Page 6 of Deadly Deception (Necromancer Tales #2)

Chapter

Six

Franklin

This was the body? I stared at the obviously days-old corpse and wondered what the hell the LaPorte County Sheriff’s Office was thinking. “I thought you said the blood found on Navarre was fresh.”

“It was,” Sheriff Henson answered, words clipped and tone openly hostile. The man was an inch taller than me and far broader. Sheriff Henson looked like he could take down the entire offense on a football field and not break a sweat. His chestnut hair was shorn close to the scalp, and he had what looked like a very old scar pulling at the left corner of his lips. Sheriff Henson was neatly groomed and wore enough aftershave to nearly cover the scent of decomp coming off the body.

I pointed toward the corpse and said, “That guy’s been dead at least five days and I’d bet my badge days longer.” I shook my head. “No way is that the victim you’re looking for if Navarre was brought in forty-eight hours ago.”

Henson’s lips curled into a snarl, revealing a perfect line of glimmering white teeth. Hands fisted on his hips, Henson threw his chest forward. “You don’t know that. Hell, we don’t even know if that was the necromancer’s first victim or not. Could be there are more out there.”

Boone shifted next to me and said, “We don’t even know there’s been a single victim, let alone more, Sheriff.”

Henson’s narrowed gaze fixed on Boone. It took everything in me not to take a step to the left, blocking Henson’s hostile glare. “That’s what you’re here to decide.”

“Me?” Boone glanced from me to Henson and back again. “When was that decided?”

“Never,” I answered easily.

“Oh, that’s not what Tompkins said. That was our agreement. It was the only reason I agreed to this insanity.” Henson scoffed toward the end.

“And what insanity would that be?” I asked, attempting but most likely failing to keep the defensiveness out of my tone.

“This.” Henson waved a hand in Boone’s direction. “Bringing another one into the department. As if housing one isn’t enough. They’re all alike, crazy as a mad hatter.”

“I assume you mean necromancers,” Boone casually replied.

“Of course,” Henson answered easily.

“Hmm…” Boone tapped a finger to his lips and said, “You’re not totally wrong. That doesn’t make you right either. Regardless, this is the first I’ve heard about such an agreement. Lucky for you, I’m willing to help out. I’ll even wave my typical fee.”

Henson’s neck turned fiery red, the color traveling into his cheeks. “ Fee? You mean to tell me you charge for this kind of shit?”

“Of course,” Boone mimicked Henson’s earlier response happily. “Everyone has to make a living, and if you think this is a happy walk in the park for me, then you’re gravely mistaken. Then again, I doubt someone as small-minded as you seem to be has spent much time contemplating the toll retrieving a soul from beyond the veil takes on a necromancer.”

I expected smoke to start coming from Henson’s ears any moment. “Can you do this or not?” Henson finally muttered through clenched teeth.

Captain Tompkins and I would definitely have words later. He’d failed to mention that Boone was expected to perform on command. Grasping Boone’s shoulder, I said, “You don’t have to do this.”

Boone’s deep green eyes softened as they turned to look at me. With a sad smile, he answered “Yes, I do. For Navarre, not for this asshole.” Boone hooked a thumb Henson’s direction and we both ignored the low growl that rumbled from deep inside Henson’s chest.

With a wink, Boone said, “Let’s see what Elias Michael Hemsworth has to say for himself.” Stepping away from me, Boone closed his eyes briefly while taking a deep breath. He took one more before opening his eyes. A pale, green glow lit up his cheeks, the light from his eyes reflecting off Boone’s white skin. “Elias Michael Hemsworth, I call your soul back to your body.”

The corpse opened his mouth. Cracked and necrotic skin pulled away from Hemsworth’s desiccated lips. Elias’s body was dead long enough that it was stiff and not very pliable. The bones creaked and the skin cracked as Hemsworth’s corpse sat up. His eyes were milky and sunken.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Sheriff Henson said while taking two large strides backward, running into a nearby chair in his hurry to get away from Hemsworth’s corpse. Henson’s ruddy skin was now ash pale, and his eyes were wide enough their whites shone like ivory.

Boone stayed by my side. He didn’t need to get any closer to the Hemsworth. “Elias, I’m necromancer Erasmus Boone. Sheriff Henson would like to ask you a few questions. You will answer him honestly. I will know if you lie.” Even alive, I could feel the weight of those words tugging at something deep in the pit of my chest. Boone said it was his necromancer power, and I had no reason to doubt that explanation.

Arms crossed over his chest, Boone said casually, “He’s all yours, Sheriff.”

I’ll give Henson credit. He recovered from his shock quickly enough to do his job. Sort of. Given the questions he asked, the defense would call bullshit for leading the witness.

“Is your name truly Elias Hemsworth?” Henson asked.

“Yes,” Hemsworth answered, voice scratchy but clear.

Henson jotted a note on a nearby paper. His hand shook, but he managed. “Did Navarre murder you?”

“No,” Hemsworth answered.

Henson didn’t like that answer and asked, “Did a necromancer named Navarre harm you?”

Again, Hemsworth answered, “No.”

With an eyeroll, Boone asked, “Do you even know a necromancer, or anyone, named Navarre?”

“No.”

Henson snorted like a bull but didn’t seem poised to ask anything else. Boone stepped in again and asked, “Do you know how you died? Were you murdered?” Henson had asked Boone to bring Hemsworth’s soul back prior to an autopsy. The sheriff didn’t know it, but that was what Boone preferred. We’d all been there and done that, and the returning soul had been too frightened and distraught regarding what had been done to her body to be of any help.

Hemsworth answered, “I was murdered.”

Boone dug further. “Who? Who killed you and why?”

Up until that point, Hemsworth’s corpse had been easily willing to answer. Now he hesitated. Boone’s voice deepened as he infused more power into it, and his eyes shimmered a brighter green. “Elias Michael Hemsworth, you will answer the question.”

Hemsworth’s corpse flinched. His answer sounded like ground glass. “Vanja. Drug deal. Didn’t have the money.”

Finally, Henson appeared interested and asked, “Vanja?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking shit.” Henson ran his palm over his shorn hair. “That’s impossible. Vanja’s dead. Long fucking gone. Vanja was taken care of thirty years ago, maybe longer. You’re lying.”

“He’s not,” Boone said. “I’m not saying that it truly was this Vanja person, only that Elias Hemsworth believes what he’s saying is fact.”

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Sheriff Henson said, “Great. Now we’ve got a corpse accusing a dead guy of his murder. I’ve heard enough. Let the bastard go.”

I think Boone chafed at the order but complied anyway. “Elias Michael Hemsworth, I release your soul.”

Instead of falling back to the table, Hemsworth’s corpse remained frozen in a sitting position.

“Christ, that’s disturbing,” Henson muttered before walking to the door and hollering, “Stinson, get your ass in here.”

A young officer with a name badge that said “Stinson” practically ran through the door. His words caught in his throat when he saw Hemsworth’s body stuck in a sitting position.

Opening his mouth a couple of times, Stinson finally managed a breathy, “Sheriff, what is—”

“Stay with the corpse until the M.E. gets here.” Turning his back on the obviously wary Officer Stinson, Henson waved to Boone and myself and said, “You two, my office. Now.”

“He could at least say please,” Boone said, not keeping his voice that low.

“He could have,” I answered just as loudly. I doubted Sheriff Henson gave a shit what I thought about his manners.

“Tompkins!” Henson shouted as we walked down the hall to an office with the name “Sheriff Alfonse Henson” etched onto the glass door.

I held the door open for Boone as he walked in. I followed and Captain Tompkins brought up the rear. There were only two free chairs across from Henson’s desk, and I offered one to Boone and the other to Tompkins. I remained standing behind Boone. After Boone sat, I pulled out a piece of hard candy I had stowed away in my jacket pocket and handed it to him. Boone stared up at me gratefully and he mouthed a silent “thank you” that warmed my chest.

Tompkins’s gaze flicked from me to the sheriff before he finally said, “I’m guessing that didn’t go the way you though it would, Alfonse.” I wasn’t sure if my old captain was truly on a first name basis with Henson, or if he’d simply used the sheriff’s first name as a snide dig.

“What the fuck did I agree to, Shane?” Henson’s exasperated tone and the use of Tompkins’s first name made me think the two of them knew each other on a more personal level.

Tompkins spread his arms wide and said, “You agreed to find the truth. That’s why Necromancer Boone is here.”

The sheriff leaned back into his chair, and I was impressed the thing was sturdy enough to hold his weight. “The truth? That’s a funny and often elusive mistress to hunt down.” Rubbing his face, Henson’s smooth shave didn’t so much as bristle. “I can live another hundred years and hope I don’t see that shit again.” Henson’s glare focused on Boone.

I could feel Boone’s tension when I placed my hands on his shoulders. “We all have our own particular talents,” Boone said.

“That’s more curse than talent.”

“Call it what you will, it got you the answer you needed.”

Henson’s lips curled into a sneer. “Says you. How do I know you didn’t manipulate Elias’s soul into saying whatever you wanted it to?” Henson shook his head. “It’s been thirty-plus years and Vanja’s name is still something that’s generally only spoken in whispered corners and darkened rooms. You want to know what I just heard in there? Fear and superstition. It wouldn’t have been hard for you to find that name and plant it in that corpse’s brain.”

“Actually, that wouldn’t just be hard ; it would be impossible,” Boone answered defensively. “I can’t make the dead lie. No one can. Some don’t want to tell the truth either. I can force them to do that, but not to lie.”

“Again, says you.” Henson was being a stubborn ass.

Staying where I was, I kept my hands on Boone’s shoulders, hoping I was being reassuring. “I can give you my current captain’s information. Captain Cicely will be happy to back up what Boone’s telling you. He’s helped with several cases within my precinct.”

“He’s not feeding you a line,” Tompkins said, stepping in. “I’ve known Franklin O’Hare for over a decade, and if he’s got a fault, it’s being too honest.”

I didn’t count that as a fault, but I knew others did.

Henson eyed Tompkins, weighing his words and how much faith to place in them. Finally, he appeared to come to a decision and with a firm nod, answered, “Okay, I can buy that Hemsworth believes Vanja killed him. I’m not willing to go any further than that. Shit, I should have recorded that interaction. A necromancer’s word alone won’t stand up in court.”

“No,” Boone answered, “but you witnessed it. Some judges will allow it into evidence.” Boone shrugged. “I don’t know about local judges. It’s a state-by-state legal issue.”

“I’ll need to look into it,” Henson answered. “That still doesn’t mean Navarre didn’t murder someone. All it means is that we haven’t found the correct body yet.”

I couldn’t completely disagree and evidently, neither could Boone. “I might be able to help with that.” I could hear the reluctance in Boone’s voice.

Henson perked up and asked, “And how do you propose to do that?”

Boone and I shared a quick glance. Instead of allowing Boone to answer, I said, “Let’s just say Boone has a knack for finding bodies.”

Henson’s hard gaze traveled from me to Boone, and he asked, “Is that so?”

“It is. Even if their soul has crossed over, there’s often a lingering presence I can feel. Sometimes that presence is loud, and sometimes it’s very quiet. It depends on how they died. Most of the time, if a body is lost, it’s not because they came to a peaceful end. Most of those souls are restless and the part of their spirit they’ve left behind is very upset.”

“Is that what’s going on with the spirits around Navarre?” I asked.

“What spirits?” Henson questioned and Boone quickly filled him in, earning us a litany of curse words and several instances of taking the Lord’s name in vain.

“Getting back to your question,” Boone said while turning his head so he could look up at me. “I think most of those spirits are the actual souls of the dead. I don’t think they moved on. If I had to guess, I think Navarre’s been adding to his spiritual baggage for years. This most recent victim is just the newest one. And the loudest.” Boone winced before turning his attention back to Henson. “Honestly, we need a medium.”

Sheriff Henson’s fingers tapped along his chair, his mouth pulled into a deep frown. “Good luck finding one of those. At least one who’s the real deal. They’re even more of a unicorn than you are.” Henson waved a hand in Boone’s direction.

Boone’s sigh was bone deep. “You’re right. And if that’s the case, the best option we have is for me to find the body. If I can do that, then I can trace its connection to its soul and pull it back. Once I’ve got that connection, I can also send the soul into the afterlife. I just can’t do those things without a body or the cremains of the deceased.”

“Hell, the things you get me into, Shane. I swear, I’m going to die young at this rate.” Sheriff Henson seemed genuinely concerned for his longevity.

“As you said earlier, the truth can be a prickly creature and difficult to track down. Now it sounds to me like Necromancer Boone has a plan. I say we let him loose and see what he comes up with.” Tompkins seemed eager to get started.

“‘ We ’? There is no ‘we’ in this, Shane. You’re retired. When the shit hits the fan, this will all be on me. If the press gets wind of this, my career is toast. No offense, Necromancer Boone, but no one likes necromancers. The community will be one part appalled and two parts pissed off when they hear I’ve asked a necromancer into the area.”

“Then we keep it on the down-low,” Tompkins answered casually, as if that was as simple as stating the words.

Henson made a noise that was half-choke and half-sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, because that plan always works out, especially since Boone here is already the talk of the precinct.” Henson let loose a weighty sigh as he leaned back and stared at the ceiling, as if water-stained paint might offer up an answer.

I felt Boone shift beneath my hands, his own hand coming up to cover a yawn. That was our cue.

“How about this?” I stated. “Why don’t you two hash out what you want to happen while Boone and I get a hotel and hunker down for the night? It’s been a long day, and we could both use the rest.”

“Agreed,” Boone quickly answered while standing. Tompkins and Henson gave us disbelieving stares. “Listen, I’m willing to help, but I need rest, food, and some time away from the living. Call Franklin tomorrow with a general game plan. Okay?” Boone didn’t wait for an answer. He simply turned and walked out of Sheriff Henson’s office. Each of us said a cordial goodbye to Sara, ignoring the other piercing gazes.

The weather had gotten colder while we were inside the sheriff’s station, reminding me we still needed to stop and get Boone a warmer coat. Given what I suspected Henson had in mind for us tomorrow, Boone was going to need it.