Page 30 of Deadly Lineage
Nine
Erasmus
I’m fine. It was a lie nearly everyone told at least a thousand times in their life, maybe more. Were any of us reallyfine? I suppose it depended on your definition. Physically, I was on the mend. I didn’t feel like roadkill today. I also didn’t feel like I wanted to go for a jog or even throw a frisbee back and forth.
But that only accounted for the physical. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted. I also knew enough to understand that I was traumatized. I needed deep sleep to recover, and that was something I couldn’t get right now. Nightmares haunted my dreams, waking me with my mouth open and throat raw enough to make me believe I’d been screaming in my sleep.
Setting the phone down on a nearby table, I rested my elbows on my knees and leaned into my cupped palms. Even awake, I could feel Rebecca and Phineas’s souls, their tattered ends like needles piercing my insides. Their rough edges constantly scraped against my soul, the feeling rough and horrendously uncomfortable.
I shouldn’t still be able to feel their souls. I didn’t think they were still with me, but the memory was strong and something my necromancer side couldn’t let go of.
Blowing out a breath, I ran my fingers through my hair, reminding myself I needed a shower.
“Erasmus, is that you out there?”
My head snapped up, my gaze immediately trailing to my neighbor’s yard. I hadn’t even heard Mrs. Hart or her Maltese, Miss Pattycakes, approach.
“Mrs. Hart,” I greeted her warmly while pushing my reluctant body out of my chair. The evening heat wasn’t as oppressive tonight. The earlier breeze we’d enjoyed had stuck around and cleared the air. The grass was cool beneath my bare feet as I crossed my yard, heading for the low fence separating our properties. I was glad the fence wasn’t too tall. It was just high enough to keep Miss Patty’s small body safe and sound while allowing me visual access to Mrs. Hart’s wonderous back yard.
“Good evening to be outside,” Mrs. Hart said while lifting Miss Patty up just high enough for me to reach over and pet her. Miss Patty didn’t allow just any hand to touch her, and Mrs. Hart always beamed when Miss Patty wagged her tail when I gave her attention.
“How are you tonight, Miss Patty?” I asked while scratching her under the chin. Miss Patty stretched out her neck, her tail wagging more vigorously.
“Mr. Hart said you were good people, and Miss Patty has always agreed.”
I’d heard some variant of that for the past four years. Mick and Calista Hart had been in their early seventies when I’d moved in next door. I’d never hid who I was. But I didn’t go around wearing a t-shirt that saidNecromancer For Hireeither. Eventually, people found out. When that inevitably happened after I moved into the neighborhood, a lot of my neighbors had figuratively pulled up their welcome mats.
Not the Harts.
I’d held Mrs. Hart’s hand when the ambulance came, and then drove her to the hospital the day Mr. Hart had his heart attack. I’d stayed until Mrs. Hart’s family arrived and then left them in peace. She’d never asked me to bring her husband’s soul back, and I never expected her to. They were the kind of people who used their living time well, leaving nothing unsaid by the time Mr. Hart had passed.
“I don’t mean this in an unkind way, Erasmus, but you look a bit tuckered. I may not understand exactly what you do or how, but don’t work too hard. You’ve only got so many trips around the sun. You need to take care of yourself.”
Miss Patty licked my fingers in unspoken agreement. “You won’t hear any disagreement here,” I answered. “But it has been a rough week.”
Setting Miss Patty on the ground, Mrs. Hart leaned against her fence. An arbor covered in sweet-smelling honeysuckle framed her body. “Does it have anything to do with that poor witch they found?”
Mrs. Hart was an avid reader. I should have known she’d been keeping up.
“It does. I’m sorry, I can’t speak about the details.”
She waved me off. “I wasn’t expecting that. Truth be told, what I read in the paper’s enough for me. I’ve never been one who wants the gory nitty-gritty. Mr. Hart didn’t like it either. Just like me, he liked to keep informed, but there’s a line neither of us liked crossing.”
Some days, I wished I didn’t have to cross those lines either.
With a wry grin, she changed the subject. Sort of. “I saw that handsome detective fellow here the other day.”
Against my will, my cheeks flushed. “Detective O’Hare,” I answered.
“Yes, yes. That one. Goodness, how many other handsome detectives do you know?” Mrs. Hart cackled, her commentmeant in good humor. “He’s a broad fellow. Looks like he could take care of business if you know what I mean,” Mrs. Hart said with a suggestive eyebrow waggle.
I wasn’t entirely certain I did know. I also wasn’t certain Mrs. Hart understood, but then again, the Harts had always been blissfully accepting of both my species and the fact that I was gay.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. You know I read. I like keeping up with what’s going on, not just the bad stuff. A supportive friend should know these things.”
I blinked. Slowly, my shock morphed into precious warmth. That buffer eased the memory of Rebecca and Phineas’s shredded souls. Was Mrs. Hart a friend? Funny, I’d always thought of her as just my neighbor. But hearing her put our relationship on another level made me realize just how true it was. I did consider Calista Heart a friend.
Miss Patty’s sharp yips interrupted the moment. Mrs. Hart chided her dog. “Calm down, Miss Patty.” Only, Miss Patty didn’t calm down. If anything, her yipping climbed an octave. “For heaven’s sake.” Mrs. Hart took off, heading for the part of her lawn facing the street. “There ain’t nothin’ there to get so upset about.”
