Boone was inside.
Clearing his throat, Tompkins said, “I read about the McCallister case. Sounds like things got a bit dicey for a while.”
I grunted something incoherent before recovering enough to answer, “You could say that.”
“The reports said McCallister was a necromancer, that he—”
“Dr. McCallister was a lot more than a necromancer,” Boone answered. “I’d say more witch or warlock with some necromancer thrown in for good measure. Necromancer was the only thing the press seemed to care about.”
That fact bothered me and Boone’s father a hell of a lot more than it bothered Erasmus himself. Boone took comfort in the fact that being named a necromancer only would have pissed McCallister off. Holland and I looked at as another prejudiced indictment of necromancers in general.
Tompkins’s mouth slipped open before snapping closed. He licked his dry lips a couple of times before he finally said, “I know how this is gonna sound, but you sound very sane for a necromancer.”
Boone’s muscles tightened. After a few seconds, he gave a single nod. “I’ve heard that before.”
Tompkins raked his long fingers through his thick head of silver hair. “I didn’t mean it in an offensive way. That sounds pretty damn trite right now, but it’s the honest truth. I’ve met a couple of necromancers in the past and they’ve been…” Tompkins waved a hand in the air. “Not all there. Mentally.” He winced when he said those words.
“Not all necromancers have been as fortunate as me,” Boone responded sadly.
“I read that too, that your father stuck around.”
“He did. Pops lives in California, but he was and still is a big part of my life. Plus, I seem to be wired a bit different than a lot of necromancers, or at least that’s what I’ve surmised. I haven’t met many others myself.”
This was a growing concern and a topic that came up far more than I’d like. No one knew just how many necromancers were out there or where they even were. Those that survived to adulthood were often loners and societal outcasts. Their warlock fathers didn’t keep track of them. Their births weren’t even recorded within the warlock archives. However, their mothers’ names were. It was a warning to other warlocks not to use the same birth mothers as it was assumed they were the faulty genetic link between giving birth to a warlock or necromancer child. I doubt anyone knew if that was true or not.
Regardless, Boone’s father was different in that regard as well. Per Holland himself, he’d proudly recorded Boone’s birth within his warlock family tree and registered his son within the warlock archives.
“Interesting,” Tompkins said, and I figured that was about all any of us could say.
The car grew silent as the ambient light faded. I really wanted to get Boone and myself settled into a hotel before it got too late. Assuming Tompkins had brought us to the sheriff’s office for a reason, I asked, “What’s this all about?”
“And why couldn’t you talk about it on the phone?” Boone asked.
Tompkins slumped back into his seat with a heavy sigh. “Old habits I suppose.”
Boone and I shared a questioning glance and I said, “I’m afraid that will need more explanation.”
Tompkins gave a reluctant nod and answered, “I’m old school, Franklin. There was a time when law enforcement wasn’t so law abiding themselves. Phone conversations were often monitored, and good cops disappeared. I know that’s been years ago—decades really. Still, old habits die hard, and I didn’t want to take a chance that someone might overhear what I had to say and act before we had a chance to investigate further.” Tompkins gave a weak chuckle. “I’ve made a habit of making myself a nuisance to some of the younger cops. Seems like they want an easy solution to a problem and don’t take the time to investigate thoroughly. I can’t say that I blame them. The crime rate sure as shit hasn’t gone down but cop numbers have. They’re stretched thin. Sometimes the easy answer it too enticing to pass up.”
I understood what my old captain was saying. It was another reason I’d left the area. “And you think this is one of those cases?”
“I do, or at least I think they’re jumping to conclusions. It’s not just me. Sara thinks so to.”
The name tickled my memory. “Your niece?”
A proud grin stretched across Tompkins’s face. “Yeah. She was injured during a case a few of years ago and had to retire from active duty. Sara works a desk job now, in the LaPorte County Sheriff’s Office. I called Sara when I read about Navarre in the press.”
Boone leaned over the back seat a little more and said, “He’s a necromancer, isn’t he?”
“Got it in one,” Tompkins answered. “I don’t have the whole story, only what Sara was able to relay to me. Two days ago, Navarre walked into a gas station in the Michigan City area. He was covered in fresh blood and flailing his arms around his head, swatting at something the desk attendant couldn’t see. According to the employee, Navarre was shouting at the air and screaming at someone to ‘just go away.’ The police were called, and Navarre was hauled into the station.”
“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say the blood wasn’t Navarre’s,” I said.
“Not a scratch on him,” Tompkins confirmed. “Old scars, but nothing new that would have caused that much blood. They’re holding him on murder charges.”
“Whose murder?” I asked while thinking this was one of the reasons Tompkins wanted Boone. If we had the body, Boone could call the soul back and ask who the true culprit was.
“That’s the kicker. No one’s sure. So far, a body hasn’t been discovered.”
Boone sucked in a hissed breath. “Then how can they hold him for murder?”
Tompkins frowned. “It was a lot of blood. Local checks of hospitals haven’t turned up anything so the officer in charge is assuming that given that much blood, whoever it was, they’re dead if they didn’t get immediate medical help.”
“Seems like a stretch,” Boone contemplated, sounding like he was talking to himself more than Tompkins.
“It might be, but it’s also reasonable. That blood had to come from someone. They’re also keeping Navarre on grounds that he’s mentally unstable and not fit for release. The only reason they even know his name is that it’s tattooed on his wrist. A little digging found his birth certificate, his deceased human mother, and that his species designation is necromancer. Navarre didn’t have any personal ID on him beyond the tattoo.”
Boone eased back into his seat, his hands loosely clasped within his lap. I didn’t think about my actions or who was in the car with us to see them. I reached across and grasped his hands with my own. “Hey, you okay?” It was a ridiculous question.
Boone shrugged. “Yeah. It’s just… Sometimes I forget how fortunate I am, and then something like this reminds me.”
Releasing his hands, I cupped his cheek and chin within my palm, rubbing my thumb across his soft skin. “We all forget how lucky we are from time to time.”
With a gentle nod, Boone leaned into my hand, twisting his head enough to lay a kiss on my palm. “Thanks, Franklin.”
When I finally released Boone and turned my attention back to Tompkins, I realized my show of affection had an audience. Something in me bristled at the blank look on his face. Hackles up, I asked, “Problem?”
Tompkins didn’t grin or offer any other sign of approval. He simply offered a clipped, “No. None of my business.”
I didn’t stop to worry whether Tompkins was uncomfortable because I was openly gay or because my partner was a necromancer. I thought back to the times we’d worked together and couldn’t remember an instance where my orientation had been discussed. Like Tompkins just said, it was none of his business.
Ignoring the elephant suddenly sitting in the car with us, I said, “So, I assume you want us to speak with Navarre.”
Tompkins appeared relieved with the change in topic. “If you can. I mean, I’ve worked it out so you can speak with him. I’m just not sure you’ll get anything coherent. He’s been provided with legal counsel, but from what I understand, his lawyer can’t get anything sane out of him to work with.”
“Human legal counsel?” Boone asked.
“It’s all we could get. The blood typing on Navarre’s clothes came back human. So far, the Magical Usage Council hasn’t been much help.”
“Yeah, we understand that all too well,” I murmured.
Hand on the doorhandle, I said “Come on, light’s a-wastin’.” We didn’t need daylight to interview Navarre, but I was tired and knew Boone was too. I wanted to get us somewhere cozy where we could snuggle in together and forget the rest of the world existed. We’d need to stop somewhere first and get Boone a warmer coat. The promise of under the covers snuggling was too far away for my liking.