Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
Erasmus
Connor Mortuary was your typical small-town setup. The place looked like some antebellum wannabe that barely made it out of the Civil War with its roof intact. It was segregated into tiny rooms that could be combined by opening janky bifold doors. The carpet was a plush rose shade with sweeper marks etched across its surface. The lighting was soft and the music even more sleep inducing. What wasn’t conducive to rest was the raised voices coming from an interior room.
Reception was set up nicely with potted plants and floral arrangements. The sign-in registry was already laid out, complete with feather pen. When I walked through the front doors, I was met by one of the morticians. The middle-aged man was well-dressed—overdressed for the hot summer. Despite the chilly air-conditioning, he constantly patted a hanky to his sweating forehead. I wasn’t sure if he was sweating from the outside heat or the fire brewing inside.
“Mr. Boone.” His voice was shaky and I had a third thought. Maybe he was sweating so badly because a necromancer had just walked through the doors.
He didn’t offer his hand, and I kept mine tucked within my pockets. “That’s me,” I said cheerily, valiantly ignoring both his discomfort and a screamed string of profanity that filtered through the multi-roomed mortuary. “And you are?”
“Excuse my manners.” He appeared more flustered. “Zacharia Billingsworth.”
“Whoa, that’s a bit of a mouthful. How about I just call you Zach, and you can call me either Erasmus or Boone, whichever you prefer.” I always tried starting out nice. It was easier to get bitchy than it was to recover from it.
Zach gave a curt nod. “That will do. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Really?” I spoke before I could pull the word back inside.
Zach’s cheeks flushed crimson. “Yes. However, I do have another appointment soon and I don’t want them to know a necromancer is in the building. No offense meant.”
“Of course not.” My smile was brittle and far from naturally pleasant. “I’d ask you to point me in the correct direction, but I believe I can find my clients on my own. I’ll just follow the profanity.”
“Yes, yes. Please do.” Zach waved his sweaty hanky in the correct direction. “They’ve been most disruptive.”
I didn’t respond. Instead, I took my necromancer cooties and wandered into the adjacent room. My flip-flops left impressions on the perfectly manicured carpet, and I wondered if good ol’ Zach would find it necessary to vacuum again, if only to erase all traces that I’d been present.
Moving through the open passage connecting the two rooms, I was met with a somewhat familiar vision. A casket lay at one end of the room. If the numerous arrangements and houseplants were any indication, the woman lying in that casket was well-loved, or at the very least, someone of importance.
Her peaceful repose was ruined by half a dozen relatives of varying ages arced around the head of her casket. The middle-aged duo causing all the ruckus were my clients—Elaine Tompkins and Joel Weathers. The woman lying in the casket was their mother—Rosemary Weathers.
“The ring is mine,” Elaine hissed while stabbing a finger in the center of her brother’s chest. “Mother wouldn’t want to be buried with it.”
“That’s not what she told me. Stop being a bitch about this, Elaine. You’ve got plenty. You don’t need her wedding ring too.”
“It’s a fucking waste! Mother can’t use it where she’s going. The woman is dead. What good does it do burying the jewels with her?”
“Christ, Elaine. Are you even listening to yourself right now? I will not let you tear that ring off her finger. Mom’s going to be buried with it whether you like it or not.” Joel got right up in Elaine’s face. They were about equal in height and, from what I could tell, stubbornness. The other four occupants stood around the room, dour faces and exhausted gazes haunting the funeral home.
Elaine sucked in a deep breath that would no doubt be used to fuel nasty words. That was my cue.
“Hello, everyone.” I stepped forward and waved a hand. If the scathing twin looks I got were any indication, I should have dressed up a bit more for the occasion. As it was, I saw no need not to remain comfy and went for my typical cargo shorts, well-worn t-shirt, leather bracelets, and flip-flops. As usual, my pockets were stuffed with Pops’s charms. “Someone call for a necromancer?”
Elaine’s mouth dropped open and her heated color faded as she paled. Joel appeared surprised but triumphant.
“That would be me,” Joel supplied happily, clearly getting over my deplorable appearance.
Tugging his suit jacket lapels, he took a step closer. Those steps halted when his sister screamed, “You hired a fucking necromancer? You seriously brought that thing ”—she pointed an accusing finger my direction—“here? What is wrong with you?”
Yeah, Elaine Tompkins wasn’t making my Christmas list anytime soon .
“God, rude much, Elaine? Erasmus Boone is a necromancer and yes, I hired him. If you’re going to be such an ever-loving bitch about this, then we’ll bring mom back and ask her what she wants.” Joel crossed his arms over his chest, looking triumphant. He had an air of confidence. It wasn’t false. Joel knew exactly what his mother wanted and was determined to see it through.
Elaine took a step back, body trembling. A man of similar age caught her—I guessed it was her husband. Eyes wide, Elaine glanced from me to Joel and back again. “Mother wouldn’t want that.” Again with the pointy finger. I had the urge to grab the offending digit and rip the fake nail off. At least that would make the finger less dangerous.
“For once we agree. But I’ll do what needs doing and I’ll pay whatever it costs. This is one time where you are not getting your way.” Joel just needed a foot stomp and his point would be completely made.
“Craig, do something,” Elaine ordered. From my earlier research, I understood Craig was her husband.
When the man holding onto Elaine’s shoulders answered, it confirmed he was indeed the fool who’d married her. “There’s nothing illegal about hiring a necromancer, darling. Your mother made Joel her executor and granted him power of attorney regarding her health. As distasteful as it is, hiring a necromancer is within his legal rights.”
Joel had mentioned Craig Tompkins was a lawyer. Anyone could probably figure it out just by observing his dour expression and calculating eyes.
“ Distasteful ,” I mocked, mimicking Craig’s tone. “I suppose I’ve been called worse. Still, as pleasant as your company is, I believe Zach would like the noise level brought down a notch or twelve and to do that, we need to settle this little argument.” Turning my back on Elaine and her equally Christmas card-unworthy husband, I looked at Joel and asked, “Are we still doing this?”
Joel looked past me, his expression stern. “That’s up to Elaine. I’m happy to leave Mom’s soul exactly where it is if Elaine will agree to have Mom buried wearing her wedding ring.”
It was a viable out. If Elaine did find the thought of bringing her mother’s soul back so damn distasteful, then it could all be avoided. Joel was giving her that option. Now we just had to see what meant more to Elaine—the pretty bauble, or her mother’s supposed dignity. I wasn’t surprised by the answer.
Nose to the sky and arms firmly crossed, Elaine said, “Do whatever you want. Either way I win. Mother will be horrified when she realizes what you’ve done.”
I hated to agree with the wicked bitch of the west, but she had a point. “Obviously, I didn’t know Rosemary well enough to know her feelings. You did. The decision is yours,” I told Joel. All species had different religious views on the afterlife and even more variances within the individuals of those species. I had no idea what Rosemary Weathers’s religious beliefs had been and if she’d be as horrified as Elaine let on.
Joel’s jaw ticked, locked tight and muscles taut. He was admittedly a handsome man. Not as attractive as Franklin, but still good looking. Joel’s hardened features accentuated his sharp jawline.
“You’re right again, Elaine. Mom might hate this, but I think she’ll hate what you’re trying to do even more.” Without glancing my way, Joel ordered a crisp, “Do it.”
I inhaled, letting it out in a deep sigh. I wasn’t sure which one of the siblings had called the other’s bluff. Either way, Joel thought he was getting the last word, but he was wrong. In the end, that would be Rosemary.
Closing my eyes, I centered myself and reached for the tether anchoring Rosemary’s soul to her body. Freshly deceased, it was easy enough to grab hold of.
“Rosemary Dawson Weathers, time to come back home.” Her soul zipped back quicker than most. That usually meant a very willing customer.
Gasped breaths and shocked utterances of, “God, no,” whispered through the room as Rosemary sat up in her casket. The elderly woman blinked, her glasses askew. With a wrinkled finger, Rosemary righted her eyewear and turned her attention to the room. Like most freshly-brought-back souls, she was momentarily confused.
“Rosemary,” I called, adding weight to my voice and drawing her attention. “I’m afraid there is a disagreement between your children.”
Rosemary scoffed. “That is nothing new.”
“Mom.” Joel’s softly whispered voice was filled with awe. Love was a close second. It was obvious which one of the siblings would miss their mother the most.
“This is Joel’s fault.” Elaine stomped forward, her earlier trepidation evidently gone. “I didn’t want to do this. I knew you wouldn’t want a necromancer to dirty your soul.” Elaine was very sure of herself and sounded oddly triumphant.
Rosemary looked from her daughter to me and said, “Necromancer.” The word lacked the sting her daughter spoke with.
I nodded. “Erasmus Boone, ma’am. I hope your journey back wasn’t uncomfortable.” I’d never gotten that feeling from another soul. They described it as confusing, but not painful. For me, feeling Rosemary’s soul was soothing, especially after touching the shredded souls of the latest murder victims.
“Uncomfortable?” Rosemary questioned before shaking her head. “No. I would not call it that.” Attention back on her children, Rosemary’s lips pinched and she said, “Disappointing, but not uncomfortable.”
“Mom, I’m sorry.” Joel sounded bereft. “Maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should have just let Elaine have her way.”
“Oh? And what does Elaine want?” Rosemary’s words were sharp. Souls were brought back just like the day they’d died. Obviously, Rosemary’s age hadn’t diminished her competency.
“I…” For the first time, Elaine faltered, sounding unsure. Her emotional flailing didn’t last long. Shoulders thrust back, Elaine said, “Joel wants to bury you with your wedding ring. I told him it was a waste. That ring belongs with the family. I have a daughter, and she would—”
“You and I both know Dawn won’t wear my ring until your body is cold and in the grave, dear. I hardly think it will be in the same condition your father gave it to me in, either. Most likely you’ll have the stones removed and made into something hideously gaudy.”
“Mother!” Elaine snapped. “That isn’t true, I—”
“Hush, Elaine.” Rosemary waved off her daughter’s tirade. “Your father gave me this ring. When he put it on my finger, I told him I’d never take it off, and I don’t intend to break that promise over a little thing like death. It was a gift and a promise. It was a promise your father kept, and I intend to do the same.” Twisting her head, Rosemary’s attention fell on Elaine’s husband. “Craig, I believe you know the law well enough to assure your wife that this is my will. You will not remove this ring from my finger. I will be buried with your father’s promise.”
Craig’s reluctant, “Yes, Rosemary,” was met with Elaine’s furious eyes.
“Now, if that’s settled, perhaps you could send me back, Necromancer.”
I grinned, wishing I’d met Rosemary Weathers when she was alive. “As long as you’ve nothing else to say,” I answered.
Rosemary contemplated that before she said, “I love you both. I’d always hoped you’d be closer, but that does not appear possible. If you can’t like each other, then at least try and respect one another. Children”—Rosemary ended with a heavy sigh—“I’m ready to go now.”
“Then I release you, Rosemary Dawson Weathers. Go in peace.” I winced when Rosemary’s torso unceremoniously dropped back into her casket, her properly placed clothing now amiss. Her glasses were cockeyed now too.
Joel didn’t seem to mind. With shimmering eyes, he walked toward the casket and began the task of settling his mother’s body back into its pristine repose.
“I suppose you’re happy now,” Elaine spat, venom poisoning her words.
Joel’s shoulders stiffened before rounding in on themselves. From my side view, the man appeared exhausted.
“No, Elaine. I’m not happy. Mom’s dead and bringing her back just now opened a wound that had barely started healing.”
I didn’t think there was much hope for Rosemary’s respectful desire. Maybe on Joel’s part, but Elaine looked to be a lost cause. Either way, this particular dysfunctional family wasn’t my problem, and I was more than happy to hightail it out of there. The energy remains of the other bodies waiting their turn in the mortuary poked at my mental shields. If I were at 100 percent, they’d hardly be a blip on my necromancer radar. Right now, they were a bit more troublesome than I wanted.
Clearing my throat, I said, “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Weathers?”
Joel shook his head. “No. Thank you for your time. If you don’t mind sending a bill…”
I didn’t mind. Typically, only clients who didn’t get the answer they wanted tried to stiff me. “That will be fine. I’m sorry for your loss,” I offered the typically mundane condolences.
“Thank you, Mr. Boone.”
I didn’t expect any thanks from Elaine Tompkins and was grateful it wasn’t her footing the bill. If it were, I’d most likely have to whip out my father’s name in order to light a fire under her check-writing ass.
Turning on my heel, I walked back the way I’d come. I gave a jerky nod in Zach’s direction as he plugged in the vacuum. Looked like my flip-flop prints would be gone soon enough.
I eased through a fast-food drive-thru on my way home, loading up on sugary soda and salty, fried goodness. Pulling back out on the road, I noticed a familiar car in my rearview mirror. “Huh,” I muttered around a bite of burger. I could have sworn that car had been behind me earlier. Considering my little pit stop, it shouldn’t still be there.
Maybe I was just paranoid. Given events of late, I should be paranoid. That didn’t mean it was the exact same black SUV that had been behind me earlier. I mean, how many black SUVs were on the road anyway?
Deciding on a little test to prove I was losing my mind, I made a quick turn to the right, heading down a side road that didn’t offer much beyond a way to get from point A to point B. My mind eased as I got to the end of the road, ready to make another right. So far, so… And there the SUV was at the end of the road.
I turned right, heading back to the interstate while pressing the button on my steering wheel that connected to Bluetooth. Franklin answered on the second ring.
“Boone? I thought you had a job today.”
Despite my concerns, Franklin’s confident voice slid down my spine, easing the adrenaline slamming through my veins.
“Been there, done that,” I answered.
“How did it go?”
Wow, I had no idea how nice that would feel, having someone besides my momma ask me how my day had gone, or more precisely, how a job went. “Well, there was some snark and bitchiness I could have done without, but I got the answer the client wanted, and I think I made Rosemary happy. Maybe content.” That was probably a better word for it.
“Glad to hear it,” Franklin answered and did sound relieved. “You feeling okay after? Was it too soon?”
“I feel okay. Nothing the soda I got won’t fix.” I glanced in the review mirror again. The SUV was still there, one car-length closer. “Hey, are you still at the precinct?”
“I am. Running down some loose ends. Why? You want to try and get dinner together tonight?”
“That sounds lovely, but actually, I was thinking something a little sooner than that.”
“Sooner?” Franklin asked. “Are you driving? Please tell me you’re at least using hands-free.”
“You can rest assured I’m being a very good driving citizen.” While I wasn’t holding my phone, I was currently leaning over the console and digging through my glove compartment. I hadn’t used the charm I was after since I was nineteen, maybe twenty. I’d begged Pops for it and he’d finally relented.
“Where the fuck is it?” I groaned, blindly tugging debris out of my glove compartment. Most of it landed on the passenger-side floor mat. I thought my registration and insurance were in there somewhere. If only I were being followed by the cops and needed that information.
“Where’s what? What are you looking for, and why are you looking for it while you’re driving?” A semi blew past me, loud enough for Franklin to hear. “Are you on the interstate?”
“I am.” It came out more of a grunt than words. “I know it’s here.”
“Boone, what the hell is going on? If you don’t—”
“Ah-ha!” I triumphantly yelled as my fingers latched onto the familiar shape. It had been a few years since I’d used it, but I knew the texture better than the back of my hand.
“Boone, what—”
“Hold on a second.”
“Hold on? You’re the one that called me, and why do you sound out of breath?”
Poor Franklin. I really should have waited to call him. “I’ll tell you in a minute.” When Franklin started to say something again, I said, “I’m fine. Promise. I’ll explain everything soon. Hopefully, I’ll also have a license plate for you to look up.”
“Christ.” I could visualize Franklin scrubbing his palms over his face. “You’re killing me here.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” I wasn’t sure if I was truly sorry or not. Was it selfish to be pleased that Franklin cared enough to be beside himself with worry? Probably. Did I care? Not enough to worry about it.
Okay, fuckers. Let’s see what you think about this. I searched the interstate, looking for my opening. I typically didn’t like sharing the road with this many semi-trailers, but today I wanted to hop out of my car and kiss each and every one of them. That probably wasn’t a safer alternative to whatever the guys following me wanted to do with me, though.
Weaving through traffic, I bolted into the left lane, skipped to the middle, back to the left, and then back to the middle, tucking in front of a semi hauling a wide load. It was perfect camouflage.
“Boone. It’s been more than a few fucking minutes.” Franklin’s angry voice reminded me I still had him on the line. “I’m about ready to track your damn cell phone, hop in my car, and track your ass down.”
“While that sounds positively, stalkerishly romantic, I think I’ll pass. Really, just a couple more minutes.” I inhaled and silently hoped the charm still worked. Pressing my finger into its side, the charm soaked in my DNA and flared to life. “Gray,” I said and felt Pops’s magic wash over my vehicle. I grinned before easing my way into the right-hand lane, falling in behind a red Subaru.
The right lane was going far slower than the middle and left lanes and the vehicles in those lanes passed us by, including the SUV that had been following me.
“You still with me, Franklin?”
“Where the fuck else would I be?” Franklin typically cursed, but this was excessive. He must really be worried.
I let that thought warm my insides as I pulled back into the middle lane and chased down my prey. I was careful not to appear too eager. Pops’s charm didn’t change the make and model of my car, just the color. If they looked closely enough, there was a chance they’d figure it out.
It was difficult, but I got close enough to get a plate number and rattled it off to Franklin. “You got that?” I asked.
He answered by repeating it back to me.
“Bingo.” I grinned and slowed my pace, falling back and getting off at the nearest exit. “Score one for teenage vanity.”
Franklin’s heavy sigh echoed through my car. “I don’t even want to know what teenage vanity has to do with this—whatever the hell this even is.”
“I’ll explain it when I see you,” I answered breezily, far too pleased with myself.
“And when, pray tell, will that be?”
I paid a bit more attention to the road I was on and answered, “I’m fifteen, maybe twenty minutes away. Do you have time to look that plate number up now?”
“I’m already typing it into the computer.”
“I knew I could count on you.” Those words held more weight than Franklin realized.
“Yeah, yeah. Just get your ass to the precinct so I can give it the spanking it deserves.”
I laughed as the adrenaline flooding my body dissipated. “Promises, promises, Franklin.”
Franklin’s answer was some indistinguishable sound that didn’t fit any word I knew before he disconnected the call. By the time I reached the precinct, my cheeks hurt from smiling so damn much.