Page 36 of Deadly Avarice
“All of it,” I said, exasperation thick. “Besides the commodity comment, I can’t point to anything else exactly. Maybe it was the tone of the conversation. Hell, maybe I’m just being paranoid.”
“I will never judge you for being paranoid where my son’s safety is concerned.” That was, perhaps, the nicest thingWarlock Holland had ever said to me. “Tenzen’s interest in Erasmus is…concerning. On this, we are of agreement.”
I wasn’t sure that made me feel better and said just as much. “I think maybe I called hoping you’d tell me I was overreacting.”
“Then I am sorry to disappoint you, Detective. Unfortunately, I do not believe your reaction is uncalled for. The question is, why now?”
“Why so much interest in Boone now as opposed to a few years ago?”
“And to necromancers in general,” Holland agreed. “While I cannot know for certain, I find it difficult to believe that Erasmus’s request for aid was the first to come across Tenzen’s desk. Why did he choose now to respond? What has changed?”
I thought back on our trip to Chicago and how Boone went about contacting the Magical Usage Council.
“Agent Frost,” I blurted.
“Who?”
“Frost. He’s a pixie/shifter agent for the Magical Usage Council. Boone knows him from what happened in Virginia.”
This time, Holland’s growl was guttural and unmistakable. “Warlock Kines,” Holland hissed. “I should have known this had something to do with that incident.”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure if it does. All I know is that Boone contacted Agent Frost and Frost then contacted the council. Things took off from there.” I swallowed hard as I remembered something else. “Boone told me Frost said he’d threaten the Magical Usage Council if they ignored him and that he’d point out just how invaluable necromancers were when it came to djinn.”
A string of curse words I didn’t understand erupted from the other end of the phone. Holland’s deep, guttural voice pushed power into those words, and I had to pull the phone away frommy ear. When he settled, Holland’s voice was still pitched low. “Tenzen knows about Aurelia.”
“It’s possible.” I’d gone from concerned to nauseated in less than thirty seconds flat. “God, do you think that’s it? If so, I still don’t think I understand completely.”
“Because we do not have all the pieces to this complex puzzle my son has landed in.” Quiet filled the line. I was getting used to Holland’s episodic silences. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Detective.”
I blew out a frustrated laugh. “I’m not sure you should be thanking me for making you worry about your son.”
“I always worry for Erasmus. It is a state of constant being. Sometimes that worry ratchets up. This is one of those times. You have given me much to ruminate on. I will need to do some careful inquiry and investigation.”
“And in the meantime?”
“Continue as you have, but I would caution you to keep the identities of the necromancers you find private. At least for the time being until we understand Tenzen Huxley’s true motivation. I am displeased that Erasmus is on his radar, but we have no reason to place others within his crosshairs.”
Despite how much I hated it, I couldn’t disagree. “Leander Dun is the only necromancer we’ve managed to find so far. I know I haven’t talked about Leander to anyone else and I doubt Boone has either. Except maybe Lydia.”
“Erasmus’s mother has never been much of a gossip. Regardless, if Erasmus has spoken to Lydia, she will understand the need for discretion when advised of the potential risk.” Boone’s parents maintained an enviable and cordial relationship. A cornerstone of that relationship was mutual respect.
“I’ll speak with Boone, Lydia too if needed.”
“Let Erasmus handle his mother,” Holland sagely advised. “I will contact you when I have more information. I trust you will do the same.” It wasn’t a request.
“I’ve got you on speed dial.”
“I never thought hearing a human say such a thing would be welcome,” Holland answered, and I got the feeling he was openly musing to himself rather than speaking to me. “We’ll speak again soon.”
For the second time in less than twenty minutes, the phone call ended without so much as a whispered goodbye on my end.
Laying my phone down on my desk, I leaned back, hands clasped behind my head and gaze fixed to the ceiling. With a heavy sigh, I whispered, “What have you gotten yourself into this time, Boone?”
Chapter
Twelve
Erasmus
