Page 49

Simon managed a tired smile. “I’m going to call Cassidy’s necromancer friend, for starters.”

Cassidy had introduced Simon to Archibald Donnelly, necromancer and retired colonel, for a previous case. Simon still had the man’s phone number and left a voice message. Soon after, Donnelly’s number came up on his screen.

“Simon Kincaide? This is Archibald Donnelly. Good to hear from you again. It sounds like you might be in need of some…rarified…skills.” Donnelly’s old-school patrician accent suited his appearance—a tall, raw-boned older man in a bespoke suit.

“Thank you for calling me so quickly. We have an unusual situation, and I’m concerned that it’s going to need a different type of magic than what I have.”

Donnelly listened quietly as Simon explained. When he finished, Donnelly cleared his throat. “I fear you’re right. I’d heard of Vedmak and was keeping an eye on the situation from a distance. Now, I’m sorry I didn’t get our people involved sooner.”

“What did you hear?” Simon asked.

“Nothing good. His name comes up tied to missing people, questionable deaths, organized crime, and some very old Slavic magic called Zagorovry.”

“I’ve never heard that word. What is it?” Simon asked, intrigued.

“A type of folk magic in Eastern Europe. Used for good, it calls on the angels and saints for blessing, protection, and healing,” Donnelly replied. “Used for evil, it draws from demonic pantheons and cemetery magic for curses and causing harm. Nasty stuff and exactly what a guy like Vedmak would find appealing.”

If you knew he was bad news, why didn’t you shut him down? It was on the tip of Simon’s tongue to ask, before he realized that the cops and people like himself and Donnelly were aware of more criminals and supernatural situations than they could ever pursue.

“Was the carnival owner in on Vedmak’s schemes?” Simon asked.

“He at least knew that necromancers aren’t choir boys, so he had to know there was a possibility for Vedmak doing harm,” Donnelly replied. “We just couldn’t prove it. But we think Vedmak took contracts to kill people and killed others who got in his way. The carnival owner might have been one of his victims, once he was no longer useful.”

“If Vedmak is that powerful, why did he run away?”

“The mortal authorities had limits on what they could do to him, but Vedmak made enemies among the witches, and I think he knew the community was closing in on him.”

“One more question, which may or may not be related. Have you ever heard of a secret military effort called Operation Specter Cipher?” Simon took a wild shot that it might somehow tie in.

“Lord almighty, you have stepped in it, haven’t you, son?” Donnelly gave a rueful chuckle. “There’s more to unpack than we want to do on the phone, but yes, I’ve heard of it. Yes, necromancy was part of it. After all, why stop with just wanting to use ghosts as spies if you can resurrect the dead?”

Simon caught his breath at the audacity of the effort, and a moment later felt disappointed that he wasn’t really surprised.

“Black cat got your tongue?” Donnelly joked at the pause. “I’ll head for Myrtle Beach as soon as I wrap something up here. Give me about three hours and send me the address. I can meet you at the storage unit before dinner. That sound good?”

“It sounds great. Thank you so much.” Simon hadn’t expected Donnelly to drop everything to come to his aid and suspected it was because the necromancer sensed an imminent threat.

While he waited for the time to pass, Simon looked up everything he could find on Vedmak, Zagorovry, and the defunct carnival.

“You’re taking notes like it’s finals week,” Pete observed. “Heck, I don’t think I took that many notes my whole time in college.”

Simon paused to finish the dregs of his coffee. “Got a couple of new leads and want to be prepared before I go to meet Colonel Donnelly.”

He gave Pete a bare-bones recap. “Wow, this just keeps getting darker and darker,” Pete said. “Please be careful, Simon. Vic won’t forgive either of us if you get hurt.”

“That’s why I called in reinforcements,” Simon assured him. “I’ll be as careful as I can.”

That wasn’t an absolute assurance, and they both knew it. Just like Simon had learned to deal with the constant threat of danger with Vic being a cop, a different set of risks came with his own responsibilities.

When the timer on Simon’s watch alerted him to head for the storage unit, he was surprised the afternoon had passed so quickly. He shut down his computer and did a cycle of ritual cleansing spells to ensure none of the dark magic he had been reading about left a stain. Then he grabbed his bag with the usual items he took to deal with a magical threat and headed out with a jaunty salute to Pete.

Colonel Archibald Donnelly was the epitome of an old-guard southern gentleman, in a three-piece seersucker suit. His white hair and thick handlebar mustache completed the effect.

“Cassidy said to send her love.” Donnelly shook his hand with a firm grip.

Simon felt the other man’s magic even at a distance, although he might not have immediately identified it as necromancy if he hadn’t known. While Donnelly didn’t project an intimidating aura, Simon guessed that even those without magic would sense that he was not someone to trifle with.

“Thank you for meeting me. I know it was a long drive,” Simon replied.