Page 28 of Deadly Avarice
I couldn’t disagree. “It will be tastefully done,” I attempted to placate. “He’ll probably even create a new charm in your name.”
Boone’s bark of laughter made me grin. “I shouldn’t laugh. This is a dark topic.”
“Eh, I’m a homicide detective and you’re a necromancer. If we can’t talk about death without freaking out, then there’s no hope for us.”
When I glanced at Boone, the smile lighting up his face nearly stole my breath. “Gaia, I love you,” he said with absolutely no preamble. “You know that, right?”
I did. “And I love you.” Grasping Boone’s hand, I entwined our fingers and brought his knuckles close enough I could lean over and kiss them. I’d been thinking Boone needed a piece of jewelry decorating his left hand, his ring finger in particular. Our current conversation drove home an important point. None of us knew how much time we had on this side of the veil. It was beyond stupid wasting it.
“There.” Boone pointed with his free hand. “Is that a driveway?”
I slowed to a near crawl, earning a deserved horn blast from the car behind me. Ignoring their legitimate irritation, I turned onto the gravel path that might or might not be a driveway. It was narrow, bumpy, and barely cleared. Baren branches scratched along the side of my vehicle, making me cringe. Hopefully they were small, and it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.
“Pops probably has a charm that can fix that,” Boone said, reading my mind regarding the paint job.
I grunted but remained focused on the path. My SUV crawled along, splashing through a shallow creek. Technically, Boone and I were trespassing. There was no way someone would believe we’d simply made a wrong turn and were lost.
Boone leaned forward in his seat, holding onto the dash as the SUV dipped and swayed. “If this is his drive, then it’s a shitty one.” Boone grunted as the vehicle hit a deceptively deep hole.
If this wasn’t the correct path, I sincerely hoped there would be someplace at the end to turn around and head back out. I wasn’t horrible in reverse, but I didn’t relish the thought of navigating backwards down this treacherous path.
I couldn’t imagine how suffocating the woods would be in the summer when the trees and weeds were fully leafed out. Had it been any other season than late fall or winter, I wouldn’t have seen the small cottage up ahead until we were practically on top of it.
It wasn’t the cottage or Boone’s gasp that pulled me up short. It was the large man suddenly standing in front of me, a double-barreled shotgun pointed at my windshield.
Chapter
Ten
Erasmus
“Shit,” I hissed as Franklin hit the brakes hard, jerking his SUV to a painful stop. My seatbelt held tight, but I still threw a hand out, bracing myself against the dash. The sound of angry, barking dogs lifted my head. Staring out the front window, it was easy to see why Franklin had come to a sudden stop.
“You okay, Boone?” Franklin asked as his hand slid to my thigh, his gaze fixed on the pissed off person we’d almost run over.
“I’m not hurt,” I answered and quietly muttered, “yet.”
“My gun’s in the glove compartment.”
I swallowed hard. “You want me to get it out?” That was the last thing I wanted but I understood Franklin’s need to protect us. To protect me.
“Not yet, but be ready. Shield charm?”
Pops’s shield charm was easy to find. It was one of a myriad of charms I had stuffed in my pockets. “Finger on the activation button,” I answered. Pops had improved the shield charm. It would still protect us like before, but now we could move and it would move with us. That was an invaluable bonus. The trickwas we couldn’t move very fast. Pops was still working out the kinks.
“Let’s hope we don’t need either,” Franklin said, doubt coloring those few words. “I’m not sure what worries me more, the gun or the dogs.”
A dog flanked either side of the man I assumed was Leander Dun. They looked mixed breed and were medium to larger in size. They weren’t the only ones. Spread out behind Leander were about half a dozen more. Each of varying size and make up. One thing his pack all had in common was they looked about as pissed as the necromancer leading them. No, not pissed. Protective.
We were at a standstill. Franklin removed his hand from my thigh and raised both into the air. I followed his lead. The shotgun trained on us didn’t so much as waver.
The car idled. At some point, Franklin had managed to get it into park. The windows were rolled up. I could probably shout and maybe be heard above the idling engine, but I wasn’t certain. Franklin appeared ready to give it a try, but Leander beat us to it.
“I don’t care what you’re selling or what god or goddess you’re trying to push on me. You’re trespassing on private property. Turn around and get off my land.” The dogs surrounding Leander lowered their barks to rumbling growls, sitting on their haunches, their muscles tense and ready to spring into action. I didn’t know if the command would be verbal or a hand signal only they understood.
“That’s not why we’re here,” Franklin shouted, and I flinched. His voice was loud and carried beyond the vehicle. “We’re looking for Leander Dun.”
I watched his hands tighten down on the gun, muscles tensing and jaw clenching. Eyes narrowed, he repeated, “Get off my land. Now.”
