The Necromancer's Smile

by Lisa Oliver

  “You think you saw me?” Sy looked across at Brock who shrugged.

  “No. I wasn’t there, but the de…person who came to Forth, asking for the wards that drained his powers said the wards had to be strong because with every heart you consumed you were getting stronger.”

  “Seems those Peterson house wards weren’t just meant for you Brock.” Something was nagging the back of Sy’s mind, but he couldn’t work out what it was.

  “Why don’t you call this person what he is,” Brock said harshly. “You were consorting with a demon. Something expressly forbidden to familiars everywhere because their powers aren’t strong enough to shield themselves from ill intent.”

  “It wasn’t intentional.” Connor scuffed the carpet with the edge of his new sneakers. They still had the price tag on the back. “I was sold to a demon by my parents. It’s not as though I had a choice in the matter. He kept me a while, then he sold me to Forth.”

  “But through it all, you’re still bonded to that demon, aren’t you, Connor?” Sy leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “There’s no point in lying. The only reason I didn’t sense it before was because of your bond with Forth. The breaking bond when Forth died should have left you laid up in bed for weeks. Even a forced bond break can kill familiars. Yet you were well enough for Brock to suggest you could aid me with the summoning of the serial killer. Why did it take him over ten minutes to zap back here and pick you up?”

  “I was in the shower.” Sy could barely hear Connor’s mumble.

  “No, Connor, I think you were in the police cells, providing an earth between the demon Captain and the energies from the shifters who work there, so that he could break the cuffs I slapped on him. Would I be right?”

  Connor’s body trembled.

  “How did you know your demon was in jail, Connor?” Sy’s tone hardened.

  “My brother, Robert.” Connor looked up, his eyes filled with tears. “The demon holds him prisoner; I have to do as he says.”

  “Save your tears, boy. Robert is one of the Captain’s willing concubines, who shot the Necromancer when the Captain was taken into custody. An arrest he deserved because he allowed countless needless deaths over the years, by not using the magic services the Necromancer would willing supply if only he was asked.” Brock grabbed Connor’s arm and shook him. “The only one practicing black magic is that scurrilous demon. Were you the one who provided him with enough energy to glamor his appearance, so he looked like Prince York?”

  “No, I mean, I don’t know. Maybe. I spelled a lot of items for him ages ago, before he bonded me to Forth. I didn’t know!”

  “Let him go, Brock.” Sy sighed and leaned back in his chair. He picked up his cup, but the tea was cold. Magical reheats never tasted the same as a fresh pot. “The only thing Connor is guilty of is pure stupidity, lying through omission, oh, and the fact he intends to let a team of police officers storm in here tonight to take me away in spelled chains, so my powers can be drained by the murderous Captain to the point I fade from existence.”

  Connor gasped. Sy ignored him. “How would my father have handled something like this, Brock? I mean, what are we looking at here?” He held up his fingers. “Assisting in murder, attempted murder of a Necromancer companion, breaking someone out of jail and that’s without paying back the hospitality and care he’s been shown with nothing but treachery.”

  “Your father never tolerated any form of disrespect,” Brock said firmly, keeping a tight hold on Connor who was probably trying to translocate. He wasn’t successful. “But Connor could prove to be useful to us, one last time; given how he has a bond, albeit a weak one, with the problem demon.”

  Sy smiled. It was always a comforting feeling when he and Brock were on the same page about things. Unfortunately, his heart ache reminded him he couldn’t say the same about his mate. Pushing thoughts of the sexy detective aside, he said, “prepare the summoning room, would you, please? I think it’s time we had a chat with a certain demon preferably before someone tries to ram-raid their way into our house.”

  Keeping a tight hold of Connor, Brock headed for the library door. Thinking about what Connor said, Sy called out, “Just for the record, Connor, when the police finally killed the man responsible for murdering those five young men, their hearts were still in the jars they’d been stored in. That demon has done nothing but lie to you from day one. Of course, I can’t guarantee he hasn’t eaten them now; he probably stole them from evidence. But I find heart meat rather stringy, don’t you, even when cooked? And there is no way a power transference can occur from eating the remains of a dead person. You really should’ve paid more attention in school.”

  Brock’s chuckle lifted his mood better than Connor’s frightened face, but as soon as the two men left, Sy was left alone with his thoughts once more. Facing a demon didn’t bother him. His father started summoning and chucking demons at him from the day he first came into his powers. Each one was stronger than the one before until eventually his father got a missive from the underworld telling him to cease and desist.

  But on my very first attempt to let someone else into my life I get my heart stomped on. Letting out a long breath, which did nothing to ease the pain in his chest, Sy resolutely put his negative thoughts aside. Seventy years’ experience told him the only person he could rely on was Brock. The past week simply proved it to him. In his head, as Brad cuffed him, Sy imagined Dakar wolfing out, challenging the bear – proving the masterful alpha wouldn’t let anyone treat him badly. That he would protect him, despite his job, position or what anyone else thought of him.

  And what did I get instead? Sy sniggered. An alpha who just stood there with his mouth open, preferring to believe his friend and wanting to keep his job, more than he wanted to protect me.

  In one respect, Sy wished the spirit he’d summoned had been right and he had tricked the wolf into claiming him. But the dull ache on the side of his neck that seemed to intensify the longer he was away from the darn wolf, proved otherwise. Maybe this is for the best, he tried to tell himself as he made his way slowly out of the room. Maybe it’s better to learn Dakar doesn’t mean what he says now, before my heart gets anymore invested and he’s actually sharing my house. Unfortunately, even to his mind, he wasn’t very convincing.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “We should’ve left the precinct a lot earlier than this,” Dakar growled as he and Brad studied the forbidding exterior of Sy’s house. Over the last hour, dark thunderclouds had rumbled over the town, giving everywhere an eerie air. A crack of lightening lit up the night sky for a split second, before it all went dark again.

  “I want to know where the Captain is,” Brad grumbled. “He makes all that fuss about you not being allowed out of the office and then shuts himself in his and doesn’t even bother to see who we picked for the team to come out here.”

  “I thought we’d already hashed this out.” Dakar snarled at his friend. The bruise on his jaw from Brad’s fist still ached slightly, but the cut on Brad’s eye was going to scar if the bear didn’t shift soon. “The only one in the department who could possibly glamor himself to look like Sy is the damn Captain. You told me the Captain threatened to fire you for not using anti-magic cuffs on Sy when you tried to take him in. It was the Captain Sy humiliated in front of the whole department after he proved just how much of a bigot the Captain is. Now, you’re whining about his whereabouts like he’s your fucking kid. What the fuck?”

  “I’m just saying we should be careful, that’s all.” Brad looked across at the mansion pensively. “I’m trying to hang onto my job, and you’ve only been mated five minutes, if you’re even mated at all. You don’t know how Prince York is going to react with us going in there any more than I do.”

  “Fuck, I should’ve chained your ass to the locker room radiator while I had the chance.” Dakar turned to the four others who were watching silently. Steven was one of them, as well as the rookie cop who was terrified every time Sy came int
o the room. If Dakar had had his way, the rookie would have been left at home, but once the Captain made himself scarce, so did everyone else.

  “I’m going in to protect my mate,” he said sharply. “Tell me honestly. How many of you believe in the Necromancer’s innocence?”

  Steven’s hand went up in a flash and Dakar appreciated the support from a fellow wolf. The rookie looked at the other two cat shifters and slowly raised his hand. The other two followed suit. Dakar looked at Brad whose arms were stubbornly crossed. “You still think this is a trick?”

  Brad shrugged although he didn’t look happy. “My job is all I’ve got. I have to follow orders and my orders are to watch your ass and drag Prince York back to the precinct in chains. His guilt or innocence isn’t up to me. That’s for a court to decide.”

  “As if Sy would ever make it to a court.” Dakar wrenched open his jacket and pulled the collar of his shirt aside. “What do you see?” he tapped his neck.

  “A tattoo?”

  Sighing, Dakar arched his neck. “Fucking sniff it but do it quick because I haven’t got all night. Sniff the damn thing. It’s the mating mark Sy gave me when I fucking claimed him.”

  Brad leant forward and sniffed then shrugged. “Just because you claimed him doesn’t mean he’s not a criminal.”

  “Oh, I fucking give up.” Dakar snarled. “If you want to kiss the Captain’s ass so bad you can do it by yourself.” Dakar ripped the rest of his shirt open and pulled it off along with his jacket. Dragging his detective badge from his pants pocket he slapped it in Brad’s hand.

  “You can tell your Captain, I quit. I know my mate’s innocent. He told me; I believe him. But if that’s not enough for you, think of the facts. Sy was at a nightclub the night the fifth victim was found. It was Sy and his companion who were targeted at the Peterson household, not us. It was because of Sy we got the break and killed the guy who murdered five young men.” Dakar wisely kept the fact that Brock was the one that did the killing to himself. “Through it all every message Sy receives is focused on a danger more powerful than he will ever be, coming for him. Forth, the serial killer, the Captain. Sy’s the one being threatened here, and he’s not done one thing wrong. If the Captain had one shred of decency he’d be ordering us to protect Sy himself. For fuck’s sake. Sy’s contracted to the department. He deserves our protection even if he wasn’t my mate.”

  “Following orders ensures I get a pay packet every month,” Brad snapped back. “Right or wrong. Good or bad, no one will ever say I didn’t follow orders.”

  “Even when you know those orders are wrong?” Brad was a good man, a decent detective and a commendable shifter. When Dakar was initially paired with him he relaxed into his new job, confident Brad would have his back. But now? Shivering in the darkness, Dakar knew he had to hurry.

  Tugging off his boots and removing his pants while staying crouched wasn’t easy, but Dakar did it. As soon as he shifted into his four-footed form, he shook himself and bounded out of the bushes.

  As he got closer to the house, his skin prickled. The wards were still working. Good. The only problem was, he had no way of getting into the house. Thunder crashed overhead, and a bolt of lightning hit a tree not ten yards from where he was standing; the branch falling with a loud crack. This is not good, his wolf warned. Bad magic in the air.

  There was only one thing left for a wolf to do if he wanted to attract attention. Tipping his head back, Dakar closed his eyes and howled for his mate. The thunder wasn’t making it easy for him to be heard, but Dakar kept on howling, pouring his emotions into his vocalizations. I’m sorry. I believe in you. Let me in.

  /~/~/~/~/

  Sy lifted his head and listened. He could barely hear the wolf howl over the noise of the storm, but suddenly his heart beat faster and his cock stirred. “Our company has arrived,” he said, turning back to his work. “Have all the wards been strengthened?”

  “They have.” Brock said calmly. “I believe the howling wolf is your detective, sir. He most likely wishes to gain entrance. The bear, another wolf and three cat shifters are hiding behind the bushes, a distance away from him. It is possible they anticipate rushing the doors once the detective is admitted to the grounds. However, your detective’s only intention is to get to you.”

  “Until I get this right, I don’t want any disturbances. We can worry about who thinks what and why later.” Contrary to folklore and popular belief, summoning a demon wasn’t a case of throwing down a salt circle and calling the demon by his full name. The “demon tug” Brock used on Connor was easy enough for demons themselves to achieve. But for a human like Sy, summoning required skill, precision, and a clear focus.

  Sixty candles, hand lit, were placed the exact same distance apart from each other to form a perfect circle. The pentagram inside that ring was already drawn, but Sy made an offering at each point of the symbol to the corresponding spirits of air, earth, water and fire. Each offering was an elaborate ritual in itself, involving ancient Latin phrases where every word had to be pronounced exactly right for them to work.

  Connor, bound in a magic circle of his own to the side of the room, wasn’t making the job any easier. When kicking out of the circle caused his leg to burn, he curled in on himself physically. But it didn’t stop him trying to blow out the candles from a distance. “He won’t come,” he yelled as Sy attempted to center himself for the final part of the summoning. “That is no ordinary storm out there. He’s coming for you, but not because of your pathetic attempts at summoning him.”

  “For a familiar who enjoyed the benefits of my hospitality, you’re inconsiderately noisy,” Sy said sharply. “One more word out of you, and I’ll turn you into a newt.”

  Connor’s teeth snapped shut. Closing his eyes, Sy tried to slow his breathing. He needed absolute calm. He winced as his cock jumped in time with the wolf he heard howling again. “Brock, can you whisk that wolf somewhere quieter please? Shove him in the guest wing for now. I’m sure Connor won’t mind sharing; that is if he’s still staying here after tonight.”

  Nodding silently, Brock left the basement. Sy knew his butler was simply being considerate. One wave of his companion’s large arms and he would have to start lighting his candles all over again. “Anything else you want to get off your chest before I do this?” Sy asked, glancing at Connor.

  Lips pressed tightly together, Connor shook his head. From his mutinous expression Sy decided he couldn’t take any chances and flicked an invisible gag over the boy’s mouth, ignoring the familiar’s outraged eyes. Connor’s youth excused a lot of his behaviors, but Sy’s gut told him he needed to be fully focused on the upcoming confrontation. He could soothe the ruffled feathers of the familiar later if he needed to.

  Taking the lock of Connor’s hair Brock had cut for him earlier, Sy dropped it in the bowl sitting on the fifth point of the pentagram. He was invoking Spirit. The seat of his power. Pulling his knife from his belt, Sy made a diagonal cut along his left palm, allowing exactly five drops to fall into the bowl before he clenched his fist.

  Pointing his right index finger into the bowl, Sy muttered the words passed down to him from his father, his father’s father and his father’s father’s father before him. The hair in the bowl began to glow bright red, the blood droplets expanding into a mass of bubbles that grew and multiplied until they overflowed the sides of the bowl. Sy relaxed. The offering had been accepted and the summons could be made.

  “I summon you, Demon Baltoc Gravis Pendamin Selphine; son of Balthazar, spawn of Lucifer. Heed my call. I command you.”

  There was a sudden rush of wind as the inner pentagram filled with smoke. A loud bang echoed around the concrete block walls as all the candles blew out. Sy stood firm while the smoke began to slowly mold itself into the demon form of the Captain. Bigger than he appeared at the precinct, Baltoc’s skin was an earthy red; two large black horns sprouted from the top of his head and muscles bulged over muscles across his bare chest and arms. In comparison, his l
egs were short and very thin, although his balance was supported by a long tail thicker than Sy’s arm. This was how the demon would have appeared to his victims on the other side of the veil; the Captain’s true form.

  Only he wasn’t alone. Sy’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the two human forms dangling from the Captain’s meaty hands. Brock’s uncharacteristic curse behind him gave Sy the courage he needed to continue.

  “Baltoc, you have exceeded the parameters of your position and broken a dozen laws by bringing your pets with you. Send the humans back from where you got them.”

  “It’s you!” One of the humans opened his eyes and Sy recognized that face. It was Lloyd Peterson although he was missing his customary scowl. In fact, he looked terrified. “You’re the magic boss. Get me out of here. I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

  “Oh yes you did,” the Captain let out a malicious laugh as Lloyd was shaken like a rat. “You gave up your eternal soul and that of your step-son for a pile of riches and pussy on tap.” He had the audacity to wink in Sy’s direction. “Twelve years, this pathetic excuse for a being has been waiting for me to deliver on my promises and now I have. It’s almost a shame he won’t last long enough to enjoy his side of the bargain. His soul is mine. The deed is already signed and there’s nothing you can do, Necromancer.”

  “He’s a foolish man. He should have been content with the life he could have had with Warren’s mother.” Sy nodded to show he agreed. “The other one you’re holding. The familiar’s brother, I deduce?”

  “Yes, Robert. He can’t bear to be apart from me. He begged to come along. He loves me.” Baltoc showed off jagged teeth as he licked along Robert’s unresponsive face. “Of course, he prefers my human form, but love is such a wasted emotion on a demon, don’t you think?”

  “Agreed,” Sy did his best to ignore the anguish he could see on Connor’s face from the corner of his eye. The outcome for Robert wasn’t looking good. “Is he human? Does he still hold the rights to his soul?”