Page 33 of Deadly Deception
“That was wonderful,” Boone praised Nana’s cooking as he polished off his slice of pumpkin pie. It was a little early in the season for it, but Nana knew how much I loved her pumpkin pie and had made it especially for me. “Momma would love this.” Boone tapped his clean plate.
“Is that your human mother?” Lynn asked. She kept her voice carefully neutral, but her words were clipped. Nana stiffened and Evan’s head snapped Lynn’s direction, his eyes wide. My jaw clenched but I waited it out. I’d step in if needed, but in my experience, Boone was more than capable of handling himself.
“She is,” Boone answered, fondness for his mother easily bleeding through. “Bless Momma’s heart, she’s never been a good cook and she’ll be the first to admit it. She did well enough though, and her sweet tea more than makes up for it.”
I took that bone and ran with it. “Boone’s not lying. His momma, Lydia, makes fantastic sweet tea and it’s always on tap. I swear, the woman has a kegerator filled with the stuff. I just haven’t figured out where she hides it yet.”
Boone chuckled. “Pops is a sucker for it too. Momma ships it to him now and then.”
I leaned back in my chair, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t know that. I can’t believe that—”
“Your warlock father?” Lynn cut in.
“What the fuck, Lynn?” Evan asked, ignoring Nana’s scolding over cursing at the table. “Of course Erasmus has a warlock father. That’s how necromancers are created.” Evan checked with Boone to make sure. “Right?”
Boone gave a slow nod. “That’s true. Momma’s human and Pops is a warlock.”
Nikodemus Holland wasn’t just any old warlock. He was the most powerful warlock on the West Coast. Maybe even west of the Mississippi. Hell, he might even be the most powerful in the whole damn United States. The point was, you didn’t mess with Boone’s dad.
Lynn’s eyes scrunched with thought, the skin in between wrinkling into a V. “I didn’t think warlocks cared about their necromancer children.”
“Jesus Christ, Lynn.” Evan threw up his hands.
“Evan,” Nana hissed. “I will not have you taking the Lord’s name in vain at the kitchen table.” Nana had a thing about cursing while at the kitchen table. It was as if the area were sanctified. The rest of the house was fair game, but the kitchen and its holy table not so much.
“What?” Lynn protested. “Isn’t that the point of tonight? Getting to know Franklin’s latest boyfriend?”
I bristled. Since moving to Mississippi, this was the first man I’d brought home to meet the family. “You make it sound like there’s a new guy in my life every other month, Lynn.”
Lynn had the grace to flush. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” I asked.
Lynn’s frustration became clear. “Why can’t I ask questions? I’m not being rude about it. I’m trying to understand. From what I know, warlocks don’t give a shit about their necromancer kids.They leave them to their human mothers to raise. But listening to Erasmus, that doesn’t exactly sound true.”
I started to answer, but Boone’s palm landed on my thigh, giving a firm squeeze. When I glanced his direction, Boone’s smile looked tired. “It’s okay, Franklin. I’ve got this.”
“I don’t—”
“Shh, it’s really okay.” Squaring his shoulders, Boone’s attention focused on Lynn. I was silently delighted when she squirmed uncomfortably. “You’re not wrong, but you’re not entirely right either. Nearly all warlocks do abandon their necromancer children, but it’s not because they don’t care. It’s just very difficult for them. Necromancers have human life spans. Compared to warlocks, our lives are fleeting. Imagine loving a child that much and all the while knowing that you will undoubtedly outlive them. I’m not saying it’s right, but the vast majority of warlocks choose to avoid that pain by not becoming a part of that child’s life. They distance themselves so they won’t become attached. But my pops is different. Pops says it’s not strength that compelled him to remain in my life, but weakness. We can sit here and debate the validity of that statement, but I’d rather not. As far as I’m concerned, I’m very lucky. Very lucky indeed.”
I’m the lucky one, I thought silently. Later, when Boone and I were alone, I’d prove to him just how lucky he made me feel.
Lynn silently contemplated Boone’s answer and I sincerely hoped that would be the end of her Q&A. Sadly, I was mistaken.
“Franklin says you charge people to raise the dead.” Lynn set her fork beside her plate, barely the tip of her pie eaten. Arms crossed and chin jutted out, Lynn followed up with, “Is that true?”
Evan leaned his head back, stared at the ceiling and silently mouthed,Why?I couldn’t say I disagreed.
I wrapped my fingers around Boone’s hand, squeezing tight. “That’s a simplified version of how I described Boone’s profession, and you know it, Lynn.”
She shrugged. “Maybe so, but I don’t hear him denying it.”
“Hehas a name,” Evan said.
Lynn rolled her eyes and huffed. “Yes, Evan. I know that. I didn’t mean anything by it. God, you’re all so damn touchy.” Tossing a hand Boone’s direction, Lynn continued her verbal descent. “You want me to bring my children around him. You want Glen and I to act like he, Erasmus, is just like everyone else at this table, but he’s not. He raises the dead. Doesn’t that bother any of you? Once someone is gone, they’re gone. It isn’t up Erasmus or anyone else to go against God’s will. Nana, surely you understand.” Lynn sent Nana her most pleading eyes.
Boone remained silent as we all waited for Nana’s response. I’d grown up in a Christian household. Nana still went to church on Sundays and sometimes on days in between. I’d never doubted she’d treat Boone with respect, that she’d accept him, but Lynn’s inquiry had me holding my breath.
