Chapter Twenty-Three

Dr. Thomas Morgan, the Paranormal Councilor, was a big man with an even bigger personality. His red hair and bushy beard gleamed in the pale morning sun, standing in stark contrast to his black well-fitted suit. "Lord Dule, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said, coming forward with an outstretched hand the moment they'd alighted from the car. "I've had my eye on you for a long time. I'm keen to see what you can do."

"Dr. Morgan." Benedict shook the hand warmly. "You already know my lawyer, Langley, and Terrence, of course. This is my Fated Mate, Dixon Cottle. Dixon, I've read Dr. Morgan's work for years. He has written numerous studies on the psychological impacts on paranormals with high profile lives, who have to hide the core of who they are. Truly interesting stuff."

"Nice to meet you, sir." Dixon nodded, and it seemed Dr. Morgan was good at his job, because he didn't even try to shake Dixon's hand.

"You too, Mr. Cottle. I understand you are a well-respected architect and that your family name is significant in San Francisco. You are someone else I would love to chat with about how being in a socially prominent family works with your shifter side – as well as your professional acclaim as well." The man had clearly done his homework and Benedict appreciated that.

"Thank you, sir. I would welcome the opportunity at another time."

"Exactly. As much as I'd love to stand around a chat, time's getting on." Dr. Morgan rubbed his hands together. "We have extensive supplies here, Lord Dule, but if you need something specific then just let me know and we can have it here in minutes. I know magic users usually have a relatively lengthy ritual before any extensive magic use, so, how can I help?"

Reaching into his pocket, Benedict pulled out the small sample of earth he'd taken from the site of his family home. "Thank you for the offer, but I have everything I need here," he said, showing the bag to Dr. Morgan before putting it back in his pocket.

"Dirt?" Dr. Morgan quirked his eyebrow, his expression amused. "Please humor me and tell me it came from a graveyard?"

"In a sense, I suppose, yes. It was gathered at the site of where my family home used to be. The one that exploded into a million pieces and took my family's lives with it."

"I was callous, I'm sorry," Dr. Morgan said quickly. "I see your point. From what I've read, there's no magic more potent than that which relates to the hearth. Do you need some quiet time to prepare? We can show you into one of the private offices if you like?"

"Thank you, but again, it's not necessary. Necromancy is as natural to me as breathing is to you. If you can just show me where I'm meant to do this summoning, that will be fine. I take it the Magical Council has already gathered?"

"Reluctantly, but yes. I'll admit, whatever it is the Magical Council thinks you know is worrying the heck out of them."

"I can't think why they would be worried," Benedict said with a chuckle as he fell into step with Dr. Morgan, Dixon alert on his other side. "But then, dealing with wary people is a fact of life for Necromancers. Everyone always worries about the secrets the dead might tell about them."

"I bet that makes you fun at parties." Dr. Morgan held the door open for them. "Come on through. We're in the Main Hall. I should warn you, there's a lot of public interest in this summoning. It's not something members of the paranormal community see every day."

"That's because most people still think we use black magic and accordingly, most decent people prefer to have nothing to do with the likes of me. On the flip side, people who are fascinated with what they believe black magic is and what it could do are the people I ignore because they're usually up to no good." Benedict inhaled slowly as they approached the door of the main hall.

"I'm a little more enlightened." Dr. Morgan smiled in what was probably meant to be a reassuring manner. "However, the mystery of what happened to the Dule family is still discussed today. Let's hope we find a resolution as to who was responsible at last."

"That's my hope, too." Just keep breathing.

"You going to be okay?" Dixon muttered quietly, nudging his shoulder.

"This is a resolution, right?" Benedict leaned on his mate for a second before straightening. "No matter what happens here, after this, we start our lives together in earnest. You can start planning where you want us to go on holiday."

A swell of chatter hit Benedict's ears as he moved into the hall. The public gallery was packed. "Just ignore the crowd and focus on the assholes in the room," Dixon said quietly, as they turned and faced the stage where the Magical Council members were waiting. "Boy, I can smell their nervousness from here."

"You sure that's not me you're scenting?" Benedict teased, but he stood straighter as Councilor Hancock got to his feet, holding a long scroll.

"Lord Dule," Councilor Hancock said in a loud, deep voice, clearly trying to show his authority. "The Magical Council has always regretted the unfortunate loss of your family ten years ago. That type of freak accident is fortunately rare in our community and while there were other small matters going on at the time, we, the Council, like to believe we did all we could to find the people responsible."

I bet it took you the full two days to work out how to say all that without lying. Benedict nodded.

"It has also come to the Magical Council's notice in recent months that there are numerous rumors circulating in a most inappropriate fashion, suggesting your family was killed in an attempt to frame you for the murders, thereby providing the leverage the late Councilor Paxton wanted in forcing you to attempt to raise a zombie army."

Gasps rang around the public gallery and Dr. Morgan coughed. "A zombie army, Lord Dule? Seriously? What on earth does the Magical Council put in their tea?"

"I did explain to the Council at the time, and indeed again within the past week, that such an attempt was foolish, dangerous, and physically and magically impossible, at least in my opinion. To harness a soul is to condemn them to torture. Not something I would ever be a part of." Benedict kept his focus on Councilor Hancock.

"Regardless." Councilor Hancock ignored Dr. Morgan completely. "At a meeting instigated by us purely and simply because of some troubling matters we heard about, concerning an incident in San Francisco, we – that is, my colleagues and I – came to the conclusion that continuing to find answers as to what happened to the late Lord Dule and the rest of the Dule family is regretfully fruitless, and we were prepared to let the matter rest."

"And I was not," Benedict said simply. "It should be noted, seeing as you appear intent on changing the perspective of what happened ten years ago, the only reason I was not in my family home that fateful evening was because I was forcibly encouraged by Councilor Blakely to dine with his son, Charles that evening." Benedict pointed to the man in question who hadn't said a word in any of the meetings Benedict had attended thus far.

"To this day, I do not know why my entire immediate family had to die. I do not know why the rumor has persisted for ten years that I killed my family – a rumor perpetuated by the Magical Council and some of my own family members."

He waved a hand at the public gallery. "There are people sitting up there today who couldn't understand why I wasn't arrested the moment I arrived back in England. Isn't that right, Uncle Hugo? Oh, look, and you brought Percival with you. What fun."

Turning back to the Councilors, Benedict said firmly, "This slander against my name, my position, and who I am is going to stop. I want to know why my family died and how. I was informed by my lawyer that it is the Magical Council's job to find those answers. As it has been ten years and you haven't been able to do that, I will use my skills, the ones I was born with, to find those answers today."

I hope. Fucking hell, Father, don't let me down. Benedict opened up the wards and sent out his power.

"Lord Dule, I am still concerned about how we are meant to see or hear the ghosties you might conjure…" Councilor Maddon broke off as the whole gallery gasped at the same time.

"I never let you down, my son. I can't say the same for some of the others at that table."

Benedict turned, tears prickling his eyes. His father looked exactly as he had the last night he'd been alive, just translucent. "Father. Mother." Benedict nodded in greeting. Then he spread his arms, indicating the Councilors, and the audience in the gallery who sat in stunned silence. "Is this what you mean about me facing my destiny, doing what I was born to do, being who I was meant to be?"

"Oh how lovely." His mother clapped her hands. "I did wonder if that message came through. Your father was not happy about the horror context, but Benny, if your mother can't tease you then who can?"

"You are right, Mother, and it was fine. I had Dixon to wake up to." Benedict nodded again. "My brothers and sisters, they didn't want to come?"

"This is your father's show, sweetheart, but I'm sure they'll pop in and see you and your mate real soon. It's just that your father has a lot to say." The look between them was still as loving as Benedict remembered.

"This is a set up." Councilor Jefferson jumped to his feet, pointing a shaky finger in the spirits' direction. "This is scripted, planned. How can we even know anything a spirit says is the truth?"

"I'm simply catching up with my son," the ghostly Dule replied as Councilor Jefferson fell back into his seat in shock at being addressed directly. "I haven't even started on the things I have to say to you, not yet. But don't worry, I haven't forgotten your part in the scheme to co-opt my youngest son's powers. Dr. Morgan, it's always a pleasure to see you. Before we start, can you advise those listening on the rule that pertains to all spirits?"

"Franklin, it's been a very long time. I've missed your sane voice and intelligent debates." Dr. Morgan sounded genuinely moved to see Benedict's father. "For the uneducated among us, spirits are incapable of lying. They can be summoned. They can refuse to talk, but anything they say is the absolute truth and will be recorded as such."

"If we're now all caught up." Benedict reached for Dixon's hand, suddenly needing that connection. "Father, what's this all about?"