Page 90 of Deadly Lineage
Those thoughts stuck with me as I made my way back to my desk. Captain Cicely broke off and closed herself off in her office. I sincerely hoped she was strategizing a game plan. McCallister’s absence quite possibly saved my ass just now. If McCallisterreally was behind these killings, the man was dangerous. No, not man. Maybe not even necromancer, at least not in the conventional way. Honestly, I had no idea what McCallister was. I had a sneaking suspicion finding out wouldn’t improve our chances.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Erasmus
I drove down the winding road of the Bridger Highlands Cemetery. I wondered at the name. This close to the Gulf of Mexico, we didn’t have a lot of highlands. I supposed it wouldn’t instill a lot of confidence saying the cemetery was located on midlands. At least we weren’t in the lowlands.
Bridger Highlands Cemetery ranked about a level six on my self-composed scale of remnant soul activity. It was noisy, but not enough to give me a headache…at least, not yet. If I spent a lot of time in the area, then all bets were off. Then again, I was kind of starting out in a hole where my physical health was concerned. I felt better than yesterday, but admittedly, that was a low bar.
I followed Tina Waylon’s instructions, twisting down little side roads whose width only allowed for one vehicle at a time. She’d told me I’d need to park and walk to the gravesite. The cemetery personnel had graciously erected a tent for some privacy. It was the same type they used for inclement weather. I could see its green outline in the distance as I pulled my car behind a couple of others. I wasn’t sure if the third car wasrelated to my case, or if they were just there visiting their own loved one.
The cemetery was beautifully kept, and I wondered if they’d hired a nature pixie to tend the grounds. Given the lush landscape and gorgeous trees, I was inclined to think so. No amount of human-made fertilizer could come close to what a nature pixie could do. I could practically feel the love saturating the air.
Getting out, the afternoon heat blasted me and I wavered. The metal of my car was hot but that didn’t stop me from placing my hand on the roof, using it for balance. My head swam. This was beyond stupid. I wasn’t up to the task. I leaned against my car, the heat seeping through my threadbare shorts. I hated to bail on a job, but I was starting to think this was a pipe dream. Even driving here seemed stupid at this point. I should have just asked my ride share to take me the whole way.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I murmured, the word on endless repeat. I remained leaning until my head settled and I felt like I could take a couple of steps without face planting into some poor soul’s headstone. That would be a great obit:Necromancer dies by falling headfirst onto a grave marker.
I quietly chuckled. Morbid humor and I were old friends. Of course, it wouldn’t be so funny if it really happened.
Trying not to make a joke of my imminent death, I carefully pulled out my phone and sent a text to Franklin. I hadn’t planned on filling him in on my questionable plans, but given how woozy I felt… Let’s just say I thought it wise letting someone know where I was in case I really did pass out. I’d deal with Franklin’s justified anger later. As the saying went, it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.
Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I took my first wobbly step toward the tent. Sweat trickled down my back. This time of year, everyone had the odor of summer sweat. It was thebackdrop scent of summer. For obvious reasons, that one had never made it into a commercial candle set.
The green tent was farther away than it had seemed when I got out of my car. I wasn’t sure if that was true or if my depleted physical reserves made it feel worse than it was. Regardless, after what seemed a small lifetime, I reached the edge of the tent and gripped the edge. Steadying myself, I took a minute. I probably looked like something half-dead and didn’t want to frighten my client any more than necessary.
Gulping a few humidity-laden breaths, I rounded the corner, plastering a smile on my face. “Sorry if I’m a little late, Ms. Waylon, I—” My words faltered as my eyes finally registered who was inside the tent. “Dr. McCallister?” I scanned the darkened interior. The tent was three-sided, shading the interior but allowing the light and miniscule breeze inside. What I presumed to be Tina’s uncle’s coffin was laid out beside a large hole, a mound of dirt off to the side. What I didn’t see was Tina Waylon.
Stepping into the tent, I laid a hand on the coffin, leaning heavily. Confused, I asked, “Are you a relative of Ms. Waylon?” Then I had another thought. “Did something happen? Is there another victim?” Even if I hadn’t been kicked off the case, Franklin probably wouldn’t have called me given the condition I was in.
Dr. Morgan McCallister eased around the casket, head slightly bent. When he lifted his face, his pale-blue eyes shone like chips of ice. “Necromancer Erasmus Boone.” He smiled, but the grin didn’t reach those crisp eyes. “It was nice of you to come. After what happened yesterday in the morgue, I wondered if you’d keep your appointment.” His laughter was soft and barely audible. “Detective O’Hare is very concerned about you.” McCallister tapped his ear. “It’s remarkable. I never realized how good panther hearing is.”
Panther hearing?
“Franklin generally keeps to himself, but he’s been working with Detective Harrison more recently. Mostly they discuss their mutual case, but there’s chitchat too. Seems you were a good little boyfriend and sent Franklin an itinerary of sorts.” McCallister’s finger traced along the dirt-encrusted casket as he made his way completely around, standing a few feet from me.
I took a step back. My heart was pounding so fast my head spun. Then again, it might just be from the exertion of walking from the car to the tent. I blamed my physical exhaustion for my slow brain activity. I’d forgotten I’d sent Franklin the information regarding my upcoming appointments. I’d sent it yesterday morning, before going to the morgue and dealing with Bart Livingston’s horrid soul, before I’d depleted most of my necromancer energy.
Eyes scrunched, I said, “I don’t understand why you’re here.” While that was a true statement, it didn’t begin to sum up my confusion. Gaia, my head hurt. I needed to activate another one of Pops’s pain charms. I’d get on that just as soon as I figured out what in the hell was going on and where my client was. Maybe I’d gotten the gravesite wrong.
“Dr. McCallister, I—”
“You can call me Morgan if you’d like,” he answered, that same disturbing grin stretching his cheeks.
I shook my head, uncomfortable with whatever the hellthiswas. “I think I’ll stick with Dr. McCallister.”
His head cocked to the side. “If that’s what you prefer. You may change your mind later. I’ll understand if you do.”
“Okaaay.” I took another step back. “Listen, I’m not sure what’s going on, but I came here to meet a client and she’s obviously not here yet, or maybe I’ve got the wrong gravesite.”
“Oh no, you’re in the correct location. I’m afraid Ms. Waylon won’t be meeting you today.”
“She won’t be… What’s going on?” I fingered the charm hanging around my neck. Aurelia and Franklin had their end of the communication charms. Pops had his too, but he was on a plane, flying across the continent on his way to meet me. I didn’t want to scare the shit out of him when he was thousands of feet in the air, especially when I wasn’t certain what was going on. My brain and heart were beginning to click on the same level and that level screamed for me to get the hell out of there.
“Just what I said, Ms. Waylon won’t be coming.”
My heart stuttered and before I could contemplate the words, I asked, “What did you do to her?”
