by Lisa Oliver
“Brock is taking care of Forth’s familiar. The unfortunate man was force bonded to Forth and will need time to recover.” Sy gave nothing away in his expression. “The threat to me relates to a black magic user who is using the shadows to hide. I imagine it’s the same person responsible for the killing of your young men, but Forth would never be able to divulge the name of that person because he didn’t know it.”
“Forth worked with the man, he could’ve told us something about him,” Brad said while Dakar tried to get his thoughts in order. Sy’s in danger flashing like a neon sign in his head wasn’t helping the matter.
“Brock has all the information Forth ever had on the matter, and it’s not much. I told you Forth was borderline insane when we spoke to him. Names have power,” Sy refused to look at Dakar and focused on Brad instead which did nothing to help Dakar’s instincts. “None of the dead could tell me who killed them except that they’d seen him beyond the veil. They also told me this man changes form, looks differently when he’s on the other side.”
“But that narrows it down, right? The identity of the killer?” Brad scribbled ‘veil traveler’ and ‘changes form’ under the heading ‘suspects’. “How many types of paranormals can travel backwards and forwards between the living and the dead.”
“Demons, halflings, dark fae, djinn, ghouls, ghosts, and hell hounds.” Sy ticked them off his fingers as Brad wrote them all down. “Necromancers too, of course, but we don’t change forms when we cross over to the other side. The others all reveal their true form when they walk among the dead.”
“It’s unlikely to be a ghost,” Sy continued, “unless it’s being manipulated by someone else, as they don’t have a solid form on this side of the veil and you can probably cross hell hounds off your list as their interactions on this side are strictly monitored and they can’t hold a human form for long unless they’re mated. Whoever took these boys lived with them, interacted with them and kept them confined for years. It would be impossible for a hell hound to maintain a human façade for that long even if he was working for someone else.”
“A ghoul would be more likely to eat his victims rather than leave them for us to find,” Brad muttered, still writing quickly. “A djinn,” Brad hesitated a moment, “not impossible, but unlikely. They don’t have a long enough attention span.”
“Hang on a minute,” Dakar interrupted angrily. “Are we forgetting the bit about you being in danger?”
“And so are eight more boys who are all slated to die,” Sy jumped to his feet. “I can handle myself. They can’t and besides, there’s a good chance this person, whoever he is, is killing them to raise the power to take me out.”
That last statement was too much for Dakar and he let his instincts take over. Leaping over the desk, he crowded Sy up against the wall, using his bulk to shield Sy from everyone and anyone. His wolf rippled under his skin and only the intensity of Sy’s gray eyes stopped him shifting. “I can’t let anything happen to you,” Dakar growled softly.
“You can’t fight magic until you’re warded against it,” Sy reminded him. “Until that happens, being seen with me is too dangerous for you. We must find those missing boys.”
“We’ve got no clues,” Dakar insisted, frustrated that his mate was right. “We’re just running around in circles. I’m not leaving you alone in the meantime.”
“But you do have clues,” Sy didn’t back down and Dakar allowed himself to be pushed back, but immediately wrapped Sy’s body in his arms, as Sy waved at the board. “Missing clues. The boys mentioned living in a concrete structure. Victim one had never seen grass before he was killed. That tells us two things. One, the structure is private, concrete, and likely remote but it will be handy to Pedace as all the victims were left here. Secondly, victim one was probably a toddler when he was taken. That will help you find out who he was.”
“This is good,” Brad said, writing it all down.
“You need to go through property records,” Sy continued. “Find structures that would be large enough, see if there’s any reference to a Sanctuary. Necromancers have lived in this town for centuries, but I’ve only been in my position for ten years. This guy has been here longer because Warren had been missing twelve years and he was the fifth victim. From what I could surmise from the victims they are being killed in the order they were taken.”
“That’s not strictly true,” Dakar was doing his best to follow all Sy was saying. “The Johnson boys were taken at the same time, but you said the living brother is Peter number eight.”
“Damn, I did to.” Sy leaned back in Dakar’s arms as he thought. “It can’t be age, although all of the victims…. No. Swizzle sticks.” Wrenching himself out of Dakar’s hold, Sy started to pace. “Age. Age is the key here. He’s had the boys for years; raised them as his disciples. Peter is older than Warren and Peter’s brother is younger than him by four years. The killer is taking them out, one a week, from oldest to youngest. There’s a good chance the youngest will be no more than a year old. That’s why he’s doing this now.”
“Why someone so young?” Dakar threw up his hands and then pointed at the dusty files. “We’ve spent two days going through files of missing men who would be aged eighteen to twenty today. Now, you’re telling us a baby’s been taken?”
“Or created,” Sy met his eyes. “Created just for this purpose. Check your current records, but I’ll bet a steak dinner there’s no missing person’s report on a baby in the last year. That would cause too much hue and outcry. He’s not going to want that. Not yet.”
He looked across at the pile of files Dakar and Brad had spent hours going through. “Are these your possible victim files?”
“Forty-seven missing kids.” At least thoughts about the victims had pushed Dakar’s lust to the back of his mind.
“Do you have a private room I can use?” Sy asked.
Dakar looked at Brad and then back at his mate. “One of the interview rooms should be free.”
“Take me to it and bring the files, please.” Sy exhaled long and slow. “They should’ve brought me in on this years ago. Dakar, if you don’t mind, I am going to need you with me. You’ll be my tether to this world. Brad, please guard the interview room door. No one can be allowed to come in until I give the okay. Also, please text Brock and let him know I’ll be busy. If he comes, just get him to guard the door with you.”
“You can find missing kids?” Brad’s mouth dropped open.
“I can trace anyone if I have knowledge of them,” Sy’s voice was sharp. “Its part of my damn contract. This,” he said, pointing at the files, “none of this was necessary. These should all be closed cases.”
“Brad told me your contract with the police included an hourly rate so high, the local council rarely allow for the additional expenditure, claiming they didn’t have the budget for your services.” Dakar wasn’t sure why he was defending his employers over his mate, but Sy’s disgust was more than he could handle.
“Add that to your clue board, Detective,” Sy hissed and the anger on his face was so strong, Dakar almost took a step back. “My father might have demanded a high price for his services, but when I took over, I renegotiated the contract with this department. I might have hated that the damn contract existed in the first place, but I know my duty. My services for police, fire and medical personnel are and always have been free of charge. The same for any family who comes to me worried about a missing loved one. These poor souls could have all been found years ago if someone had thought for a second to let me know what was happening.”
“Everyone knows it costs the earth to get in to see you,” Brad protested. “It’s common knowledge in the department.”
“Common knowledge, or back room gossip?” Sy produced a long scroll from thin air and spread it on the nearest desk. From what Dakar could see, it was an ornate document, covered in fancy cursive script containing a lot of legalese Dakar couldn’t begin to understand. “Clearly you think I’m lying. Look there,”
Sy pointed to one of the lower paragraphs.
Looking over Sy’s shoulder, Dakar read, And so in accordance recognizing the position of Necromancer is now being filled by Prince Sebastian York, son of the former Necromancer, it is agreed that any fees, payments, or disbursements previously required for magic services are now to be considered null and void and the said current Necromancer hereby named, will waive all rights to payments for any and all of his work and expenses from this date forward.
“That is a fancy way of saying I work for free.” Sy’s scowl was fierce and Dakar’s wolf immediately wanted to do something, anything to make things right again. Unfortunately, this time he and Brad were responsible. “I always have. That means that any of these men who were taken in the last ten years, could’ve been found within a day of going missing, if someone had told me they were gone. The person you can blame for that, has signed right here.” He stabbed to a florid signature Dakar recognized. The Captain. “Believe me now?”
Dakar gulped.
Chapter Fifteen
Sy was so angry he could spit and considering he believed that sort of behavior only fit for people raised in a pig pen, he obviously wasn’t going to do it. But he was mad – boiling mad and the pile of missing person files was just the tip of the iceberg. How could the person who calls himself my mate suggest these missing children are my fault, when I never knew it was an issue? And trust? No, clearly not in his agenda either. I don’t know why I even bothered thinking there could be something between us. Led by my broken cock…stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Sy, I didn’t mean….” Dakar opened a door into a small room with cream walls and nothing but a table and two chairs inside.
“I haven’t got time for this now.” Sy focused on the files Dakar put on the table. It was going to take him all afternoon to get through the pile. “I need you to sit there,” he pointed to the chair furthest from him. “You’ll need your notebook,” he continued as he sat in the chair opposite the scowling detective.
“I need to say something first.”
“No.” Sy should’ve been daunted by the intensity of Dakar’s eyes, but he was more worried about the victims. This was what he was trained for – what he’d spent a lifetime honing his skills for. “Our only hope right now is that one of these files relates to one of the eight men currently sitting on this killer’s version of death row. If he is, if I can find just one, then we can find the others. Anything personal between us can wait, do you understand?” He met Dakar’s worried gaze. “It can wait until I’ve found at least one of those poor men. And then, and only then mind, you can explain why you saw fit to distrust me when you claim to be my mate.”
Dakar wanted to respond, Sy could see it in his eyes, but pulling his power around him like a cloak, he ignored it. When Dakar did speak, he simply said, “What do you need me to do?”
“Take notes. I will speak as I am able to, just copy down what I say. Whatever you do, don’t talk to me.” Sy took a deep cleansing breath. Not easy to do when Dakar’s shifter essence filled the room. “If I thump the table with my hand, then touch it. Just touch my hand.”
“What will that do?” Dakar’s resolve reflected in his tone.
“Pull me back from the veil. I’ll pass out, but if I thump the table it’s necessary.”
A thousand questions crossed Dakar’s face, but Sy gave him credit that all the detective did was nod.
Opening the first file, Sy touched the photo attached and read out the name, “Peter John Matthews.” Sending his power soaring, Sy set out to find the first of the missing men. How many of them related to the case at hand was impossible to tell, but Sy vowed by the end of the afternoon he would know exactly what happened to every one of the forty-seven missing men.
/~/~/~/~/
Dakar flexed his fingers, he was getting cramp. Sy had been doing whatever it was he did for over an hour. One file after another. There were long periods of silence when Dakar wasn’t even sure if Sy was awake, but he guessed it couldn’t be easy locating a soul when Sy wasn’t sure which side of the veil they were on. Just from the notes he’d taken, Dakar had enough information to keep a dozen officers busy for a week.
Fortunately, some of the boys were alive, although of course, they were boys no longer. In some cases, Sy provided details on why they hadn’t been found, or wanted to be found. In other, more upsetting cases, the missing boys were already dead. Sy’s tone didn’t change as he reported where bodies could be found and who was responsible for the crime.
As the session continued, Dakar’s respect for his mate grew alongside his anger at a department who didn’t consider using such a valuable resource. However, his wolf had a different concern. Sy’s voice was hoarse and he wavered slightly in his chair although he didn’t stop. Our mate needs food. Drink. Rest. His wolf insisted, and Dakar knew his animal half was right. But Sy insisted he not be allowed to speak and after his balls-up in the other office Dakar was struck with indecision.
He didn’t say I couldn’t text, and as much as it galled him to have to rely on Sy’s butler, in this case he didn’t know enough about what Sy was doing to make his own decisions. As Sy pulled another file towards him, Dakar fished his phone out of his pocket and sent Brad a hurried message.
Is Brock here?
Yep, furious and pacing the corridor. Apparently, this shit, his words, is dangerous over long periods of time.
I’m in enough shit of my own, tell Brock to get in here and stop him. He needs food, rest and something to drink.
On it.
Dakar slipped his phone back in his pocket and picked up a pen as Sy recited yet another name. These cases were all over five years old, occurring well before Dakar had even come to Pedace. But he was still angry that so much could’ve been done and wasn’t. What does the Captain have against the Necromancer? Does this have anything to do with his niece?
“Deceased.” Sy closed his eyes, his back slumped against his chair. “Petrov says he was killed by his uncle on a fishing trip. His body, in his words, has gone. Fish food in the Pedace harbor. The uncle used a fishing knife, black bone handle with serrated edges. That will be found as the boy claims his uncle never went anywhere without it.” He slowly pushed the file to the deceased pile and reached for another one just as the door to the interview room opened.
“Sir, don’t you dare,” Brock warned, striding over and snatching the file from Sy’s reach. “By the Fates, detective, how could you let your mate deplete himself like this? Do you want him to fade?”
“Don’t blame him. I told Dakar not to interrupt me while I was working,” Sy’s eyes fluttered open and Dakar was shocked to see them filled with tears. “Forty-seven young people missing, and these are just the ones with Peter in their name. Decades worth. No one called me, Brock, not once. Why?”
“Because many people, paranormals included, are pig-ignorant and stupid about things they don’t understand,” Brock said fiercely as Brad laid out a picnic hamper and passed Sy a bottle of water. “This is not your fault. You are contracted to this department, but you have no idea if there are cases you could solve unless they come to you and tell you.”
“I should’ve asked. I should’ve pushed more. These poor people. So many needless deaths.” Sy swallowed the water in large gulps. Dakar was torn between watching the delightful bob of his Adam’s Apple and assuaging Sy’s pain.
“Sy,” he said gently, reaching over and lightly touching his mate’s free hand. “Brad and I saw how you were treated when you visited here last time. I imagine this time was no different. They just don’t know you.”
“They don’t want to know me,” Sy said bitterly as he pushed back his chair, a surge of power filling the air. He picked up the deceased files from the table and headed for the door, pushing through before Dakar could stop him. When Dakar caught up with his mate, they were in the main bull pen, the dozen or so people in the room frozen as Sy stood among them. Dakar knew they were all shifters and they could feel Sy’s powe
r which ebbed like a storm cloud around the room. But their fear was completely unfounded. What the hell is going on?
“I am the Necromancer.” Sy’s voice boomed around the room. “I am contracted to help this department. Ten years ago, I agreed to work for free for all of you, so this,” he held up the sheaf of files, “didn’t happen. Unnecessary deaths, every one of them. They are on your heads.” He threw the files on the floor.
“What’s the meaning of this?” The Captain’s office door slammed open and the man himself strode out looking every inch the demon he was. “How dare you cause a menace in my department?”
“Menace?” Sy’s feet left the floor and he floated, he damn well floated until he could meet the Captain eye for eye. “You call unnecessary deaths a menace? Are you calling your discrimination towards me a menace? You signed my contract. Why wasn’t I told about the countless missing person cases you have unsolved, some of them years old? How many murders are unsolved? How many people died, human and paranormal alike, that I could’ve saved if I’d have known about them?”
Dakar could see some of the officers looking at their Captain in askance. Being shifters meant they knew Sy was telling the truth. He moved closer as the Captain’s face turned an ugly red. “I can’t stand magic users,” the Captain snarled. “Shifters are tied to their animal spirits, they do as they’re told like good little pets. But you, you are a menace. Throwing your power around like you’re some kind of god. Well, let me tell you, you’re not. You can be killed just like the rest of us and I’ll prove it.” His hand reached out and Dakar had just enough time to register giant black claws, before that hand wrapped itself around Sy’s slender neck. He made to dash forward, his wolf already surging through when he found his four feet glued to the floor.
“Don’t,” Brock said quietly appearing by his side. “I’ve waited seventy years for this moment. For the Necromancer to finally realize his true worth. Trust him detective. Trust your mate and see with your own eyes what a magnificent partner the Fates have blessed you with.”
