Page 7 of Deadly Lineage
I jerked, my fingers tightening into fists before I ordered, “Explain.”
“I’m not saying Ihavedone it, only that it’s theoretically possible. When I bring a soul back, it’s completely under my control. I… It’s a fragile thing, the soul. You have to handle them carefully. If I wanted—and mind you, I’ve threatened to do it less than a handful of times—I could shred a soul until there’s nothing left. I could utterly destroy it.”
Well, shit.I crouched beside Boone, unsure what to say, my throat drier than the desert.
Boone lifted his head and a sad, twisted kind of smile tweaked his lips. Turning, he stared off into the distance. Shoulders hunched, Boone looked smaller than usual, all the quirky life zapped out of him.
“In all the years we’ve known each other, that’s the first time I’ve seen that look on your face.”
“What look?” I asked.
“The one I hate the most. Fear.”
I wanted to tell Boone he was full of shit, that he was reading me wrong. There was just one problem. Boone was right. I wasn’t afraid he could hurt me—not while I was alive, anyway.But unless a vamp turned you, every human died. Humans had a final page to their stories. We just didn’t know how many pages made up our individual books. One day, I’d be a corpse, and if Boone outlived me, he’d have unholy power over my soul. The necromancer sitting beside me could shred my soul until nothing was left, and if Rebecca Mosely’s reaction was anything to go by, it’d hurt like hell.
Was I frightened by Erasmus Boone? By this unassuming man sitting on his ass in the middle of a patch of weeds while battling low blood sugar? Damn straight I was. Only an ignorant fool wouldn’t be afraid.
Chapter
Three
Erasmus
“Have some more iced tea, sweetie.” Iced tea was Lydia Boone’s cure-all. Maybe it wasn’t the tea so much as the pound of sugar she poured into it. I’d been raised on sweet tea. Maybe that’s why my blood sugar oscillated like the world’s scariest roller coaster.
“Thanks, Momma.” I took my glass of iced sweet tea and downed a third of it in one go. My body still felt wrecked from my earlier attempt with Rebecca’s soul. I hadn’t failed that spectacularly since the first soul I attempted to bring back. I shivered at the memory, and Momma wrapped an afghan over my shoulders.
Rubbing my arms through the fabric, Momma said, “You need some more meat on your bones. Times like these make me wish I liked spending time in the kitchen more.” Momma sighed before walking around the kitchen island and topping off her own glass of iced sweet tea. “Your granny was eternally disappointed I didn’t take to baking the way she did.”
Momma gave a watery smile. Thoughts of her mother always brought the same wistful expression. Momma hadn’t asked me to bring granny’s soul back. I’d offered, but Momma simplyshook her head and told me she and granny had said everything they needed to while she’d been alive.
“Nonsense. Granny was proud of you.”
Momma blinked back tears. “I know, sweetie.” Setting down her glass, she moved closer, palms planted on the counter, and leaned across. Momma was a realtor and had a house showing in less than an hour. She was already dressed in a sharp pink suit with a cream blouse underneath. Momma’s auburn hair was pulled back into an artful, if slightly messy, bun. Gray shot through in a few places, but so far, Momma maintained her natural glory. Pops wasn’t so lucky. As an older warlock, he was more gray than black these days.
“I don’t think Detective O’Hare meant to offend you. He just…” Momma’s words drifted. While she was a momma bear through and through, Momma hadn’t coddled me. She’d told me time and again that I needed to learn to fight my own battles, otherwise I’d never learn to stand on my own. Like so many things, Momma was right. She was also a woman who loved her son and hated seeing him hurt.
I stared down at my glass, now half full. “I know,” I said, voice smaller than I’d like. “It was just nice before. He…” I sighed, trying to put my emotions into words. “It was just nice. Before. Even when Franklin didn’t know much about necromancers, he never looked at me like I was a freak, he—”
“Erasmus Samuel Boone!”
I cringed. Nothing good ever came from my momma using my full name.
“You are not afreak. You are a talented necromancer, and if you will not take my word for it, then I will call your father right this very minute and let Nikodemus straighten his son out.”
My back snapped to attention. “That is a dirty threat, Momma.”
She pointed a finger my direction, eyes narrowed. “I will use any means at my disposal to stop such idiotic nonsense spewing from your mouth. I will fight as dirty as I must to protect you, even if that means protecting you from yourself.”
In a few quick strides, Momma was around the island and had my face cupped within the palms of her hands. Eyes soft, she pulled my head up, demanding I give her my full attention.
“My beautifully talented boy. The world can be a cruel place. There’s enough bad ready and willing to make itself known. Don’t go creating it where it isn’t. Cut Detective O’Hare some slack. What he learned last night had to be a lot to take in. While I haven’t met the man, from what you’ve said in the past, Detective O’Hare seems like the logical, well-thought-out type. Give him some time to logic through this, to see that you’re the same person today that you were two years ago.” Momma pushed my hair away from my eyes before swiping her thumb lower, erasing a tear that slipped through. “His opinion means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”
My cheeks flushed. “That obvious?”
Momma dropped my chin, pulling her hands back and leaning on the counter again. A crooked smile pulling her lips, she answered, “Just a little bit.” With a wink, she took a step back but remained close. “Anyone else and you would have said some sarcastic, witty remark, flipped them off, and walked away.”
“I’m not that bad,” I said, attempting to defend my personality.
