Page 9 of Deadly Avarice
“I’m debating on making a call,” I answered.
Tilting her bald, tattooed head to the side, Aurelia’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Why am I debating, or why am I calling?”
“Yes.”
I inhaled and considered my answer, finally settling on “it’s complicated.”
“Is it interesting?” Aurelia asked, a hint of anticipation in her voice.
Was it? I wasn’t sure. Aurelia’s interest concerned me. As far as any of us knew, I was the only true threat to Aurelia’s existence. I was the only known necromancer that could retrieve her soul from her object of attachment, shove it back into her body, and undo all the magical manipulation that had been used to create the being Aurelia had become—a djinn. The million-dollar question was if I was the only necromancer out there capable of doing that. For whatever reason, Aurelia found me more interesting than threatening and, so far, wasn’t a threat. She’d even saved my life a time or two. Would she feel the same if we found another necromancer that could be as much of a threat as me? Would she allow them to live, or would she find a creative way to end their life?
I had no idea. None of us did. I liked to think Aurelia wouldn’t do that, but at the end of the day, she was an unpredictable force that did as she wanted. Peaches was technically Aurelia’s master, but he held her by a very, very loose leash. I was still trying to figure out if Peaches was a genius or fool. Time would tell. It always did.
Clearing my throat, I decided to give Aurelia the short version and said, “I’m thinking of asking the Director of the Magical Usage Council for help with something necromancer related.”
Aurelia was a master at “blank face.” I was either getting better at reading her concealed emotions or she was becoming comfortable enough with me to show more emotion. Either way, I found I could typically glean something of her thoughts by the look on her face. Now was not one of those instances.
Finally, she asked, “What kind of assistance?”
I squirmed and fiddled with my phone. Opening my mouth, I started to say something, but there was a knock at the door followed by Momma’s gentle voice. “Erasmus, honey, are you home? Is it okay if I come in?”
Leaning back in my chair I yelled, “Come on in, Momma. We’re in the kitchen.”
The clack of Momma’s heels sounded as she crossed the living room and into the kitchen. Given her professional dress, she’d either just shown a house or was on her way to a showing. Momma was a real estate agent and a proud Southernwoman. Her charcoal slacks were complimented by a matching jacket and a cream-colored blouse. Her auburn hair was down, hints of gray lightening it here and there. Make-up light but done to perfection, Momma was the type of woman who drew appreciative gazes.
“Erasmus, I—oh, Aurelia, how are you dear?” Momma immediately walked past me and leaned over to give Aurelia a side hug. My eyes widened. Momma hadn’t asked for permission. I wasn’t sure what Aurelia’s response would be. As far as I knew, Aurelia wasn’t the touchy-feely type. I held my breath.
Aurelia didn’t physically reach up to reciprocate, but she didn’t react poorly either. It probably helped that Momma immediately let Aurelia go and gave me the same show of affection. It was Momma’s way. She knew what Aurelia was. She just didn’t see the use in fretting over it. Momma said that Aurelia would do what she wanted whether Momma worried over it or not, so it was best not to waste the energy. It was a very healthy view on life, one I struggled to share.
“Erasmus, would you like me to get you some tea?” Momma asked while going to the fridge. “I know I could use a glass. Aurelia, would you like me to get you anything while I’m up?” Aurelia wasn’t a fan of my or Momma’s sweet tea, so she hadn’t offered that.
“I would like a glass of water,” Aurelia surprised me by asking. “If you do not mind.”
Momma waved her off. “It’s no trouble at all. Erasmus should have offered you a glass earlier.” Momma gave me a look that indicated she was disappointed in my manners.
“She just showed up a few minutes ago.” I attempted to defend myself.
“Still enough time to offer a lady a drink,” Momma scolded. I saw she poured me a glass of tea even though I hadn’t answered her yet.
Setting the drinks down, Momma patted my hand, giving my wrist a warm squeeze before pulling out one of the kitchen chairs and joining in. “I spoke with your pops,” Momma said after taking a long drink of her sweet tea. “I’ll pick him up from the airport, so you don’t need to—”
“Pops is coming?” My head snapped up. This was news to me. Momma looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Of course Nikodemus is coming. Harvest Day is next week.”
Shit.I smacked my forehead as Aurelia asked, “What is Harvest Day?”
Momma’s attention immediately shifted from my unforgivable forgetfulness to Aurelia. “It’s a celebration of thanks to the Earth for giving us what we need to not only survive but thrive. It’s one of the few holidays observed across multiple species, including humans, warlocks, and witches.”
What Momma so politely didn’t say was that it conveniently took the place of Thanksgiving, a holiday the US used to observe. It was well loved but didn’t come from an especiallythankfulplace if you were Native American. Like many festivals and celebrations, their names were changed and the meaning tweaked to suit modern religions or sensibilities. Thanksgiving had become Harvest Day, and Momma, Pops, and I’d celebrated it together since the day I was born. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten.
Stewing in my own mental self-flagellations, I nearly missed Momma’s next words. “We’d love to have you there too, Aurelia.”
Dear Gaia, my eyes must have been huge. “Momma, I—”
“I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook.” Momma laughed. “None of us are. Most of what we have is store bought and reheated, but it’s nice being together and partaking in a decent meal.”
