Page 75 of Deadly Deception
Sara waved a hand and pulled out a barstool I hadn’t seen earlier. She sat heavily, a slight grimace pulling her mouth as she eased into a seated position. Her casual pose indicated just how little of a threat she considered the rest of us.
“Nothing beyond getting you here. I’d heard rumors of a necromancer wandering the streets. It was pure coincidence when Navarre was brought in. The press got wind he was a suspect in some unknown murder, and Uncle Shane contacted me.” Sara sighed. “By that time, I didn’t believe a necromancer could even do what I needed. I mean, you require a body, right?” Again, Sara’s grin made me flinch. “I was worried at first. That reporterknewthings. Maybe she hadn’t put all the pieces together, but she was building the puzzle. I couldn’t let that happen. By the time Daisy Vasquez came on the scene, I had a nice little business going on. I was a trusted officer. I could work the system to my advantage. It was easy enough, knowing who was on duty and their beat. My criminal activities were far more lucrative than my legitimate, professional paycheck.” Sara looked around the house and said, “You should have seen the shithole I was living in two years ago. This is a definite improvement, and I plan on upgrading again soon. I pay my employees well. Only a handful know my true identity, and I’ve earned their loyalty through cold, hard, cash. They’ve done wonders spreading my borrowed identity, and reigniting fear of Vanja in the heart of locals.”
Henson placed his hands on his hips and glared across the kitchen island. “This is never going to work. Others know now. Your uncle—”
“I’ll be long gone by the time Uncle Shane recovers enough to realize what I’ve done.” There was a hint of regret in Sara’s tone. “I really am sorry Uncle Shane got hurt. It was a necessity, but not something I relished. He’s such a trusting man.”
Franklin tensed. “I don’t think it’s that odd, a man trusting his niece.”
“I’m sure you don’t, Franklin. Regardless, Uncle Shane trusted the wrong person. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone Navarre was at his house, and to be honest, I didn’t truly care. I had no designs on Navarre. He’s no threat to me. Navarre can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t. When killing the two of you didn’t pan out, I shifted gears and decided to get rid of the bodies. If I could do that, then I wouldn’t need to worry about Boone resurrecting them. All threats would be eliminated. My people removed the bodies from the morgue and ignited them in one hell of a barbeque out on the Indiana dunes. That should have been the end of it. The bodies were destroyed, there was nothing for Necromancer Boone to use to bring their souls back. Imagine my surprise when I heard that wasn’t the case.”
I shifted closer to Franklin. So far, Sara hadn’t threatened us. She also hadn’t threatened Navarre or Tabitha. Did she even need them any longer? I wasn’t sure. Sara had Franklin, and as long as he was in danger, Navarre and Tabitha were unnecessary.
Swallowing hard, I said, “You’ve got me now. Let Navarre and Tabitha go.”
Sara’s fingernails tapped along the side of her mug. “You know, I don’t think I will. At least, not yet. You might be surprised to know I don’t actually plan on hurting them, at least not as long as you cooperate. I’ve no desire to get on the wrong side of the Magical Usage Council.” Sara huffed and stared hard at the man guarding the French doors. “I wasdispleasedwhen the medium was brought along with Navarre.” The guy’s facewent a little ashen, and I wondered exactly what Sara had done in the past to instill this level of fear. Sara might call it loyalty, and maybe it was, but it was a loyalty built on fear—and that was a weak foundation.
Given the Magical Usage Council’s responses thus far, I wasn’t so certain they’d care, but didn’t voice that opinion.
“I think I’ll hold on to them a little longer. You know, I really do have a soft spot for Navarre. I’ve no desire to hurt him. Not that I won’t, just that I don’t want to do so. I’ve learned the hard way that you don’t always get what you want. If you can trust one thing, Necromancer Boone, it is that I will do what is necessary to get what I want.”
“And what you want is money,” I deadpanned.
“Greed,” Aurelia commented. She’d been oddly quiet throughout and now sounded impossibly disappointed. “She is no different than the masters.” There was a new layer of disgust in Aurelia’s tone. “This is not nearly as interesting as I’d hoped.”
I gritted my teeth, swallowing my irritation. I thought about voicing my annoyance to the seemingly empty air. Franklin would understand. Sheriff Henson might too. Sara and the rest of her murderous gang would be confused, but I wasn’t sure I cared. I could try threatening her with a djinn, but if Aurelia wasn’t willing to play along, it would be an empty threat.
When I looked back up, Aurelia was gone.
Pushing thoughts of Aurelia from my mind, I said, “You’re putting a lot of faith in my abilities and in Vanja’s supposed treasure. What if you’re wrong?”
“About you or the treasure?”
“Either. Both.”
“Oh, I’m not wrong.” Sara grinned again. “And once I have my hands on the loot, I’ll finally have enough money to disappear.” Sara made apoofmotion with her hands. “I’ll begone. Untraceable. I’ll pay my people well, or maybe leave the operation to one of them. Anyone can be Vanja.”
“We’ll know,” Henson said. “I suppose you plan on adding our blood to your hands.”
Sara shrugged. “That depends. As long as I get what I want, I’ve no need to make you bleed. I can’t guarantee what my successor may or may not do.”
“It’s like theDread Pirate Roberts,” Franklin whispered. “It’s all in the name.”
Another time, I would have laughed. Right now, my fear overrode my sense of humor. I didn’t know if I hoped the ashes were Vanja’s or not. On the one hand, I didn’t relish the thought of touching a soul that foul. On the other…Sara was convinced they were Vanja’s remains. Would she believe me if they weren’t? I suspected I knew the answer, and decided I did have a preference.
Sara’s fingers tapped against the stone countertop. A look of utter boredom came over her face. Even though she was seated and lower than me, she still had the ability to stare me down.
“Explanations are well and good, but I believe it’s time we get to the main event.” Without inflection, Sara said, “Charlie, would you be a dear and bring me Vanja’s urn?”
Movement came from the direction of the couch and when I turned to look, the guy who’d been previously engrossed in the television had already grabbed the urn and was on his way back to us. He had a rather impressive-looking weapon hanging across his chest. Like all of Sara’s other minions, this guy looked more like a soccer dad than a hardened criminal.
The lip of the urn caught on the edge of the counter, clinking loudly.
“Careful,” Sara hissed. Charlie’s hands shook harder, and the urn trembled within his sweaty hands as he attempted togracefully place it on the counter. The rattling of the lid betrayed Charlie’s efforts.
With a bowed head, Charlie stepped back, wiping his palms vigorously along his pant legs. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt the need to console the guy and said, “It’s okay. Even if you’d dropped it and the ashes scattered across the floor, I could still bring him back.”
Charlie’s eyes glanced my direction, but his head remained bent, showing off the crown of his balding scalp. He gave a miniscule nod before asking, “Anything else I can do for you, Sara?”
