Chapter Twenty-Six

"The crap has literally hit the fan."

Benedict cocked an eyebrow at his longest friend. Langley was not prone to bad language, claiming it was a lazy way of expressing emotions. But the normally well put together lawyer was looking more than a little stressed. His hair was all over the place, probably the result of him running his hands through it every five minutes. Even more unusual, Langley had foregone his suit and tie and was wearing a rumpled old band T-shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans.

"The Magical Council is basically obliterated, considering three of its members are currently in jail awaiting execution…"

"Execution?" Dixon asked. He was lounging across the end of the small loveseat he and Benedict were sharing. "I thought the death penalty was abolished in Britain?"

"Technically, it was not completely abolished until nineteen ninety-eight, although the last publicly known execution was in nineteen sixty-four. However paranormals run under a different justice system." Langley met Dixon's gaze without flinching.

"Put simply, incarcerated magic users, shifters, or any other kind of paranormal are a headache no one needs and given a paranormal's long lifespan, the potential for them causing trouble at a later stage is too great to be ignored. This is why minor crimes are usually dealt with in the form of an economic restitution paid to victims. However, when it is proven that someone has committed serious crimes such as murder, sexual assault, or variations of those hideous acts, there is no alternative but death. As a shifter, I would expect you to appreciate that outcome."

"I do. In fact, as a shifter, I'm just annoyed I couldn't do the deed myself. My concern is that my mate is a Necromancer who is like a portal for dead people to speak through. I admit, I don't know a lot about magic at all, but what's to stop the spirits of those assholes in the Main Hall today being a fucking nuisance and hounding my mate for eternity?"

Dixon's concern had Benedict chuckling even if no one else could see the humor. "Those responsible for my family's deaths won't be living behind the veil, D. They go downstairs, to the Underworld, and Lord Hades does a pretty good job of keeping them there. I could summon them if I felt inclined, like I did with Paul, remember? He's an Underworld resident. But the spirits down there can't start knocking books off bookshelves or annoying me while we're sharing private time in our room, like my Uncle George was known to do when he was recently deceased."

"Yes, well, it's not the dead Councilors that are your problem," Langley said sharply. "It's the dead Necromancer, and you, Dixon, are the one responsible for that. It was a fair kill," he added quickly when Dixon opened his mouth to retort. "There were far too many witnesses in the public gallery who heard Wilson's repeated threats to kill your mate for anyone to complain that what you did was excessive. Indeed, the only complaint that seems to be all over paranormal social boards at the moment is that you didn't shift back when you were done and show off your naked self to the gallery before leaving the Main Hall." Langley's twist in his lips showed what he thought about such nonsense.

Terrence, who was looking very comfortable curled up in a single armchair, a glass of whiskey in his hand, chuckled. "Pretty much the moment you left there were people from the public gallery fighting over scraps of your ripped suit that you'd left on the floor, Dixon. I'll bet there'll be auctions of those pieces on online sites before the night is over. Non-shifters do love to see us in action."

"I have already got my team organized to buy up those pieces if they surface," Langley said, smoothing back his mussed hair. "Magic users might not be able to do much with them, but you can guarantee there will be someone stupid enough to try, and frankly none of us need to deal with the nuisance that could be."

"I'm sorry I didn't think to collect them when we left. By then I was pretty much moving on autopilot." Benedict frowned. "Keep me updated on that if you would, Langley. If you think someone is going to cause any issues for us, I want to hear about it."

"We're taking every precaution," Langley said. "However, I do believe from what I've heard and read this afternoon, Dixon's behavior was considered by most to be more of the heroic variety – a man defending his mate. The suit pieces would've been collected for their romantic connotations rather than anyone thinking they could do either one of you any harm."

"But that's not what's bothering you, is it?" Benedict had known his friend for a long time. "Why are Dixon's actions problematic? Given the context, and what was going on, he didn't do anything wrong."

"And we at the Shifter Council will defend that absolutely. You know that, Langs," Terrence added.

"Protecting a mate isn't the issue." Langley blew out a long breath. "Killing the only known Necromancer on record who has been able to create six zombies and sustain them for ten years, apparently is. The man's records were a mess. I couldn't see them for myself, obviously, because you were determined to leave London, but from what my team tells me, Wilson was essentially stripping his own essence to fuel the pins, which you then destroyed, Benedict."

Benedict looked over at Dixon, who looked just as perplexed as he felt. "It's not like I did anything wrong, Langley. The spells on those pins were steeped in black magic. I could feel them burning my hand when I held them. One of the fundamental tenants of the Magical Community is that all black magic items, talismans, tokens, and even publications, if found, should be immediately destroyed. They're extremely dangerous, and if the sight of my brothers in their limbo hell wasn't enough to convince anyone of that, I don't know what is."

"You know that, I know that, anyone with half a brain knows that, too," Langley said. "However, Porter and Maddon, the only two remaining Councilors so far - although their role in what happened is being thoroughly investigated by the Paranormal Council and that could be subject to change – but anyway, they're pressuring Dr. Morgan, claiming that from an academic standpoint, Wilson did achieve something you claimed was magically impossible. Therefore, they believe it should be you that summons Wilson to find out how he did what he did, if for nothing more than academic record. His papers, by all accounts, are the ramblings of a mad man and no one can make any sense of them."

"Not happening." Benedict shook his head. "Absolutely not happening. They can get someone else. They can do what they fucking like, but it won't have anything to do with me. What I saw today was…"

A lump caught in his throat as he shook his head again. "I will never forget. Never. I don't care if it's from an academic standpoint or if it's because the Paranormal Council wants to develop guidelines to help people see the signs of this happening again… I don't care what reasoning they give, there is no one in this world that could make me summon that evil piece of garbage, and I will never do that. Never!"

"Remember what your father said," Langley said, but Benedict could see his friend was fighting his own battles between what he was forced to report no matter how distasteful, and being the loyal friend he'd always been. "There were only two Necromancers in England, and now there is only one. You. They have no one else."

"Then they have no one, period. Tomorrow my mate and I are getting on a plane and we're leaving the country." Dixon's hand on his arm let Benedict know he had his mate's full support.

"I don't mean any disrespect, Benedict," Terrence said slowly, "but from an academic standpoint, as a Necromancer yourself, aren't you at all curious how Wilson managed to achieve what he did? Again. I'm not being rude, but to simply know how it was done when you said it couldn't be…?"

"I already know how Wilson did it," Benedict said simply. "I knew from the moment I took the first pin from my brother's body. I could feel the sickness of Wilson's magic crawling along my palm which is why I crushed the pins in the first place. The type of magic he used was banned a very long time ago and for a very good reason. Anyone thinking to replicate what he did, his methods… it sickens me, knowing what he put each one of my brothers through on the moment of their death – sickens me, what he did."

There was a moment of silence as the men absorbed his words. Benedict was grateful, because frankly he still felt sick to his stomach, thinking about what Wilson had done. A fellow Necromancer. No wonder people despise us so much. He was the stuff of nightmares.

"Dr. Morgan has contacted me for your personal response," Langley said. "What should I tell him?"

"Just tell him no. No excuses. No explanations." Benedict shrugged. "It's not like they can hold my parents' deaths over my head anymore, and there's nothing else they can leverage to make me do their bidding."

"Actually, Benedict," Terrence said as Langley scribbled someone on his piece of paper, "You have a mate. Every paranormal knows the bonds between Fated Mates is intense. If someone had a devious mind, they might think to capture Dixon, possibly torture or abuse him, using him as a leverage so you would talk."

Frowning, Benedict eyed the tiger shifter as Dixon growled. "Is that why you're here? To report to the Shifter Council about whether or not the rogue Necromancer might be abusing his mate?"

"No." At least Terrence seemed shocked by the suggestion. "I mean, yes, I will have to do a report for the Shifter Council, but that's only to confirm there were no repercussions from the Magical or Paranormal Councils about Dixon killing Wilson. But to be honest, the main reason I offered to do that was because I was hoping to catch a ride with you to the United States. I'm due some vacation time. My question was from a representative perspective. Mates are seen as a weakness by some people and have unfortunately been used by those with no morals in the past as a leverage to get the information they want."

"Mates are not a weakness," Dixon snarled. "If anything we're stronger together and if anyone came after us, they'd learn that for themselves."

Benedict chuckled at the conviction in Dixon's words. He felt the same way. "What my mate said, but Langley, if you get a chance to have a word with Dr. Morgan privately, could you let him know that seriously, this is not information that any paranormal should have. Maybe just suggest that he use his position on the Paranormal Council to urge the Magical Council to get their own house in order, because that should be the most pressing matter right now. That will take at least a decade, and if the question arises again, from anyone, just tell them I have no comment."

Patting Dixon's knee, he added, "Is there anything else? Only I think we could all do with an early night. It's been a day."

"There have been a few messages from some of your extended family members, both in Cornwall and in York." Langley pulled out another sheet of paper. "In summary…"

Holding up his hand, Benedict said, "Let me guess. They're sorry they got the wrong idea about my family's deaths. They are furious at the Magical Council misrepresenting me to them and mortified they'd been taken in by the slick words of liars who deserve to die for their slander of a prominent member of the Dule family line." The emphasis was deliberate. Benedict knew his family well.

"That's the gist of them, yes."

"I'm sure they also added something along the lines of, I do hope you never believed I ever thought badly of you and that we've always been supportive of your decision to live anywhere else so long as it's not near us. And, oh, yes, we're so glad that the little matter of your house explosion has been resolved. In the meantime, do you think you could see your way clear to signing off on your cousin's wedding plans, your uncle's desire to open a new business, your second cousin's dog's entry to puppy training, or other shit like that. Am I right?"

Langley laughed. He actually laughed. "Words to that effect, yes. I shall, of course, reply on your behalf if you'd like me to."

"Yes, well they weren't about to contact me directly. Their feelings haven't changed that much." Easing out the tension in his shoulders, Benedict said, "I've already made my position clear to the Cornwall branch of the family when they insulted me and my mate at dinner the other night. I've also let Mrs. Porter know absolutely no member of the York family line are to gain access to this estate again."

He thought for a moment and then added, "However, I'm equally cognizant of my duties as the title holder of the Dule family line. Send anyone with a genuine inquiry a generic reply for now, advising them that Lord Dule is out of the country on an extended vacation and that the matter will be considered on his return. Wait three months and then send me through any applications you believe have merit and that I should sign, as you have done these past ten years. Something I'm truly grateful that you do."

"Yes, well, your confidence in my abilities is not something I take for granted, but it's appreciated." Langley's face was bright red, and he quickly shuffled more papers. "I believe your cousin Monica and her new mate, Gordon are about ready to head for the States themselves, if you have any room on the plane and don't mind making a stop in Cornwall to pick them up. They were hoping to leave Saturday."

Glancing over at Dixon, noting the heat in his eyes, Benedict said, "I could probably do with a day of rest and I'm sure Dixon would love the chance to explore a bit more of the Dule estate in his bear form tomorrow, so let them know Saturday works for us. Are you all right amusing yourself tomorrow, Terrence?"

"I've never been in a house quite as fancy as yours." Terrence grinned. "I'm happy to spend a long and comfortable day in your library, pretending I'm the lord of the manor for five minutes."

"I'm sure if you smile sweetly as Mrs. Porter, she'll indulge you your fantasy for all of your five minutes, provided you remember it is she who truly runs this place." Standing up, Benedict stretched. "Thank you, both of you," he said to Terrence and Langley. "I couldn't have gone through today without your support. Dixon?" He turned and held out his hand. "Ready for bed?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Dixon jumped up, and grabbed his hand. "I'm grateful for the support, too, guys. It's good to know I've made two new friends. But if you value your health, don't bother us tomorrow."

Leaving the room with the laughter of his friends ringing in his ears was a good way to end the day. Benedict felt lighter, too, as if the weight he'd been carrying for the past ten years was finally gone. Yes, he still had a lot to process, but that just needed time. Time he would share with his mate.

Holiday time.