Chapter 1 #2
I hated to rain on Sheriff Andrews’s justice parade but felt I needed to make sure she understood a couple of things.
“There’s a good chance that Ms. Veronal won’t be able to say exactly how she died.
She may not know how…or possibly who killed her.
At least not for certain or anything that will be solid proof.
” The dead were like that. It wasn’t like death gave them a different perspective than life had.
Sure, if someone saw their murderer, that was a slam dunk.
More often than not, it was little hints.
Pieces of evidence the police hadn’t known or perhaps needed corroborated to track down.
“Trust me, I get that. And I’m not saying I wouldn’t be horribly disappointed if that winds up being the case, but I’ll say this much: as hard as Jackson Alcott is trying to keep Opal in the grave, I have to think she knows something that he doesn’t want me—or anyone else—finding out.
” Sheriff Andrews’s eyes narrowed while her lips curved into a devious smirk.
“I might be frustrated as hell regarding the delay, but one thing Jackson’s actions have proven is that there is something to find, and he doesn’t want me digging up his dirty secrets. ”
I made a mental note never to cross Sheriff Andrews. “Let me know when you get the go-ahead.”
“I’ll see what I can do about compensating you for your time today.”
I waved her off. “Don’t worry about it.”
“But you traveled all this way and—”
“And we’ll worry about payment when I do my job.
It’s really okay.” I wasn’t just blowing smoke.
My father, Warlock Nikodemus Holland, would tell me I was a bleeding-hearted fool.
Maybe I was, but I didn’t absolutely need the money.
Not that I was financially wealthy, but I was comfortable, and I liked helping out when I could, especially the police.
I agreed with Sheriff Andrews. Justice was important, and if I could aid in that quest, then all the better.
Payment wasn’t always monetary. Sometimes it was emotional.
And emotional payment was often more satisfying than increasing my bank account.
“If you’re certain.”
“I’m positive.”
“Well, then, all that’s left is to say a heartfelt thank-you and that I will be in touch.
I appreciate your time and patience, Necromancer Boone.
” Sheriff Andrews didn’t try and reach through the open window to shake my hand.
I would have been shocked if she’d willingly attempted to touch me.
Regardless of species, most didn’t want to touch necromancers.
I still wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like they’d get infected with my necromancer cooties if our skin made contact.
My fiancé wasn’t like that. Detective Franklin O’Hare loved touching me. Every single inch of my skin. My cheeks flushed as memories from last night flooded my mind. My ass was still a little sore after the work out Franklin had put it through.
Pushing sexy thoughts of Franklin away, I said, “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
“And I’ll look forward to making that call,” Sheriff Andrews responded. “Take care, Necromancer Boone.”
I swallowed hard, knowing that I always tried.
My success record was woefully poor. With a parting “you too,” I rolled my window back up and eased my car down the winding cemetery road.
Deep Waters Holy Cross Cemetery rated about a four on my personal scale.
The dead weren’t typically quietly peaceful here, but they weren’t screamingly furious either.
The low hum of disappointed discontent followed me as I left the cemetery grounds, clinging to my necromancer soul like unwelcome honey.
Leander’s hodgepodge menagerie of canid companions met me with a combination of hesitant stares and wagging tails.
When Leander came out of his cabin—minus his shotgun—their attitude changed into one of generalized greeting.
A few were standoffish, sticking to the edges of the pack, peeking around corners or from under some other type of supposed camouflage.
I didn’t take offense. From what I understood, most, if not all of Leander’s dogs were rescues, many of which had their own horrific tales to tell.
My smile stretched from ear to ear as I stepped out of the car. Leander’s grumpy lips twitched into something that might have been his own version of a grin. If so, it was clearly obvious his smiling muscles were sorely out of practice.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Leander sarcastically asked, a single eyebrow quirked upward. Shifting slightly, he stared over my shoulder and asked, “Where’s the muscle?”
Laughter slipped through my lips. Leander had called Franklin that the first time they met, and the ridiculous nickname stuck.
“Franklin’s working and couldn’t come along today.
” That was a topic of much discussion. Franklin didn’t like me going out on jobs by myself.
His concern was valid, but I couldn’t stay holed up in my house for the rest of my life.
Well, I guess technically I could, but that didn’t really sound like living to me.
Besides, Tenzen Huxley had already proven he could get through Pops’s wards, so it wasn’t like I was a hell of a lot safer in my home than out on the streets.
Also, Tenzen had saved my life. While none of us knew exactly what he wanted from me, my death didn’t seem to be at the top of the list. I was more worried about Franklin.
Tenzen Huxley wasn’t impressed with my fiancé’s ability to protect me.
I didn’t like the implications of that. Surprisingly, neither did Pops.
Leander’s fingers dug into his scruffy beard. “I suppose the world sure as shit isn’t gettin’ any less violent. Franklin’s probably up to his ears in homicides.”
While that was a stretch, it also wasn’t completely untrue. Franklin was busier recently. He’d told me homicide always increased as the weather warmed. I suppose any and all good holiday cheer had well and truly been forgotten by the time spring rolled around.
I hadn’t moved much past the front of my car.
Two of Leander’s dogs were sniffing around my feet.
One I knew not to pet. The other was Princess, and from what I remembered, she was a safe bet.
Bending over, I scratched the top of her fuzzy head.
It was one of the few patches that still had a dusting of fur.
Leander grunted. “No loyalty, that one. She’ll go to whoever’s willing to give her a pat or two.” The fondness in Leander’s tone overruled any malice. “You stayin’, or did you just wanna drop by and make sure I’m still alive and kickin’?”
“As long as I’m not interrupting anything, I’d like to stay for a bit.”
Leander shrugged. “It makes me no never mind. But if you’re stayin’, then come on up to the porch. I can’t say that I’ve got much to offer to drink. I’ve got water and sun tea.”
“Sun tea, please. With some sugar in it if you’ve got it.” It was difficult to drink unsweetened tea. Momma had nursed that addiction since I was old enough to go off milk.
“Why wouldn’t I have sugar?” Leander stared at me like I’d come from another planet. “I might live out in the boonies, but I’ve got internet and they’ll deliver just about anything anywhere these days.”
The screen door creaked before slamming shut behind Leander. Taking his earlier invitation, I walked onto the porch and leaned against the railing. There was only one chair on Leander’s small porch. It was a clear sign that company wasn’t the norm…or maybe unwanted.
I heard some banging around inside. A cabinet closing a little too harshly and a curse as one of the dogs must have gotten underfoot.
My cheeks hurt from my perpetual grin. I wouldn’t say that once you got past Leander Dunn’s rough exterior the necromancer had a gooey center, but he wasn’t nearly as bad as he let on.
I’d gotten used to the gruffness. It was a lot easier to see the necromancer without staring down the barrel of the shotgun he’d first greeted Franklin and me with.
“How much sugar you want?” Leander hollered from inside.
“As much as the tea can handle,” I yelled back.
“Shit. How are you so damn skinny?” Leander’s voice grew louder as he got closer to the door, using his foot to kick the screen open, both his hands occupied, a glass in each. He handed me the lighter colored glass of tea.
“No idea,” I answered while taking the glass off his hands.
“Pops thinks I have a higher metabolism, especially when I use my necromancer abilities.” My blood sugar would agree with that statement.
I was now loaded down not only with Pops’s charms, but a pocket full of hard candy that Franklin made certain was refilled every day.
I didn’t miss Leander’s wince when I mentioned Pops. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that my warlock father hadn’t abandoned me. Mine had stayed and remained an integral part of my life. In more ways than one, I was a unicorn among necromancers.
Leander’s large frame leaned against his cabin, the lone chair remaining unoccupied until one of his dogs jumped onto it, turning once before happily lying down.
I may not know what Leander’s father had looked like, but I was confident saying he physically took after his warlock father more than his human mother.
All warlocks were tall, broad, and broody.
Leander fit that well. I’d inherited more of my mother’s stature and looked diminutive when compared to Pops.