Chapter Eleven

The atmosphere in the car as it headed to London the next day was somber, although Dixon knew there was a hefty dose of tiredness between them that didn't help. He shook his head, remembering the long three hours Benedict had tried to speak to a member of his family. The Necromancer started with his mother, then his father, and when they didn't heed his call, Dixon suggested he try his siblings.

Although Benedict swore his siblings would likely be just as much in the dark about his father's dealings as he had been, Dixon pointed out that it was Benedict himself who'd said that death was a great leveler, and that the bigger picture was often easier to see from the other side, so Benedict had tried. But it was as if the spirits of Benedict's family were locked away in a separate space behind the veil, and they weren't coming out no matter how desperately Benedict asked.

Benedict did end up talking to one person, when he was almost dead on his feet himself, but apparently that was Uncle George and the only message he had to pass on was "they're not ready yet." That was the closest Dixon had ever seen to Benedict totally losing his shit. "Don't they understand what I'm going through here? What the Council is putting me through? Don't they fucking care?"

That swearing more than anything shocked Dixon to his core. Everything Benedict had said in the past indicated a genuinely loving and happy family. Finally, worried sick about his mate, Dixon threatened to pick Benedict up and physically carry him to bed if Benedict didn't give up. His mate's face was still pale the next morning, and he had dark smudges under both eyes.

The information from the lawyers was about as helpful as a lace doily stemming a flood. It was so full of holes Dixon could see right through it. Screeds of pages, supposedly copies of correspondence between Benedict's father and another person whose name was conveniently smudged over along with any other identifying information.

It wasn't just the name or address that couldn't be seen. The copies seemed to be of paper that had either been through a fire or a flood – quite literally. Some pages had blackened edges and smoke smudges across the bulk of the text, and yet others had the ink faded with blotches that looked as if someone had dropped their coffee mug over the paper.

The only parts of the pages that were clear, suspiciously so in Dixon's opinion, were what appeared to be instructions written by Benedict's father, to this anonymous third person that had something to do with a rising. There was no indication what was meant to rise up. As far as Dixon could see and in his opinion implying that was about the zombie army was a real stretch. It could be the man's dick for all Dixon knew, although with the huge amount of stress coming through their bond, Dixon wisely kept that thought to himself.

That didn't stop him sending an urgent message to Gordon while Benedict had been in the bathroom just before breakfast. Ordering the deepest possible dive on the older Dule was a long shot, Dixon knew that. He also knew that Gordon would be busy with Monica and her move. But Gordon had been a friend for long enough that Dixon trusted him to come up with something.

In the meantime… "Hey, hon." Dixon leaned against his mate's shoulder. "Clarify something for me, would you?"

"No, I'm not likely to be arrested as soon as we reach the Council offices, if that's what you're worried about." They were traveling in Benedict's car, with Jarvis at the wheel and a picnic hamper in the trunk, but being in charge of his own transport didn't seem to be helping Benedict's nerves. "I told you, the Council doesn't do anything directly. Today's meeting is just the next step in their plan that we know nothing about. But if they are planning on using me for something, arresting me won't get them anywhere."

"You won't be arrested because there isn't a magic user alive that can get through me." Dixon smiled to show he was teasing although he really wasn't. "I'll have you back on that fancy plane of yours and in the air before they realize we've left the building."

"I should've taken you up on that offer before we got to the house. My gods, was that only two nights ago? Whatever." Benedict waved his hand and yawned. "What's ticking over in that brilliant mind of yours?"

"I'm just curious about where people go when they die."

"They go wherever they're meant to, based on the life they live and the beliefs they have when they pass."

Dixon expected the snappish reply and grinned. "I'm not asking you, a mere Necromancer, even if you are a powerful one, to fill me in on the meaning of life and death. Some things are meant to be a mystery for a reason. My question was based on the idea that when you summoned the changeling, he came. The dead under that golf course were responding to your magic and you hadn't even tried to summon them. I have to assume that there have been multiple times when you've been instructed to talk to the dead and they've answered you. But last night your multiple calls went unanswered. I'm just curious why."

Benedict winced. "That's probably because I didn't try to summon any member of my family last night as such. It was more, I was opening myself up, along with my wards, and sending out an invitation for them to come and talk to me. An invitation they refused to RSVP to. A summons is an order they can't ignore, but to do that to a family member…"

His mate was honorable, and Dixon didn't care who tried to say otherwise. "So this issue with the Council could get nasty if they try and force you to summon any member of your family?"

Nodding, Benedict said, "What I don't understand, is that if any member of the current council wanted to talk to my father, for whatever reason, nefarious or not, why they didn't just order another Necromancer to summon him. A spirit can't refuse a summons."

"No, but just because they show up, doesn't mean they will speak." Dixon had a horrible thought. "If the Council orders you to summon your father, he will show up, right?"

"He'll have no choice," Benedict said glumly.

"But no one can compel him to talk…" Dixon shook his head. "This magic political stuff is a pile of shit. What does anyone hope to get out of any of this? If you summon your father, mother, or anyone else, and they won't talk, what's been gained from forcing the issue?"

"The Council's not concerned with the dead. That's why someone came up with the zombie army idea in the first place. They won't believe the souls of the dead have feelings until they are on that side of the veil." Benedict looked out the window. Traffic had built up and Dixon guessed they were close to their destination.

"Then why? Why put you through all this." Dixon grabbed Benedict's hands demanding his attention. "What have they got against you?"

"I swear to you, I don't know." Benedict's gray eyes met his and Dixon could see the pain lurking there. "I've thought about nothing else since the changeling was dead and we got that first notification from the Council about the magic use in San Francisco. I've been so worried, maybe my memories of the time before the house explosion were blurry. Had I miss-remembered something? It could've happened. Once the house was reduced to dust, and my family with it, I seriously didn't think about it much at all back then I was so distraught."

"But you said the Council was still pushing you back then, right? They still wanted the zombie army? You said they threatened to arrest you for the murder of your family then."

"That's when I quit working for them, yes." Benedict looked down at their joined hands. "If my father was involved… if this was his idea…"

"It can't have been solely his idea," Dixon interrupted quickly. "Otherwise the whole stupid scheme would've died when he did, and I'm sorry, I don't mean to speak harshly about someone you care about, but…"

"No. You're right. Besides, the papers Langley sent over prove at least one other person was involved, even if that person is anonymous."

"Langley?" Dixon thought for a moment. "Oh, you mean the lawyer. Yes, exactly. Hey, maybe this Langley was part of the plan all along and he's the mysterious third party?"

That got a chuckle out of Benedict. "Langley will be meeting us at the Council offices. I can't wait for you to meet him. I'm not going to say anything about him now. You need to form your own opinion about him, but I personally don't believe Langley had anything to do with illegal or immoral doings.

"Besides, he has always known where I am because he takes care of my finances, pays the staff at the house, and takes care of any other estate matters that need dealing with. I get a weekly report from him concerning the monies he's authorized to spend, and any matters he believes I need to know about. If he was part of this ridiculous plan the Council has running, he wouldn't have helped me leave the country when I did."

"So the Council learned where you were because of the business with the changeling." Dixon didn't like the way that thought made him feel.

"Either that or that business with Jackie in your office. I had to tell the Council officers in San Francisco who I was to get them to come and deal with that. That may have triggered something in the London offices. I really have no idea. Gods, we're here." Benedict shuddered as the car slowed and then turned into a driveaway flanked by two huge stone pillars. "Welcome to the Tower of London. Whatever you do, do not disturb the ravens."

"The Tower?" Bending down, Dixon craned his neck so he could see more out of the window. "The Paranormal Council offices are in a prison?"

"Or a tourist attraction. Depends on how you look at it. There is a lot of history in this place. The Magical Council feels this setting is fitting because they get to have their lair in the underground passages."

"And the Shifter Council? I can't see them wanting to be underground."

"This place use to house the Royal Zoo and so much more." Surprisingly, Benedict grinned. "I'm not suggesting for a second that's where the Shifter Council rooms are, but believe me, there is a lot more to this place than the tourist areas. Just stick with me and you won't get lost."

Seeing as Dixon didn't have any intention of being anywhere other than right next to his mate, he was going to assume Benedict was teasing him. Even so, his bear grumbled and stirred when they got out of the car. Yeah. The air feels weird here, too.