Darker Days (The Darker Agency #1)(59)

I nodded and held my right hand up. “It’s simple this time, I swear. I just need to talk to a relative of mine.”

“I assume you mean on your mama’s side,” he said dryly. Paulson was mom’s oldest friend. They’d known each other since grade school. He was the only of Mom’s friends who knew about Dad and my semi-human status. He’d never approved of Mom’s choice in men, but he’d stood by her regardless, sitting on the couch for hours as she cried herself to sleep in those first days after Dad made the decision to stop coming around. They didn’t know I knew—and I had no intention of telling them—but Paulson was as loyal as they came.

“Of course.”

“Do I get to ask why?”

“Will telling you it’s a long story get me off the hook?”

“I know you, Jessie. Saying you want me to summon a relative is specifically vague. Which one?”

“One that has a shared history with Lukas’ family. There’s an item—I need to ask him about it.”

“That sounds innocent enough.”

“Yep.”

Paulson narrowed his eyes and popped another chocolate into his mouth. “Which is exactly why it’s not. Fess up, Jessie girl. What’s the deal?”

I groaned. “Seriously. That’s all, I swear.”

“Then why don’t Klaire know you’re here?”

“She kinda asked me to stay out of this one.”

He set the chocolate down and jabbed a finger in my direction. Yep. The box was more than half empty already. I should have brought two. “And heaven forbid she knows what’s best?”

“Of course not. She’s just being over-protective. Like usual. I swear—it’s just a simple Q and A.”

“There’s no simple with you, kid.”

“Please,” I prodded, sticking out my bottom lip just a hair. The pretty please pout. Paulson had been a sucker for it since I was five.

For a second I was worried. I knew a few other necromancers, but none of them were what you could consider trustworthy. Paulson dragged it out a few more minutes, but when he rolled his eyes and folded his arms, I knew I had him.

Yeah. I was that good.

“Fine,” he said. “But I’m not leaving the room this time.”

I nodded, feeling a little bad. Mom was going to kill him for this. Last time I’d come to him for some secret help, fifteen people had been hurt, and I’d ended up with a broken arm.

Mom would find out this time, too. If I was right, Simon would have some important information to share. I’d just have to double up on the chocolate covered pecans next time and up the charm.

Paulson went to work gathering his supplies. Silky bags, small wooden boxes, and vials of oddly colored liquids. “You remember that movie you, me, and your mama went to see?”

I laughed. “Oh my God… What was it called? The Bone Whisperer, right?”

Paulson snorted. “All it takes is a sprinkle of some special dust, the right words, and a few old bones and you, too, can summon a spirit from the great beyond. What a load—”

“Mom wanted to kill you for talking through the entire thing. The rest of the people in the theater, too. I thought they were going to jump us in the parking lot.”

Paulson pulled aside an old area rug and drew a chalk circle in the middle of the room. “I was simply stating how fake the whole thing was. You’d think Hollywood would at least put a little research into it…”

I watched as he sprinkled some kind of bluish powder around the outside of the circle. He was setting up here? “Don’t you need to do a summoning at the person’s grave site?”

He chuckled and capped the blue powder, setting it aside. Next, he picked up a small, oddly shaped jar and poured clear liquid into the center. It hit the air and filled the room with the smell of bleach. “So cliché. Nope. As long as you have a purified area, you can summon anywhere.”

“Purified?” Lukas asked, examining one of the jars. He twisted off the cap and took a whiff, wrinkling his nose.

Paulson reached for the small white pouch beside him and dumped it upside down. Several yellowing bone fragments fell out, bouncing across the scuffed wooden floor. “Spirits leave a sort of residue in the air. It gets in the way of summoning.”

I reached across the couch and stole one of the chocolates. “How can a necromancer’s house be purified? Aren’t you always complaining spirits pop in constantly? Wouldn’t there be residue all over the place?”

Aside from being able to summon a specific spirit, necromancers were a natural draw to wandering ones. Like a hopped-up metal rod in a lightning storm, Paulson once said necros put out a sort of energy that drew spirits in.

He glared at me. “All that disgusting residue floating around? I purify at least once a day. Sometimes twice, depending on traffic.”

I shot him a look of mock surprise. “You never struck me as a neat freak kinda guy.” Well, half of it was mock. I’d never heard him talk that way about the spirits before. He always said he loved them. Said they were a part of who he was. They got annoying sometimes, but without them, he always swore he’d be lonely. He once told Mom that several had been with him since childhood. They popped in and out sporadically, but were never far away.