Path of the Necromancer Ch. 02

"Scraps sounds pissed that I've nearly died twice tonight without him being around to intervene," Ian commented in a bored voice. 'Scraps?' Ashley thought, incredulous. 'What the fuck is he, a border collie?'

"W- well," Roderick stuttered, "Even if whatever it is makes it inside, there's still no way to get through all of us, right? ...Right?"

"There's nothing that can get through those wards!" Ashley berated him, sounding almost like she was trying to convince herself. 'All though if it did,' her imagination unwittingly provided, with it still being before 5AM, the tired, understaffed late shift was poorly equipped to handle a battle. Fifty or so regular agents dispersed throughout the building with about two dozen magic users in the Inquisition offices on the top floor.

The booming stopped and an ominous silence filled the air. "T- there, see?" Ashley pointed out. "Nothing to worry abou-"

That was when the screaming began. It started out in ones and twos, greatly dispersed over multiple levels. It evolved into one long continuous mass of hysteria. The two psychic mages were able to feel the stark terror that pervaded the lower floors. Ian began chuckling to himself, gradually picking up in intensity until he was laughing madly. Ashley stared at him, wondering if he'd finally gone insane like the department had warned about. Roderick hesitantly asked what he found so amusing, his voice choked with fear.

Ian calmed down and grinningly explained, "With this collar around my neck, I couldn't call him off even if I wanted to. I'm not even part of the equation anymore and you're still screwed." He didn't know if any of that was true, but he certainly wasn't going to tell them that all it would take to stop the revenant was a bullet in his head.

Ashley gritted her teeth and turned her head sharply as she heard the thing reach their floor. Roderick looked positively scared shitless as the sound of fighting got progressively closer, the screams never dying down. Ashley stood and moved to the center of the room, activating her shield and crafting a spear of telekinetic energy.

Suddenly, the sound of a lock 'clicking' and metal hitting the carpeted floor filled the room. Ashley looked back to stare incredulously at Roderick standing there, having unlocked Ian's restraining collar. Ian was staring up at the freckled redhead with a matching look of disbelief.

With a hopeful expression on his face, the young sorcerer told him, "There. Now you can call it off, right?"

Ian opened and closed his mouth a number of times, trying to find a way to ask him, 'what the fuck is wrong with you' without making it sound like an accusation. Finally, Ian simply closed his eyes and took a deep breath before burning through his bonds and rising. He walked towards the door, shaking his head at how crazy the night had gotten.

Roderick, alarmed, yelled after him, "W- wait! You can't just leave." He tried to throw a mental command at the necromancer to stop and Ian willed the ill-fated sorcerer 'up.' He rocketed into the ceiling, breaking plaster and fluorescent light fixtures before careening down to the floor unconscious. Ian rubbed his face in exasperation and continued making his way to the door.

Ashley, desperate to keep this from becoming a complete failure, fired her spear of energy at Ian. His shield flared green as it stopped the attack, but she continued to pour energy into her construct, concentrating on a specific entry point and changing the structure of her telekinetic weapon from a spike to a spinning drill bit.

Ian was surprised at just how much she'd improved since their last meeting. He had to struggle to maintain his barrier and he could still see it bending inwards ominously. His temper flaring, he shot a ball of Spiritfire at her. The front of her shield seemed to evaporate into green mist and he willed her backwards. Ashley's body was tossed like a ragdoll, clearing her desk and slamming into the wall beyond.

As she slumped to the ground, Ian stalked towards her, eyes blazing. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" he roared and the furniture around the room began scraping away from him as he neared, pushed back by the energy that was flooding out of him. "After I've let you live twice now?"

Ashley's eyes widened in fear as she was crushed against the wall. His voice lowered as he told her, "I'm not a very forgiving person and I HATE to feel helpless. You've no idea the pressure I felt to kill you after putting me in such a vulnerable position." He snarled, "But I show restraint and you try to stab me in the back?"

Ashley whimpered, sure that he was seconds away from ending her life. In her desperation, she blurted out, "I didn't tell anyone about Rachel or your parents." Ian stilled and narrowed his eyes. "I broke the compulsion when I was reconstructing my memories," she continued, tears in her eyes, "but I didn't tell anyone about it, keeping your spell intact."

Ian stared at her for a long moment and then crouched down in front of her. She glanced up into his eyes and shivered at what she saw. "If you were trying to help yourself," he whispered, "that wasn't the way to do it. Now I know you're a liability. I can't trust their safety with you."

Ashley shook her head furiously, realizing her mistake. "N-no," she stuttered. "I won't tell anyone, I promise!"

Ian gave her a pitying look. "And I can't be certain of that," he said in a soft voice." He sighed and bowed his head, thinking. Finally, he met her eyes as the door opened, admitting Scraps and Ember. Neither of them looked as if they'd had much of a challenge making it there. Ember was actually bouncing on the soles of her feet like she'd just had a pleasant workout.

Ignoring them, he murmured, "I'm sorry, but this is the only way I know to make sure. Hopefully, you'll see it as a better alternative to dying." Ashley's breath caught, feeling a heart-stopping fear that he was going to kill her, then confusion at his last words.

Ian called on the spirits around him, sending them at Ashley. Her mental fortifications were impressive and she had magic enough to resist their advances. His expression didn't change, simply continuing to send greater numbers of them to possess her, feeding them more and more energy. Her eyes widened as she felt the strain and then panic filled her as she realized his intentions.

Ashley shook her head furiously and redoubled her efforts to keep them out. Her breathing picked up and she tried to flee. The spirits that had manifested themselves as ghosts held her down and burrowed inside, eating away at her resistance. She felt fear as never before as the wraithlike beings clawed their way into her consciousness and her eyes rolled back into her head.

After a time, her body stopped shuddering and a blank expression crossed her face. Ian gave his orders, careful not to damage any of her memories. He only wanted to make sure she could never lead others to harm because of him. He grimaced at the questionable morality issues of taking away her free will, but shrugged it off. He was no saint.

Not only did he make sure she could never reveal what she'd found, he utilized her powers to strengthen the compulsion he'd placed that made anyone looking for him ignore his parents and Rachel. He debated on whether or not to attempt to do the same for the Night Watch, but he knew they were much too well-known and dispersed for such a thing to take effect.

At last, he ordered the spirit in control of her to leave and she slowly returned to herself having just taken a backseat in the workings of her consciousness. She looked up at Ian with a wounded look and tears fell from her eyes. It was as close to what she could imagine the aftermath of rape felt like. He gave her a sorrowful look, stood up, and left without a word, his companions filing in behind him. She lay there, leaning against the wall, watching him go with a dull, vacant expression.

* * * * *

Ashley sat in a conference room with the Director of the FBI and his assistant. She'd just informed him of everything that had taken place over the past few days, confident that she'd be sacked before she left the room. She'd already accepted that part. What she worried about was what happened to her afterwards.

"Well, I must say, that is quite a story," Director Collins said in a smooth voice. His friendly, jovial demeanor belayed the sharp, calculating intelligence that shown in his eyes. "I'm extremely impressed with the way you handled yourself in this matter and wish to offer condolences for your injured people." Her eyes just about bugged out of her head at his unexpected words.

He laughed at her expression. "I see you anticipated some sort of punishment for failing to kill the necromancer." He leaned forward. "The truth is those restraining collars were only experimental concept devices based on a vague idea a goblin engineer had over a century ago."

Now that you've tested them with such a powerful subject and shown us the effectiveness of their design," he continued, "we'll be pouring money into their production with enhanced biometric locks and all sorts of other additions. We'll be the only supernatural governing body to use them and it should, at least for awhile, give us the edge on some of the European leagues."

"B- but," she tried to say, stunned by his acceptance of her actions. "The decree..."

He nodded sagely. "We signed the treaty condemning necromancers just like every other ruling magical authority." He shrugged. "However, the kill order actually predates the forming of the United States. When the Inquisition came to power, we signed it more as a matter of accommodating them, ensuring relations stayed strong, than any belief 'we' held that all necromancers are crazy."

"What changed?" she managed to croak out.

He shot her a warm smile. "Two things," he admitted. "First, you convinced us that, at least in this case, Mr. Cale is not a 'likely' threat to national security, although he's certainly someone to be watched. Twice now we've gone in and turned his life upside down and he's never retaliated --and we know he has the power to do so. That's not to say we won't still try to get a hold of him, but for now he's being moved off the black list," he told her, referring to the unofficial watchlist the FBI maintained for those involved with the supernatural.

"Second," he went on, "you showed us that capturing their kind is feasible. We're not ready to just up and defy the rest of the world on this subject, but if we scooped them up and they... disappeared, well no one would think to look for a body. There's a program being developed in New York right now that is trying to find a way to tap into a necromancer's power. Obviously, capturing a live one will help our experiments greatly."

Ashley shuddered at the image of Ian strapped to a gurney while scientists in white lab coats jabbed him with needles. He chuckled as the color left her face. "Nothing too sinister, I assure you." He slapped the table. "So, the unofficial orders are: capture, don't kill. We think you did a competent job using what you had available to you, so we'll leave you in charge."

A grimace crossed his face as he'd said, 'with what you had' and he asked her, "In your judgment, what do you think should be done with the sorcerer who let Mr. Cale escape?"

Ashley sighed and shook her head. "His actions were the result of a lack of experience, not incompetence. In hindsight, he probably saved us both as the necromancer's constructs arrived for him soon after. I think he should be allowed to remain. He's naïve, as are all the rookies, but he's still a damn good mage in terms of strength and he can be an asset to the agency."

The director nodded and said, "If you're willing to go to bat for him, I'll allow it." He stood. "Very well then, Ms. Morgan, I think there's just one more bit of unpleasantness to take care of." He turned and walked out of the room as his assistant, the strongest sorceress in the Inquisition, dropped her pen and began invading Ashley's mind, looking to corroborate her story with her memories. Agent Morgan felt fear as her mental defenses were swept away almost effortlessly as the real interrogation began.

* * * * *

As Mark Collins left the room, his charitable politician's demeanor seeped out of him. Walking down the scorched and ruined hallway, he tugged out his cell phone and called a pre-dialed number. When the receiver picked up, he stated, "Put my name down as a backer for the Night Watch's new champion."

He listened to the response and then replied with a sinister smile, "Yes, we've taken care of the investor that tried to hedge his bets. He won't be informing anyone of their activities again." Another pause as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line. "Yes," Collins agreed, "Their actions last night are sure to bring in the sponsors. Why do you think I'm calling now to get a bigger share?" As he signed off, he told his contact, "And thank the good senator on my behalf for turning me on to this. Things are much different here than on the East Coast."

* * * * *

The sun rose high overhead later that day as Officer Sarah Flores, wearing her dress uniform, raised her right hand to complete the swearing-in process that would signify her entrance into the Seattle Police Department and her promotion to detective. Her previous three years as a deputy had transferred over in terms of experience and, in light of several glowing recommendations (including a former Seattle police chief that taught as a professor at her former college), she was accepted into the ranks of the city's finest.

Her experience with the missing high school graduate in her hometown had turned her away from her pursuit to join the FBI, especially after the cover-up they'd carried out in the days following the event. As she looked to the future, she remembered a conversation she'd had with the Chief of Police. He'd pulled her away during the interview process and asked her specific questions about what had happened that night.

He didn't seem at all surprised by what she said regarding the FBI's actions or the incredible witness reports. At the end, he simply told her that the government's current stance on the matter kept their hands tied behind their backs. He'd slid a folder across the table to her and stated that he was starting a special task force to remedy the situation and would like her to join. He'd looked astonished when she had forgone any further consideration and declared simply, "I'm in."

* * * * *

Ashley rubbed at her temples in the empty conference room, groaning at the jackhammer of a headache she was feeling. That she-devil had scoured her mind clean. She shuddered in remembrance. Collins's pet mind reader had stolen everything from her. ...Everything but what Ian had hidden.

She sighed as she realized that if he hadn't possessed her, they'd now know his weakness. The door opened and Agent Hunter walked in. Ashley grunted, "Need something, Lily?"

Lily handed her a potion she'd brewed and smiled as she watched Agent Morgan's eyes light up. She grasped the mug like a lifeline and drank it down eagerly. Ashley leaned back and moaned in relief as the potion reduced her headache with angelic swiftness. Lily sat across from her and fidgeted nervously.

Ashley raised an eyebrow at the quiet girl's appearance and waited attentively. "I saw Subject 7B two days ago at the headquarters of the Night Watch," she finally blurted out."

Agent Morgan raised her eyebrows. "And you failed to report this because..."

Lily blushed and Ashley got the impression from the thoughts that surfaced in the other girl's head that she felt she owed Ian a debt for sparing her life. Ashley held up a hand to prevent the excuse that was bubbling to the surface and said, "Never mind. Why tell me now?"

The witch shifted in her seat before saying, "Well, we're looking for his lair and-"

Ashley stopped her again, rolling her eyes. "Don't call it a lair just because he's a necromancer."

Lily nodded readily, the comment not even registering, and said, "I thought at the time he was just passing through to help the injured victim, but if he was still in the Industrial District when you picked him up, that might very well be where he's based at. At the very least, we know he's associated with the Night Watch."

Ashley's eyes widened at the girl's simple logic. It made sense. Then she sifted through her words and her eyes narrowed. "Injured victim? Who? And what do you mean he helped them?" she questioned.

Both of them looked at each other after Lily told of her examination of one Bobby Romero. Not only was Ian failing to bring about the predicted apocalypse so many feared from his kind, he was actually healing people? This did not at all match what they'd been told about necromancers from the other, older magical authorities. Ashley then told Lily what the director had told her regarding the government's new stance on the issue. "Will we have to report his location?" Lily asked her boss pitifully, not wanting to turn him in.

Ashley thought about it. "For now, let's just keep this to ourselves," she finally said. She laughed aloud at how the witch's face lit up in joy. As Lily left the room, she thought about her own mixed feelings towards Ian. She sighed. 'There's just something about him,' she mused.

* * * * *

Ian woke late in the day, his face wedged between two glorious mounds of flesh. He reached a hand up to cup one of the scrumptious looking boobs. Ember, who'd woken up some time earlier, giggled at her lover's fascination with her tits. "So who attacked the Night Watch and started the fire," he asked, taking a nipple into his mouth and giving it the attention it deserved.

She shifted and presented him with her other nipple and replied, "Some mercenaries based out of Beacon Hill. I don't know how the fire at the shelter started, but we managed to get everybody out." She smothered his face in her chest and laughed at his glee. "You're lucky that Scraps can sense you no matter where you are. I wasn't able to even with our bond once you got behind their wards."

Ian looked up at that and his hand slid down and rubbed the inside of her thigh. "I've been meaning to ask you about that," he told her and sighed. "I've tried to give you space, but what's it like where your-"

Her fingers covered his mouth gently as she shushed him. "That's forbidden, youngling," she told him with a sad smile. "I can't talk about the other side. Perhaps," she ventured, "when you're stronger you'll be able to march down to the Black Gate yourself and demand answers." She leaned in and kissed him softly. "Until then, forget that I'm a demon and let's just enjoy life."

Ian grinned as his thumb traveled up her slit, drawing a sexy moan from her. "I don't think I can ever forget that," he murmured, circling her clit. "I'll be patient though, if that's what it takes." He leaned in and whispered in her ear as his fingers entered her, "You're worth it."