Page 3 of Deadly Avarice
I felt Thomas’s soul bristle. “I am most certainly not done. I want Titus prosecuted to the fullest. I want his head on a pike. I want—”
“Thomas Martin Speedler, I release your soul.” Just as I’d thought, Thomas fought, but his paltry efforts were nothing compared to my abilities. With little more than a nudge, I sent him back across the veil. The man had already made his desires perfectly clear.
Pablo stood there, hitting buttons on his phone. When Thomas’s voice came through, the recording capturing everything, Pablo visibly relaxed. “I can’t believe that worked,” he said with more than hint of awe.
“I get that a lot,” I answered while pushing myself off the headstone that had been my perch the last hour or so.
Pablo’s head snapped up, almost like he’d forgotten I was even there. When I took a step forward and he took a reflexive one back, I froze. There was something new lighting Pablo’s eyes, and it wasn’t gratitude. It was fear.
Inhaling, I filled my chest and counted to ten. This wasn’t new. It wasn’t even totally unexpected. What it was was all too common. While Pablo might be grateful for what I’d just done, he was also wary. Warier now that he realized I was the real deal than when my abilities had simply been speculation—something he read in an impersonal article.
I watched his Adam’s apple bob as his deep brown eyes shifted from side to side, looking everywhere be at me. I remained where I was and forced my muscles to remain lax. I was absolutely no threat, but Pablo didn’t see it that way.
“I…uh… Thank you,” Pablo finally stuttered out. “If there are any extra fees, contact my office. I’ll be happy to settle those.”
“Much appreciated.” I was still debating if there would be extra fees or not. I’d contemplate that on my drive back to Mississippi.
Pablo inclined his head toward the box of remains. “Can you bring him back again? If necessary?”
I nodded and answered, “I can.”
“Good. That’s good.” Pablo ran a shaking hand through his thick, deep black hair. He was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I could use that information to be an asshole, or I could rack up a few good karma points and let Pablo off the hook with grace.
Wooing karma was never a bad choice and since Pablo had been congenial and not a total asshat, I easily picked my path. “If that’s all, I can take care of Thomas’s remains.”
Pablo grimaced, his mouth twisted and eyes scrunched as he stared at the quiescent remains. Finally, with a resolved head shake, he said, “Thank you, but no. This is still an ongoing investigation, and I need to be present to document the chain of evidence.” In other words, Pablo needed to stay with Thomas’s remains. “I don’t think they should be buried again,” Pablo said while rubbing the light dusting of stubble on his chin. “The police will most likely want them, and besides, these aren’t Titus’s remains. When all is said and done, we’ll need to look into Thomas Speedler’s final wishes. Hell, we don’t even know where he wanted to be buried or if he wanted to be buried at all.”
Pablo had a good point. “Fair enough. If that’s all you need from me, then—”
“Yes. We’re done here.” Pablo released a heavy breath as he waved me off. “Th-thank you for your help, Necromancer Boone.” Pablo’s gaze briefly flicked from the remains to me before settling back on what was left of Thomas Speedler.
“No worries. It’s what I do.”
“Yes, well…” Pablo was verbally tapped out.
Turning on my heel, I waved a hand and said, “Safe travels. Feel free to give my contact information to the authorities.”
If Pablo said anything else as I walked away, it was too soft for my ears to catch. My steps picked up speed as I made my way out of the tent and back to my car. I probably drove a little faster than typical as I left the cemetery, but I didn’t like this one. It rated about a seven, maybe an eight on my personal scale. The remains buried within these grounds were not happy or peaceful. It was a newer cemetery, and for whatever reason, the more recently deceased were grouchy and generally unpleasant. Pops thought souls entered the afterlife the same way they’dlived their breathing one. I wasn’t sure he was right, but I also didn’t think he was wrong. If that were the case, then humanity was getting a lot bitchier and generally more morose than it used to be.
I pulled out on the main road and felt my shoulders relax the farther I traveled from the cemetery. Sometimes I didn’t realize that my shoulders were up around my ears until they fell back into their natural position. Tilting my head from side to side, I popped my neck and breathed out a sigh of relief.
My first instinct was to call Franklin and let him know I was finished and on my way back to Mississippi. I’d be on the road a little over three hours. The memory of Pops’s text changed my mind. Thankfully, my car had Bluetooth, so I raised my voice and said, “Call Pops.”
It was two hours earlier in California and, given that it was midafternoon, Pops would be up. Besides, he’d already texted me, so I knew he was awake. Pops answered after the second ring.
“Thank you for calling, Erasmus.” Pops’s voice was deep and resonant. It was a warlock trait. Some found it intimidating. I found it soothing.
“Of course. What’s going on?” It wasn’t unusual for Pops to call, but there was normally a reason.
Pops cleared his throat, and the air in my car shifted. I knew that sound. Pops did it when he was about to tell me something he either didn’t want to or knew I wouldn’t want to hear.
“Pops?” I questioned.
“I heard from the Warlock Council. They have denied our request.” Pops laid those sparse words down with no inflection.
I flinched while driving. I couldn’t tell if what I was feeling was pain or disappointment. Most likely a mixture of both along with a heavy dosage of anger. “Did they give a reason?” I stubbornly asked.
Pops’s deep inhale came through loud and clear. “They claim there is no reason such a request is necessary.”
