The Necromancer's Smile

by Lisa Oliver

  His lips tightening, Brad put a large hand on Sy’s shoulder and escorted him out the morgue. Dakar looked to Brock, hoping he would have some answers, but the curled lip told him none were forthcoming. Holding tight to Connor, Brock and the young familiar disappeared leaving Dakar with a corpse and Doctor Barker who touched his shoulder gently.

  “You just failed your first test,” the old man said, shaking his head. “I’ll bet my pension this is the first time your relationship has suffered a hardship, given how new it is, and you failed abysmally.”

  “What would you have me do?” Confusion didn’t sit well with Dakar and he was glad he had an outlet for his anger. “Brad’s my partner. I read the same damn manual he did. He’s right. A spirit can’t lie, no matter what form he takes. Brad is just doing his job, no matter how distasteful it is.”

  “And yet, you know in your heart of hearts, the young necromancer is innocent and still you let him be led out of here in handcuffs. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when you try and explain that to the mate you promised to protect forever.” Barker leaned closer.

  “Didn’t you hear what Sy’s companion said?” He whispered. “There’s something else you don’t know about spirits, detective. Something I learned from the Prince’s father. Spirits have no sense of smell and neither do humans, not like paranormals do.” He looked at Dakar expectantly.

  “Sense of smell? What the hell does that….” Dakar’s eyes widened as the events of the afternoon fell into place. Sy’s warning about someone wearing his face…Brock’s anger at Brad…. “Someone in the police department can glamor their appearance so they look like Sy?”

  “The spirit was damn sure he was working for the prince. But the prince talked to the dead men long before this asshole crossed the veil.” Barker poked the serial killer’s chest. “You told me about that. Why didn’t the spirits of the dead recognize Prince York when he was on the other side of the veil as the one behind their killing? Was your mate lying to you when he told you what poor Warren said?”

  Dakar shook his head. He remembered that much at least but everything else was churning around his head like a freaking tornado.

  “Damn it all,” Barker huffed. “You alphas are all the bloody same. You’re blessed with super senses and you don’t use them. Think about it. If your necromancer didn’t lie about Warren, and this asshole spirit didn’t lie about thinking he was working for the necromancer, what does that tell you?”

  Finally, Dakar understood the ramifications of what he’d learned. But then he remembered something else. The Captain. “We’ve already got an employee of the police department in our cells with the capacity to shape shift and it’s not Sy.” Dakar fumbled for his keys. “Phone the department. Talk to Brad. No one else. Tell him what you told me. I’ve got to get to my mate before he’s booked.”

  Running like the hounds of hell were after him, Dakar took off out the back door to the morgue. Shit. I came with Sy, and there was no sign of the limo or Brad’s vehicle in the parking lot. Shoving the useless keys back in his pocket, Dakar sprinted down the road. The police precinct was only four blocks away. Surely no harm could’ve come to him yet. He’s only been gone fifteen minutes at most. He’s got to be safe. And yet, the huge sinking feeling in Dakar’s gut and the edgy growl of his wolf told another story. Please, let me get there on time.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “You know I didn’t want to cuff you, don’t you?” Brad peered at him through the rearview mirror, but Sy ignored him. That ‘ugly feeling’ of blossoming terror he’d felt earlier was increasing the closer they got to the police department and he knew if he walked through those doors he was in for a power of hurt and a lot of people could get caught in the crossfire.

  If he didn’t go in, he’d be a fugitive.

  Three blocks to go. Sy could see the bright blue sign for the police station getting closer. Dakar. Sy’s heart ached at how his mate did nothing but make a token protest at him being arrested. Anyone with an ounce of commonsense would know he wasn’t responsible for all of this. The threat was against him. The dead serial killer, Forth and even the Captain made that plain.

  My alpha might be a hunk, but he’s sadly lacking in the brain department and don’t get me started about his loyalty. All those lovely words Dakar whispered in his ear not half an hour before. Sy shook his head. He was a fool to believe anyone would care for him. But gods, it galled him that his father was right. Blinking away his tears, Sy weighed up his options as the precinct got closer.

  He’d never been a fugitive before. He’d barely had anything to do with the police department before this case. In normal circumstances he’d go along with the arrest. His innocence wouldn’t be easy to prove without magic, but he could do it. Eventually. If he got locked up, the evil would find him. From the aura Sy could see around the police building, it was already there waiting. If he went home the evil would track him there.

  Realizing that, Sy knew he had no choice. His books, Brock, the very heart of his power stemmed from his family home. Hanging around the cells, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who stole his freaking heart then stomped on it, wasn’t going to do him any favors. If he was going to fight this thing then he needed all the magical ammunition he could get. As Brad pulled up outside the precinct, Sy called on his power.

  “I’m sorry, Brad,” he whispered as he disappeared from the car, leaving his cuffs on the back seat.

  /~/~/~/~/

  Dakar’s boot sounded like thunder claps as he ran into the bullpen, causing more than one head to turn his way. But that wasn’t what caused him to slide to a stop. No. It was the Captain standing large as life, addressing his officers, with Brad standing by his side looking as though he’d eaten a lemon. He was too late.

  “The Necromancer will be caught,” the Captain’s voice boomed around the room. “I was against contracting with him or his family and fought against it for years. But I was overruled and now, after all this time, I’ve finally been proven right. Find him men and show our beloved community why shifters make the best type of officer.”

  “Yes, sir.” The response from the room was muted, but a glare from the Captain and everyone suddenly looked busy. The Captain caught Dakar’s eyes and showed his teeth. “Detective, in my office now.”

  How? Why? Dakar mouthed at Brad, but the wretched bear wouldn’t meet his eye. Crossing the room, Steven, the wolf who’d protected the children and cat shifters back at the Sanctuary, pulled him aside. “Watch yourself,” he whispered as Dakar tugged his arm free. “The evil’s so bad in here you can taste it.”

  “How did….” Dakar didn’t have the chance to finish the question as the Captain yelled at him from his office door.

  “Now, Detective.”

  Slipping Dakar a piece of paper, Steven moved away. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Dakar headed for the office, his head held high. Brad was already standing by the Captain’s desk, staring at a point on the wall only he could see.

  “Close the door,” the Captain ordered.

  Dakar’s wolf, which until now had been focused on finding Sy, growled a warning, but Dakar did as he was told. Standing in front of the Captain’s desk he stood at parade rest, his eyes focused on the framed Community Award hanging on the wall behind the Captain’s head.

  “You’ve been corrupted by an evil force.” The Captain didn’t waste any time getting down to brass tacks. “You knowingly fornicated with, aided, and abetted a criminal. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “As far as I’m aware, Prince Sebastian York hasn’t been charged with any crimes. In fact, he was invaluable in assisting this department in solving the serial killer crimes you ordered him brought in to solve.”

  “The Necromancer is a fugitive!” The Captain thumped his desk so hard a large crack appeared. “He slipped away when your partner tried to bring him in for questioning. He’s evaded arrest. That makes him a criminal.”

  “What are the charges, sir?” Dakar refused
to look at the Captain directly. His wolf was screaming at him to get away, but he kept his feet still.

  “Didn’t you hear me, man? He evaded arrest. What more do you need?”

  “And I want my statement recorded for the record that when Prince Sebastian York was led from the morgue, in cuffs I might add which wasn’t necessary, he was being treated as a person of interest. There aren’t any grounds for arrest because there were no charges against him in the first place.”

  “We’ll find the evidence we need when we capture him.” The smell of sulphur and brimstone increased making Dakar’s head woozy. Clenching his fingers behind his back, Dakar stiffened his spine although he was sure he wavered slightly. Just as he thought he was going to fall over, the smell disappeared, and the chair creaked as the Captain leaned back on it.

  “You can relax, Dakar. I’m prepared to give you the means to redeem yourself.”

  This isn’t going to be good.

  “You will lead a team of the best and strongest officers and break into the Necromancer’s stronghold. Bring me the Necromancer in chains, and I’ll forget about your indiscretion towards this department.”

  Like fucking hell! Dakar inhaled sharply, struggling to control his sudden panic at the thought of his beloved Sy in chains. Think. Damn it. Think. “Previous visits to the Necromancer’s home during the course of this investigation indicate it would be impossible for anyone to enter without magical means,” he said with as much calm as he could muster. “The home is strongly warded. The family protect their privacy.”

  “And yet, you can come and go as often as you like, can’t you detective?” The Captain’s smile was not pretty. “After all, why would the Necromancer’s home be warded against his alleged mate?”

  “I…er…I…” Dakar looked across at Brad, but he was getting no help from that quarter. The man could be a statue for all the emotion he was showing. “The spirit we interviewed today said the Necromancer deceived me and that we’re not mates at all.” Fuck, the urge to rub the ache in his chest was strong, but Dakar’s will was stronger. “The Necromancer heard what the spirit said. He has to know he’s been found out. He’s not likely to ever want to see me again.”

  And ain’t that the truth. Fuck, Sy, I’m so sorry. Dakar wished with everything he had that he could turn the clock back to before the spirit was summoned. He’d still have to listen to the same cock-and-bull story, but the moment Brad pulled out his cuffs, Dakar would have shot him. In the arm, but enough so that he and Sy could get away. Now Sy was holed up in his huge mansion with no one but Brock and Connor for company.

  “Hmm,” the Captain’s voice might have sounded friendly if it wasn’t for the demon’s fangs poking out from his top lip and the hint of smoke trailing from his nostrils. “It’s just as well I have someone on the inside of that mausoleum the Necromancers call home then, isn’t it? Someone who’ll make sure the wards are down and the doors unlocked at precisely eight o’clock tonight. You will arrest him then.”

  Fucking hell. It must be Connor. The lanky familiar who Sy took in out of the goodness of his heart. The one who claimed he couldn’t hold the spirit any longer, causing Sy to send him away before any further questions could be asked. “Eight o’clock. Yes, sir. I’ll start organizing a team right away,” Dakar said, his mind racing. He needed to get in touch with Sy. That’s if his mate would ever give him the time of day.

  “And Dakar,” the Captain warned as he opened the office door. “Don’t leave the precinct. I’m not an idiot. The Necromancer might have tricked you into believing you two were mates, but there’s no telling what silly ideas your protective wolf might come up with. Like warning the Necromancer you’re coming, for example. You can’t help it. It’s your animal nature. But it can’t be allowed to happen. Consider this me doing you a favor; a way for you to keep your job. After all, you wouldn’t want to be jailed alongside the Necromancer, would you? Especially, when the man tricked you and your animal half so badly.”

  The words “You can stick your damn job up your ass,” hovered on the tip of Dakar’s tongue, but he swallowed them. If he resisted, the Captain would send another team to apprehend Sy and Dakar would probably be staring at steel bars. No, he needed to be free, to ensure Sy’s protection. And he might not be able to leave the building, but he was going to have a serious chat with his fucking partner as soon as he could get him alone.

  His lips twitching at the way Brad stuck to his ass as Dakar left the office, he headed down the corridor to the locker room. No cameras in here, he thought as he pushed open the door with one hand while the other tugged at his zipper. Nothing to see here. Just a friendly chat over the urinals.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I’m glad to see you escaped unharmed, sir. We’ve got a spy in the house,” Brock said as soon as Sy reappeared in his library. “Connor just offered me a blow job.”

  “That dick of yours must be sending out neon signals to bad guys. Maybe you should start wearing lead underpants,” Sy said, slumping in his chair. “What did you pick up from him, apart his desire to eat your dick?”

  “It wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d actually wanted to go through with the act. I almost felt sorry for the young familiar when I turned him down.” Brock waved his hand and a tray with Sy’s favorite cup and a pot of tea appeared on his desk. He reached over the desk and started pouring a cup; the scent of chamomile soothing Sy’s ragged nerves.

  “I don’t see anything in that familiar’s mind to indicate he’s got evil intent,” Brock added as he set the teapot down and handed Sy his cup. “But he did plan on attempting to earth our wards, rendering them useless and ensuring the main house doors were unlocked by eight o’clock tonight.”

  “One would assume we’re expecting company then.” Taking a couple of sips, Sy set the cup back down on the tray and rubbed his chest. He looked up see Brock watching him with something akin to pity in his eyes. “Why is this happening? Some of those children we rescued had been held for over ten years. I wasn’t even the Necromancer then. My father was.”

  “Your father was a hard man.” Brock tapped his fingers on the desk. “The only one I can think who’d hold a grudge that long is that demon in the police department. The Captain.”

  “But he’s in cuffs, in jail. He can’t access his magic or persuade anyone to set him free from there. Although, from the vibes I was getting from the precinct building before I left Brad I would be double checking those cuffs under any other circumstances.”

  “Maybe you should be checking.” Brock rubbed his temples with his forefingers for a moment before looking up. “It appears the familiar has been hiding more from me than I thought.” Brock straightened and held out his hands, clapping them together hard. “Connor, I summon you. Appear before me immediately.”

  There was a clap of thunder and a flash of light and then Connor landed with a thump, ending up sprawled across the carpet. “Hey,” he said with more spirit that Sy had noticed before. “If you’d changed your mind about the blow job, you could’ve just asked. You didn’t need to drag me from my bed with a demon tug.”

  “Did you forget the only reason you have a bed at all, is because of the Necromancer’s largesse?” Brock’s arms were folded across his large chest. “It would behoove you to show a little more respect.” He nodded in Sy’s direction and Sy realized that with the desk in the way, Connor originally thought he and Brock were alone.

  “The Necromancer?” Connor got to his feet in a flurry of long limbs and a few elbow knocks. This was the familiar Sy remembered. Hunched shoulders, a mop of hair over his face, almost trembling and refusing to look at anything but the floor. “My apologies, great magic one, if I’ve caused any offence.”

  “Your subservient attitude pleases me.” Sy was still in his Necromancer gear and he leaned back in his chair to show off the full effect. “I’m strongly tempted to take you as a familiar, now I’m mated. Would you be willing? You proved very helpful this afternoon at the morgue.
I believe if you were trained properly, your powers would definitely increase.”

  Connor’s mouth dropped open and he peered at Sy from under his bangs. Sy didn’t hurry him for an answer. Brock would be picking up Connor’s every thought. As the silence stretched on, Sy added encouragingly, “I imagine bonding with me would bring you a lot of prestige among your kind. You can’t get higher in the magical hierarchy than a Necromancer, can you?”

  “No, er, sir. What I mean is I’d never thought about it, before now that is. It would be a huge honor. But what sort of work would I be assisting you with? A familiar can’t touch anything to do with black magic.”

  “Is that what you think I do?” Sy brought his fingers together to form an arch, his index fingers tapping his chin. “You believe I’m a black magic user?”

  Connor looked back and forth between him and Brock.

  “It’s okay,” Sy managed a tight smile. “We are completely private here. Speak your mind.”

  “Yes…er…well.” Connor’s shoulders heaved. “The de…person who sold me to Forth. He and Forth talked a lot about you and your expertise in black magic. They were talking originally about how you might be persuaded to work with them, that you could be useful to them. But then,” he shot a quick look at Brock, who’s expression hadn’t changed. “They said you had a golem and that was apparently a big problem. All familiars know a golem that lives this long has to be a product of black magic.”

  “Is that what they teach in familiar school these days?” Sy chuckled. “Brock is not a golem. He’s my oldest and dearest friend.”

  “Not a golem?” Connor swallowed hard. Then his words came out in a rush. “But they said, you were there when the boys were killed. The one’s like Warren. They said you laughed and joked and danced around in their blood.”