Page 100 of Deadly Lineage
“Hi, honey.” Momma’s smile was watery and a tear fell from her eye, dripping onto my cheek and rolling across my skin. “Sorry,” she foolishly apologized.
“’S okay,” I managed on a yawn. I wanted to paw at the tube irritating my nose, but Momma’s halting hand stopped me.
“Leave it be, Erasmus. I’ll get the nurse and see if we can take it out or not.” She squeezed my hand and wiped more tears fromher eyes. “I’ll be right back. That will give you some time to speak with your father.” She leaned over and pressed her lips against my forehead. Typically that would leave a lipstick impression, but Momma wasn’t all dolled up today. She appeared worn thin and barely put together. She’d never looked more beautiful to me.
She disappeared from my sight and Pops took her place. Where Momma had looked worn thin, Pops looked like he’d gone ten rounds and wound up in a tie.
“How are you feeling?” Pops asked, his voice low and gravelly.
“I think I should ask you that,” I countered. My hand rose sluggishly enough for me to cup Pops’s rough cheek. He leaned into the touch and his eyes slid closed. “I’m so sorry,” I said, finally able to convey what I’d been feeling. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. I—”
“Hush. You didn’t hurt me, Erasmus. Never think that.” Pops gripped my hand and pulled it away. “I’ll heal.”
Relief washed through me but was quickly replaced by my last memory. “Franklin!” I tried sitting up, determined to physically get out of this bed and find him myself.
Pops smirked. “Your human detective is alive and on the mend. It is fortunate his superior is a witch with proper healing capabilities. She did her best with you but could not correct your dangerously low blood glucose levels. I’m afraid the hospital was necessary.”
I stared at the IV in my hand. I couldn’t get a good look at the fluid bag but figured it had dextrose in it. Settling back, I asked, “Franklin’s really okay?”
“Really,” Pops reassured.
I blew out a relieved breath before confusion set in. “What happened? Last I remember, somehow McCallister threw Franklin against the wall and he—”
“And he managed to survive.” Pops pulled a chair close and sat down beside my bed. “Are you up to hearing the whole story?”
Whether I was or not, I didn’t think I could properly rest until I knew all the details. “Tell me everything.” And so, for the next ten minutes, Pops did. Momma came back and sat on the edge of my bed. She listened with sad resignation. Her lack of surprise let me know she’d already heard the story at least once. Her death grip on my hand said she wouldn’t get over it soon.
Absorbing the information, I blankly stared at the ceiling. “McCallister’s dead?”
“Very,” Pops answered. “And it was a pleasure to do so.”
Momma didn’t so much as flinch.
“Your detective was saddened that I did not allow him the opportunity to contribute to McCallister’s death. However, I believe his aid was already sufficient.”
I barked out a laugh. “Sounds to me like Franklin saved both our asses.”
Pops stared at his blackened fingertips and shrugged, unwilling to admit a human was crucial to our survival.
“I texted Franklin to let him know you’re awake,” Momma said, brushing my hair from my forehead. “He said he’ll be here when he can. As you can imagine, he’s been very busy tying off all the loose ends. I’m afraid the situation has already hit the local press. It’s not every day the county coroner goes on a killing spree.” Momma attempted a bit of levity but then her face fell. “I’m afraid the headlines are a bit misleading.”
Pops growled. “Misleading? Try dead wrong.”
I glanced from one to the other and asked, “How so?”
Momma looked down while Pops appeared unusually apologetic. “They’re calling McCallister a necromancer.”
My blink was slow. “Well, I suppose he was. In a way. He was a lot of other things too.”
“Yes, but that is the angle the press is focusing on,” Pops said. “As they typically do.”
I considered that and wasn’t as upset as Momma and Pops, mostly because I knew McCallister would hate being labeled a necromancer if he were still alive.
Blowing out a breath, I said, “I suppose it is what it is.”
Pops opened his mouth, ready to argue but Momma held up a finger and shushed him. I think my momma was the only being on the planet that could silence my father with a single look and raised finger.
I yawned again, my exhaustion pulling at me. Thankfully, I wasn’t in any pain. I’d been physically healed. Spiritually was a different matter. My necromancer abilities felt like a leaden weight, pulling the rest of me down with them. I needed sleep, food, and sugar. Food would come later. Right now, sleep called to me.
