Page 57 of Deadly Deception
“How? They’re nothing but ash. The fire was hot enough it even burned the bone.”
I shrugged. “I’ve brought souls back with just the cremains before. It’ll take more of my necromancer energy to get them to talk, especially so you and Franklin can hear them, but it can be done.” I rubbed my cheek. “I’m not sure if I can do them all today, but I’ll try. I’ll most likely have to take a break or two, and we’ll need to get me food. Franklin brought the candy, but for something like this, I’ll need more sustenance.”
“I’ll order you the whole damn menu if you can pull this off.”
I chuckled. “I shouldn’t need that much, but the thought’s appreciated.”
I cracked my neck, not that it helped muster my necromancer energy. It was more habit than anything else. I think the habit sprang from clients’ disappointment there wasn’t more to the act of bringing a soul back. They expected some type of sacrificial ritual, which wasn’t needed at all.
“It’ll take me a few to sort through this, so have a little patience.”
“Mine’s on short supply,” Henson said. “I’ll try and muster what I’ve got.”
“That would be greatly appreciated.” I’d try not to take it personally if Henson lost his shit. The man was running on empty, and we all got a lot touchier when that happened.
Closing my eyes, I focused on the different strings. I’d never tried bringing souls back when their cremains were mixed up. In the end, it wasn’t all that different than any other time. Their souls were still attached to what was left of their physical body.
“Christ,” Henson muttered when I brought the first soul back, his individual ashes swirling and coalescing together. If someone wanted to, they’d be able to gather Jordan Allen King’s remains.
“You might want to get some individual containers,” I said. “Their families might want their remains.”
Henson spoke into the walkie talkie on his vest. I didn’t pay attention to what he said, my focus remaining on Jordan’s soul. I pushed a little more of my energy into him and said, “Jordan Allen King, I’ve called your soul back so we can hold those responsible for your death accountable.”
Jordan’s ashes swam before me, pitching back and forth like a flock of starlings. His voice remained silent. Apprehension tinged with fear sang through Jordan’s soul. Instinctively, I knew those emotions weren’t aimed at me.
“Sheriff Henson, you can ask your questions now.” Franklin shifted at my side, moving to block the insufferable wind. I wanted to thank him for his consideration but couldn’t risk dropping my concentration. I could see that Franklin had his phone out and was recording the interaction. I was glad he’d thought of it.
“Yeah. Okay.” Henson cleared his throat and physically drew himself up. “Mr. King, do you know who killed you?”
“Yes. And no,” Jordan answered unhelpfully.
I heard Henson sigh. “Care to explain that?”
“No,” Jordan immediately answered.
“He’s scared,” I said. “Just like DeWayne.”
Henson appeared more resigned than irritated. “Can you make him answer me?”
“I can make it so he can’t lie. He didn’t lie when you asked him if he’dcareto explain. You need to be more specific and not offer an optional out.”
“Got it.” Henson was a fast learner, despite his exhaustion. “Mr. King, tell me what you know regarding your death.”
Jordan’s soul balked, and I pushed a little more energy into him. At this rate, I’d need another helping of waffles within the hour. Given that nudge, Jordan had no choice but to answer. “Vanja ordered it. I only recognized one of the guys that came for me.”
By now, hearing that name no longer inspired shocked awe. It was expected. What wasn’t was that Jordan recognized one of his assailants.
“What was his name?” I asked before Henson could.
“Jay.”
I waited for more but nothing was forthcoming.
“Does Jay have a last name?” Henson asked.
Jordan’s cremains did the equivalent of a shrug. “Probably, but I don’t know it.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Henson threw up his hands and turned away. I understood his frustration.
