How to Rattle an Undead Couple (The Beginner's Guide to Necromancy Book 9)

by Hailey Edwards

  Head cocked toward me while he spooned mush into sterilized jars, he listened to the rundown.

  “As Abayomi tells it, a mysterious stranger helped her escape prison out of the goodness of his heart. He refused to go with her, and he asked for nothing in return, except that she deliver the box to Woolworth House. According to her, she had no idea of its contents.”

  “He chose an easy mark, one with nothing to lose. Abayomi would have accepted his bargain, no questions asked, if it meant a chance to see the moon rise again.” He glanced over at me. “He was no usual inmate to have a box with a porcelain doll in his possession, ready to hand off with a golden ticket past the guards.”

  “Or no inmate at all.”

  “Or that.”

  “The Davenport Prison is necromancers only.” I rubbed my forehead. “That doesn’t leave us with any good options as to how the box slipped through sorting in the mailroom. Anyone searching the packages would have identified the doll as contraband and tossed it or returned it to sender. We’ll have to make calls, see what we can find out from the guards and the admin staff.”

  Atramentous had been taken off the table for her, not because she didn’t deserve it, but because there were a handful of human inmates in residence. That gave her a slim chance to rebuild her fledgling army with inmates desperate to claw their way out of the darkness.

  Davenport, a maximum-security prison built to contain high-risk necromancers, was the compromise.

  Linus cleaned the jar mouths with a soft towel. “How did Leisha explain their association?”

  “Abayomi appeared to her in the guise of Hecate and hinted strongly that she was Eloise. Once ‘Eloise’ offered her a peek at the Marchand collection in payment, Leisha stopped asking questions. She convinced herself what ‘Eloise’ told her was the truth. That or she just didn’t care as long as she got what she wanted out of the exchange.”

  With a little digging, Eloise’s pregnancy had been debunked. It was merely a story Abayomi had spun for Leisha’s benefit.

  “Leisha is a master at glamour, but that doesn’t mean another master couldn’t have tricked her.”

  Abayomi had been a Grande Dame. Which meant she was a power. Her specialty might not be glamour, as was the case with Leisha, but she had mastered it over her very long life. No one could be in doubt of that. You didn’t get appointed to the position of head of the Society for Post-Life Management without both talent and cunning.

  Wiping his hands, Linus faced me. “Then it was Leisha who dispatched the vampires at the manor.”

  “Yep.”

  “Any idea why Boaz didn’t simply hide behind the wards with Mother and call for backup?”

  “Boaz organized a mock attack on your mother with the sentinel HQ to test the new evacuation protocol in the event she had to be extracted from her home during an actual emergency. For authenticity’s sake, he wasn’t made aware of when to expect the strike.”

  And, for security’s sake, the sentinels weren’t told the reason for their mission or any other sensitive details.

  “The element of surprise meant Boaz reacted without hesitation,” he realized. “He spotted the vampires on the grounds, assumed they were sentinels from a distance, and leapt into action.”

  “Yup again.”

  “That explains why the wards were still active when we arrived. She made a temporary exception for Boaz, since he was in charge of her personal security. He was able to sneak in, collect her, and exit without anyone the wiser.” He turned it over in his head. “With the wards active, the driver and the maid were both protected as well.”

  “Supernatural hearing being what it is, the vampires would have heard the very real panic from Marco and Josephine as they searched for their mistress. That would have been enough proof their quarry had escaped to send the vampires hunting Boaz to locate your mother.”

  “Enter Leisha.” He fiddled with a small gold jar lid. “Abayomi enlisted her to guide the vampires to the bunker and grant them access past the wards.”

  Flustered I hadn’t made the connection sooner, I asked, “How did Abayomi know to approach her?”

  “The Samaritan?”

  “I’ll question her again before we turn her over to your mother, see what she has to say.”

  Though I could guess where the blame for her inspiration would land—at someone else’s feet.

  Rolling my hand to get us back on track, I marshaled my thoughts to see if we couldn’t hash out the rest. A working theory based on known facts would make presenting the case first to his mother and then the Lyceum that much easier. The tighter we tied our loose ends, the better chance we had at a conviction.

  This—putting our heads together over a case—felt good.

  Better than good.

  It felt right.

  “The vampires didn’t have to go the roundabout way,” he continued, “they beat Boaz and Mother there. That explains why Boaz didn’t have time to shut the door. They were ambushed.”

  “The readings on the wards Leisha gave you were tailored to fit what you had already told her and to cover her trail.” I spread my hands. “She made it up as she went along, hoping to escape you and flee.”

  “The source of blood in the bunker?”

  “Boaz fatally wounded one vampire, making a huge mess, and injured three more.”

  “That must be when he sustained his head injury and Mother broke her leg.”

  “Close quarters fighting gets ugly fast, so yeah. That’s what I’m thinking too.”

  Poor Boaz had his bell so thoroughly rung by the vampires, he still wasn’t much help filling in blanks. The Grande Dame had been in so much pain, she likewise hadn’t been in the best frame of mind to nail down a timeline.

  “The vampires regrouped,” he surmised, “and followed their scent trail to the lingerie shop. Mother and Boaz were bleeding at that point. It would have made tracking them easy.” He finished his project and started cleaning the counters. “We had Leisha in custody, and we had already located the house Abayomi rented. She knew we were closing in, so she risked involving Adelaide in the hopes she would help us pin down Boaz.”

  “From there, they used Boaz’s dropped pager to lure you guys to the shop, waited on you to coax him and your mother out of hiding, then pounced in the hopes they could finish what they started.”

  “We can turn Leisha and Abayomi over to Mother for their trials, but that still leaves the Samaritan.”

  An incoming call drew my attention, and I got a twisty feeling in my gut when I saw Bishop’s number.

  “Little problem with your latest request,” he informed me after I answered him on speaker. “Davenport Prison burned to the ground ten hours ago.”

  The timing gave me chills, and I suffered no illusions it was the direct result of Abayomi’s capture.

  “Goddess be merciful.” Linus wiped his hands clean. “Survivors?”

  “None.” Grimness saturated Bishop’s voice. “I got my hands on copies of the inmates’ personal files. Those were backed up remotely, so you can access them through the cleaners’ database if you need more information. They’re being collated there since the prison is now an active crime scene.”

  “Good to know.” I drummed my fingers on the counter. “Those files tell you anything?”

  “The cells to either side of Abayomi were kept empty for her safety. As you can imagine, she wasn’t popular with the other inmates. In her tenure as Grande Dame, she had sentenced many of them.”

  “The good Samaritan wasn’t an inmate then.” I figured, but this was confirmation. “Do we have access to records on the guards and the administrative staff?”

  “We do,” he said grudgingly, “which is how I can tell you they’re not going to be any help.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re dead.”

  “The prisons run three shifts.” I recalled that from my days in Atramentous. “There’s overlap while any given shift is changing, but what about the th
ird one?”

  “Keep in mind the prison is small, given its exclusivity. There were maybe a dozen sentinels not at the prison when it burned. They were called into a meeting after the fact, according to text records, and shot as they exited their vehicles, spotted the blaze, and rushed to help.”

  “The shock made them easy pickings.” I grimaced. “That leaves us with no leads on the Samaritan.”

  “Except for the doll,” Linus murmured. “Have you made any progress there?”

  “It’s an antique, made of bisque, and about eighty years old. It’s never been played with, that much I can tell you. It’s pristine, and all original. With the exception of the bloomers. They’re linen, from a man’s shirt. I can tell you that with absolute confidence because the tailor’s tag is intact, and the customer had his shirt monogrammed with the initials G. M. L.”

  Gaspard Michel Lacroix.

  “The fabric came from the back of the shirt?” I pictured it in my head. “Near the collar?”

  “That’s my take.”

  “The inclusion of the tag and monogram were intentional then. There’s not enough fabric between a tailor’s tag and the start of the collar for it to be coincidental. The back of the shirt is a large, useable area. There’s no reason to skimp or up the difficulty level for a single pair of bloomers unless they wanted to ensure the tag remained intact and legible.”

  “It also tested around thirty years old, so fifty years newer than the doll and the rest of her clothes.”

  “The Samaritan had contact with my grandfather at some point,” I said grimly. “Or access to his things.”

  That could indicate any member of his clan, his allies, or his enemies. The possibilities were endless.

  “Abayomi said he wasn’t interested in escaping with her,” Linus said, “that his time had yet to come.”

  “That’s not comforting, if that’s what you’re going for.”

  “He means there’s nothing you can do until the Samaritan makes his move,” Bishop interpreted for me. “Tie off the loose ends you’ve got. This guy made sure we can’t track him, so don’t lose sleep over it.”

  For their sake, I sucked in a dramatic gasp. “Other new mothers get sleep?”

  Linus, who had insisted on taking the dayshift so as not to wake me, chuckled because I had fought him for the privilege of losing sleep. The jury was still out on whether I could risk another pregnancy, and that meant I wanted to savor every sleep-deprived moment.

  “Enjoy yourself, smartass.” Bishop chuckled. “Babies don’t stay babies for long.”

  “LJ is a week old,” I agreed, “and he’s already grown so much.”

  “What you need to remember,” Bishop said gently, “is there’s always another bad guy, another threat, another awkward dinner with your mother-in-law, but everything with LJ will be a first, a one-time only performance, if you will. You don’t want to miss those while you’re worrying about what comes next.”

  The melancholy advice made me wonder if Bishop had children, or had had them once, but his tone didn’t invite questions. I appreciated it all the same. “Thanks for helping me put it all into perspective.”

  “Hard truths and pretty lies sold by the hour,” he joked. “In your case, I’ll accept payment in churros. Hard to find a better churro than the ones down your way.”

  “You can’t have Esteban. He’s mine.” His churros were what dreams were made of. “I can, however, get one of the Atlanta pack members to bring you some home when they service the Grande Dame’s lawn.”

  “Consider your debt paid,” he said magnanimously. “Oh. I almost forgot. I’ll have those last two candidates vetted by tomorrow. I’ll send the file over then.” He hesitated. “You don’t have to rush into building your own team, you know.”

  If the news took Linus by surprise, he didn’t show it, but he had an excellent poker face.

  “I’ve leaned on you for too long. You’ve got your own potentate to keep up with, and your own city to protect. I can’t keep dividing your focus.” A noise on the porch distracted me as I told Bishop, “I do appreciate the help, though. Past and present.”

  “Future too,” he said sternly. “Tell your folks to call me with any problems until they lose their training wheels. We’re solid here. I can afford to lend a hand until the newbies get the swing of things.”

  “We have to go,” Linus interrupted. “Bishop, you and I will talk later.”

  Ending the call, Linus took my phone and set it on the counter.

  “I’m showing initiative,” I informed him. “You can’t blame Bishop for not telling you.”

  “Oh, he told me the second after he hung up with you.” Linus smiled, and it showed the barest hint of teeth. “Where do you think he got the list of local candidates so quickly?”

  “Bishop is kind of magical.” I shrugged. “He pulls information out of the ether.”

  Lips pursing, Linus nodded. “I can’t argue with that logic.”

  Another thump, followed by a bump, worried me. “What is going on out there?”

  The lights remained constant, no flickers, and the house was silent. No curtain flips, no cupboard slams, no vent swirls. Then it hit me.

  Woolly was in on it.

  Whatever it was.

  When I turned back to Linus, who had pocketed my phone, I realized he was too.

  Traitors, the lot of them.

  At long last, the doorbell rang, which was all kinds of weird. I couldn’t remember the last time I actually heard it. It was a nice sound, but that was beside the point.

  Cocking an eyebrow at my devious spouse, I asked, “Am I supposed to get that?”

  “Woolly does appear to be indisposed.”

  “You’re the man of the house.” I squared off with him. “You can’t get it?”

  Lifting his nose, he breathed in. “Do you smell something?”

  The scent smacked me in the face, and I knew—I knew—Woolly had done it on purpose.

  This was a setup, but now I had to decide if I wanted those cupcakes or if I wanted to be cautious.

  Another blast tickled my nose with my favorite flavor combination.

  Chocolate. Caramel. Cinnamon.

  Mmm.

  With a hesitant stride, I crossed the living room and stared up at the foyer chandelier.

  “I’m going to remember this,” I muttered at Woolly. “Just wait until the next time Neely asks me to sign off on one of your special orders.”

  A swirl of the warmest air yet hugged me, and the doorknob turned before I touched it.

  “Surprise.”

  The chorus of voices filled the porch and startled me back a step.

  “Happy Mother’s Day.”

  “Happy You Already had the Baby but Let’s Party Anyway.”

  “Happy You Survived Childbirth.”

  “Happy Give Me Your Cupcakes.”

  That last one was definitely Lethe.

  “Aww.” I wiped my fingers under my eyes. “I just stopped with the crying jags, and now here I go again.”

  At least this time the tears had my permission to turn me into Rudolph the Red-Nosed Necromancer, as much as any of us can approve the eye-leaking joy that comes from the rare moments when we can feel how much we’re loved radiating off those around us.

  Eva, Kaleigh, Hood, Lethe, Neely, Cruz, Adelaide, Boaz, Marit, Cricket, the Haint Misbehavin’ crew plus my own Haint Behavin’ girls and guys, and tons of pack members crowded the porch and spilled across the lawn. Even the Grande Dame sat on a chaise with Marco at her side.

  Given that he was her driver, I hoped that meant she was ready to go home, but I wouldn’t fuss tonight. Tonight was perfect. All my fears over the Samaritan got shoved down into my feet so I could walk over them. Sure, I might feel the pebble in my shoe from time to time, but Bishop was right.

  Our lineages, Linus’s and mine, had guaranteed neither he nor I would lead ordinary lives as individuals. As a couple, we held too much power and influence between us not
to use it to help those in need, and that involvement came with risks. But we had friends who were as good as family willing to lend a hand when ours were full, and as long as we had each other, there was nothing we couldn’t overcome together.

  “The man of the hour.” Corbin sidled up to me and passed off LJ. “All hail the Woolworth prince.”

  A fresh cheer rose when LJ made his debut, and then the cooing started over his adorableness.

  Eva, who had been closest to the door, vanished into the crowd with Kaleigh on her hip when Corbin waved an awkward hello.

  “Let it go,” I murmured. “She’ll be over her crush by the next time you see her, but if you make a thing of it, that she’ll never forget.”

  “I would just as soon not get thrashed with a dozen roses again, so I’ll take your advice.”

  With that, Corbin eased into the crush, moving in the opposite direction. He met up with Boaz at a line of pickup trucks idling at the curb in front of Woolly. Driven by pack members, the truck beds overflowed with grills, charcoal, and meat. Lots of meat. Lots and lots of meat.

  Done with my moment in the sun—er, moon?—I reached behind me for Linus and drew him up beside me.

  “The urge to stand at the edge of the porch and lift LJ over my head while we proclaim him our son and heir is almost overwhelming.” I kept him tucked against my chest, just in case. “I thought I was deprogramming Keet, but I think he was programming me instead.”

  “I have noticed you humming ‘Hakuna Matata’ lately.”

  “He loves to sing along,” I grumbled a weak protest then perked. “Where did the cake smell come from?”

  “I wondered when you would work your way back around to that.” He lifted a hand, and Marit patted the arm of the muscular gwyllgi beside her. Jack, her boyfriend, turned his back to me while everyone shuffled aside. “What do you think?”

  When Jack turned around, he held a board with a four-tiered cake decorated with a speckled cream cheese frosting that smelled like cinnamon and sugar. Churros stood like candles along the edges of each tier, dozens of them, and the whole thing was topped with two churros piped to make a giant heart.