Path of the Necromancer Ch. 02

She eyed Ember with a look he couldn't decipher and wordlessly led them inside. "I'm glad you decided to come. There are some people that would like to meet you." Her voice was scratchy and her eyes were red and puffy like she'd been crying. She turned abruptly, leading them into an open area.

Looking around, Ian saw sectioned off partitions lining the vicinity. There seemed to be an abundance of cubical-style 'rooms' that had a variety of different purposes. Ember frowned. She didn't like to be quiet when she fucked and this environment didn't seem to be conducive to her needs. She shrugged. Well, it wasn't as if 'she' cared if anyone heard. Ian would just have to bear it in the mornings.

The girl led them to a section that was obviously set up as a ward. An ashen-faced young man about Ian's age with a strong resemblance to the girl lay atop a sickbed as some of the teens he recognized from the night before last crowded around. A middle-aged man in a lab coat Ian guessed was 'Doc' met them at the entranceway and whispered in a sorrowful voice, "His condition's worsening. He doesn't have much time."

Sighing, he rested a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder and said, "I can only do so much with modern medicine. The old man is scouring the city for healing mages, but the last registered druid moved away ages ago and the Church doesn't give divine assistance to just anybody. There are a few other registered healers in Seattle, but most have outrageous fees we simply can't afford."

"There is one," he began. "A new witch that moved here recently that's with the Inquisition... The old man went to their field office to ask for help this morning since it was their job to prevent a warlock's harvesting in the first place. There hasn't been any word back so far. Don't give up hope, though. Her potions may yet arrive in time to save him."

The girl took the news like a fighter, but Ian could see her resolve crumbling at each new revelation. Finally, she took a deep breath and staved off her tears. Without a word, she led them to her brother's bedside. The ragged-looking youth glanced up and locked his eyes with Ian's. "Ah," he rasped, "so the savior ap-" *cough* "appears."

Ian remained silent as they approached. "Allow me to introduce myself," her brother continued in lightly accented English. "I am Bobby Romero. These guys elected me as Captain of the Night Watch, the group you see around you." At this point, he erupted into a coughing fit and his sister moved to his side worriedly.

Reaching out a hand to clasp her shoulder, he continued, "And this... is Valentina, who I believe you've already met."

The girl blushed and looked away, muttering, "Just Val..." She hated her full name. Her brother always teased her with it and said it made her sound like a princess. Tears sprung from her eyes as she thought about her brother's condition and she turned her head even further to hide her face from view.

"If I'm to believe what I've been told," Bobby told Ian, "I have you to thank for her wellbeing. For that, I'm eternally grateful and she was absolutely right to offer you a place to stay. You can rest here for as long as you'd like and it will still be poor payment for what you've done."

Ian inclined his head, only half following the conversation. He turned to consult Grim, but it was Ember who spoke up, "Definitely Hellfire. I can smell it, eating away at him." Ian wasn't surprised to see all the young males --and some of the females- in the room eying her appreciatively. Her words only gave them a legitimate reason to do so.

"Nasty stuff," Grim confirmed. "Not as bad as Spirtfire, of course. This shit only harms your physical body, but once your spirit deteriorates past a certain point, there's no putting it back together." About half the people in the room jumped at the disembodied voice.

Ian ignored the mixed reactions his companions were getting and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was seeing in the spirit world and locked onto the portions of Bobby that were dying or already dead. He must have gotten hit by a blast of Hellfire from the warlock in the alleyway before he'd gone down. There were blackened bits all along his body that indicated the areas the warlock's fire had burned.

Ember had said it was 'eating away at him' and she'd been correct. It fed off of what it consumed, powering itself in lieu of energy. It would eventually die out as there was no longer any intent driving it, but not before Bobby was too far gone to recover. Ian collected his will and remembered his lessons.

Magic worked both ways. Just as other magicians could drain his wards when they didn't have the power to go through them, he could stop and even reverse decay. It wasn't nearly as easy as causing it... but then, Ian could channel a shit-ton of power to get it done, so it was all relative. First, he shielded Bobby against the remaining Hellfire and willed it away. Then he began to work.

Bobby stiffened and everyone watched as he clenched bunches of his blanket and gritted his teeth. "What's wrong," Val asked, concerned. "Bobby? Talk to me!" Ian inwardly winced as he continued the process. His way of 'healing' wasn't nearly as gentle as those of other mages. You weren't getting any pain killers when nerve endings suddenly started broadcasting again. The bare essentials to keep going were all he could provide.

Curing a headache? That he couldn't do. Making sure a soul could survive in its body... that was a different story. "Slowly," Grim warned, still acting as his mentor. "If you reverse it too fast in his midsection it'll cause a reaction." Everyone looked at Ian and then back at Bobby as the realization that he was trying to heal him dawned on each one at different moments.

Finally, Ian had drawn out all the blackness he could find and closed his spirit vision. Blinking his eyes as he reoriented himself, he was completely unprepared when Val squealed in happiness and threw her arms around him, kissing his cheek. She quickly stepped back, blushing, as both of them stared at each other with wide eyes. Then she shook herself and dashed to her brother, hugging him tightly. He was looking much livelier, albeit in much more pain as his dulled senses suddenly reawakened with a vengeance.

Ian blew out a long breath at the exertion. He told Bobby, who was currently staring at him in astonishment, "I can't regenerate skin and you've still got a bunch of it missing. That means you'll have to watch for infection, which will probably happen anyway. But if it worsens, just come find me again. You'll also feel a lot of pain and will almost certainly scar unless you guys can get a competent healer." Ian shrugged in a 'nothing-I-can-do-about-that' manner. "Sorry."

Bobby shook his head, tears trailing down his face at the second chance he'd been given, unable to express words. Val looked up from the bedside, "H- how?" she asked wonderingly.

The corner of Ian's mouth quirked into a teasing grin. "You saw me essentially decompose a living human being," he pointed out with a light chuckle. "It stands to reason I could make a little rot go away..." His eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers at his companions. "Youth serum!" he declared, almost comically. "Or youth... something. I can make money by reversing the decay in old people, making them younger."

Ember rolled her eyes and the Archive groaned. Finally, trying to explain the error of his thinking to the excited entrepreneur, Grim huffed, "That stuff is strictly regulated. Besides, you'd fuck it up if you tried to do something that subtle while looking through the spirit world."

Ian frowned, feeling like they were making a habit of shooting down his ideas. Determined, he said, "Well, what the hell do I care about their regulations? They want to kill me." Turning away, he mumbled petulantly, "And I would 'not,'"

His bonded reached out a soothing hand and cupped his face. "There are other classes of mages that can do the process better and easier," Ember told him. "And I can assure you, if someone is rich enough to afford it, they already know about it." She shot him a soft smile, proud of him despite herself. She'd never heard of a necromancer using his powers to heal.

A hand rested on his shoulder and Ian turned to find the Doc regarding him with fascination. "I'll make sure his wounds stay clean," he assured him, voice filled with awe. "Th- that was necromancy, wasn't it? So I guess they weren't telling tales then."

"Indeed not," a voice from the doorway declared. Turning, Ian saw an elderly man with piercing gray eyes. He guessed this was the 'old man.' Walking forward with a stride that belayed his age, the man thrust out a hand which Ian grasped, noting the steel in the grip. "Name's Forrester... Welcome to our little slice of Hell."

Before Ian could answer, the Doc started up again. "So that's how you guys do it. I'd always wondered why a necro's minions don't just waste away. And the zombies! That's not just some magical voodoo that makes their limbs move. You're actually freezing the decay and reviving the dead organs so the spirit can move the body. Simply amazing!"

Ian's lip twitched as he tried not to laugh. Necromancy doesn't usually get many fans. He wondered if the man had studied to be a mortician or something before being roped into this gig. The old man gave a snort at the Doc's exuberance. "There will be time for that later. Now, would you mind if we take a walk..." Forrester asked, waiting for him to fill in the gap.

"Ian," he replied and pointed in turn. "And that's Ember, Scraps, and Grim is my Archive."

Forrester studied Ember with narrowed eyes. "Vampire?" he asked gruffly. In response, a forked tail appeared behind Ember and fluttered meaningfully as she shifted forms slightly.

"Ah," Forrester nodded in recognition, shooting an impressed glance Ian's way. "Well come on then." With that, he turned and walked down a hallway. As he gave them the fifty-cent tour of the place, he glanced over and said, "You look fairly normal for one of your kind. I've only seen one other briefly, but he was pretty damn cagey."

Ian gave the man a sardonic grin and shrugged. 'He'd' never met a necromancer who'd been insane. Until he saw the standard, the rest of the magic community was crazy and presumptuous as far as he was concerned. "Isn't it hard to keep the spirits out?" Forrester pushed, sounding to Ian like he was probing to see if he was going to flip out at any moment.

Chuckling, Ian explained, checking off his fingers, "I ward myself against them so it doesn't get too overwhelming. I don't keep my spirit vision open all the time so I don't start seeing things. I understand that anything the dead say means absolutely nothing since they interpret things differently than we do."

He shrugged. "Seems like some pretty basic precautions to me. I don't get why everyone thinks the constant pressure is going to make me crack," Ian commented, annoyed. "If I had to guess, early on necromancers don't recognize spirits as a resource. They open themselves up completely, wanting to take in more power, and end up getting possessed. If you create a bubble around yourself and only let in those that you acknowledge, I don't see what the big deal is."

Grim remained silent. Ian never believed him when he insisted that among necromancers he was unique. There was something different about him... What he could do effortlessly took other's years to accomplish. Some things... He glanced at Scraps and if he could've shuddered, he would've. No, Grim thought. Ian was special. He didn't know how, but one day the shit was going to hit the fan and whatever was revealed would be big.

Forrester grunted disinterestedly and filed Ian's words away with all the other useless shit mages tended to spout. "As you can see," he said, moving on, "we don't much care about whatever edicts the magical authorities living in their crystal palaces deign to give us. They haven't lifted one finger to help my people, so I don't see why I should give a damn. So long as you don't bring any trouble down on us, it doesn't matter what kind of mage you happen to be." As an afterthought, he turned to Scraps and muttered, "Or whatever the hell it is you are..."

"How... uh, is it that you know about..." Ian gestured helpessly.

Forrester gave a snort and explained in a voice that said he obviously found the rules absurd, "Deal is, if you're exposed to a supernatural event, you're in. You just can't tell anyone else about it, or your governing body of magic --that's the Inquisition over here- will come and take you away and punish you according to the damage you've caused. Unless you're rich, of course... then you just get slapped with a fine."

"You'll find that much of the underworld and the upper echelons of the wealthy and powerful know what's going on." He sighed. "As usual, it's your average working Joe that's left in the dark," he stated with a grimace. "We each have our own stories about how we ended up here, but suffice it to say we all see the ugliness of the world and are just trying to make it to the next day."

"Now," Forrester said, stopping at the end of the hallway. "I heard back there that you might be looking to make some money. We do a number of... unconventional jobs." When Ian didn't say anything, he sighed, as if he'd been half-expecting that in itself would be enough to scare him off. "I'll level with you. We're not the only gang in Seattle that knows about what really lurks in the darkness. There's at least one in each of the main districts."

"We are, however," he continued, "the only one without a single mage in our ranks. The other groups have been slowly weakening our hold on the Industrial District and pushing us back to the waterfront. A few more good pushes and we won't be able to recover our territory."

He laughed cynically and stared off into the distance. "I know that's not what you wanted to hear, but we really are balanced on a knife's edge. We have backers funding our operations, mostly from the Central Business District, but they handle everybody's financials and don't care who's in charge so long as somebody takes the jobs."

Ian tried to process what the old man was telling him. It was like he'd stepped into an alternate reality inside another alternate reality. 'Who segregates an entire fucking city?' he thought incredulously. He had a sneaking suspicion that the various communities had set up shop first and that Seattle's districts had grown around them. Finally, he shrugged helplessly. "I'd like to help, but if anyone found out I was a necromancer and I was 'here,' you've no idea the shit storm that would descend."

He glanced at his companions. "I guess I might be able to pull off looking like a warlock with Ember, and I doubt many people would recognize Scraps for what he is now that he's warded, but eventually someone's going to make the connection. I have enchantments to muddle my appearance when an image of me is captured digitally so the FBI can't trace me, but it's only a matter of time before they find me. This was always just a temporary fix to hold me over until I found something to do."

Forrester rubbed his chin in thought. "I had wondered about you staying here with the punishment for harboring a necromancer being death and all..." he groused. "How 'bout this: we have friends in Central that can set you up someplace in an apartment. They'll make it so your identity doesn't set off any flags. You'll never have any obvious relations with this place and we'll contact you remotely when we have a job."

He paused, then shrugged. "It would also be great if you could help with our border disputes as well. Pretend to be a warlock or not, I don't care. If they manage to take our territory, we're as good as dead anyway..."

Ian stared at him for a long moment, not believing what he was hearing. "You can actually do that?" he asked, shocked.

Forrester gave him a measuring glance. "You really have been removed, haven't you? Magicians of your caliber are huge assets and live like kings in this day and age. Organizations in the magical community of every variety consider them legitimate investments. If you had been anything but a necromancer, there would have been trains of people lining up outside your door the minute you awakened, trying to buy your allegiance and offering you all kinds of aid in the hopes that you'd someday return the favor."

Ian tried to process this along with everything else he'd learned. He'd been forced to keep as low a profile as possible for as long as he could remember. He tried unsuccessfully to associate the privileged lifestyle of his fellow mages with the one where he was being hunted and despised. He sighed as Forrester turned his view of the world on its head once again.

The old man seemed to know what he was feeling and clapped him on the shoulder and nodded to the door they were standing in front of. "That'll be your room. It's used for storage at the moment, but you won't be here for long and you need to keep a low profile so we can't risk putting you in the communal bunks. I'll let you know tomorrow what our tech guys manage to come up with for you." Ian nodded dully and Forrester walked off.

He opened the door and found a spacious but cluttered room with a few cots in the corner. "Hmm," Ian remarked. "Not much better tha-" Ember cut him off as she grabbed his collar and dragged him to a nearby workbench. She pushed him to his knees and unbuttoned her pants, letting them cascade down her long legs before kicking them off. She then boosted herself atop the bench so that she was sitting on the edge, legs wide open.

"Time to learn how to use your tongue," she declared with a wicked grin.

He froze, hands at his sides, staring at her pert pink pussy peeking through the tiny tuft of hair sticking up from between her legs. His mouth watered and he leaned forward. Suddenly he stopped as an absurd revelation flashed through his mind. "I thought you took the girl's panties, too..." he wondered aloud at their absence.

Ember grinned wider. "I took them as a souvenir, not to wear them," she laughed. Ian's prick soared at the naughty look that crossed her face. Slowly, he spread her legs apart and approached her cute snatch. "Start kissing along here, and use your fingers like this," she directed him in a commanding voice. "I'll tell you what to do next..."

She moaned as his mouth found her puffy lips. His tongue glided over her folds and she shivered as he kissed the crevice between her thigh and cunt. "There you go, baby," Ember rasped. She twined her fingers through his hair and dropped her head back.

As fate would have it, Val chose that moment to walk in through the open doorway. She had her arms full of linens and bedding, not paying much attention to her surroundings until she heard Ember moan. Glancing up, she squeaked in surprise as she realized they'd already occupied the room and were... engaged. She stared at Ian, frozen, as he tried to look over to see who it was.

The demoness prevented the movement, still holding onto his hair, and silently urged him to continue. He shrugged and did as she wanted, not really caring who it was at this point. His cock was straining at the seams. Val watched the strange, erotic tableau for a few moments, never having seen a guy go down on a girl before. She'd heard about it, of course... but she'd always thought it was reserved for porn.

She realized she was getting wet and dropped the bedding suddenly, rushing out of the room, flustered. Ember watched her leave through hooded eyes and smiled slyly. Without instruction, Ian began sucking on her clit and her legs clamped together around his head involuntarily. She smacked the top of his head and growled in a reproving voice, "Don't rush!"