Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Franklin
“Who’s Emmanuel Cardoza?” Becks asked as she walked past my desk. I didn’t fault her for looking over my shoulder and reading my computer screen. She was a good police officer and part of what made her good was her curiosity.
“He’s a Detective in St. Tammany Parish.”
“Louisiana? May I ask why you’re looking him up? And more to the point, why you didn’t ask me to investigate him?” Becks pulled up a nearby chair and sat. The scent of her coffee wafted toward me. Becks liked her coffee black and pungent. It was more sludge than drink as far as I was concerned.
“It’s not official business,” I answered, and Becks scoffed.
“When has that ever stopped you?”
Shifting my chair, I gave Becks the side eye but also grinned. “Don’t let Captain Cicely hear you say that.”
“Shit, the captain already knows, O’Hare. She’s good that way.” Becks winked as she shifted closer. “Seriously, what’s so interesting about this guy?”
“Gladly, nothing so far. He’s a detective handling a case Boone’s gotten involved with. Boone’s supposed to meet with him soon. I just wanted to make sure they guy’s on the up-and-up.”
“No red flags?”
“Not that I can find.”
“You want me to double-check?” Becks asked.
“If you don’t mind and only if you’ve got the time.”
“For you and Boone? Always.” Becks leaned back, taking a sip of her coffee. Eyes slipping closed, you’d think Becks had just been given a glimpse of heaven. “Can you talk about it?”
“About the case?”
“Mm-hmm,” she answered while taking another sip.
“I don’t see why not. It’s not one of ours and is in another state to boot. It started out as a possible life insurance scam and quickly escalated to possible murder.”
“Well, shit. Boone really has a knack of stepping in it, doesn’t he?”
I shrugged. “I think it’s the nature of his work. Most people assume their secrets are buried along with the dead. Boone digs those secrets up and hauls them back into the light.”
Standing, Becks stretched before reaching for her cup of coffee. With a pat to my shoulder, she headed toward her desk, a quiet “that he does” slipping from her lips.
With Becks gone, I refocused on the information on the screen. What I’d told Becks was true. So far, I hadn’t found anything alarming regarding Detective Cardoza. That didn’t mean there wasn’t anything, simply that I couldn’t access it. Maybe Becks would find something different, but I didn’t think so.
Closing out of the file, I got busy on one of my cases. The domestic-abuse-turned-homicide case was nearly wrapped up. The autopsy results had come in and there were no surprises. Mrs. DeVane had neatly dispatched her husband with three bullets. It wasn’t what one would consider overkill, especially given the background circumstances. Medical records supported Mrs. DeVane’s claim of long-standing abuse. I wasn’t a prosecutor or a defense attorney. From what I understood, there wasn’t much, if any, money fueling any claims. Mrs. DeVane’s very own children backed her side of the story and there didn’t seem to be a lot of sympathy or outcry over her husband’s untimely demise. I couldn’t imagine the prosecution going after her. It would be a PR nightmare, and they had a lot bigger fish to fry.
Closing out the case report, I was ready to send it off to Captain Cicely when my phone rang. The ringtone didn’t point to anyone I knew. Glancing down at the caller ID, I frowned. It wasn’t a local area code. In fact, it wasn’t an area code I recognized at all.
I considered letting it go to voicemail but answered before that happened.
“Detective O’Hare,” I answered.
“Ah, the human detective. I was uncertain you would answer as my call undoubtedly came through as an unknown number.” There was a dark chuckle that sent prickly spikes down my spine. “This is Tenzen Huxley. I am the Director of the Magical Usage Council.”
I swallowed hard. I knew exactly who Tenzen Huxley was. The question was, why was he calling me? I was, perhaps, the least magical creature on the planet.
“I’m aware, Director Huxley. How may I help you?” I found it curious that I was offering to help the very man I’d been desperate for assistance from this past summer. At the time, my pleas had fallen on deaf ears. We’d see if my ears had the same impairment.
“What a kind offer, Detective. I considered calling Necromancer Boone with the information I have acquired, but I decided to use the situation to speak with you instead. Forgive my curiosity, but it is not every day that a necromancer finds a mate.”
I stiffened, not at the terminology, but the fact this man knew so much. While humans didn’t consider our significant others mates in the way weres and other species did, I wasn’t unfamiliar with the terminology and didn’t find offense.
“I’m afraid I’m not that familiar with what is common with other necromancers .”
Huxley laughed again, the sound just as grating as before. “Well spoken, Detective O’Hare. Positively diplomatic of you.” There was a pause before Huxley continued, “I believe it is fair to say your situation is unique.”
“If so, then it’s a shame.”
“Indeed. I could not agree more.” Huxley dramatically sighed. “Ignoring necromancer needs has been a significant oversight of the Magical Usage Council. One I intend to correct.”
I shifted, and sweat trickled down my back. I still had no idea why Huxley had decided to call me and not Boone. I suppose curiosity could be the cause, but it seemed unlikely. At least, I couldn’t fathom it was the only reason. Huxley had to be crazy busy and speaking with a lowly human couldn’t sit very high on his radar.
Clearing my throat, I attempted to remain calm and sound at ease. “I’m glad to hear that, Director Huxley. I’m sure Boone will be pleased as well.”
“Yes. I’m sure. Now, as for the reason I called. You and Necromancer Boone should be expecting a representative from the Warlock Council to reach out to you soon. They have agreed to release the list of necromancer mothers from the last thirty years. Should you require names further back, please let them know and if you encounter pushback, please do not hesitate to reach out to me again. I am more than happy to intervene, and I believe those on the Warlock Council are now fully aware of how personally important this project is to me.”
My fingers clamped painfully tight on my phone. If I kept this up, I’d need a crowbar to extract them.
“Thank you,” I finally managed. “I’m sure Boone will be pleased to hear.” I knew he would be so, again, why hadn’t Huxley called Boone instead of me?
“That pleases me. I truly wish Necromancer Boone well in this endeavor. It has come to my attention that Erasmus Boone has very unique qualities, abilities that could possibly be one of a kind. I sincerely hope this isn’t the case, but if it is, then Necromancer Boone is a precious commodity I would hate to lose.”
A new type of fear raced down my spine. “Boone isn’t a commodity .” Anger pushed away my fear.
“Forgive me. My choice of words was careless. I only meant to convey that Necromancer Boone is beyond special and his safety is of utmost concern to me. I have to say that I was somewhat alarmed to learn that his mate is human. You can understand that I would naturally hope the one Erasmus Boone chose was a little more…shall we say, capable.”
Now I was just downright pissed. “I assure you, Director Huxley, there is no higher priority in my life than keeping Boone safe.”
“That is excellent to hear. I cannot tell you what a relief that is to me, Detective O’Hare. Perhaps my earlier concerns were unfounded.”
“Perhaps so,” I quickly agreed. This was the real reason he’d called, although I still wasn’t certain if it was to try and scare me off, point out how inadequate I was, or just be an ass. All three options were on the table, along with a few other shitty choices. None of them endeared Tenzen Huxley to me.
“Ah, I’ve upset you. I beg pardon, Detective. I meant no offense.” Huxley sounded ingratiatingly congenial. As if I was in the wrong if I didn’t immediately forgive his wounding words.
I grinned and eased back into my chair. As a homicide detective, I’d dealt with plenty of assholes in my time. Huxley wanted to get under my skin and so far, I’d allowed him to do just that. “Your concern is understandable,” I pleasantly said, pushing as much warmth into my voice as I could. “As I said earlier, there is no higher priority in my life than protecting Erasmus Boone. Some say love is the most powerful type of magic of all. If that’s true, then you have nothing to worry about where Boone’s concerned. When Boone is with me, he is well protected. From any and all threats.” I wasn’t trying to brag. I was trying to drive home a point.
“Indeed.” Huxley loudly exhaled. The sound had an oddly smokey feel to it. “I’m glad we had this little chat, Detective O’Hare. Please be a dear and pass on the information regarding the Warlock Council to Necromancer Boone. Should either of you have any questions or if I can be of further assistance, please do not hesitate to reach out. I am always available to Necromancer Boone.”
Huxley ended the call before I could so much as get out a goodbye. I stared at the darkened screen and felt my stomach knot. I didn’t think twice about my next move. If I had, I never would have pulled up Holland’s number and hit the send button. Holland answered on the second ring.
“What is wrong with my son?” Holland immediately asked, his assumption clear.
“Nothing that I know of. At least nothing immediate,” I clarified.
“That is not completely reassuring, Detective.”
“It wasn’t meant to be,” I snapped back before closing my eyes and willing my temper to cool. I should have taken some time to emotionally decompress before calling Boone’s father. I should have taken a breather and thought before instantly reacting. “Sorry,” I apologized.
Holland was silent for a beat before he said, “Accepted. You are normally more even-keeled than this, Detective. You have my attention and my concern. Tell me what this call is about.”
I blew out a breath. “To be honest, I’m not completely sure. I’m going by my gut on this one.”
“My son tells me your gut is dependable. Erasmus trusts your opinion and I trust my son. Now, tell me what has engaged your protective instincts.”
Most of the time, Holland struck me as an arrogant asshole. However, when it came to Boone, Holland settled. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he pushed his arrogance aside, but it slid to the back burner.
“Tenzen Huxley,” I answered.
Dead silence was my answer. For a moment, I thought Warlock Holland had forgotten who Huxley was and said, “He’s the Director of—”
“I am well aware who Tenzen Huxley is, Detective O’Hare.” My shoulders stiffened at the coldness in Holland’s tone. “What has the director done?”
“As of yet, nothing bad. Hell, I’d say he’s done something great. He’s gotten the Warlock Council to release the names of necromancer mothers going back about thirty years.”
“I have not yet heard this.” Holland sounded annoyed.
“I think the news is new. Boone doesn’t even know yet.”
Another pause before Holland asked, “Then why are you aware?”
“Because Huxley just called me. The call ended not two minutes before I called you.”
“Just to be clear, Tenzen Huxley called you, not my son.”
“Yes.”
“And you believe this is odd.”
“Of course I think it’s odd. Don’t you?”
“Without a doubt.” Holland fell into another brief silence before he asked, “Did Huxley give you a reason why he chose to inform you instead of Erasmus?”
I barked out an unhappy laugh. “Sort of. Let’s just say that in not so many words, Huxley expressed his concern regarding my humanity and, thus, my inability to protect Boone. Whom, by the way, Huxley called a rare commodity.”
The low growl on the other end made me wonder if I’d imagined the sound. “ Commodity ?”
“I corrected his mistake and informed him Boone was no such thing.”
“A reasonable course of action,” Holland readily agreed. “While I cannot fault Huxley’s concerns regarding your magical shortcomings”—I rolled my eyes, glad we weren’t facetiming each other—“I do not appreciate where Tenzen’s thoughts have wandered.”
“Agreed. And how the hell does he even know who I am or how to contact me? I’ve never spoken to him before today.”
Holland verbally waved my concerns away. “He is the Director of the Magical Usage Council. I would be more surprised if he did not know of your existence and contact information. Tenzen’s resources and reach are long and deep.”
Somewhere along the line, I’d picked up a pen and began tapping it on my desk. I saw no reason to stop now and continued the jerky motion. “I don’t like it.”
“What?”
“All of it,” I said, exasperation thick. “Besides the commodity comment, I can’t point to anything else exactly. Maybe it was the tone of the conversation. Hell, maybe I’m just being paranoid.”
“I will never judge you for being paranoid where my son’s safety is concerned.” That was, perhaps, the nicest thing Warlock Holland had ever said to me. “Tenzen’s interest in Erasmus is…concerning. On this, we are of agreement.”
I wasn’t sure that made me feel better and said just as much. “I think maybe I called hoping you’d tell me I was overreacting.”
“Then I am sorry to disappoint you, Detective. Unfortunately, I do not believe your reaction is uncalled for. The question is, why now?”
“Why so much interest in Boone now as opposed to a few years ago?”
“And to necromancers in general,” Holland agreed. “While I cannot know for certain, I find it difficult to believe that Erasmus’s request for aid was the first to come across Tenzen’s desk. Why did he choose now to respond? What has changed?”
I thought back on our trip to Chicago and how Boone went about contacting the Magical Usage Council.
“Agent Frost,” I blurted.
“Who?”
“Frost. He’s a pixie/shifter agent for the Magical Usage Council. Boone knows him from what happened in Virginia.”
This time, Holland’s growl was guttural and unmistakable. “Warlock Kines,” Holland hissed. “I should have known this had something to do with that incident.”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure if it does. All I know is that Boone contacted Agent Frost and Frost then contacted the council. Things took off from there.” I swallowed hard as I remembered something else. “Boone told me Frost said he’d threaten the Magical Usage Council if they ignored him and that he’d point out just how invaluable necromancers were when it came to djinn.”
A string of curse words I didn’t understand erupted from the other end of the phone. Holland’s deep, guttural voice pushed power into those words, and I had to pull the phone away from my ear. When he settled, Holland’s voice was still pitched low. “Tenzen knows about Aurelia.”
“It’s possible.” I’d gone from concerned to nauseated in less than thirty seconds flat. “God, do you think that’s it? If so, I still don’t think I understand completely.”
“Because we do not have all the pieces to this complex puzzle my son has landed in.” Quiet filled the line. I was getting used to Holland’s episodic silences. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Detective.”
I blew out a frustrated laugh. “I’m not sure you should be thanking me for making you worry about your son.”
“I always worry for Erasmus. It is a state of constant being. Sometimes that worry ratchets up. This is one of those times. You have given me much to ruminate on. I will need to do some careful inquiry and investigation.”
“And in the meantime?”
“Continue as you have, but I would caution you to keep the identities of the necromancers you find private. At least for the time being until we understand Tenzen Huxley’s true motivation. I am displeased that Erasmus is on his radar, but we have no reason to place others within his crosshairs.”
Despite how much I hated it, I couldn’t disagree. “Leander Dun is the only necromancer we’ve managed to find so far. I know I haven’t talked about Leander to anyone else and I doubt Boone has either. Except maybe Lydia.”
“Erasmus’s mother has never been much of a gossip. Regardless, if Erasmus has spoken to Lydia, she will understand the need for discretion when advised of the potential risk.” Boone’s parents maintained an enviable and cordial relationship. A cornerstone of that relationship was mutual respect.
“I’ll speak with Boone, Lydia too if needed.”
“Let Erasmus handle his mother,” Holland sagely advised. “I will contact you when I have more information. I trust you will do the same.” It wasn’t a request.
“I’ve got you on speed dial.”
“I never thought hearing a human say such a thing would be welcome,” Holland answered, and I got the feeling he was openly musing to himself rather than speaking to me. “We’ll speak again soon.”
For the second time in less than twenty minutes, the phone call ended without so much as a whispered goodbye on my end.
Laying my phone down on my desk, I leaned back, hands clasped behind my head and gaze fixed to the ceiling. With a heavy sigh, I whispered, “What have you gotten yourself into this time, Boone?”