Page 102 of Deadly Lineage
My heart felt light as it fluttered wildly in my chest. “And whatwouldplease you, Detective O’Hare?”
Franklin’s lips twitched. “I’ve got a few ideas, but for now, let’s start with this.” He stood and leaned over my body, face hovering above me. I’d recovered enough to lift my head, meeting him halfway. Franklin’s lips were rough, chapped, and dry. He needed a shave and probably a shower. None of those things mattered. I savored the feel of his lips against mine, the way he moved them, the way he made me understand that I was his and that he’d move heaven, hell, or a twisted serial killer to get to me.
Istared at McCallister’s body. Pops had made good on his word. Little pieces of McCallister’s flesh were missing, exposing bloody swaths of nerve and muscle tissue. Five days and an autopsy later made McCallister’s corpse all the grislier.
“You sure you’re up to this?” Franklin asked, hand pressed into the small of my back. “We can wait another day or two.”
I contemplated that but shook my head. My body felt recovered enough and I didn’t want to wait any longer. Ever since this idea took root in my brain, it wouldn’t allow me to rest.
“No, I want to do it now. I’ll be fine.” I wasn’t completely certain that was true, but I was about 75 percent there. That was good enough for me.
I’d been lying in my bed at home, thinking how unfair it was that McCallister’s soul was still intact while his victims would languish. I was contemplating bringing back the souls he’d damaged and ripping them completely apart. At least then they’d be at peace.
And that’s when it occurred to me. McCallisterwasdead. I could bring his soul back. But that wasn’t the epiphany. That came later when I considered the condition of McCallister’s soul. If stealing his victim’s abilities had torn out sections of their souls, it only made sense that they would have been added to McCallister’s. As long as they hadn’t fallen by the wayside when he died, then I might be able to bring McCallister’s soul back, along with the bits and pieces he’d stolen. If I could do that, it would be a simple matter of stripping them off and fitting them back into their original host.
I’d told Franklin it would be simple. That wasn’t completely true. I didn’t know if it was untrue either. Considering I’d nevertried something like this before, I wasn’t certain. Theoretically it should be simple. I didn’t even have to shove McCallister’s soul back into his body to do it.
“You ready?” Captain Cicely asked. I had quite the crowd. Captain Cicely, Detective Harrison, Franklin, Pops holding up a nearby wall, and four corpses—Rebecca Ann Mosely, Phineas Noland, Linus Remington, and Morgan McCallister. Detective Harrison had her tablet out, ready to hit record.
“Ready,” I said, shaking out my arms. I didn’t need to be loose to do this, but the tension was starting to strain my neck. Staring at the litany of sweets and juice lined up on a nearby table did more to ease my muscles than any flexing. Franklin came in extra prepared today.
Closing my eyes, I focused on Rebecca Ann Mosely first. I was used to stuffing souls back into bodies. Today’s trick would be bringing them back without allowing them back inside. At least, not at first.
I’d considered who to bring back first. I didn’t want to call for the souls of McCallister’s victims until I knew if their bits of soul were clinging to McCallister’s, and if I could remove them. With that thought in mind, I said, “Morgan Ellis McCallister, I call on you to return.”
My necromancer abilities tugged on that thread connecting McCallister’s soul to his body. The soul came willingly enough. I hadn’t admitted this to anyone, but I’d never tried calling back a necromancer’s soul. Necromancy wasn’t McCallister’s primary ability, but there was enough of it there to do a lot of damage. Thankfully, his soul headed my call just like every other one.
It came flying toward me, toward McCallister’s body. I stopped it just in time, allowing the soul to hover just beyond the flesh it sought.
The room was quiet, Franklin’s hand on the small of my back a constant, reassuring weight. I knew Detective Harrison wasrecording the scene, not that it would visually pick up what I was doing unless I shoved the soul back into McCallister’s body and made him speak. I’d contemplated doing that. Revenge was a heady drug, and I wasn’t immune to its call. I wanted to make him suffer. I wanted Morgan McCallister to know that he’d lost and we’d won, that I was going to strip him of all his ill-gotten gains.
Although it would be satisfying, it was also petty. There was the added benefit of never having to hear McCallister’s voice again.
Concentrating, I delved deeper into McCallister’s soul. It was easier than I’d thought it would be to pick out the pieces that didn’t belong. With a simple nudge, I teased a section away. It was as if that piece of soul knew it didn’t belong and desperately wanted release. I was more than happy to give it the added push it needed.
“You’re smiling. Is that a good sign?” Franklin asked.
“It’s a very good sign,” I happily answered. “I think this is going to work.”
“Glad to hear it,” Captain Cicely said.
“Glad to say it,” I countered before turning my attention to our first known victim. “Rebecca Ann Mosely, I call your soul back.” My smile turned into a grimace when I became reacquainted with the wrongness of her soul. Its prickly, torn edges were horribly uncomfortable and floated just beyond her body. Now that I had the two souls close to each other, it was easy to see what parts were Rebecca’s. Close proximity made those missing pieces of soul reach out, yearning to be reunited. Again, a gentle push was all it took.
Rebecca’s soul knitted back together, leaving small, barely-there scars as lingering evidence. I could still tell something had happened to her, but her soul was whole again and no longer hurt to hold onto.
Soul whole, I reunited it with her body one last time. This was the final step, the reason why Detective Harrison stood there, recording everything. While we had plenty of evidence against Dr. McCallister for his deeds against me and Pops, a little finger pointing from his other victims would go a long way to neatly closing the case.
Rebecca’s dead eyes blinked, her mouth closed, no scream forthcoming. Her corpse sat up and looked around the room. I could feel her confusion and hastened to ease her discomfort.
“Rebecca Ann Mosely, I’m sorry to bring you back, but I’m afraid the police need to know what happened to you.”
I never truly knew what a soul’s reaction would be. Rebecca wasn’t upset, and she wasn’t angry—at least not at me. What I got from her was a sense of overwhelming relief.
“You found me,” Rebecca said. “I was so afraid that no one would, and I hurt so badly. I…” Fear and anger took the place of relief. “That man took me. He blew sleeping dust into my face and when I woke up, I was underground and in a circle. He hurt me.”
“I’m so sorry,” I sincerely said. “I know this will be difficult, but the detectives have some questions they need to ask you.”
Rebecca’s soul flinched but solidified with determination. “I will answer what I can. That man must pay for what he did.”
