Path of the Necromancer Ch. 02byIntrepid_Fate©
Ian woke at the crack of noon with his muscles feeling tight, slightly burning as if he'd just gotten back from an intense workout. 'Though...' His eyes popped open in surprise when he realized his body wasn't sore. In fact, he felt refreshed --like he'd just slept ten hours instead of less than half that. He noticed his newest companion was awake next to him on the bed, staring his way through hooded eyes. He turned to her with an expression of wonderment.
She laughed silkily, "It wouldn't do to tire my lover out only to have to wait for him to recover." So saying, she moved her hand underneath the covers and began jerking him to hardness. He moaned appreciatively and then sniffed as a heavenly smell caught his attention. He turned to the table where the Archive was flipping through a newspaper and the revenant was back to reading his book.
Atop the table was a box of donuts and two cups of coffee. "I sent the golem out to get breakfast," she explained.
"Yeah," the Archive confirmed, sounding impressed. "Don't ask me how he managed it, though. He sure as hell didn't have any money with him..." Scraps grunted without looking up and Ian had the notion that his intimidating appearance might have had something to do with it. He felt bad for the teen behind the counter that'd had to face him when he'd 'asked' for food.
The succubus directed his thoughts back to her needs as she mounted his hardness and he rested his hands on her creamy hips. "He- ...ey," he said, getting her attention as he began panting, struggling to form coherent thoughts with the heat engulfing his cock. "Just wha- what's your name anyway?"
She began moving her hips in need, drinking him in eagerly; sucking him dry. She moaned, "Ember."
"Of course it is," Ian chuckled.
Ember looked down at the goofy smile plastered on his face and tweaked her hips in response, drawing an answering moan from her lover. "Hush. It's a beautiful name."
Ian agreed and said, "It matches your eyes."
She rolled those same eyes and declared, "The cheese that oozed off that line is going to give me heartburn."
After Ember was done using him to scratch her itch, they both sat down at the table. She flipped through channels on the basic cable TV, fascinated by just about everything she found. Ian saw her dig into the box and start munching away with a donut in each hand. "You eat?" he exclaimed. "Like... stuff besides sexual energy?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Obviously," she replied, sounding offended. "Just what the hell do you think I am?"
The Archive gave a snort, but instead of answering simply observed, "There goes your rent money." She looked around the room at that, as if noticing its dilapidated state for the first time.
"You sure don't need much," she commented dryly, brushing off the crumbs that had deigned to fall atop her naked breasts.
Ian, currently trying to figure out ways to get money, grumbled something about the government blowing up his house. The Archive interjected, "Technically, you blew up the house... And don't blame them, you were going to take off after the summer anyway. Your plan just sucked ass."
Ember perked up. "I've never heard of a necromancer that didn't belong to one of the main bloodlines living to be your age. You must have been incredibly cautious when you awakened. What's this about a plan?"
The Archive guffawed and Ian heard, "Go on, go on. Tell her one of your countless get-rich-quick schemes." He muttered darkly before sighing heavily. Finally, not seeing a reason to hold back and feeling --hoping- that maybe another perspective could provide some insight, he told her what he'd had in mind.
She inhaled another donut and said, waving a hand airily, "So let me get this straight... You want to look through missing person's ads, because with your power you can tell immediately if the individual is alive or dead -and if they're dead and their spirit remains behind, you can even find out where the body is and what happened to them? ...I knew you guys were morbid, but fucking hell. How depressing can you get? You're just going to call people all day and say, 'hey, by the way, your loved one is dead. Search here. Oh, and can you send a check?'"
Put that way, Ian was definitely not looking forward to talking with the family of the deceased. Still... "Well, ideally they'd be alive," he pointed out, desperately trying to keep his plan afloat while she was poking holes in his logic.
She took a sip of coffee and a grin slowly formed that lit up her whole face. "God! You guys have it good here."
Ian sputtered, "Y-you can say God?"
Ember glared at him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" she huffed.
The Archive chortled, "I blame the whole paranormal romance and urban fantasy movements that have started up. It fools people into thinking they know shit about the real world."
She sighed and decided to ignore his last question. "Yes, you have the advantage of having more 'searchers' at your disposal than a normal person. And yes, time and distance is perceived differently in the spirit world, but you'd still have no clue where to send them. Face it, the only people you're going to find with any chance of success are dead ones," she took another sip and gave a satisfied sigh.
"Well, how would 'you' do it then?" Ian asked exasperated.
Ember shot him an 'are you really this stupid' look and said with extreme patience, "Well, if I wasn't bound to you, I wouldn't 'need' to earn money. I'd just use my 'assets' to get whatever I wanted." With that, she stood and walked to the bathroom, declaring, "I'm taking a shower."
Ian, his plan in utter ruins, bowed his head in defeat. "Back to square one, I guess," he muttered. The revenant gave another grunt.
A minute later, the succubus stormed out of the bathroom and grabbed Ian, forcibly dragging him back in with her. "Pay attention," she growled. The door slammed shut behind them.
The Archive turned to Scraps and lamented, "He's hopeless..." Scraps just gave an answering rumble, having turned his attention to watching the news.
Ember dragged Ian into the shower, the water having warmed to a level satisfactory to her. He yelped as the scalding water hit him and she sighed insufferably, turning the knob a fraction to the right. "Lesson number two," she declared, pinning him to the wall. "Your ancillary duties include, but are not limited to, making sure every inch of me is scrubbed clean regularly."
Ian frowned, starting to think this whole demon business was more trouble than it was worth. That is, of course, before he got a look at her naked body in all its glory, water cascading off her skin and dripping down her curves. "Hey," she said, waving a bar of soap in front of his enraptured face, "you don't expect 'me' to soap up my own tits, do you?"
He swallowed dryly and shook his head dumbly. A smile formed on her face as Ian's head fell forward to be surrounded by her glorious, well-endowed boobs. He really was innocent, she thought to herself. She pulled back and presented her nipples in front of his mouth and moaned as his teeth nipped her buds.
She took the minty bar and soaped up his crotch. Then she turned around and presented him with her ass, wiggling it tantalizingly. He groaned at the sight and was powerless against such a tempting target to do anything but line himself up and thrust into her. They both moaned as she encased his hard cock and he decided to take the initiative. Grabbing the bar of soap from her, he began massaging her tits, alternating between tweaking her nipples and squeezing her firm orbs.
Her back arched and she gripped the sides of the shower. "That's it, baby," she rasped. Just then, both of them perked up as something hit the wards he'd set up around the motel room.
The Archive shouted, "Ian!"
They both tumbled out of the shower, Ian cursing, "Not again..." They stumbled out of the room as the temporary wards were shredded --the magicians behind the door not even attempting to overpower them this time, but instead choosing to drain what little energy they were imbued with.
Five mages rushed into the room and were held up short as the two girls were shocked to see Ian naked and the three guys were fixated on a nude Ember. He was surprised at just how young they looked. It was hard to tell the age of a magic user, but he sensed they couldn't have been more than a few years older than him. The door shut behind them and there was a moment of stunned silence as all they did was look incredulous. Then the revenant exploded into action and all five hit the walls in different directions and at awkward angles.
Two were knocked unconscious and the rest were dazed. One redheaded male with freckles and glasses struggled to his feet and tried to erect a shield around his companions. Scraps swiped at it disdainfully, shattering the construct, and kicked the young man into the wall, causing cracks to form along the plaster and leaving an indentation as he slumped to the floor.
By that time, the other two had recovered and a man who was obviously a wizard shot a jet of fire into the chest of the revenant. With all those dry-looking shreds of cloth, Ian half expected him to go up like a tinderbox. Unfortunately for the pyro, the dark tatters actually seemed to eat light itself and flames proved to be no different.
Scraps walked through the oncoming blaze that died almost before it touched him and punted the hapless mage through the front door and into the hallway beyond. A girl Ian assumed was a witch by the way she mumbled her final incantations suddenly disappeared. She'd stayed down while the others kept Scraps busy and had instead concentrated on forming one of the most complex spells she knew.
If she had been expecting them to be impressed, though, she was to be disappointed. "Aww," Ian complained. "How come she gets invisibility?" he asked the Archive.
"I know," the spirit agreed wholeheartedly. "Awesome, right? Just think of how many girls' locker rooms you could scope out with that."
The revenant stood still and cocked his head to the side. In a refined, yet unbearably bored voice, he commented, "I see my surroundings as they are in the spirit world. You show up perfectly well to me." With that, he backhanded the invisible girl that was trying to tiptoe out of the --now open- doorway. The girl hit a wall and crumpled.
Lily felt like she'd just been hit by a truck. She'd been trying to escape to warn her superiors, but now she knew they were all going to die and no one was going to know why. If Roderick was still conscious, he could have mentally let Agent Morgan know what happened. She groaned, curling into ball, guessing she had at least two broken ribs.
'How could we have been so stupid?' she cursed. 'Why did we listen to that impulsive hothead Bryce when he boasted they didn't need any backup? Oh, God...' She shuddered at all the horrible stories the department told them about necromancers. Would he feed them to that monster? Would he kill them slowly and then resurrect them as his thralls? She whimpered as a foot nudged her.
She looked up in fear to see the nude raven-haired beauty with red eyes looking down at her with a calculating expression. "Meh..." she heard. "You look to be about the right size. Strip." Lily's widened in disbelief. "You heard me rookie. My all-powerful summoner neglected to find clothes for me. You volunteered when you came in uninvited."
After a few moments of stunned inactivity, Lily sat up and with shaky hands unzipped her FBI windbreaker and began to disrobe. Ian sat at the table and rubbed his face with his hands. "Scared the shit out of me," he muttered.
"Tell me about it," the Archive commented. "When did they start letting these little squirts join the Inquisition?"
"A better question is how they found us," Ian said as he belatedly got up to find some clothes.
"Well, let's be realistic here," the Archive retorted. "Your wards leave something to be desired and your mind magic downright sucks. I wouldn't be surprised if they were able to bypass the compulsions you set up. Though... how they knew to come here and why they chose now are beyond me."
Scraps spoke up, "I read in your book that magicians are able to sense each other and their minions as well as supernatural creatures. Could they have felt me?" The guilty expression on Lily's face was all they needed to confirm this.
Ian shook his head. "I warded the place when I started the summoning, though. You shouldn't have..." he paused.
"Ah, ousted by those infernal donuts," the Archive chuckled. "That's what you get for not placing a ward on him to hide his presence after you summoned him. They found him as he was making the coffee run and he led them straight back to us. We're lucky these idiots wanted the glory for themselves."
"I was a bit preoccupied," Ian mumbled defensively with a peek at Ember.
The succubus rolled her eyes although she was secretly happy to know she held her lover's attention so completely. She bent down and picked up the girl's boots and sighed appreciatively at the find. "Definitely not standard issue," she enthused. "Thanks!"
Lily hugged her arms to her naked chest and turned her head away. Both Ian and Ember stared at the exposed girl hungrily. The demoness frowned when she heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance. Apparently slamming a few bodies into walls and knocking a door off its hinges warranted a call to the cops --even in this dump. "Could we take her with us?" she begged Ian hopefully.
"What is she, a to-go meal?" the Archive asked nonplussed, "...and what about the whole 'one lover' thing?"
"One 'male' lover," Ember corrected. "We succubae invented lesbianism. When all Joshua wanted to do was live, eat, and breathe war, Lilith had to find some way to amuse herself." The Archive sputtered nonsensically as his view of history shifted considerably.
Ian sighed longingly at the pretty brunette (now that he knew Ember wouldn't kill him for doing so), but shook his head. He dropped the two books into his duffel and threw it over his shoulder. "Time to go," he announced. Scraps led the way out of the apartment, stepping over the unconscious wizard in the hallway. Lily huddled on the floor staring after them, dazed and confused.
* * * * *
The four walked --well, three walked and one was carried- down the street towards Seattle's Industrial District where the address the girl in the alleyway had given him was located. They'd made a stop at an antique shop in the hopes of picking up some type of metal trinket --preferably silver- for Scraps that Ian could inscribe a rune onto and imbue with power. Ember could already hide herself quite proficiently.
He'd been concentrating on dulling the revenant's presence, but having a physical anchor was a stronger, more permanent solution. Having it made of silver just meant it was a better conductor for the enchantment and that it would last longer. He'd been against the idea at first. He knew finding a 'medallion-esque' anything then giving it to someone wearing a long hoodie and not having it scream 'bling' was going to be impossible.
They at last found a cheap yin and yang knockoff attached to a silver chain that he thought was feasible. The man at the counter wanted sixty bucks for it though, which Ian didn't have. After trying to put a compulsion on him three times and failing three times, a frustrated Ian simply zapped him with a sleep spell and walked out, muttering to his snickering companions, "Not a word."
Ian still didn't know exactly what he was going to do, and concentrating on the problem was next to impossible while he could still remember the feel of Ember's soapy tits. It scared him that he was almost as horny as a sex demon... Bored, the sex demon in question reached into the open bag and plucked out the book that the Archive was bound to and began flicking through the pages as they walked down the side of the street.
"Humph," she complained, "I can't read it."
"Don't feel bad, sweet cheeks," the Archive told her. "Your deathliness over there can't either. It requires someone of my special talents to navigate the complexities of a necromancer's tome." If he had manifested himself, Ian was sure they would have seen him preening.
Ember giggled, "And just what do I call you, Mr. Talented?" She turned her head to Ian for the answer.
He shrugged his shoulders and simply said offhandedly, "The Archive is what he's always gone by."
She frowned. "That's most assuredly not a name." She looked at the book, although his spirit was currently floating along beside them, and smiled slyly. "Wouldn't you rather have a strong --sexy- name for people to call you by?" she asked in a raspy voice choked with lust.
You could almost hear the Archive gulp as he stuttered, "Well, you know... Like, whatever works, I guess..."
Ember brought her finger to her lips and hummed. She went through a series of rapid fire names, all of which were rejected. She bumped Ian's shoulder and mouthed 'come on.' He sighed and looked around. As he saw a sign, a small smile formed on his lips. "We could call him Izze," he suggested.
"What's that?" she asked.
Before he could answer, the Archive exploded, "I swear to fucking God, if you name me after a soft drink I'll take out my ethereal dick and skullfuck you, master of the dead or not!"
They both laughed as their ghostly companion cussed them out loud enough for those passing by to throw them odd looks. "No, no," Ian managed to get out. "In all seriousness, we'll call you... Slimer."
"From Ghostbusters," Ember laughed. "I got that one. Ooh, how about Twilight? Oh, come on, Archie. Don't pout."
"You can't call me Archie, either!" the Archive spat venomously.
Amidst the expletives and laughter, Scraps suggested in a quiet voice, "What about Grim?" The other three paused and looked at him. "Well, technically he 'is' a grimoire," he explained with a shrug.
"Kind of goes with the whole depressing theme you guys have going here, too..." Ember commented dryly.
"That is... badass!" Grim shouted, startling a poor woman pushing a baby stroller. "Men fear his name. Women line the streets when he passes by. Children..."
Ian groaned and covered his face. "If you start quoting Dos Equis commercials, I'm tossing you in the recycling bin."
* * * * *
Walking through an open chain-link fence as the sun began to set in the distance, they arrived at a nondescript warehouse. "Ho, ho," Grim piped up. "There's a watcher on the rooftop behind us. This might not be the crackpot operation I first imagined."
"Sniper?" Ember asked curiously, not showing an ounce of concern over the revelation.
The spirit gave a derisive snort. "Hell no... Just some kid with binoculars and a walkie-talkie.
Banging on the rusted door at the base of the warehouse wall, an actual slit opened at the top and a pair of eyes peered out at them. "Not interested," a voice said gruffly and the opening closed shut again. Ian stared at the door incredulously. Well, whatever he had expected, it hadn't been that.
"Never mind..." Grim sighed and began ranting about the poor state of professionalism shown in criminal organizations these days.
Not really in the mood to argue with some grunt through a steel door, Ian debated whether he should possess the poor sap and have him let them in or just have Scraps take it off its hinges. Suddenly, there was a commotion behind the door and they all heard raised voices and a resounding slap upside someone's head.
The door ground open and the girl he'd met the night before stood there blushing. She'd cleaned up nicely, Ian thought. Long black curls framed a pretty face which framed even prettier hazel eyes. Her bronze skin clashed with the pink Babydoll t-shirt that stretched over her lovely C-cup breasts. "Sorry about tha-" she stopped, realizing he'd brought company.