Page 22 of Deadly Avarice
Franklin was helping Momma wash dishes. Pops and I’d offered to help but there was only so much room. Franklin shooed us out of the kitchen and told me it would be a good time to discuss our latest necromancer find.
The day was warmer than its predecessors. The sun was out and warmed the air to a comfortable sixty-seven degrees. It was a lovely late November day, perfect for Harvest Day. Pops and I found our way to the porch. I sat on the swing while Pops leaned against the railing.
Pops listened, his dark eyes hooded as he silently waited for me to finish explaining what Franklin and I’d found regarding Leander Dun. When I was done, I asked, “What do you think?”
Pops looked stumped. “About what?”
I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. “About Franklin and me driving to Alabama to see if Leander really lives on that plot of land.”
Pops was really good at what humans called “resting bitch face.” Franklin said humans could learn a few pointers from Pops and I didn’t think he was wrong. Currently, Pops was working that look to perfection.
“Pops?” I questioned.
With a heavy sigh, Pops rubbed his palm over his suddenly tired looking face. “I am uncertain. You know I understand your desire to find other necromancers, but I am concerned. If Leander Dun is still alive, he fell off the radar on purpose. Leander obviously doesn’twantto be found.”
I couldn’t disagree. “But someneedto be found, Pops, despite what they want.”
Pops blew out a deep breath. “You are far more intuitive than me, Erasmus. I have yet to decide if this is a fortuitous trait or not. It makes you an excellent being, but it has its drawbacks.”
“Like placing me in danger.”
Pops gave a slow nod. “You feel the need to assist others. It is a powerful force within you, driving you forward and down paths I would not choose. It is difficult to remember that you are your own individual and that I do not have ultimate say in how you live your too-short life.”
“I know, Pops.” Sadness filled me. I never wanted to make Pops worry, and yet, he was correct. My need to help others outweighed my self-preservation.
“You will be careful,” Pops ordered. “Detective O’Hare will accompany you and you will take your charms with you. Do you still have a shield charm, or do I need to make another?”
“I still have two,” I reassured Pops.
“Excellent. I will still send you more when I get home.”
I said the only thing I could. “Thank you.”
Pops didn’t say,You’re welcome. He was lost in thought. “I’ve been tweaking the shield charm. I don’t like that you can’t move once contained within it.” Pops waved his hands in the air as he paced and thought. He was talking to himself more now than me, and I let him be. Pops was a powerful warlock. Not all of that strength came from natural gifts. Pops was smart and he used his brain like the weapon it was by creating new charms and perfecting existing ones.
I sat there, content to let Pops ruminate. When he was finished and had stopped pacing, Pops surprised me by saying, “I am surprised this is the first necromancer you are trying to contact. If he is truly alive and in his late twenties, then most likely he is stable and not in need of assistance.”
I toed the ground and answered, “He’s the only one I can find. At the moment.”
Pops went rigid. “At the moment?”
I inhaled deeply before diving into the shallow end of the pool. Clearing my throat, I said, “I, uh, spoke with Tenzen Huxley.”
There was quiet and there wasstill. Pops had gone completely still. “What did Director Huxley have to say?”
I shrugged. “Not much. I asked if the Magical Usage Council has any sway over the Warlock Council.”
“Oh? And what was his response?”
“Tenzen said the Magical Usage Council didn’t, but he might.” My head was down as I stared at my sneakers. Lifting my eyes just enough, I could see the stark lines of Pops’s shoulders. He was turned away from me, staring out into the dormant yard.
Silence permeated the porch. It wasn’t the comfortable kind and finally I asked, “Pops, did you hear what I—”
“I heard you.”
“And?”
Just like that, Pops deflated. His shoulders rounded and he slumped against the post leading to the porch steps. Gaze still turned away from me and distant, Pops finally answered, “I am afraid of what that truly means.”
