The Necromancer's Smile

by Lisa Oliver

  “Do you mind if I see it?” Sy stood, holding out his hand for the bag Brock was carrying. Brock’s lips tightened; a minuscule movement but one Sy was used to seeing. “I’d like to get a sense of your son and it’s easiest done if I’m surrounded by his things.”

  “We don’t hold with weird shit in our house. Now Warren’s dead, his room is all we have left of him.” Lloyd’s voice contained traces of grief, but his arms were crossed over his chest in his best impersonation of an immovable object.

  “As you said, it’s our house but we’re talking about my son,” Nancy said firmly, getting to her feel slowly. “Come young sir, I’ll show you to his room.”

  /~/~/~/~/

  Dakar’s wolf bristled as Sy followed Nancy out of the room, closely shadowed by Brock. That’ll be my job soon, he promised himself and his wolf. Commonsense told him Sy was perfectly safe, especially with his ever-present shadow, but the scent of Lloyd’s antagonism was challenging his wolf. Brad’s bear clearly wasn’t feeling much better as he got in the first shot.

  “Mr. Peterson, the Pedace police department will not allow any slurs or impediments made against our consultant. While his powers might not mean much to a human like you,” Brad’s emphasis turned the words into an insult, “Among paranormals, the Necromancer is one of the most highly regarded beings in the country. Any further insults about him, or his methods of finding out what happened to your stepson will result in you spending time in jail.”

  “Jail?” Lloyd’s glower increased. “I’m the victim here. My stepson is lying in your morgue after being missing twelve fucking years. You lay a hand on me and I’ll see your ass in court so fast your feet won’t touch the ground.”

  Ooh, you are a cocky bastard. “And how will you pay the legal fees for that case, Lloyd?” Dakar used his first name deliberately. “Are you planning to finally cash in on the insurance policy you took out on Warren a month before he went missing?”

  Lloyd flinched. “There is no money. The insurance company never paid out.”

  “Because you couldn’t produce a body.” Brad nodded, flicking through his note book. “Was it coincidence then, that you made a call to the insurance company at nine forty-five last night, twelve minutes after our officers left your home after advising you of his death?”

  “I was simply following instructions they gave me to update them if anything on the case changed as quickly as possible.”

  “At almost ten o’clock at night?” Dakar leaned forward clasping his hands together so his biceps flexed. Lloyd gulped. “The fact still remains that if Warren’s mother hadn’t married you, then there is a good chance Warren would still be alive. Now, I’m not the type to believe in coincidences and while I know you haven’t specifically lied in this session, your scent still disgusts me. Is it any wonder your wife is so upset? Instead of consoling her over the death of her only son, you spent your time haranguing the insurance company within minutes of learning Warren’s body had been found.”

  “You’ve got nothing on me.” Lloyd stuck out his chin. “The law clearly states that scent evidence from a shifter can’t be used in cases involving humans. I’m human.” He slapped his chest.

  “Which doesn’t say much for the human race,” Dakar snapped, his growl evident. “We’re well aware of the law, Lloyd, but make no mistake, scent evidence might not be admissible but anything else we find is. You reek of guilt, anger and anxiety. We intend to find out why.”

  “I had nothing to do with Warren’s disappearance.”

  “Phew,” Dakar waved his hand in front of his face. “That right there was a blatant lie.” He would have said more, but he caught sight of Sy coming back into the room, being heavily supported by Brock. Sy’s eyes were closed and he couldn’t seem to stay upright. “What the hell happened?”

  “Someone used magic suppressors in Warren’s room.” There was smoke streaming from Brock’s nostrils. “I want him arrested for harming the official consultant of the Pedace Police Department.” He pointed at Lloyd. “You’ll have my supporting statement and evidence as soon as I’ve taken care of my employer.”

  “I didn’t do anything!” Lloyd yelled as Brad pulled out the human cuffs and slapped them on him.

  “I’ll call a car to pick this up,” Brad said, jerking on the bound wrists.

  “I never want to see your ugly mug again,” Nancy stalked over to where Brad was holding her husband and slapped Lloyd hard across the face. “Your interference with his room violated the memory of my son.”

  “Will someone tell me what the fuck’s going on?” Dakar muttered as he followed Brock who was carrying Sy by this stage, out to the limo. Nancy came with them, alternating between anger and concern.

  Depositing Sy in the back of the Limo, Brock turned to Nancy and gave a half-bow. “Ma’am, on behalf of the Necromancer, I offer my sincere apologies your session was so rudely interrupted. Please, take my card and as soon as you feel well enough, call me and I’ll ensure you get a priority appointment with my Master.” He held out a thick creamy card.

  “Thank you.” Sliding the card down the front of her dress, Nancy peered into the limo. “Will he be all right? He reminds me of what my Warren might have looked like if he had the chance to grow up.”

  Dakar couldn’t see the resemblance, but he wasn’t going to fault the mother for thinking her son would look like an angel as an adult. Brock seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “The Necromancer is older than he looks.” He even managed a small smile. “I promise with rest, and time with his mate, he’ll be fine. Don’t hesitate to call.”

  Mate. That’s me. Damn it, I should be in there. Pushing past Brock, Dakar climbed into the back seat of the limo. Gathering the slender man in his arms, he brushed away an errant lock of hair from Sy’s face, barely noticing Brock was in the driving seat and the car was moving.

  “What the fuck happened to him?” Dakar met Brock’s eyes in the rear vision mirror. “Why didn’t you tell me this Necromancing stuff is dangerous to him?”

  “Sir has always been aware of the dangers of his profession and protects himself against it every day. It’s one of the reasons he has me. As to what happened, Detective, let’s just say someone really doesn’t want to be found.” Brock refused to say anything more. Holding his mate close, Dakar wondered, even with all his strength and enhanced senses, how he would be able to protect his mate who worked in things he didn’t understand. There was no question he was going to try, he just wasn’t sure how to go about it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sy tried to swallow but his mouth felt like he’d ingested the contents of a fire pit. He blinked and then blinked again; conscious of two things. Firstly, he was in his bedroom, on his bed. Secondly, there was a big-assed wolf, bigger than any Sy had ever seen, cuddled up to him and taking up well over half the space.

  “The Detective got overly protective when I told him it could be a few hours before you woke up. He was all for going down to the local jail and ripping Lloyd’s head off. We decided letting him shift and guard you, was an equable compromise.” Sy turned his head to see Brock holding out a glass of water for him. Sitting up was going to be a problem, with Dakar’s head resting on his hip, but with a bit of a wiggle, he managed it. Dakar’s eyes opened and a large paw landed over his legs.

  Sy sipped the water gratefully. “I thought you said he was only allowed to shift in non-carpeted areas of the house?”

  “Don’t remind me,” Brock glared at the unrepentant wolf. “Your detective’s got a head harder than concrete and stubbornness to match.”

  Sipping more water, Sy hid his grin. If ever there was a case of the pot calling the kettle black….

  “How’s your magic levels?” Brock continued although Sy knew his friend had picked up his thoughts. “Any lingering after effects?”

  Stretching as best he could around his wolf companion, Sy juggled a few energy balls in the air before catching them and letting them disappear into his skin. “No, my magic
seems perfectly functional. I’ve got one hell of a headache, though.”

  “Your blood sugar is low and you’re dehydrated,” Brock sniffed. “Keep sipping your water while you tell me and your impatient Detective what happened in that room.”

  “You don’t know already?” Sy looked at Brock in complete shock. In all the years they’d been together, Brock always seemed to know what was happening with him before he did.

  “I couldn’t enter the room, if you remember. It was warded against my kind. I couldn’t even see into it and our link was blocked the moment you stepped over the threshold. I tried to say something, but you couldn’t hear me.”

  Sy’s face heated. He hadn’t noticed, but then the room was really small. He just thought at the time, Brock was giving him space to spend time with Nancy. “I’ll show you,” he said as his memories flooded back. Holding out one hand to Brock, he laid the other on Dakar’s fur as the big wolf started to growl. “Hush,” he said, not sure if human speak worked with wolves. “I’ll show you, too.” Dakar’s head nudged under his hand and he stroked the soft fur between two very alert ears.

  Closing his eyes, Sy sank into his memories. Warren’s bedroom was small and not overly tidy. There was a layer of dust coating the crammed bookcase and an old sweater, child size, was slung over the back of the chair by the bed. At the time, Sy was besieged with memories of his own room; spartan in comparison and always spotlessly clean. Yet, even after so many years, Warren’s essence, his feelings and emotions embedded in the walls and soft furnishings were happy ones.

  “He was such a loved child,” Sy had murmured quietly. Nancy picked up on it, sniffling into a handful of tissues.

  “For so long it had been just him and I,” she said. “I had a bit of money left to me by Mr. Jenkins, but we never had much in the way of things. But every day off I’d get, him and me would walk around the shops, dreaming of when we had lots of money and what we would buy. He loved books. Whenever the library had a sale of their old copies, he would badger me for weeks asking to go. He’d save his pocket money, never much you understand, but we could spend the whole day at one of those sales. His little face would light up so, especially if he found one of his favorite authors among the books available for sale. I had to pull him out of those bins many a time.”

  Sy felt a pang of something; he wasn’t sure what. “Did he have a favorite book?” He asked, moving over to the bookcase. All at once he became aware of something slimy and dark, emanating from behind the books on the middle shelf. It hadn’t been obvious before, but now he couldn’t see anything else.

  “Heavens yes,” Nancy said. “It was this one.” She reached for a battered paperback. Sy hadn’t heard of the author or title, but he yelled as the book came away from the shelf in her hand.

  “Spiderwebs and cottontails.” Sy threw a shield over Nancy as a black fog oozed from the space where the book had been. “Get out of the room, now.” Snatching the book from Nancy’s hand, Sy pushed her away and faced the bookshelf. His bag was on the bed, but Sy reasoned the book was a key. Actually, in this case more like a cork in a magical bottle.

  Simple blocking spell. First grade stuff. Muttering the words needed, Sy corralled the smoke between his hands, then with a sharp push of his innate magic, he shoved his hands towards the gap between the books, followed quickly by the paperback. The smoke went willingly enough and Sy turned to check on Nancy, confident his spell would work. But as he turned there was a loud crack and Sy found himself on the floor; the musty smell of the old paperback filling his nose as it landed on the carpet beside him.

  “And that’s pretty much it,” Sy said shaking his head as his thoughts returned to his own room. He was still finding it hard to believe he’d fallen for something so basic. His father would’ve smacked his ears if he’d have known about it.

  Brock withdrew his hand, his lips thinned into a flat line. “A magical flashback. Whatever gets thrown at it comes back thrice fold on the practitioner. You could’ve been severely hurt, sir.”

  “Only my pride.” Dakar’s fur was so soft beneath his fingers. He saw no reason why he shouldn’t keep touching. Dakar’s body language was relaxed enough, belied only by the sharpness of his bright eyes and the way his ears were trained in his direction. “Brock, who would be most likely to create such a spell? I picked up no other presence than me and Nancy. The spell had clearly been there for some time….”

  “Are you sure of that, sir?” Brock interrupted. “The young man had been missing for twelve years. It would seem foolhardy for one such as Mr. Peterson to lay such a trap at the time. There’d be no reason to do such a thing. Everyone at the time considered the young man a runaway, even the police.”

  “You think the trap was laid since the body was found? That was only two days ago.”

  “I can’t say with any certainty, sir, not without gaining access to the room myself. Whatever the wards were that kept me out, also blocked any smells or magical signatures. I’m just annoyed with myself no one thought to ask Nancy if they’d had any visitors apart from the police since they were notified of young Warren’s death.”

  Sy realized he had a fuzzy spot in his memories. “How did I get out of the room, if you couldn’t get in, and why would someone ward Warren’s room against you when you had no problems accessing the rest of the house?”

  “Nancy managed to drag you free of the room. She must have realized I couldn’t enter.” Brock looked pained and Sy realized his stoic butler thought he’d failed him. “She had numerous questions as to why there was magic sullying her boy’s room when Mr. Peterson is a known magicaphobe.”

  “Is that even a word?”

  “It’s the only one that fits, sir. Mr. Peterson apparently moved to Pedace because there wasn’t a recorded coven in the area. He hates magic users at least according to the thoughts I could pick up from him. As for why I was restrained by the wards, one can only suggest they knew you would be investigating and wanted to do you harm.”

  Rubbing his head with his free hand, Sy looked at Dakar. “Which suggests corruption at a police level or someone was watching the house very closely. Do you have an opinion? Because you should know, I don’t speak wolf.”

  “I shall take my leave, if the Detective is returning to his human form,” Brock said stiffly. “I will arrange some sweet tea and cookies for you and something more…substantial for the Detective. I understand shifting from one form to another uses a considerable number of calories.”

  Sy huffed out a long breath as Brock marched out of his room. There was a tiny part of him that’d been curious, even a little excited about the dinner date Dakar had talked about. But as he had been injured, Brock was likely to spontaneously combust if he suggested taking the night off now. Then there was the worrying thought that Dakar might get the wrong idea about his work. Admittedly, his magic and body had taken a bit of a battering since taking this case, but Sy hoped Dakar didn’t think getting hurt was a daily event for him. Necromancy was only dangerous to someone who didn’t know what he was doing.

  The huge wolf moved his head from under Sy’s fingers. A tingle ran down Sy’s spine as the air around the wolf shimmered and then the sleek, highly muscled, and naked human form of Dakar came into view. Broomsticks and dragon eggs, look at that. I’ve never seen one that big. Unfortunately, a more in-depth inspection of Dakar’s steadily growing cock was forestalled by the first thing that came out of Dakar’s mouth.

  “Why didn’t you tell me being a Necromancer is dangerous?”

  /~/~/~/~/

  Dakar was sure that even if he lived to be over a thousand years old, he would never get used to seeing his precious mate on the ground. In a matter of days, just days, he’d seen Sy felled twice as the result of his position and what he could do. Admittedly, one of those times was his fault, but seeing through Sy’s vision, his mate’s petite form flung to the floor by something he couldn’t see was, well he wasn’t keen on admitting it out loud, but damn it, it was scary. Whi
ch was why his tone was sharper than his mate deserved.

  And he immediately knew he’d made a mistake. Sy went from being a wide-eyed innocent, catching glimpses of his first naked cock, to the frosty Necromancer most people saw. His cock jumped, hoping to gain some attention. Hard cock, soft bed, willing mate, it would be so easy to go down that path, but no, Dakar had to open his mouth and shit fell out. Now, he’d be lucky if he would be allowed to stay long enough to enjoy the food Brock promised.

  “Do I presume to inform you how to conduct yourself in your position, Detective?”

  Do Necromancers take classes in how to freeze a man’s balls in one sentence? Dakar tried another approach. Sitting up, he moved closer, making sure Sy’s enigmatic gray eyes were focused only on him.

  “From my limited experience your profession seems to take a lot out of you. It’s in my nature to worry about you.” Oh yeah, lowered tone, bedroom eyes and a half smile. My charm has never failed. You know you want me, sweet one. How can you be angry at me when you know my cock hardens for you? Sy’s lips twitched and Dakar’s cock throbbed. I’d settle for a blow job, he thought hoping the thought translated in his heated expression.

  “According to the latest statistics released by the Police Association, law enforcement are ten times more likely to be shot than the average citizen. Stress, drug and alcohol abuse, and depression are common among thirty percent of all serving officers. Homosexual officers, while more widely accepted than they were ten years ago, are five percent more likely to be left without back up from fellow officers during a call out. While drug and alcohol abuse are less likely among paranormal staff, other concerns have been noted including….”

  “I get your point.” Dakar grabbed a pillow and smashed it over his groin, seriously hoping some of his blood supply would return to where it would do most good, like his brain for example. “I admit working in law enforcement is a dangerous job, but all of the Pedace Officers are paranormal, at least those out in the field. I’ve over twenty years’ experience as a detective and only been shot once.”