Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
Erasmus
“I wish you could have seen Phil’s house,” Peaches gushed. Five minutes into our conversation and that was no less than the third time he’d uttered that phrase. “It was magical.” Peaches ended on a sigh. “Phil is such a wonderful home and hearth pixie. And everyone was there, even Ray and Wendall.”
Ray was, of course, Hellfire Rayburn, the Fairy Queen’s muscle. Not that she really needed someone to fight her battles. Queen Silvidia was possibly the most powerful being in Fairy. I wasn’t sure how she stacked up against a djinn. Gaia willing, we’d never need to learn. “Trinket had so much fun playing with Sedrick’s niece and nephew,” Peaches added when I remained quiet.
I listened with half an ear. Whether he knew it or not, Peaches had just given me a good segue for why I’d called. When Peaches stopped to take a breath, I interrupted and said, “So, about the hamster…”
“Yes, well…” I’d certainly knocked the wind out of Peaches’s sail. With a heavy sigh, he said, “Between you and me, I don’t think it’s working out.”
Relief flooded me. “Yeah, I kind of got that impression. I think a hamster is a little too…benign.” I wasn’t sure if that was the right word or not. “At least the kitten had some spunk.” It had teeth and claws that Aurelia half-heartedly respected.
“True. I just thought… I mean, I still think a pet is a good idea.”
Oddly enough, so did I. “Me too. I just think maybe a hamster isn’t the best.”
“No, no. You’re right. I will find it a new home and think of something else.”
I took that moment to say, “Aurelia has mentioned a scuttlebutt a time or two, but I—”
“She’s mentioned it more than that to me,” Peaches huffed, clearly annoyed. “I was ready to ask Ray to look into it, but Lucroy doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”
Another tidal wave of relief passed through me. I nearly said, Thank Gaia , out loud but managed to refrain. “I, uh, I think King Moony might be right on that one.”
“Perhaps. Maybe I should ask Ray if there is something else of Fairy he might recommend.”
Gaia help us. I did not think it was a good idea to attach anything related to Fairy to Aurelia but maybe I was wrong.
I cleared my throat and said, “What about a dog? Aurelia might—”
“Too much work for her,” Peaches cut me off. “Not that I think you’re wrong. I just believe Aurelia isn’t ready for something that needy.”
I started to argue but thought better of it. In a way, dogs were needy , although I didn’t think that was the correct term. They certainly required more attention than a cat. More training too. Maybe Peaches was right.
“Well, whatever you think best,” I finally managed.
“Thank you!” Peaches beamed, clearly happy with my response. I wasn’t totally blowing smoke up the pixie’s ass. As far as we all knew, Peaches was charting a brand-new master course where Aurelia was concerned. Considering the track record regarding Aurelia’s previous masters (all prematurely deceased), I couldn’t fault Peaches’s ingenuity or desire to change the status quo.
“And thank you for inviting Aurelia to Harvest Day. When she popped into Phil’s home, we were just sitting down for an evening meal. Aurelia demanded Jell-O of all things.” Peaches’s soft laughter twittered across our phone connection. “She was disappointed when Phil told her he didn’t have any. Aurelia was so irritated she popped out of the room and didn’t come back. I saw her sulking around the orchard late last night. I’ve already placed an order for several packages. They should be delivered later this afternoon.”
“I hope you got cherry flavor.”
“I did, as well as a few others. We’ll see if Aurelia’s fascination is just with the one flavor or if she likes others.”
I grinned remembering Aurelia’s expression while eating the Jell-O.
Peaches and I discussed a few other inane things before we mutually decided it was time to end the call. Tossing my phone beside me on the couch, I placed my socked feet on the coffee table and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Pops was headed back to California today. Unless his flight was delayed, he should already be on a plane and Momma should be on her way back to her house. I hadn’t gotten a text telling me anything was amiss so I could only hazard a guess all was well.
It had been wonderful seeing Pops again. All in all, I counted Harvest Day a win. Mrs. Hart thanked me profusely for looking after Miss Pattycakes. I told her it was no problem and left out the part where she’d almost given a hamster a heart attack.
Franklin was back at the precinct, working on ongoing cases. To my knowledge, he hadn’t been called to a new case. I hoped his day was quiet. He’d stay tonight again. We had plenty of edible leftovers. Momma never need know that her green bean casserole went into the trash five minutes after she walked out the door. Franklin had given me a lot of shit about pulling him into my green bean casserole conspiracy. I’d just laughed my ass off and run round the kitchen as he’d chased me with a towel
My cheeks heated with the memory of what happened when he caught me. I was still grinning like a loon when my phone rang. I should have checked the caller ID but I was too blissed out thinking of Franklin and answered a lazy “Boone.”
“Necromancer Erasmus Boone?”
I immediately straightened, my feet hitting the floor at the authority laced within that voice. It wasn’t one I recognized, but it was one that grabbed my attention.
“This is he,” I answered. “And who am I speaking with?” I counted it a win that I didn’t say, And who the hell are you?
“Detective Emmanuel Cardoza. I called and left a message the day before Harvest Day.”
I smacked my forehead, having completely forgotten about the message. “I’m sorry. You did call and I forgot. Yesterday was—”
“Harvest Day,” Detective Cardoza congenially said. “It is understandable.”
“Thank you. How can I help? Considering you’re calling from Louisiana, can I assume this has to do with the Titus McMahon case?”
“Unfortunately, you are correct. I had a very interesting meeting with Mr. Pablo Jimenez. It seems his employer has some concerns regarding paying off an insurance policy on Mr. McMahon, especially now that there is some question regarding the identity of Mr. McMahon’s remains.”
I shook my head. “There’s no question, Detective. Those remains buried in Titus McMahon’s grave aren’t his. They belong to Thomas Speedler.”
“So I’ve been informed.”
“You were informed correctly.” My hackles rose. While I understood my word couldn’t be taken at face value and was often inadmissible in court, or at least without corroborative evidence, I balked at being doubted. It was a defense mechanism honed after years of putting up with this kind of thing.
There was a pause, and I remained silent, waiting Detective Cardoza out. My patience was finally rewarded when he said, “Given other evidence, I’m inclined to believe you, Necromancer Boone. I meant no offense earlier, and I mean no offense now when I say that necromancers aren’t known for their reliability.”
Detective Cardoza was being PC. Replace reliability with sanity and you had his true thoughts.
“I understand,” I answered and was sad that I truly did get it.
“I’ve listened to Mr. Jimenez’s phone recording, but I’m afraid I’ll need to witness your interactions with Mr. Speedler’s soul myself.” I’ll give Detective Cardoza credit, he got that all out without tripping over his words. “Would you be able to bring Mr. Speedler’s soul back again for further interrogation? I’m sorry if I don’t have the terminology correct. This is a first for me. I was unaware there were even necromancers capable of doing what Mr. Jimenez claimed happened.”
“We’re a rare breed,” I answered, unsure how true that was but afraid it was more accurate than I wanted to believe.
“Indeed.”
I inhaled before asking, “When would you like me to drive to Louisiana?” While it would be nice if Detective Cardoza could bring Thomas Speedler’s remains to me, I knew better.
Quiet filled the line again. Huffing and uncomfortable sounding shifting broke through that silence and when Detective Cardoza finally came back on the line, it was with a heavy sigh. “I’d say ASAP, and while that’s what I’d like, that isn’t what can currently happen. I’m having some issues with the family and the top brass.”
“Speedler’s family or McMahon’s?”
“Both,” Cardoza grunted. “Titus McMahon’s widow is up in arms saying the insurance company had no right to exhume her husband’s remains. She’s screaming about a warrant, but life insurance companies aren’t the police and they don’t need the same type of documentation we need. Just a heads-up, the widow’s talking about suing anyone and everyone, including you, Necromancer Boone.”
I wasn’t all that surprised and only a brief wave of unease sifted through me. “I’ve heard that song and dance before.” Maybe not given this particular situation, but others.
“I can see how that might be true. I think I’ve got the Speedlers on board.”
“They’d be easier given that it’s Thomas’s remains that are buried. They’d want to know that.”
“That’s the angle I approached the situation from. Thomas Speedler didn’t have any close relatives, so there’s not a lot of emotion driving their actions, or financial gain for that matter. Mrs. McMahon is a different matter.”
“There’s also a good possibility Titus McMahon’s widow knows perfectly well that her husband is still alive.” I remembered Pablo Jimenez telling me what sparked the insurance company’s concern to begin with. The late, supposedly grieving, Mrs. McMahon had been seen dating someone who bore a striking resemblance to her deceased husband.
“There is that,” Detective Cardoza agreed.
“And your boss?”
Another grunt. “I’ll deal with him. I’ve got a couple of aces up my sleeve. I just need a few days to put them in play. I’ll get the go-ahead to bring you out this direction again, Necromancer Boone. I promise you that.”
I believed Cardoza’s conviction. “As soon as you do, let me know. I’m happy to help how I can.”
“That’s exceedingly decent of you.”
I thought that was stretching things a bit but didn’t argue.
“Again, this is all new to me. I’m assuming there’s a fee involved.”
“Consider this one a freebie.” There was a chance Detective Cardoza would call for my services in the future and I didn’t want him to think they’d all be at no charge. No doubt Pops would give me shit for giving this one away. To my mind, I’d already been paid well enough by the insurance company Pablo Jimenez worked for. Besides, spreading a little necromancer good will was never a bad thing.
“That’s…that will make it easier with my boss.” For reasons I didn’t understand, Detective Cardoza sounded uncomfortable.
“I’m all about making life easier for the boys and girls in blue,” I attempted to tease. My levity was either way off or Detective Cardoza didn’t find me as funny as Franklin.
Clearing his throat, Cardoza ended with “I’ll contact you as soon as I have the final okay.”
“Sounds good. Just let me know and I’ll see what I can work into my schedule.” While I wanted to help, I was a busy necromancer and my plate was, thankfully, decently full. I wasn’t a machine. This past year had taught me that. I had limits and pushing them didn’t do my body any favors and, more than that, worried Franklin.
“Thank you, Necromancer Boone.”
I started to tell the good detective that he could call me Erasmus but the line went dead before I could even utter a quick, “bye.”
Staring at the darkening screen, I couldn’t figure out what to make of my conversation with Detective Cardoza. Overall, it had gone well. He was polite, but it was a distant politeness. Maybe that was his typical personality. Maybe he used that tone with everyone. I knew I shouldn’t judge, but past experience made it difficult not to think it had more to do with my species than the detective’s general personality.
“I’m being an idiot,” I huffed. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what Detective Cardoza or anyone else thought of me personally. Momma, Pops, and Franklin—they were who mattered. They were my core and that core was surrounded by others. I had a buffer zone that consisted of Mrs. Hart, Miss Pattycakes, Captain Cicely along with several of Franklin’s other co-workers, and maybe a djinn. And that was without mentioning Sedrick Voss’s oddball pack just off the coast of Virginia. Sure, they might be miles away, but they still counted.
I thought of my conversation with Tenzen Huxley and found my nose crinkling as my face scrunched. Yeah, I wasn’t ready to place the Director of the Magical Usage Council in the Necromancer Erasmus Boone is a rockstar category.
Rubbing my hands over my face, Detective Cardoza’s call sparked another memory. I needed to contact Janet Meeker. She’d left an e-mail requesting my services. I’d had a chance to do a quick dive into Janet Meeker’s request. On the surface, it seemed legitimate. There’d been a fairly recent death in the family. I wasn’t privy to the financial specifics, but at least her story checked out.
Pulling up the contact information, I typed the number into my phone and hit the send button. I halfway expected the call to go to voicemail and was moderately taken aback when Janet answered a hesitant “this is Janet.”
Resting my elbows on my knees, I leaned forward, phone on speaker so I didn’t have to hold it to my ear. “Miss Meeker, this is Necromancer Erasmus Boone. I’m responding to—”
“Oh! Necromancer Boone. Thank the good Lord you called.” Janet’s Southern drawl was thick and oozed from every spoken word.
Uncomfortable with the Lord being thanked for a possible job, I cleared my throat and said, “I appreciate that.” I had no idea if that was the right response, but it was all I could come up with. “I understand there’s some issue with a family member who’s recently deceased.”
“Granddaddy,” Janet immediately answered. “Bless his heart, I loved Granddaddy dearly. We all did, but he wasn’t too keen on lawyers. Granddaddy said they were bloodthirsty sharks.” Janet chuckled. “Granddaddy did one of those online will things.” She tutted before continuing. “Granddaddy underestimated what needed doing.”
“I see,” I answered, although that wasn’t completely true. I got the general gist. Cases like this were my bread and butter. While the individual circumstances varied, the issues were universal. “There’s some debate within the family?”
Janet blew out a stressed breath. “That’s puttin’ it kindly. Granddaddy wouldn’t want this kind of thing splittin’ up the family. Something needs to be done. We need closure and to get that, we need to know what Granddaddy’s wishes really were.”
“That sounds reasonable. Do you have power of attorney?” Most thought someone’s legal power of attorney lasted only until death, but when a necromancer’s involved, death is more of a hazy guideline, not a hard and fast rule.
“I do. I’ve got the papers and everything.”
“And what does the rest of the family think? Will they want to be there when your granddaddy’s soul is returned?” I’d been through enough scenarios to want a heads-up regarding what type of ticking time bomb I might be walking into.
“There’s some reluctance, but more agreement than disagreement. I’m not saying Granddaddy will be happy when he’s brought back, but he’ll understand.”
I wasn’t so certain but didn’t disagree. Janet knew her relative far better than me. I’d get a good feel for her granddaddy’s soul when I brought him back. A retrieved soul couldn’t lie to me anymore than they could lie to those asking them questions.
“How soon can you do it?” Janet asked. “I mean, we want this situation resolved ASAP. Can you come tomorrow?”
My eyebrows rose. The area code was the same one Detective Cardoza had called from. “I’m sorry, but I’ve already got another job booked for tomorrow. I could—”
“What about the day after?” Janet eagerly pressed.
I stared at my phone, eyebrows no longer raised but scrunched in what was quickly becoming irritation. This wasn’t a life-or-death situation. “From your area code, I’m assuming you’re in Louisiana. Is that correct?”
“It is.”
“And your granddaddy’s burial site?”
“Less than ten miles from my home.”
“In Louisiana,” I pointed out again.
“Surely it’s not that far. You’re just a state away.”
While that was true, it wasn’t just a quick jaunt across state lines. I figured it would be at least a three, maybe four-hour drive—one way. Clearing my throat, I said, “There’s a good chance I’ve got another job coming up soon that’s in your neck of the woods. Scheduling on the same day would be best.” I could easily handle bringing Thomas Speedler’s soul back again along with Janet’s granddaddy.
There was a pause and when Janet spoke again, her tone lost some of that sweet Southern drawl. “And when do you expect that to be?”
“I…” Truth was, I wasn’t certain. “Hopefully within the next two weeks, but—”
“Two weeks?” Janet asked in disbelief. “That long?”
Considering many clients booked months in advance, I didn’t think it was so difficult a timeline. “If it looks like that job is going to be pushed further out, then I’ll head your direction anyway.” It was the best I could offer and, to be honest, the best I wanted to offer given Janet’s increased huffiness.
“I’ll pay you more if you can get here sooner.”
I physically pulled back from the phone, glaring at the options staring back at me. What the hell? I rarely had someone this eager, or maybe desperate. While the money wouldn’t hurt, it also didn’t drive my decisions. Allowing cash to guide my life decisions wasn’t something I was willing to do and thankfully wasn’t desperate enough to need to do.
“I’m sorry, but—”
“I’ll triple your pay. Name a price.”
My hands gripped into tight fists and my shoulders flexed as my emotional irritation took physical form. “The price will not change, nor will the timeline,” I flatly answered.
Janet huffed and I swear I could hear her nails clicking along the side of her phone. “Fine. I suppose I will simply have to accept your terms.”
“You’re welcome to seek another necromancer who can—”
“That’s a load of shit. There are no other necromancers that can do what you can.” Janet cut me off, all her earlier Southern charm and hospitality gone, her tone boiled down into something hard and grating.
“I’m not certain that’s true,” I truthfully answered.
“Whatever,” Janet flippantly answered before I heard her inhale. When she spoke again, she was all charm and grace, although there was a biting, bitter edge to it now. “I’m sorry if I sound harsh. I simply hate what this is doing to my family.”
Those words didn’t exactly ring hollow, but they also didn’t leave me with a warm and fuzzy feeling. I was starting to think that Janet Meeker might be the problem where her granddaddy’s will was concerned. If that was the case, then this job probably wouldn’t be that pleasant and certainly wouldn’t garner me any five-star reviews.
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time and most assuredly wouldn’t be the last. With that in mind, I answered, “I’ll contact you as soon as I have potential dates.”
“Thank you, Erasmus. I appreciate your time.”
Names and honorifics were a strange thing. While I would have been more than happy having Detective Cardoza call me Erasmus, I didn’t feel that way with Janet Meeker. The unformal address felt too personal, like we were friends when that wasn’t the case, nor did I believe there was a chance it would be the case in the future. Her casual use of my first name and not my professional name grated.
“You’re welcome, Miss Meeker,” I answered and sighed with relief when I pressed the end button. Flopping back into the couch, I grabbed a nearby cushion and hugged it to my chest. While it might seem odd to others, most of the time, I enjoyed my job, or at least found contentment and purpose in it. And then there were days like today where I wanted to take the pillow I was hugging, press it to my face, and scream into its softness. The pillow would silently absorb my angst, its judgment blessedly silent as well.