《Dead Man's Tales》


 Enter Protagonist, Stage Right

    The girl was dead. Her blood pooling on the hardwood floor made that obvious, even if her spirit hadn''t been standing there, horrified, staring at the corpse.


    I gently took her hand as she continued to stare. We are the oldest magi, the power over death being the first and most vital for humanity. Followed closely by the wizards and their elemental affinity, but we were first. Necromancers have stood at the Gate for most of history and held the world''s hand as they passed through.


    ¡°Who did this?¡±


    She looks at me. At our hands. At her body on the floor.


    ¡°A man. He has a knife. He told me that it wouldn''t hurt.¡±


    ¡°Did he tell you his name, little one?¡± Death is traumatic and we try to comfort when we can.


    ¡°No. He said his friend wanted to meet me. His friend had a weird name. It was long with lots of consonants.¡±


    ¡°Did you say you would meet this friend?¡± I thought I knew the answer but wanted to make sure.


    She nodded.


    ¡°It will be alright little one. Now it''s time to go to the Gate. Can you see it?¡±


    She looked around until her eyes caught on something in the distance. I looked where she looked and saw what she saw: a massive Gate made of shining metal. It stood in shadow as it shone, offering a passage through the Darkness.


    I looked around the back room for just a moment. The police had not found this place. The only reason I knew the body was there was the spirit¡¯s crying. I reached into the Dark and pulled a little sliver into the Light. The body began to decompose like a high-speed film. The blood seemed to evaporate off the floor and the walls, leaving the room a wreck, but no longer a murder scene. I knew any cop would have a coronary at this kind of destruction of evidence, but there was no way they could deal with this problem anyway.


    As the body was taking care of itself, I took one more sweep of the room. The stench of demon was strong. I could not-quite-see the trail of magic the warlock had left as he moved around the room and out the door. Taking my umbrella from the corner I stepped back into the alley and the rain.


    Time to hunt.


    I tracked him halfway across the city in the rain. Every mage can sense magic in our own way. Other necromancers have told me they see trails of light, or ¡°vibrations¡± in the air. Magic always seems like a smelly cloud to me. Admittedly some kinds smell better than others. Healing almost always smells pleasant. Fire usually smells like fire, just different ingredients depending on the wizard. Water magic smells like the sea, or a river, or a bog, again depending on the wizard.


    I¡¯ve never had the chance to ask another mage what my magic smells like.


    The trail of demon stink finally led to a run-down hotel. As I continued to follow the cloud its odor had started to get more subtle. I still smelled the sulfur and shit that all demons smelled of, but I had also begun to detect hints of old paper, cedar, and something dark. Not evil, just ¡®dark¡¯ smelling.


    The windows of the hotel lobby had long been boarded up, and several of the doors were missing from the rooms. I saw, however, a suspiciously shiny door handle on the backdoor of the lobby building, as if someone had replaced it in the last month or so.


    It was oh so tempting to just barge inside in a blaze of glory, but I had not gotten to my venerable age by doing an excess of stupid things.


    I tested the door to see if it would creak as I swung it open. A good way to tell if the person you¡¯re after is a real criminal: rusty hinges make excellent alarms. These hinges were not rusty. I moved through the open space that used to be a kitchen slowly. Watching and listening for the warlock. And keeping my nose open for any additional hint of the demon. If the smell had been ¡®real¡¯ it would have knocked me over by now with its strength. Sometimes magic sucks. I could have gotten used to a real chemical in the air, magical perceptions can keep ramping up the unpleasantness forever.


    As I moved along the wall I started to hear faint arguing. Which is unusual for a warlock. Either he had a partner or his demon was unhappy. Both circumstances made my job easier. Both circumstances were odd enough that it made me wonder what the hell was going on.


    I moved closer to the voices and realized that they were coming from the broken and doorless walk-in refrigerator. Comfortingly stupid on the warlock¡¯s part since there could only be one exit.


    ¡°I do not want this,¡± a deep voice said. The spike of demon smell let me know what the speaker was, even though I was out of sight.


    ¡°I don''t give a shit what you want! You''re mine! You signed the contract! I am your master!¡± The other voice was male but pitched higher than an adult. This must be a new warlock just trying out his demon. It was disturbing that he turned to murder so quickly.


    ¡°You made me sign!¡± the demon shouted. Which made no sense. The whole of a warlock''s power was seduction. They sweet talk demons, people, anything with a mind, into doing what they want. Why would one of them ¡®make¡¯ a demon do anything?


    I risked a peek around the corner. There was the warlock. Short black hair with blond roots showing. Metal in his face. Neck tattoo. Classic goth poser look.


    There was another girl on a stretcher in the broken fridge. Naked and strapped down. I didn''t see a spirit, so she must be just unconscious. She looked a lot like the previous victim, so this guy had a type.


    There was a sacrificial circle on the metal floor surrounding the stretcher. The runes indicated feeding physical strength to the demon with little of anything else.


    The demon was standing across the body from the boy. Big, slabbed-on muscles, ram''s horns on top that almost brushed the metal ceiling. Exactly what I would expect the circle on the floor to produce.


    The weird thing was that I knew the demon. He had been in contract with a warlock I had known in the early nineties. The warlock had sacrificed books instead of souls because Lbrt''Arctn was a bibliophile. They had been together for years before Clarence had died. Burt had almost no interest in human sacrifice. He was the most squeamish demon I had ever encountered.


    This was getting a little too weird for me.


    I called a little of the Dark I to my hands, ready to attack or defend. With a carefully calculated swagger, I stepped into the cooler doorway.


    ¡°Hello, boys. Looks like someone has been naughty.¡±


    The demon and the warlock both started for just a second. It was funny in a way. Then the screaming started.


    ¡°Kill him!¡± the boy yelled. Almost screamed really. His voice got really high when he was stressed evidently.


    Burt took a fast step toward me, really all he had room for between his size and the smallness of the cooler. I shaped the Dark into manacles and threw them toward him. The Dark was where the demons were from. It could contain them better than any other thing in reality. Our power over it was one of the reasons we kept watch for rogue warlocks.


    The manacles wrapped around his wrists and kept flying toward the wall, taking the big demon with them.


    The boy was fast. He charged me when he saw the demon fly toward the wall, sacrificial knife leading the way. He must be brand new, he would have to sanctify a new blade if he cut me in anything but ritual sacrifice. I wondered how he had gotten this far on his own.


    I reached out right-handed and grabbed the boy¡¯s wrist, guiding the knife past me. Strong elbow into the diaphragm knocked the wind out of him. Not as much as expected, he was wearing lots of layers it felt like. Still holding the knife. Keep my hand on his wrist. Push him back into the wall. Knife hand against the metal. Keep the pressure up. Forearm across the neck.


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    Now we could talk.


    ¡°So,¡± I let the syllable hang in the air for a moment. ¡°I¡¯m with the official Mage Community Welcome Committee. We wanted to let you know that there are some ground rules for living and working in and around the Metro Area. The first being that you are not allowed to kill anyone.¡± I realized that sarcasm may not have been the best choice in this particular instance, but I was stressed and that tends to make me mouth off.


    ¡°You have two options in this situation,¡± I said. I was getting my mouth back under control at this point. ¡°You can keep struggling and I¡¯m going to end up killing you mostly on accident. I will do my damndest to deliver you to the Council alive, but no guarantees. Or you can surrender and you will definitely get there alive.¡± The kid was sort of listening at this point, I think I had choked most of the fight out of him.


    ¡°What¡¯s it gonna be?¡± I stared him down as I demanded.


    He dropped the knife in response.


    ¡°Good, now sit there and be quiet.¡± I pulled out some zip ties that I habitually kept in my pocket and bound his wrists. He could run, but I could chase him down with his hands tied. I picked up the knife and moved toward the girl on the stretcher. Pulse, check, good. I pulled back her eyelids to check her pupils. Wide as the fucking sea. She must have been drugged out of her mind. I took a quick glance at her through the Dark. Her spirit was still strong and strongly tied to the body. She would be fine once the drugs wore off.


    I glanced at the demon still pinned to the wall. He was struggling to get to me still, which made sense after the last command.


    ¡°Call him off,¡± I said to the boy. ¡°I want to say hi.¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± said the kid. ¡°You have no instructions for now.¡± The phrasing of the order was odd. Most warlocks kept a congenial tone with their demons. They wanted them happy in case there was a loophole in the contract, or if they were summoned again. This kid acted like he was ordering around a robot.


    As the boy spoke Burt¡¯s struggling stopped. He hung imply on the manacles that were still stuck to the wall. I stayed where I was for the moment, well out of reach of both of them.


    ¡°How have you been Burt? I thought you swore off warlocks after Clarence died.¡± Clarence had been a writer I had known in years past. An Afrofuturist before that had been a thing to be. The only sacrifice I had ever heard Burt demand was that Clarence¡¯s books be dedicated to him.


    ¡°Hello Asa,¡± Burt rasped. His voice had never sounded like that before. ¡°This is the first trip since Clarence.¡± He glared daggers at the kid in the corner. ¡°She had my name. I had to come see who had found it after all this time.¡± I wondered who ¡®she¡¯ was, but let it go for now.


    Burt¡¯s eyes flicked down to the knife in my hand. ¡°Once I was here that thing made me obey.¡± His eyes were still on the blade. ¡°I signed away my will, Asa. She made me! Make her give it back!¡± I could see the pain on Burt¡¯s face, and the hungering rage that demons were so famous for. I had never seen that on Burt¡¯s face when I knew him through Clarence. This kid had really messed him up.


    I still held the blade in my left hand. With my right, I pulled a little of the Dark into a necklace with a flick of my fingers. I tossed the charm over Burt¡¯s head. It settled there, doing the opposite of glowing that necromancer charms always do. ¡°This is just a truth spell.¡± I looked Burt right in the eye. ¡°We had a mutual friend once, but that¡¯s been a while ago. You¡¯ll be fine.¡± The demon nodded.


    ¡°Tell me what happened.¡±


    ¡°I was summoned by my true name, pronounced correctly by a warlock. I came out of the Dark into the circle. Once I was here she drew blood with the dagger.¡± His eyes flicked down again. ¡°I could not refuse after that. She had a contract prepared that gave her full control. I¡¯ve been here two weeks and haven¡¯t been able to make a single decision since then! You have to believe that I did not want this! This is not the kind of sacrifice I want!¡± Burt was getting increasingly agitated as he spoke.


    ¡°What do you need to go home?¡± Some contracts had clauses that prevented a demon¡¯s return to the Dark.


    ¡°Nothing. She¡¯s keeping me here by order alone. Destroy the dagger and I¡¯m out. Never coming back again!¡±


    ¡°Who is ¡®she¡¯ that you keep talking about?¡± I wanted to get this sorted before I sent him home.


    His eyes flicked to the wall where the kid slumped on the floor. Well shit, I guess he¡¯s trans I thought. Demons had trouble with non-binary genders. It had been a problem for a while, but no one could figure out why they did it or how to stop it.


    ¡°Alright then, are you ready to go home?¡± Burt nodded vigorously.


    I looked at the dagger. It was a simple design. Leather-wrapped handle, no guard, swept blade, gut hook on the back. Excellent for slicing and opening a carcass or corpse. It looked like an ornate hunting knife, made by someone who read too many fantasy novels.


    I checked the kid in the corner to make sure she, no he damn it, was still sitting quiet. Check. I blinked and looked at the knife through the Dark.


    I almost had to shield my eyes. It glowed with maleficence. This thing was evil in a way that only the worst humans, mages or not, could be. The mage who made it must have been a warlock because I could see a soul, black like a demon, bound into the steel. It raged against the imprisonment and powered the enchantments with its struggle. And the enchantments were many. They hovered around the thing like a cloud. Swirling and reaching out, to me, to Burt, to the kid. This thing was bad in a way that I had never dreamed.


    And it was the most impressive thing I had ever seen. No one had ever been able to keep an object enchanted. The fact that the cost was so high and so monstrous made it clear why not.


    I studied for a minute or so, trying to see how the thing worked so I could break it.


    Ah ha.


    ¡°Watch the kid,¡± I said to Burt. ¡°Yell if he does anything you think is dangerous.¡±


    I nicked the edge of my palm. The thing needed blood to bond and it wouldn¡¯t obey me until I bound it. As soon as my blood touched the blade I felt it trying to control me. It wanted to be used, wanted to kill, wanted to summon more and more demons. It wanted chaos and destruction.


    Very human altogether.


    I resisted the whispering and drew the Dark into the dagger. I fed more and more power into the thing, putting pressure on the cracks between the enchantments, stressing the steel, squeezing the carbon bonds from the inside out. Just before it blew apart I encased it in a ball of oblivion that would contain the explosion.


    A soft WHUMP is not very satisfying after all the work I had put in.


    Burt was already fading back into the Dark when I looked back at him. His glance behind me, though, made me turn back to the kid.


    Except he wasn¡¯t on the floor anymore. He was standing next to the girl on the stretcher with another fucking knife pressed to her throat. How many knives did this kid have?


    ¡°Time to talk,¡± the warlock said.


    Should have frisked them before I looked away I thought as I watched the knife. This one was a plain military surplus K-bar bayonet. I risked a peek through the Dark. Entirely mundane.


    ¡°What would you like to talk about?¡± I was moving as I spoke. An eye on the knife and an eye on the floor. I was still between them and the door and I stepped out into the derelict kitchen. Maybe I could draw him away from the girl.


    The kitchen was still shrouded in darkness. Tiny windows and an open door did not let in much light. For a little added flair I called a little Darkness into the corners and edges of the room. It would make him a little more nervous and help me see all the better.


    ¡°I know that you¡¯re new to this. Maybe we can work something out with the Council.¡±


    The kid peeked around the doorway, trying to find me in the shadowlight. I thought about taking him then. That would have made things a lot easier honestly, but I might have hurt him in the process. I always tried to avoid that if possible.


    He made a show of stepping into the empty kitchen, head up and pretending to be relaxed. I was still moving around in the dark, using skill rather than magic to stay unnoticed.


    ¡°Who gave you the knife?¡± I asked, speaking to the corner to confuse my position. ¡°The one that I broke.¡± Making sure we stayed on topic.


    ¡°I found it,¡± the kid said. He kept turning from corner to corner trying to figure out where I was.


    ¡°Bullshit. It was one of a kind and as purely evil as anything I have ever seen. People don¡¯t just leave nuclear missiles or plagues lying around either.¡± He was moving out into the middle of the room, finally.


    He was moving side-long toward the door as if I wouldn¡¯t notice he was trying to run. At least he was that smart. ¡°My dad flips houses. He lets me sort through the crap they find in attics and basements. I found the book and the knife in a basement.¡± Okay, maybe he had found it, especially if the warlock had died.


    ¡°Is your dad a warlock or your mom?¡± Magic almost always ran in families. There hadn¡¯t been an outcropping of talent in decades.


    ¡°I¡¯m adopted.¡± There was a lot of bitterness sunk into those two words. This was getting a lot clearer by the minute.


    ¡°Look, kid, I know that you''re new to this. Had you summoned a demon before Burt?¡±


    He was still inching toward the door but shook his head. ¡°No. He was the first name I found.¡±


    ¡°This is a shitty start, but let me take you to the Council and find you an apprenticeship. You can learn how to be a real warlock instead of a murderer.¡± I was slowly moving toward his back, speaking softly so it wasn¡¯t clear that I was approaching.


    I took the last step and put my hand on his shoulder. I felt him tense for just a moment.


    The turn was fast and the swipe with the knife had all the speed a teenager could muster, but I could feel the motion through his shoulder. And I had a lot more experience.


    As soon as he tensed I was pushing him away to make some distance between us. The knife flashed in the moonlight from the door, cutting nothing but the shadows. I took another step back, pulling the dark and the Dark around me.


    ¡°You really are stupid, boy. A warlock should never face another mage without a demon, especially a necromancer.¡± I took two diagonal steps toward him, moving fast and taking long strides but maintaining separation. Just as I¡¯d hoped he swung at me again. This time the fist came before the knife, again a good deviation from earlier, but not nearly enough. I stepped to his left and into him as he jabbed with that fist. Let his follow-up with the knife come straight for me, and then moved with it. Circle into his body. Tuck his knife arm under my elbow. Control the wrist with my left hand. Keep turning. One more hard step and he went stumbling away with the knife in my hand.


    I gestured with the blade. ¡°Stand down.¡± I was trying to be authoritative and gentle all at once, neither are my strong suit.


    He didn¡¯t even seem to hear me. As soon as he was up he was charging at me like a boxer going for a clinch. I faded back as he came on, but he kept following me, until my back was against the metal wall of the cooler where the girl was.


    I took two punches to the gut because I was trying to keep the knife away from him. Then I felt him draw back his leg to knee me. Instinctively I brought both hands to his shoulders to push him away, but he saw the knife and tried to wrestle it from me. A few desperate seconds later he stopped struggling.


    I don¡¯t even know how it happened, but the knife ended up between his ribs. Shit. I felt the blood run over my hand as his heart rate picked up with the pain. Shit fuck shit goddamn. I pulled the blade out of his chest and threw it into the corner of the kitchen. Do not die, kid, I thought as forcefully as I could. Gently, but quickly, I eased him down to the dirty floor. I reached into the Dark and pulled power into the wound through my hand on his chest, wrapped it around the heart to keep it beating. I felt the whistling through the magic where the lung was nicked, patching that up too. Necromancy can¡¯t heal wounds, but we keep the body and soul together until they heal on their own; or until we can get to a real doctor whether magic or mundane.


    ¡°Hold on you stupid little shit,¡± I muttered as I worked. ¡°Did you stab yourself? Did I slip? How did this even happen?¡± I was hoping for a response, but he was just lying there. I kept glancing into the Dark to check on how alive he was.


    ¡°Fuck you old man.¡± I could barely hear the whisper over my own breathing and heartbeat.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be fine, kid. Just stay with me till I get you stuck back together.¡± I was still busy knitting the Dark into his organs to keep them working.


    ¡°Why should I?¡± he whispered again. ¡°I¡¯m circling the drain in more ways than one.¡± His breathing was getting more ragged despite my efforts. ¡°I can see the Gate, I know what it means.¡± A long pause. ¡°I¡¯ll see you on the other side.¡±


    And then he died.


    His soul just walked out of his body and toward the Gate. I almost grabbed him, but I had never stopped anyone from dying because they wanted to, and I couldn¡¯t do that to him then.


    I was still sitting there, holding the dead but still breathing body, when I heard rustling from the cooler.


    ¡°What the hell is going on!?¡±

 A Hospital Visit

    I left the girl with the police. It took ten minutes for someone to show up after I called 9-1-1. I told the officers that I had heard her screaming and found her tied up on the gurney in the restaurant. I had destroyed the knife that killed the warlock and my fingerprints with it. The body was left where he had fallen.


    The cops were a little freaked out, the girl was too for that matter, but no one had seen anything really weird so it would get brushed under the rug as a weird full-moon Saturday night.


    The next day was Sunday. Part of me hates Sunday lately. I spend most of the day thinking about how little I don¡¯t want to go back to my classroom on Monday. I¡¯m a substitute teacher in my spare time. It helps pay the bills and I get time off whenever I need it. It also lets me check on young mages and keep an eye on the community.


    For the last three months, I had been filling in for a biology teacher on maternity leave. I had been a doctor for a while in another life and another country so the material was well within my area of expertise. Being a necromancer also meant that I had a ¡®unique¡¯ understanding of anatomy. Grading homework was one of the most torturous drudgeries that I had ever endured, however.


    My one bright spot, though, was that I had signed up to be a kangaroo at our local NICU. Some infants are born with enough issues that they need to stay in the hospital even after their mother is discharged. As terrible as it is, their mothers and fathers cannot always put the rest of their lives on hold to be with their child. There are never enough nurses to give those children the attention and human contact they need so volunteers like me make up the lack.


    It also gives me an excuse to be at the hospital for an hour or two every week.


    As I was sitting in the hospital rocking chair, cuddling a little girl with an oxygen tube and heart monitor, my mind wandered down one floor to the adult ICU.


    Lots of sick people. Lots of pain. Lots of ghosts.


    Charge Nurse Nesbitt is still wandering the halls here. She was a nurse in this ward for a decade when she had a stroke on her shift. That had been three years ago.


    ¡°Good morning Mattie,¡± I say as we stroll down the hallway. I had been alive for a long time, but I had never encountered a spirit as coherent and focused as Mattie Nesbitt that wasn¡¯t also attached to a heartbeat.


    ¡°Hello Asa,¡± she replied. We weren¡¯t really speaking, but the analog is about as close as I can describe. ¡°Jack is slipping again. He hasn¡¯t woken up all week and his liver function is going straight over the cliff.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I¡¯m fine Mattie. Work has been good. I saved a girl from a demon last night. Thank you for asking.¡± My mocking tone let the ghost know exactly what I thought about jumping straight into business.


    ¡°Eat shit, Asa!¡± She snapped back. ¡°He¡¯s scared and his kids haven¡¯t been here in two weeks. If he could survive it they would move him to hospice, but that would kill him for sure.¡± Spirits sometimes start glowing when they get worked up, and Mattie looked like she was back-lit by a  spotlight.


    ¡°Okay! Okay!¡± I said, ¡°We¡¯ll talk to him.¡± We moved down the hallway, avoiding the living nurses on the floor. Jack¡¯s room was halfway down the hall, reflecting the reality that nurses were in and out a lot, but his condition was not acute. Jack was dying of a lifetime of benzene exposure without proper protection. He had days left and the only person who didn¡¯t know it was his youngest daughter.


    We stepped into the room to find Jack standing over himself. Honestly, that¡¯s the situation that I meet most spirits in. Spirit Jack was the same age as his body, but about six inches taller because he could stand straight up. His body¡¯s joints, guts, lungs, and continence had all departed years ago; but Jack¡¯s spirit was too stubborn to die until he was ready.


    ¡°Morning Jack, how¡¯s tricks?¡± Everyone in the room knew the situation sucked, but I couldn¡¯t help but try to lighten the mood.


    ¡°Terrible,¡± he smirked back. ¡°Nurses in this dump are ugly as a cat¡¯s asshole.¡± We shared a conspiratorial glance as Mattie sputtered in indignation.


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    ¡°So are we hangin¡¯ on a little longer?¡± I asked, getting to business. ¡°We¡¯ve talked it out. You can go any time.¡± We both glanced involuntarily at the Gate in the middle distance. Mattie, stubborn as she was, could not see it yet.


    ¡°Sarah¡¯s thesis defense is next Wednesday,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ll wait till then.¡± We all three nodded at his decision.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll last till then,¡± I said. Subtly I strengthened the tether between Jack and his body.


    All three of us looked up as alarms went off in the next room.


    ¡°Time to get back to work,¡± I muttered. I stepped out into the hallway and took a few steps to the next door.


    Chaos reigned inside. Nurses were frantically administering CPR and various syringes to the body on the bed. Everyone was moving with speed and purpose except for the child at the body¡¯s feet. I almost thought she was corporeal but then a nurse stepped through her and neither of them noticed.


    I moved my spirit up next to hers and we watched the nurses work.


    ¡°My name is Asa.¡± I was carefully not looking in her direction in case she was freaking out.


    ¡°I know,¡± she said. ¡°Nurse Nesbitt told me about you.¡± At least that would speed this along.


    ¡°So how do you want to do this?¡± I asked gently. It is always hard to predict how young people will take their death. This one was taking it quite well so far.


    ¡°I¡¯m tired,¡± she whispered. It was the saddest and most commonplace thing that the dead ever said to me. ¡°But I don¡¯t want to die. My mom will be sad.¡±


    ¡°Everyone dies little one. And every time it happens someone is sad. Waiting here, tied to a breathing corpse won¡¯t ease that sadness for your mother. And it will just mean you sit here suffering in the meantime.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡± The words barely brushed the ether around us.


    ¡°I know.¡± I took her hand in mine. ¡°That¡¯s part of my job, to make the fear less.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± she said, still whispering.


    We stayed a moment like that, looking at her corpse being attended by nurses who had no way of knowing she was dead. They had finally gotten the paddles into the room, but I flicked a finger and the electricity bled into the Dark in a flash no one but us could see. Someone would get yelled at, but it was for the best.


    I felt her turn and followed her as she walked further into the Dark. The beacon of the Gate grew brighter and bigger as we walked.


    The girl was focused on her destination, but I knew some of the dangers in this part of the Dark. A few shifting shadows drew my glare and I let a little of my power out into our immediate area.


    The shadows did not move again.


    I walked with the little girl right up to the edge of the Gate and we both stopped.


    ¡°What¡¯s on the other side?¡± she asked. She didn¡¯t sound as scared now.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I squeezed her hand. ¡°We don¡¯t go through. Necromancers stand in the Dark to protect the dead, and the living most times.¡± We stood looking at the edifice of light together, me with appreciation and her with curiosity and longing.


    ¡°Does it hurt?¡±


    ¡°Did dying?¡± She shook her head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem to, from trips I¡¯ve made before. No one cries out or screams. Some seem surprised at the last moment.¡± I squeezed her hand again. ¡°It will be okay.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± She let go of my hand and strode into the light as proudly as a general on parade.


    I lingered for a moment, as I always have, to make sure nothing out of place would happen. Nothing did, as it never had, and I started the walk back to my body. I had been gone maybe twenty minutes and my kangaroo time was almost up.


    As I walked I felt a presence moving toward me from the deeper Dark. It would have been a very stupid or powerful entity to challenge me here and I began to gather power around me. I stopped just as quickly when I saw the spirit coming toward me.


    Hello Grandfather. Even the semblance of speech fell away between two practitioners of the Dark.


    Hello Grandson. You have grown since we last spoke. Images of our last meeting at his home in Spain were flavored by cooking smells and my Grandmother¡¯s perfume. How have you been?


    I gathered my thoughts and offered them to him. I kept part of my attention on the Darkness around us, as I knew he was doing. Two necromancers in the same place would be a tempting opportunity or a deadly gamble. Vigilance deterred unnecessary violence.


    I felt Grandfather¡¯s thoughts stumble as he came to the end of my memories. ¡°What is this knife?¡± He returned to the semblance of speech.


    ¡°A young warlock had it,¡± I explained. ¡°I broke the magic with the Dark and crumbled the physical work. It was as evil as anything I¡¯ve ever touched.¡± I shuddered a little at the memory.


    ¡°I have seen these abominations before, Asa. If you find another, you must contact the Elders.¡± He glared at me fiercely. ¡°Do not disobey me in this boy.¡±


    I felt the seriousness even if I did not understand it. The dagger was worrying, but not excessively so. ¡°I hear you, Grandfather.¡±


    He embraced me and sent me on my way. Go with the gods.


    And you. I sent as I willed myself back toward my body. I was striding toward myself from a direction that is hard to describe if one is not a mage, but I noticed something odd as I came back into the room.


    The little girl was staring at me.


    Not at my body¡¯s face, at my spirit form.


    ¡°Well, shit.¡±

 A Walk Through the Graveyard

    It had been a long and stressful day, and I was glad to come home to my cat. I flopped into my recliner, cursing the current fashion in mens¡¯ dress shoes, the current stupidity so rampant in Western youth, and the flow of time in general for bringing me to this gods-forsaken juncture in my life. Golem, my massive black cat immediately pounced into my lap and curled up for his daily allotment of petting. We had both come to appreciate the modern attitude on pets in general, namely that they filled the same role in the family as children. Really they had always done that, but people used to expect more from their children too.


    I realize how stereotypical it is for a necromancer to have a black cat, but he had been with me for a long time, and neither of us could bear him leaving. I had found Golem in an alley in Prague, one of the reasons for his name. I still have no idea how he got there. I¡¯ve never seen another of his breed in Europe, at least not loose, and he can¡¯t remember much before the streets of Prague. At the time he had been fending off a street kid and his mangy dog. The kid had been throwing stones at my soon-to-be cat while the dog growled. I think if either of them could have seen how big their victim was they would have run away screaming.


    Golem is a black tom. I keep his coat fairly short since winters, where we live, aren¡¯t as cold as he¡¯s used to. He¡¯s a big beast, at almost a meter long and about one stone. Sometimes I put a leash on him and we walk down the road to fuck with the neighbors. He thinks it¡¯s as funny as I do. No idea what breed he is, or if there ever was a breed that he could have belonged to. He¡¯s a giant among cats, though, especially among cats from when he was born.


    I had chased them off ,the child and the dog, but Golem had not been in good shape. A little inspection with the dark showed a broken back, pierced lung, dislocated jaw, and a number of other more minor injuries. Carrying him back to my apartment had not been easy for either of us. He could see that I was trying to help, but that didn¡¯t stop the pain as I moved him the five blocks back to somewhere with a little more privacy.


    The next several hours had been easier, but still difficult. Cats are natural creatures of the Dark. They can see in that direction, and some of them can cross over at will. On the way back the cat and I communicated about what he would want to do. Did he want to cross over? How much pain was too much pain to live with? Most people can¡¯t deal with questions like this, but they are necessary for those of us who traverse the Dark. By the time we had reached my home, we had reached an agreement. I would repair his body with necromancy and he would be my familiar. Seventy years later we are both still satisfied with the arrangement, and I see no reason to change.


    ¡°How was your day little one?¡± Most cats understand tone more than words, but I was speaking through the Dark as well.


    Satisfied laziness, the feeling of sun on my face and belly, and the comfort of a well groomed coat. Golem sent me a summary of his day with a flick of thought.


    ¡°Well, at least one of us had a good day.¡± I was a little jealous honestly. The modern world did not leave a lot of room for lazing around the homestead.


    I dumped him out of my lap, at which he yowled good naturedly, and pushed myself out of my chair. ¡°Time for a walk, lazybones.¡± I pushed my sore feet into a pair of half-boots that were at least ten times more comfortable than the torture devices that passed for dress shoes in this day and age. The fact that I had owned these shoes since before I had found my cat may have contributed to this. I grabbed the leash that Golem did not need and clipped the hook onto his collar and we padded out into the dusk to take a turn through our neighbors¡¯ yard.  We had gone in a merry circle with the local police about whether cats fell under the local leash laws. It had been an interesting argument if nothing else. We had graciously capitulated after the third officer had been unable to bring himself to collar Golem himself.


    Of course Golem had been pretending to be highly incensed at the time, arching his back, hissing like a leaky propane tank, fur standing on end making him look twice as big as his usual impressive self. I may have also been subtly enhancing how scary he was with a little magic.


    I had gotten a really good deal renting this house, mostly because of the neighbors. We lived next to one of the oldest graveyards in the area. Death dates ranged from the mid-1700s to the current decade. The ghost population was fairly modest given the size of the necropolis, but it had a reputation for being haunted anyway. I liked to think that I had helped in that regard somewhat, but a necromancer¡¯s job is never done.


    We left through the front door and strolled left down the street towards the nearest entrance to the cemetery. Ten steps or so took us to the edge of our yard and we slid over the low stone wall that bounded the property. We strolled along the edge of the border trees, both happy to soak in the quiet of nature and the peace of the dead.


    We had walked for almost ten minutes when I sensed something. The spirit wasn¡¯t even strong enough to form an image in the Light. Despite that it tugged at my other sense, insisting that I pay attention to it. I glanced through the Dark and saw a massive dog standing where I could sense the spirit. I had not thought this cemetery was old enough to have a church grim, but evidently I had been wrong.


    Golem deigned to notice the spirit dog as well, and they eyed each other for a moment before the cat approached to rub against the spectre¡¯s side. The grim gave Golem¡¯s ear a friendly lick before turning back the way it had come from. A look over the waist high black shoulder let me know that I was expected to follow.


    We had only gone a few tens of yards toward the center of the necropolis when I heard a sound that no necromancer appreciates. The sound of steel on a headstone has a distinctive ring, but it also resonates through the Dark. It tends to be very noticable for things that like to eat unsuspecting morons, and makes a lot of work for necromancers as a result.


    Gods-damned kids.


    I skulked closer, keeping to shadows and behind trees. I didn¡¯t outright hide myself in the Dark, but enhancing my stealth with a little magic had long ago become second nature. A group of five teenage boys were swigging from liquor and beer bottles, swinging tire irons and baseball bats at random gravestones and flower arrangements. They were oblivious to anything but their drunken vandalism and the need to impress each other. Two of them wore letter jackets from the school where I had been teaching biology for the last few weeks. Typical jock behavior then.


    The grim noticed me noticing the boys, and expressed his indignation over the destruction of his home. The howl he loosed was full of a sad longing for life and a confusion over a human wrecking the resting places of his charges. No one but me and Golem could hear him, but it was heartbreaking nonetheless. He could not fathom that these humans would so callously destroy what he spent his whole existence protecting. In some ways his howling helped us. It told the denizens of the Dark that this graveyard had a grim to chase them off. On the other hand it meant if something did show up, it would be something that thought it could face down a church grim several centuries old.


    The howling also had an effect on the boys. All but one looked wildly around, trying to find the source of a noise that their ears couldn¡¯t hear. It must have been pretty unnerving because they circled up around their leader. He was evidently too drunk to notice the spectral howling.


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    ¡°Okay,¡± I said to myself and my two animal helpers. ¡°You two are going to chase these idiots out of here.¡± I pointed at the pack of idiots brandishing crowbars and bats. ¡°Try not to hurt them too much. They might be too stupid to live, but I don¡¯t want them killed today.¡± The grim woofed softly and trotted off through the sparse tree cover. Golem gave me a satisfied look of anticipation. Play. Chase. Fun. Big? He sent me a mental snapshot of himself chasing a mouse, pouncing on it only to let it scurry away before another pounce. Laced through it was a request for access to some of my magic. I lent him a small portion, deciding he could be trusted to have a little fun.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to stink if they shit themselves. Try to contain yourself.¡± He slunk through the shadows with a jaunty tilt to his tail. I could feel him drawing the Dark around himself as he went.


    I put them out of my mind and pulled the Dark around myself as well. The shadows that my eyes could see got deeper, but also more permeable. I could see into their depths in a way that I couldn¡¯t with just my physical eyes. The world also gained that other dimension that stretched toward the gate. The direction that the Dark came to the physical dimension from. It had taken a lot of training to get used to, but I had mastered this sight long ago.


    I started preparing myself. Imagine those Asian guys on the Internet that pull the cotton candy from the machine and do tricks with it. Now cross that with a balloon artist. Now imagine the stuff that is being used isn¡¯t spun sugar or latex balloons, but a hologram that sucks in Light instead of being made from it. This is how I imagined it looked when I pulled my arms and armor from the Dark.


    I gained a sleek carapace of darkness that clung and moved with me like a leather coat. My legs were similarly coated. My head stayed uncovered, the better to hear and see my foes. In my hand was a foot-long double edged dagger, an almost exact replica to the one that I had trained with when I was a boy.


    It had taken me a long time to improve on the original armor I had crafted when I was younger, but I couldn¡¯t find a better thing for killing Dark denizens than a sharp piece of not-quite-steel. Preparations done, I knelt next to a tree and waited. Senses extended into the Light and the Dark for a little warning that something was on the way.


    While I waited I checked on Golem and the grim. Both were having fun, but none of the boys were. The cat was feeling generous apparently, and had siphoned off enough of my power into the grim to make him visible. The dog was stalking through the tombstones, growling and snapping at the drunken teenagers. I could feel his vindictive pleasure radiating through the Dark. The boys were being herded, albeit slowly, toward the edge of the cemetery. At least one of them had pissed themselves. It didn¡¯t seem like anyone was injured yet, but if they kept running through the grave rows like that someone¡¯s shin would get broken.


    My dramatic troll of a cat, however, had made himself the size of a tiger and was bounding from tree to tree. He was making a squalling, yowling, screeching sound that I had not heard him make before, but it sounded like the hinges of Hell if they hadn¡¯t been oiled in a few hundred years. The grim was doing most of the motivating and Golem was keeping the terrified boys from splitting up. They were doing a good job of herding them away from danger, in other words.


    I felt the Dark move just then. Imagine that you are a fish, well a shark. As you move through the water you can feel other things moving around you. You can feel boats going by overhead probably. That¡¯s what it feels like when the Dark moves. It¡¯s not nothing, and it reacts to those of us who move through it.


    So when the thing tried to sneak up on me, it wasn¡¯t very effective. I had not lived to my current venerable age without developing some survival habits.


    I did not react to the presence behind me, let it think that I was unaware. I could smell its ¡­ aura¡­, for lack of a better word, through the Dark. It was old, not as old as me, but older than  many things I encountered day to day. I could tell that it had been human once. This was not going to be fun.


    I let the thing get closer, almost right on top of me before I started reacting. It was reaching toward me. I could feel the appendage? coming through the Dark toward me. A human soul that had survived as long as this thing felt like it had needed to develop some way to absorb energy. Nothing can survive without eating after all.


    I let it think it had me. Its feeder actually touched my armor and I gave it a nice little jolt of Dark energy as a ¡®fuck you¡¯ for attacking me. I brought my knee up and came to my feet with a turn that left me facing the thing. Knife it hand and ready to fight. I could see the graves and the trees, the sun shing on the grass. I could also see this withered thing. It looked like a mummy, except it was still moist. The flesh was drawn over the bones and joints like badly cured leather. It was thin and wiry, standing a little taller than me with bent knees and a swaying stance. The fingers had elongated into bony claws, and the arms hung down almost to its flexed knees.


    The head was by far the worst. The skull had warped toward the crown of the head, stretching the thing¡¯s face across a taller area than it had been meant for. All the hair had fallen out and the lips had pulled away from the teeth, giving it an evil grimace. The tongue had become a prehensile tentacle that currently dangled down the thing¡¯s chest. That must have been what it tried to feed on me with. Eww. The nose had flattened and stretched until it looked more like two slits in the middle of the thing¡¯s face. The nostrils fluttered and wriggled as it scented me, the graves, and the boys. A high keen made its way out of the things throat, and I felt a wave of hunger as it pushed its feelings outward.


    Not to be outdone, I pushed back. I sent smug satiation, and slapped it across the face with the full-belly feeling of eating family dinner. I also sprinkled in some of my disgust at its appearance with confidence about the outcome of our eminent fight. A shriek of rage and sadness made its way through those nightmare teeth. I bared my own teeth in response and beckoned it to its demise with my free hand.


    Gods it was fast. The next several seconds were a blur of claw swipes, parries, ripostes and scratches along the surface of my armor. I opened an equal number of cuts in the thing¡¯s arms and torso, from which leaked a noxious flavor of ether. I made a mental note not to get any on me.


    It pulled away after realizing that it wasn¡¯t going to get me that easily. It looked calculating somehow, for just a moment, before it sprang away toward the boys that were still 30 yards from the cemetery gates. A fast meal was evidently more tempting than a tough one.


    I raced after it. Those stupid kids were basically defenseless and they were in my area of responsibility. If one of them died I would feel terrible about it. And I also had some professional pride to uphold.


    In the heat of the fight, however, I had forgotten something. Golem and the grave dog had not been caught off guard by the thing. Both had sensed it coming and neither seemed inclined to let it escape them. As the thing ran through one of the trees, still incorporeal in the Light, Golem pounced from directly above it. He was still tiger sized and hit the things shoulders like a ton of bricks, driving it headfirst into the ground. Somehow he had brought the thing more fully into the Light in the process, because its head didn¡¯t pass through the headstone the way it had gone through the tree. It bounced off with a sickening crunch and an ugly, rubbery twist of the thing¡¯s neck. I almost felt bad for it as the cat bounded over its head and turned to face it.


    As soon as the thing was on the ground, the grim rushed in. The thing was stunned and wounded, but the black dog latched onto it¡¯s deformed elbow and shook. An unholy scream rent the air as the whole arm came off at the shoulder.


    One of the boys screamed too, and they all resumed running toward the graveyard¡¯s main gate.


    The thing struggled with one arm, trying to swipe at Golem and the grim as they harried it, keeping its attention firmly on them. A glance from the cat told me that he, at least, saw me creeping up behind the thing.


    As I inched closer the thing drew back too far after a particularly vicious swipe. I took my chance and lunged at its back, driving the dagger into the space where its heart had been in life. As the blade pierced it I channeled a current of the Dark through the handle. In the same way a taser can kill if the voltage is too much, that amount of magic tore apart the thing¡¯s spirit from the inside. It dissipated with a last wail and the three of us were left standing in an empty cemetery around a patch of ordinary grass.


    Golem, in all of his wisdom, proceeded to piss on the spot where the thing had been. The grim trotted over to me, panting happily and radiating satisfaction. I gave him some well deserved attention, rubbing his ears and stroking his belly.


    ¡°Good dog,¡± I said. ¡°Good boy.¡±