Page 25 of Deadly Lineage
“It is not a bad thing.”
My grin was genuine and large. “I don’t think so either.”
Aurelia’s grunted agreement was barely audible. Pulling her gaze away, her eyes sharpened. “Am I to understand another body has been located?”
I blew out a frustrated breath. “If you mean to ask if we found another body with a shredded soul, then yes, we’ve got another one.”
“And this time, a warlock?”
“Looks that way.”
Aurelia inhaled. “That is unfortunate. Warlocks are preferable to witches. I do not understand why one would be a target.”
From what I understood, several djinn had warlocks to thank for figuring out ways around their witch creator’s restrictions. It was the core behind the current frosty witch-warlock relations. There’d been some thaw the past hundred or so years between warlocks and witches but that didn’t mean they hung out together and sang odes of adoration.
“I thought Pops might know the warlock we found. He doesn’t. It was a long shot anyway.” I’d still called. I think I’d just needed to hear his voice and let him know one of his own was gone. I had no doubt Pops was currently working on finding out who Phineas Noland had been, and if he had any surviving relatives. Naturally, his warlock network was better than Franklin’s.
“Your father was upset.” I wasn’t certain if Aurelia was asking a question or stating a fact.
“He values his community,” I answered, feeling like that covered the situation.
“He values his son,” Aurelia said. “And I do not believe his concerns are misplaced. You asked me if a djinn could shred a soul. I have pondered this question and the more I consider it, the worse it sounds. Little affects or appalls me. I have lived too long and seen too much for it to do so. However, this is a new level of torment that evenIfind disgusting. Death should be enough. One should not continue suffering beyond it.”
I could quote a lot of differing religious opinions on the matter but didn’t feel like getting into a theological debate. I was too exhausted to travel down that treacherous path.
“I need to figure out a way to fix them,” I said, more to myself than Aurelia.
“Is that possible?”
I despised my answer. “I don’t know. Considering I’ve never heard of a soul entering the afterlife in this condition… I just don’t know. I’d have to know how it had been done before I could even begin to put them back together.” My brain wouldn’t let the thought rest. It was more than justnot likingwhat had been done to Rebecca’s and Phineas’s souls. It went against every core belief I had. I wasn’t certain if being a necromancer made it worse or not. On some level, it would. The simple fact was no one else truly understood the horror of what had been done. They could appreciate it on an intellectual level, but to have experienced it firsthand… There simply were no words.
Stuffing my hands into my pockets, one of my leather bracelets caught on the pocket’s edge. I stared down on the unknown grave, thankful for the peace the deceased I was surrounded by enjoyed.
Aurelia remained silent. I was beginning to get used to her long stretches of quiet contemplation. Not all silence needed to be filled with words.
My thoughts remained restless, and I finally said, “I don’t think I can do it. Not alone.”
“Repair the souls?” she asked.
I nodded. “I’m of warlock descent. Putting a soul back together sounds more like witch magic.”
Aurelia released a low, rumbling growl.
“Yeah, I get it, but that doesn’t change the facts. Warlocks use magic to destroy connections. Witches use it to—”
“Create,” Aurelia spat. “That does not mean witch magic is superior or more desired. It certainly does not make it more benign.”
Considering what witches of old had done with their magical gift of creation, I understood and agreed with Aurelia’s point.
“You’re right. That doesn’t change current circumstances.”
Aurelia huffed and went silent again. When I tilted my head her direction, she was gone. “We really need to work on your goodbyes,” I said to little more than the soft breeze. Leaning my head back, I stared back up at the sky. It was thickening with clouds, blocking out more of the sun. That didn’t stop the heat from building. If anything, the cloud cover simply kept the humidity locked in place.
“Gaia, I’m tired,” I complained. But I had no idea just much more exhausted I’d become.
Chapter
Eight
