Chapter Five

"These are some very serious charges you've been implicated in here." The man tapped the file that was sitting on the desk in front of him. "Very serious indeed."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think we've been introduced." Keep calm. Keep calm. "You are?"

The man frowned. "I'm taking this meeting at the Magical Council's request, for the sole purpose of taking your statement. My name isn't relevant to the record of this investigation."

Benedict crossed his legs at the knee and resettled his hands on his lap, conscious of Dixon standing sentinel beside him. "I see." He nodded.

"Well, what have you got to say for yourself?"

"About what? I was simply instructed to be here this morning, so I'm here. Admittedly, I'm jet-lagged from the plane trip. I only arrived in the country last night, but this matter appeared to be urgent enough for you to send a car, so perhaps you can tell me what this is about?"

"I was warned you were going to be difficult. Didn't I tell you, Lathan? I was told Dule would be difficult." The man wiggled his shoulders, reminding Benedict of an owl ruffling his feathers.

"That's Lord Dule, or Necromancer Dule, if you prefer," Benedict reminded the man quietly. "As I have no idea of your name, rank, or designation within the Council, you will refer to me by my title or designation, whichever you prefer, or inform me why you don't have to give me the respect my position entitles me to."

The man's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard. Probably swallowing the bile he's threatening to throw up at having to treat me with respect. "Necromancer Dule, you have been charged with trying to raise a dead army in San Francisco on…"

"No I haven't." Benedict wanted information, but he didn't want or need to be dealing with fictional bullshit. "I have a jointly prepared conclusive report from the Magical Council offices in London and New York declaring that no charges were filed during an incident concerning the disposal of a rogue changeling. My magic was used, but not by my hands, and therefore the Magical Council determined I was not responsible. Besides, if you check that file, you will note that I object strongly to the disturbance of the spirits of the dead for any reason, and that objection is also well documented."

"Harrumph." The man opened the file, flicking through the pages.

"It's there on page twenty-two, sir." Lathan bent over, finding the page most likely before standing at attention again.

Heavy silence filled the room as the interrogator slowly read every word on the page that had been found for him. Another delaying tactic, or maybe the man was trying to work out what to say next. Benedict didn't let the silence bother him. He knew, from his own experience, that oftentimes people would start speaking simply to fill the quiet, but as Benedict liked his peace, he didn't feel the need to say anything. He sent soothing vibes through to the bristly bear beside him, happy to wait for the interrogator to think of something else.

"Well, this is very irregular." The interrogator finally lifted his head from the paper. In that time, Benedict could've memorized the entire file. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

"Again, about what?" Benedict spread his hands wide, as if showing he wasn't a threat. "I genuinely have no idea why I am here or what you want to know. If you could be more specific…"

"There are numerous incidences of your misconduct listed here." The interrogator prodded his file with his finger so hard, he was in danger of putting a hole in it. "None of which speaks to any integrity of character. Indeed, from reading the information here, it is clear your name is under a severe cloud that could seriously impact your reputation and family name."

"As much as I hate having to keep repeating myself, I'm afraid you will have to be more specific. During my service to the Magical Council, while I was residing in this country, I was never reprimanded, put on report, or charged with anything relating to my work or designation. Since leaving the UK I have kept a very low profile, away from the paranormal community for the most part, and again, there have been no charges ever made about my conduct by anyone, to anyone else. If you'd prefer to speak to my lawyer to confirm these details…"

"There are letters here from your superiors claiming you've been disrespectful and that you refused to follow orders. Not failed to execute them, but outright refused to follow orders. What have you got to say to that?"

Tilting his head to one side, Benedict made sure he kept his eyes on the man so determined to rattle him. "When was that? Perhaps you could refresh my memory for me? Only, I haven't been employed by the Magical Council for at least ten years."

"Well, of course it was during that time, but the situation still stands that you were rude, disrespectful, arrogant in that you believed yourself more knowledgeable than your superiors, and that you blatantly refused a direct order from the Council Committee."

"Ah, so this is about my refusing to raise the zombie army." Benedict nodded. "Thank you for the clarification. Yes, I did bluntly refuse a direct order from the Council Committee regarding that little matter. I also instructed my superiors that such an undertaking was not only impossible, but any attempt to do it was also dangerous and extremely disrespectful to the dead."

"A zombie army?" Lathan's eyes almost fell out of his head. "Why would anyone order you to attempt to do something like that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Benedict said with a tight smile.

The interrogator snapped, "Shut up Lathan. Dule…"

"Necromancer Dule or Lord Dule, if you prefer."

"Necromancer Dule…" Honestly, if the man ground his jaw any tighter, he would break his teeth. "Our records also show that immediately after your blatant disrespect to the council, after you were removed from your position, you fled the country, leaving your estate to go to rack and ruin, refusing to allow any of your extended family the opportunity to grieve or…"

Benedict held up his hand. "Stop right there if you wouldn't mind. You appear to be rewriting my personal and professional history and I can't allow you to do that. I was not removed from my position – I quit. Indeed, I have messages from two individual councilors begging me to reconsider my decision at the time. Likewise, I did not flee the country as if I was some kind of fugitive. I chose to leave my country of birth so that I wouldn't have to contend with the outrageous demands the Council was placing on my magical abilities. I know for a fact those details are recorded in my personal records held by the Magical Council you claim to work for.

"As to the Dule estate, which remains in my name due to the wishes of my father's last will and testament, you would see for yourself if you drove past the estate that it always was and always will be a meticulously well-maintained memorial to my family, who were viciously slain for reasons the Council has either neglected to or can't be bothered to ascertain. You sir, would do well to research your facts more thoroughly before slinging accusations that are borderline slanderous."

Maybe it was Benedict's clipped delivery, or his mention of the council records, but the interrogator was momentarily stunned – as if he genuinely couldn't believe what he was hearing. He recovered quickly, shuffling through his papers, pulling out a single page and holding it up. "I received a letter, signed just last week, claiming the Dule estate had been abandoned for a decade and was a blight on the landscape, seeing as nothing had been done with it since the explosion that took out your family home."

I freaking knew it. Benedict inhaled sharply and then said, "May I?" He held up his hands. The interrogator frowned but nodded.

"This room is warded against harmful magic," he warned.

"I know," Benedict said. "I simply thought you would appreciate a few visual aids to assist with our discussion." Flicking his fingers, a large picture of Benedict's house appeared as if floating in midair. "The Dule family home, as it was this morning when I left it to come for this appointment." He panned his hands slightly showing a view of the gardens and the house before dropping that picture and flicking up another one.

"The site of the original Dule family home. As you can see the debris was cleared not long after the home was destroyed." The blackened house footprint shook him all over again, but Benedict held his hands steady as he panned that scene as well.

"A view of my estate from the road." He flicked that up, too. "And some shots of the inside of my estate." He produced random pictures of the entrance way, the sitting room, the grand hall, and the library, giving his interrogator and Lathan a chance to view each one. "The Dule estate is currently home to twenty-four live-in staff, longtime family retainers who lovingly look after the Dule estate in accordance with my wishes. It is not and never has been an abandoned estate. I defy anyone to find a speck of dust on the furniture, let alone the rack and ruin you claim the estate has been reduced to."

Letting the pictures drop, Benedict pointed to the ceiling. "As with all Council offices, these rooms are spelled so all those present speak the truth. You know those pictures I just showed you are a true and accurate record of my estate today. Because of that truth spell, I am also aware that if I asked you who sent that slanderous letter, and who was responsible for ordering my presence here today, when I fully expected my meeting would be in the London Council offices tomorrow morning at the earliest, you would have no option but to reply, or hold yourself liable to a complaint from me about your conduct."

The interrogator's face paled.

"I'm not going to do that, because unlike some people I have integrity. Being played as an insignificant pawn by cowards who won't face me themselves is not an enjoyable experience for anyone. One might even call it humiliating, and I don't wish that for you or your colleague. Now, if there is nothing else, I will take my leave."

"Wait," the interrogator said, as Benedict stood up. "I have to know. There was something else in the letter, and I can't let you leave until I know for sure… for my own peace of mind, if you will indulge me. Where were you the night your family home was destroyed?"

"I gave my statement about that the night it happened. It will be in the report you have sitting in front of you." Benedict reached for Dixon's hand. "That fateful night I was on a miserable date with Charles Blakely, who for some unknown reason greeted me when I arrived here just prior to my meeting with you this morning. I can't think why anyone believed I would need to rekindle his acquaintance, but then who knows what hides in the minds of others. That date, incidentally, was arranged for me by the same committee who wanted that zombie army raised. Irony or coincidence? No. Don't answer that. I have no desire to see what happens to someone who lies under a truth spell. Good day."