Page 83 of Deadly Lineage
The container was barely larger than a Dixie bathroom cup. Regardless, I held it too Boone’s lips and ordered, “Drink,” before asking, “Did you bring any candy?”
Instead of answering, Boone waved a hand at his back pocket. I didn’t hesitate to root around and snag a piece of hard lemon candy. Unwrapping it, I put the piece between his lips and watched it disappear inside his mouth. Looking away from Boone’s pallid lips, I shot a glance Captain Cicely’s way, visually begging her for patience. Boone needed time to recover.
With a faint nod, Captain Cicely told Boone, “When you’re ready.”
We waited, the silence of the morgue an oppressive, physical entity. As the clock on the wall ticked the seconds off, Boone gave a final shake before stilling. His pallor had improved minutely. With a wan grin, he turned large, green eyes my direction and said, “I think I need to ask Pops to make me a few antinausea charms. Sorry about the mess.”
“The only reason I care about themessis because you feel ill,” I reassured.
“Ditto to what O’Hare said,” Captain Cicely agreed. “Besides, it was easily remedied.” She wiggled her fingers and I realized the captain was correct and Boone’s vomit was gone. “Beinga witch has some perks. Now, do you feel well enough to explain what that was all about?” Captain Cicely pointed toward Livingston’s disheveled body, the sheet lying in a pile on the floor. A few more convulsions and I had a feeling Livingston’s body would have joined the sheet.
“I’ll tell you what I can,” Boone answered. “A little help, Franklin?”
Boone made to stand and I hefted him up by his armpits. It wasn’t particularly graceful, but it was effective.
“Thanks,” he said, that singular word indicating how out of breath he was. “Is there somewhere to sit down?”
Dr. McCallister had a desk in the corner, a lone chair situated in front of it. Guiding Boone in that direction, I sat him down and planted my ass on the desk’s surface.
“Thanks again.” His voice was a little steadier.
Captain Cicely and Detective Harrison formed a semi-circle around us. Harrison had her tablet open and was recording again.
Wiggling, Boone scrounged another piece of candy out of his back pocket and popped it in his mouth. He didn’t wait for it to dissolve before he said, “There wasn’t much left.”
I shared a look with Captain Cicely before she asked, “Wasn’t much of what left?” I think we all knew, but clarification was important.
“His soul,” Boone expectantly answered. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but it was worse than the others. There weren’t just pieces missing. It’s as if Bart Livingston’s soul had been ripped apart. I know we’ve been referring to the other victims asshredded souls, but compared to Bart’s, theirs were far more intact. Most of Bart’s soul is just…gone…” Boone’s eyes glazed and turned distant. They were shimmering emeralds, brighter for the unshed tears glistening on their surface. Distantly, Iwondered if anyone else would truly shed a tear for Bart’s passing.
Captain Cicely glanced back at Livingston’s quiescent body before zeroing in on Boone again. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think there are a lot of species out there that can do that sort of thing.”
He shook his head. “You’re not wrong. I wasn’t sure at first, but through my contacts, I can confirm that we’re looking for a necromancer, a warlock working with a necromancer, or maybe a djinn.” Boone shrugged. “I think the fairy queen might be able to do it, but I don’t see that happening. Same with brownies. There’s always the chance of a rotten apple here or there, but if we’re playing the odds, I think a necromancer has to be involved.”
Harrison’s complexion turned ashen, but she kept recording, the tablet barely quivering within her hands.
Captain Cicely quietly nodded as she considered Boone’s words. Inhaling deeply, her eyes slipped closed before she asked, “Do you know of any other necromancers, besides yourself, that are capable of doing something like this?”
Boone flinched and his shoulders sagged. “No, but that hardly means anything. Necromancers are…” Boone waved a hand in the air, “I’m not sure how to describe it. Loners? Secretive? Hermits? Most prefer to distance themselves from society. We don’t have a club or a membership rooster. Necromancers aren’t licensed and there’s no official accounting either. Even if a necromancer walked through that door, I couldn’t tell you his level of aptitude. I’ve been led to believe that my abilities are better than most, but I can’t confirm that from any personal interactions.”
Sadness filled those words. Necromancers were not only abandoned by their fathers, but by each other. I wanted to wrapBoone up, take him home, and never allow another soul to utter a negative word within his hearing distance.
“I see. That’s unfortunate.” Captain Cicely’s tone was frigid. “If that is the case, then I am afraid I must ask that you have no further involvement with this investigation.”
My feet hit the floor as I leapt from the desk. “What? You can’t be serious. Boone is our—”
“By his own admission, necromancer Boone is the only known individual capable of doing what was done to not only Bartholomew Livingston’s soul, but the other victims. I cannot keep him on the case, O’Hare. Use the brain in your head, not the one between your legs.”
Anger flushed my cheeks and loosened my tongue. I was gearing up to say something that would probably get me suspended or fired when Dr. McCallister’s angry voice saved my stupid ass.
“What have you done to my morgue?”
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Erasmus
Oh, Dr. McCallister sounded pissed.My head pounded and my limbs were shaky. Dr. McCallister’s obvious anger didn’t do either any favors. What itdiddo was stop Franklin from doing something stupid like defending my necromancer honor. Not that I didn’t appreciate the effort, but Franklin getting in trouble wouldn’t help matters.
