by Lisa Oliver
Struggling to get his feet free, Dakar couldn’t see anything but Sy’s face turning a bright red as he fought for breath. But then, just as Dakar was ready to chew Brock’s arm off, a strong wind ripped around the room and the sound of thunder rumbled overhead. Sy’s hands came up and he easily brushed the Captain’s hand from his throat. Hovering in the air like a black-clad angel, Sy widened his arms his palms facing upwards. “There is a reason why Necromancer’s are respected around the world, Demon. Do you know why that is?”
The Captain couldn’t speak. He was struggling, that much was obvious, but it was as though he was bound by some invisible force and couldn’t get free. His only movement was the narrowing of his eyes and the throbbing bulge of a vein in his forehead.
“Necromancers can see the true intent of a person’s heart.” His arms still outstretched, Sy floated in a circle, acknowledging every person in the room. “People fear us because they don’t understand the nature of death, but death is simply another doorway we must pass through during the many phases of our existence. However, we have our designated life threads for a reason known only to the Fates, and when someone deliberately allows those life threads to be cut before their time, it causes a ripple through the very fabric of life itself. Those files on the floor are just a few examples of ripples your Captain is responsible for by the very nature of his position and his failure to utilize all resources at his command.”
Turning back to the Captain, Sy arched his eyebrow. “Did you want to speak? Did you want to explain to these fine upstanding officers that you demean as pets under your control why you furthered the rumor my services were never used because the local council wouldn’t allow the increase in budget required? You can speak.” Sy waved his hand. “I love how shifters can smell a lie.”
“Your days are numbered, Necromancer,” the Captain rumbled. “You might get rid of me, but there are others out there who will gladly spit on your grave.”
“That’s the second time I’ve been told that today – maybe you guys should form a club,” Sy said airily. “But, as a Necromancer, demon punishments fall under my jurisdiction, don’t you agree? Therefore, in accordance with my position, and with full agreement of the local council and the higher governing councils concerning magic, Demon, Bal….”
His words were cut off as a shot rang out. Dakar snarled at Roger, the Captain’s assistant, standing behind the Captain with a smoking gun in his hand. “I won’t allow it,” Roger’s voice trembled as badly as his hands around the gun. “I won’t allow anyone to kill or punish him. The Captain’s a good man…honest…he…he….” Roger’s eyes widened so far, Dakar thought they were going to fall out. “Why aren’t you dead?”
Shit. Sy! Dakar was so wrapped up in trying to get to Roger he didn’t give a thought to where the bullet had gone. His mate still floated above the floor, but now there was a growing blood stain only noticeable with shifter eyes blossoming on the black of his shirt.
“I really wish you hadn’t done that,” Sy sighed as he held his hand above his chest and a spent bullet appeared in his hand. “Now I have a hole in my best work shirt.” He didn’t seem to notice the blood, but Dakar could smell it and his wolf snarled and curled his lips up showing his teeth. “It’s all right, Dakar, it would take more than a bullet to take me down. I could pass through a hail of bullets and the only inconvenience would be when Brock has to buy my new clothes.”
Turning back to the Captain and his sidekick, Sy smiled. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Roger. I know you thought you were doing the right thing, but you weren’t. It’s an offence to shoot at a Necromancer, especially one under contract with the department. Brad will take you into custody shortly.”
“As for you Captain, because you managed to inspire loyalty in one person, even if that person was misguided, you shall live for now. However, as Necromancer, I sentence you to a full demon lifetime in the pits, sentence to be carried out once the detectives here have questioned you with regards to your knowledge of the serial killer currently working among us. Oh yes,” Sy continued as gasps rang around the room, “don’t think I missed that little comment you made about my meeting a bitter end. It’s the same thing Forth said to me this morning before he died.” Lightening zapped from Sy’s fingers to the Captain’s arms, leaving him with solid silver cuffs engraved with runes. “No amount of magic or force will enable these to be removed before I say so. And remember, Captain, I know your true name and there isn’t anywhere in heaven, earth or hell that I can’t find you.”
Floating down until his feet were flat on the tiles again, Sy nodded to Brock. “Please let the detective go, Brock, and see to it these two fools are secured somewhere safe. I really need to eat something.”
“Yes, sir,” Brock bowed but that was all Dakar saw because in the next breath his feet were free, and he raced to his mate who welcomed his furry form with open arms. This close, Dakar could tell his mate’s strength was completely spent. Unwilling to let anyone see him in that condition, Dakar shifted. Ignoring his nudity, he swept Sy into his arms as though in a passionate embrace and hurried out of the room.
Behind him, the bull pen was in chaos, officers wanting to know what the hell was going on as Brad and Brock subdued their captives. But Dakar’s only thought was for Sy and as he closed the door to the small interview room and arranged Sy on his lap and assembled a sandwich from the food Brad and Brock provided, he realized his focus was exactly as it should be between mates. He was an idiot for not realizing that before.
Chapter Sixteen
Sy lolled against Dakar’s broad chest, too tired to care that his detective was naked. His mouth moved automatically, chewing the bite sized pieces Dakar was feeding him without tasting anything. Nothing in his father’s training prepared him for the blatant discrimination shown by the Captain but then he’d only met the demon once before and that was at his contract signing. At the time, he put the malice stemming from the man down to disrespect because he looked so young. But it appeared the Captain’s feelings ran far deeper than that.
“Do you think we could focus on us for just one minute,” Dakar asked quietly as Sy found another morsel of food tucked into his mouth. “I know…I mean…you were wonderful out there.”
“Powerful you mean. The joys of being a Necromancer from an ancient family line.” Sy pushed away Dakar’s next offering. He was too tired to eat. He could feel the heat of Dakar’s body through his leather coat and he put his hand up to stifle a yawn. “The people you work with still hate me. I wish they didn’t, because there’s so much I could offer a place like this, but if I’d pushed harder, earlier, then maybe lives could’ve been saved.”
That was what upset Sy the most. Yes, he’d chaffed being under any form of contract at all, but that was just part of his nature. He could never hold down a full-time job because he liked the freedom to get up when he pleased, go to bed when he pleased and work when he wanted to. But what the Captain had done was criminally negligent. Sy had the power to help in so many cases, and maybe if he had, then he wouldn’t have just faced down a room full of suspicious shifters.
“Whatever it is you’re thinking, don’t,” Dakar said gently and Sy’s eyes closed as a rough finger traced along his jaw. “You and me, we seem the have the same ideas and want to follow the same path together, but somehow life and attitude get in the way and it’s not as though we know each other very well yet. I didn’t mean for you to think I didn’t trust you when we were having that hassle over your pay. I’ve only been in this department three months as it is. If I can’t show loyalty to the people who sign my paycheck, then that goes against my animal nature.”
Sy was almost asleep, his eyes lulled shut from Dakar’s soft tones, but they flew open again at that comment. But it seemed Dakar hadn’t finished explaining himself as a thick finger pressed against his lips. “But I should’ve shown my loyalty to you above everything else and my only excuse for why I didn’t was we were here in my place of work and it’s like
my brain was in work mode. Sy, I haven’t even claimed you yet and I’m already thinking of how I can change my life so that we can be together all the time.”
“All the time?” Sy studied Dakar’s strong face. “I warn you now, you’ll get hellishly bored. I spend most of my days with my nose buried in ancient books.”
“But that’s not going to continue, is it?” Dakar didn’t seem the least bit worried about how Sy spent his lonely days. “You want to work more with this department. There’s a mountain of cold cases that need clearing. You have your appointments that you see at home too, and my family will want to meet you at some point after we’ve mated. With all that and the rampant sex we’ll have, I doubt we’ll be bored.”
“Rampant sex?” Sy was sure his voice squeaked. All at once his tiredness disappeared as he was suddenly aware of where he was, and the fact Dakar still hadn’t put any clothes on. I’m sitting on a naked lap and Dakar’s not carrying a gun, which means that lump pressing into my hip….
“I know you’re not ready today,” Dakar said softly. “You’ve used a lot of energy and I don’t want you to fall asleep during our first time together.”
“I doubt that’s even possible,” Sy said, swallowing hard. He thought for a long minute and realized Dakar was right. They didn’t know each other very well yet, and he was just as prone to over reacting as Dakar seemed to be. “I don’t have experience with relationships. I mean, I’m sitting on your naked lap, your dick is digging holes in my pants, or trying to, and while my own dick is…is…is in the same state,” he rushed that last part but damn it, if he was going to use said body part he needed to be able to talk about it. “I’ve still got files to go through. We must find more clues to where these missing men are being held. But when you mention rampant sex, I…er…I want to know about that too, but at the moment we can’t. Because of those missing men. Not because I don’t want you, I mean. Do you get what I mean?”
“I understand what you mean.” There were flecks of green in Dakar’s eyes, Sy never noticed before. They seemed more pronounced when Dakar was horny. And the big wolf shifter was definitely horny. Even Sy, with most of his virgin boxes still fully checked, could see it. “Work first, then our dinner date and after that I’m going to take you home and stay with you.” Dakar wriggled his eyebrows. “All night. In my human form this time. In your bed, with you. Just in case you were in any doubt about it.”
“No doubts.” Sy tried to press down on his own length to stop it leaking into his pants but it didn’t help. If anything, it made matters worse. “You should be dressed.” A click of the fingers took care of that.
Dakar chuckled and ran a finger down Sy’s flushed cheek. “I love that I can make you blush. I’m going to kiss you now, before you get back to what you were doing, and Sy, this time when I think you’ve done enough and need a break, I’m going to stop you, okay?”
Sy’s response was swallowed by the heat and passion behind Dakar’s kiss. Curling his toes, Sy hung onto Dakar’s arms; for once his mind was blissfully silent.
/~/~/~/~/
It was getting on for five in the evening. In between writing notes and making Sy take a break every half an hour or so, Dakar made reservations at his favorite restaurant for them both for seven thirty. He was eagerly anticipating a quiet romantic evening where he could woo his sheltered mate with fine wines, succulent steaks and sexy touches under the tablecloth. His mind was dwelling on all the different ways he was planning to use to reduce Sy to nothing more than a trembling mess when Brock slapped him on the arm. Dakar immediately looked at Sy, who was still in what he’d named a trance state, purely because he wasn’t sure how else to describe it.
“Roy Peters,” Brock hissed against his ear, stabbing his finger at Dakar’s notepad. “Sir thinks there’s a link to the killer.”
Sy was deathly still, his eyes closed, his mouth twitching as though he was mentally talking, but then the words became audible. “You were taken… five years old… concrete rooms… barred windows… spikes on walls… meetings… what? How? Can you smell him? Sour… lemons… something old… can you take me back? ... show me… it’s okay… I’ll… okay, all right … hold tight… here we go.”
He’s spirit walking, Brock scribbled on Dakar’s note pad. I’m not getting much, they’re moving too fast. Hang on, hang on, I know that area. “Touch him now.”
“He’ll fall asleep. We’ve got a dinner planned in two hours,” Dakar hissed.
“You won’t have time for your date. You’ll be too busy arresting people,” Brock snarled as he reached over and touched Sy’s hand. Immediately, Sy slumped on the table, his head resting on his arm.
“Why couldn’t he come back on his own,” Dakar growled as he pushed past Brock and pulled Sy into his arms. “If he’d come back on his own, then we’d have known what he’d seen.”
“I could see where it is,” Brock scribbled an address on Dakar’s notepad, tore the page off and thrust it at him. “Let me take the Necromancer home while you do your job. Detective, I know how patient you’ve been. I’m sick of the smell of your arousal. But there’s going to be another killing. The victim is being prepared for a ritual sacrifice as we speak. He only has a few hours of life left. Because the ritual was magic in nature, it threatened to pull sir in and he needed to be brought back before his presence was detected.”
“I do not have a fucking clue what you are talking about when you go on about this magic stuff.” Dakar looked at his sleeping mate, then at the scrap of paper in his hand. Heaving a sigh, he carefully handed Sy over to Brock. “Take him home. I’ll be there as soon as this business is over.”
“I’ll keep dinner for you and your bear friend,” Brock gave a half smile. “You know you’re doing the right thing.”
“I know my balls are going to burst and my wolf’s going to make an appearance if I don’t get to claim my mate soon.” Dakar tugged his pants from around his swollen cock.
“The Necromancer will be fully rested by the time you get back.”
Rested. He’ll be ready to…oh, my gods, soon wolf. Soon. But first, my friend, we hunt. With his wolf howling in his head, Dakar brushed a kiss on Sy’s forehead and ran from the room. “Brad! Gather the troops. Everyone we can spare. I want surveillance, pictures, maps, plans, anything you can get on this address. We’re heading out in thirty minutes, so move it, people. We’ve finally got a fucking lead.”
Chapter Seventeen
“I remember this place,” Brad whispered as he crept up beside Dakar and peered through the foliage. The winter sun was long gone, and the forbidding structure looked all the more impenetrable thanks to harsh spotlights that flooded every corner of it. “It used to be a school.”
“A school for who? Demons?” Dakar shook his head. There was nothing welcoming about the solid concrete walls, complete with twelve-inch iron spikes that fanned out from the top of the walls at an angle making them impossible to climb over. “I’m more worried about how the hell we can get in there.”
“There’s a supply entrance, sir.” The young cat shifter who’d been so scared of speaking to a Necromancer, crept over and pointed to the left of where Dakar was crouching. “According to control, it’s the least guarded entrance although they warned of possible wards. There’s a lot of static showing on the camera feed.”
“And I suppose the only magic users we had capable of breaking the wards was the Captain, or the Necromancer, both of whom are out of commission.” Dakar scratched his forehead.
“Can’t Brock do it?” Brad asked, holding up his phone. “I could at least text him and ask.”
“He’s not going to want to leave Sy.” I don’t want him to leave Sy, but if we don’t get through these wards then another innocent man is going to die. “Do it. He knows how damned important this is.”
While Brad busied himself with his phone, Dakar scanned the building. If it wasn’t for the lights, the place would look deserted. Overgrown grass reached at least a foot up the walls.
There were cobwebs blowing between the metal spikes and the driveway leading up to the main gate was so overgrown with weeds it was barely visible. But it was more than just the visual aspects that made Dakar pause. There was no noise in the crisp cool air. Not the twitch of a bird, insect or rodent. It was as if every living creature knew better than to approach. Even the cobwebs looked old and long abandoned.
“Well?” Dakar asked as Brad put away his phone.
Brad pointed over his shoulder and Dakar turned to see the man materialize in front of him. “Yes, this is the place,” Brock said in a deep voice as he spread his arms, his neck tilted as he sniffed the air. “This is where you will find the missing victims, and I will destroy the one who seeks to harm my Master.”
“You get all that from one sniff?” Brad asked.
Brock looked at Brad and Dakar would swear the man’s lips twitched, but anything that was going to be said was forgotten as the young cat shifter sprinted over, his eyes white with fear. “I heard a scream, around the back.”
“We must hurry,” Brock said, running in the direction the cat pointed, his feet making no sound on the ground debris. Dakar followed, with Brad coming up behind. “Shift, detectives,” Brock said quickly. “Shift, all of you who can. You’ll be less susceptible to magic in your furry forms.”
There was a flurry of clothing as a dozen men and women of various shapes and sizes flung off their clothes and initiated their shifts. There was a lot of nervous energy spiking the air. Since the Captain’s imprisonment, many of the officers felt lost and betrayed. More than one of them had come up to him and offered a muttered apology and congratulations on finding his mate while they’d prepared for this mission. Never had Dakar been so thankful for a shifter’s innate sense of duty than he was in this moment.
“On my mark.” Brock held up his hands, pushing at something that Dakar couldn’t see. But he could feel it; like an invisible steel wall. As Brock worked to break through, the magic made Dakar’s fur stand up on end. A sole drop of sweat ran down the side of Brock’s face, the muscles under his shirt straining the seams with his efforts. Just when Dakar thought there was no way he would get through, there was a loud pop and it was as if suddenly everyone could breathe again.