Anger flooded me, washing away my earlier fear. That rage automatically tapped into my necromancer side. When I raised my head, eyes trained on the pompous asshat blocking my way, his eyes widened and the color drained from his face. I could only imagine what he saw, what my eyes looked like. I’d been told they glowed green when I used my necromancer abilities.
“N-necromancer.” He stumbled over the word as his hurried retreat tangled his feet.
I didn’t wait for this naïve idiot to regain his composure. “Franklin!” I screamed. Was I being overly dramatic? Probably. Did I give two shits? Fuck no.
The effects were immediate. Every head turned my direction. As soon as Franklin heard my voice, he pushed his way through the throng of officers. His long legs brought him to my side in no time. I’m not sure what I looked like, but it must have been disturbing enough to alarm my fiancé.
Hands immediately cupping my face, Franklin leaned over me and asked, “What’s wrong? What happened?” Franklin’s looming didn’t incite an ounce of fear. Instead, his bulky presence was soothing.
Going up on tiptoes, I inhaled his woodsy scent, pulling it deep into my lungs. Peace and calm quickly followed on the heels of Franklin’s mere presence.
“You’re scaring me, Erasmus. Tell me what’s wrong.” Franklin pulled me in tight, wrapping me in his protective arms.
Franklin’s touch allowed clarity to seep in, along with a heavy dose of embarrassment. Had I really needed to drive out here, disturb Franklin while he was working, and make a scene in the process? In retrospect, probably not. I’d also made Franklin worry.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled into his chest.
“Don’t be sorry. Just tell me what happened.”
Before I could utter another word, the officer who’d blocked my way opened his foolish mouth again. “So, it’s true. I’d heard rumors but…” He didn’t even try and hide his disgust. He could have been upset that Franklin was gay, but I suspected it had more to do with my fiancé being in love with a necromancer as opposed to someone with a Y chromosome.
“Grayson.” That singular name was little more than a growl exiting Franklin’s lips. “Leave. Now.”
Officer Grayson grunted, hands on hips as he turned and walked away. I wasn’t sorry to see him go. I’d evidently gotten a little complacent when it came to the cops working withFranklin. It had been a long time since one of them reacted that way.
“I’ll talk to Captain Cicely about him,” Franklin whispered against my head. “This isn’t the first time Grayson’s said or done something stupid. Captain Cicely doesn’t tolerate that bigoted bullshit.”
“No, I know.” And I did. As a witch, Loretta Cicely was much more tolerant than the average human law enforcement official.
“Grayson will either shape up or he’ll be transferred.”
I winced, not liking that thought either. At least here, Officer Grayson’s actions would be checked, and he wouldn’t get away with bullying others. I hated to think he’d be foisted off on another, moretolerantprecinct.
Releasing me enough that Franklin could look into my eyes, he asked again, “What happened?” Franklin pushed my hair behind my ears, his thumbs gently stroking my cheeks.
Eyes slipping closed, I inhaled deeply, allowing his calm to intertwine with my own. “It seems foolish now,” I finally said.
“Nothing that upsets you is foolish. Now, out with it.”
Instead of speaking, I handed over Huxley’s card. Franklin’s eyebrows rose as he took the seemingly innocuous envelope from my hand. His eyes quickly scanned the contents, his cheeks darkening as red crept in. “When did this arrive?”
“Today?” I thought back and shook my head. “Maybe yesterday. I can’t remember if I got the mail yesterday.”
“I know I didn’t.” Stepping away from me, Franklin paced back and forth a few times before he stopped and asked, “Did you call your pops?”
“Not yet. I didn’t even think about it. I just wanted to get to you.” My cheeks heated.
Franklin’s angered features relaxed as a lazy grin took the place of his thinned lips. “You did, huh?”
I nodded, my hands shoved deep into my pants pockets. Pops’s charms sifted through my fingers. “I think it was more instinct than anything.”
“I can’t say that I hate that. I hate the reason, but not the result.” Franklin stepped closer again, kissing the crown of my head.
“Do you think I’m overreacting?” I almost wished Franklin would say that I was.
“Fuck no,” he unfortunately answered.
Unease filtered back in at an alarming rate. “It says that he’ll see me soon.” I swallowed hard. “Do you think that means the man himself will show or…” My eyes darted to every shadowed corner. For all I knew, Huxley could be watching us right now. Was he getting some sort of sick satisfaction witnessing me panicking?
