Necromantia: Vol. 1-3 (Three Book Set)

by Matthew Buza

  Zinn's mind didn't broadcast a new phrase. It was silent. Instead, she could feel his anger and frustration. She could feel a warm gathering in her stomach as if a fire had been lit and the flames finally struck a pool of gas. The fire licked up her esophagus and threatened to boil out through her lips. It was the only warning that she needed. She backed down and slowly walked through the dark opening and out into the hall. Behind her, she could hear the clicking of the tormentor's hooves as he followed behind. She reached the dark opening. A moment passed before her eyes adjusted to the hallway. She slowly inspected the common room. The ceiling was taller than she remembered. Vaulted stonework towered two stories above and arced overhead. It reminded her of a church. She expected to hear an organ sound announcing her presence, but there was only silence. Her hand rested on the edge of the opening as her neck craned. It was the first time in nearly a year that she had been let out of the room.

  Right.

  She began to slowly inch her way down the wall. Her shoulder pressed into the damp stone. She could feel the ripples of the cracks as she glided along. At the end of the long hall was another doorway. As she approached, she heard another click and the door moved as if controlled by some unseen actor. She broke through the doorway and entered into an empty guard area. A small TV hissed with static and showed a distorted image. She could make out a group of people dancing in some variety show. Along the wall was a line of folded chairs. Hanging above on hooks was a line of batons.

  Take one.

  She turned to see the creature. He was lost in the dark shadow behind her. The light of the TV reflected off his side illuminating the smoky vapor. Zinn looked incredulous. “And do what with it?”

  Take one.

  She paused for a moment and then reached up to grab the wooden baton. It was heavy and it hung low, rapping against her leg as she continued down the hallway.

  Ready.

  Ready for what? she asked.

  Around the corner, she heard a door close and the residual sounds of a toilet refilling with water. There was a loud zipping sound followed by footsteps. Her eyes looked back at the creature, but he gave no solace. He was focused on the hall in front of her. She adjusted her stance and brought the baton up over her head. The shadow of the man appeared on the ground in front of her. As he rounded the corner, he caught a brief glimpse of Zinn before she brought the baton down across his face.

  Zinn's eyes rolled back and she felt the tormentor guiding her hands and arms. Performing each strike with surgical precision. For her, it was like a rush, a surge of uncontrollable emotion, an invisible power coursing through her veins. Her blood vessels dilated and the surge of new blood filled her tiny muscles. When the tormentor moved through her, she could feel his anger and joy. It was the violence and the feeling of operating in the real world that did it for him. It was the rare opportunity for him to walk in the flesh.

  The baton collided with the guard's face as his nose buckled and his teeth gave way. Shards of tooth flaked off around the baton as he tumbled to the ground. Blood poured out from his face leaving a smeared stain across the ground as he settled. The guard was in shock. He was temporarily blind as he foolishly grabbed along the ground. His body rocked and stumbled, trying to find an equilibrium. Long ropes of blood dripped from his face and painted arcs along the floor.

  Finish.

  Zinn knew what that meant. “I don't want to.”

  Finish now!

  The heat rose again within her. She lifted the baton and dropped it across the back of the guard's head. He fell to the ground. He was lost. He lay still, face down, with his arms contorted.

  Keys.

  Zinn reached down and unclipped the keys on his belt. They left the carnage in their wake as they made their way down the hall towards the double doors. She navigated through a series of locked doors and exited the building. It was nearly morning. The blue sunrise was peaking over the Cascades. Her feet were quickly soaked as she jogged through the dew collected on the grassy lawn. Behind her, she left a trail of footprints in the grass. Alongside the trail was a larger cadence of circular hoof prints. They crossed the expanse and exited through a side gate. On the horizon, she could see the lights of the city reflected on the low-lying clouds.

  Zinn stopped for a moment and turned to the tormentor. “Where are we going?”

  There was no response, except an image of a tall young man with broad shoulders dressed in an orderly's uniform. She nodded, fully understanding the image's meaning. She continued jogging down the road. Her arm swung out, throwing the baton into a clump of blackberries along the side of the road.

  Binding

  Isaac was wrapped in a thin sheet and curled up with a long body pillow when a knock sounded at the front door. The sudden noise startled him awake as his arms pressed down lifting his head up to the noise. Again, the knocking came from the front door. The clock on the nightstand read 3:44. It was early and it was a weekday. He enjoyed his sleep. It was the one thing he was truly passionate about. Isaac could feel his irritation welling up as he shouted at the door, “Fuck off! Wrong…door.”

  The knock came again. Isaac pressed down on the bed and shot his large frame to a standing position. He caught his balance as his eyes adjusted. A narrow beam of moonlight fell down over the studio apartment illuminating the cheap flooring and the small table and chairs. Isaac slowly made his way across the room. His bare feet rhythmically peeled and popped on the linoleum. He made it to the door and yelled through, “I will hurt whoever is on the other side of the door. I'm not expecting anyone, so piss off.”

  There was a pause and a familiar voice could be heard. “Open up, Isaac. I need to speak with you.”

  It was Lazarus.

  “First, you should go. Second, why would you think it would be ok to come here so late? Do you not have a watch, or clock, or something in that fucked-up house of yours?”

  “Listen, I know it is late, but I must speak with you.”

  Isaac's forehead leaned against the door. Everything in his body told him to leave the door closed, to just leave this man standing outside with the hope he will eventually leave.

  “I'm not going to leave. I'm sorry about how early it is.”

  “I'm going to call the police then.”

  “No, you won't. Please open the door.”

  Isaac pulled back on the door. The chain lock stopped the door at a six-inch gap. Isaac peered through the narrow opening. “What do you want?”

  “Well…I just want to pay you for the day.”

  “I don't want your money.”

  “Could I please come in to explain some things and pay you?”

  “Just slip the money under the door and leave.” Isaac's hand vibrated against the door as he fought back the anger that was boiling up inside him.

  “Isaac, I came all the way down here, please just open the door.”

  Isaac backed away from the door opening and silently screamed, FUCK!

  His veins bulged in his throat. The moment of quiet rage helped to calm his nerves. He shut the door and unlocked the latch. The door opened and he saw the thin man standing there in the doorway.

  “Isaac, I'm sorry about all of this.”

  Before the words were finished, a flash of a shadow moved down the hall and enveloped the entryway in darkness. Isaac felt his body wrapped in a feathery warmth. His massive frame was lifted up from the floor and driven back to the corner of the studio. The force was gentle but impressive. This thing lifted his large frame as if it were a rag doll or some child's plaything. Isaac was not sure if he had gone blind or if he was covered in darkness. He pressed out in front of him and felt a large man's chest. His shoulders were wrapped in two sets of immense arms. He was frozen in place, unable to move, like a prisoner wrapped in a feathery womb.

  Isaac heard the door slam shut and a light switch flipped. The light poured through the thin wrap. He saw the silhouette of a man in front of him. From the size of his chest and neck, Isaac guessed that
he was almost seven feet tall. Along his arms, a thin fabric dropped down and wrapped all around him. Stitched in the fabric were thin feathers that were impossibly soft. It felt as if he were wrapped in the skin of a newborn baby exposed to the world for the first time.

  Through the fabric, Isaac heard Lazarus's muffled voice speak. “Jalon, put him down. He's not a risk to us.”

  Slowly, Isaac could feel his back sliding down the studio apartment's wall. The figure had lifted him nearly three feet off the ground and held him in place. Isaac was in shock trying to imagine the strength needed to perform that task. His mouth searched for words but found none. His feet hit the ground and the fabric pulled back. Isaac stumbled back with his arms up protecting himself from this creature as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights.

  He heard Lazarus. “Isaac I'm sorry for barging in like this, but we had to meet.”

  Isaac was still reeling from the invasion. “Who the hell are you? God damn it! Who the hell is this?”

  A voice sounded out. “Don't take the Lord's name in vain, young man. You will regret it.”

  Isaac's vision was now clearing as he stood up. “First of all…fuck you both in the ass.” He waved his arm across the room. “And second, do you have any idea what time it is? Why the hell are you bringing some stranger to my place?”

  Lazarus motioned to the enormous figure standing in the room as if holding him back from charging. “It's OK, it's OK, Jalon. I've got this. Isaac, I understand it's late. I'm sorry about that.”

  Isaac's mind was consumed with rage and Lazarus was his target. He narrowed his eyes and balled his fists. He was wholly focused on the man slowly approaching him. It caused him to forget about the large figure now leaning in his fridge and rummaging for something to drink. The figure found what he was looking for and cracked the top of the milk. His throat popped as he took long pulls. After a moment, he dropped the milk carton on the counter, having drained the half gallon in seconds.

  Isaac's focus turned. “Lazarus what the hell is he doing? Do you two need my bed as well? How about some clothes and a little spending cash?”

  Lazarus turned towards the kitchen. “Are you going to do that here?”

  The man's voice was deep, as if all the air in his lungs was groaning against his vocal cords. It must have been a great strain for this man to speak. “What difference does it make? Just tell him what's going on.”

  Isaac's eyes were wide. “Who the hell is that and what the hell is he talking about?”

  “Isaac, we have to talk to you about something.”

  “What a perfect time for that. Four in the morning? Would you like me to get the tumblers and some cake?”

  “Isaac, you need to come back to work with me. I need you as my apprentice. You are as qualified as a person could be. You've got the size, you are pre-med, and you've already proven yourself.”

  “Wow, this is a wonderful conversation. Thank you, Lazarus and I hope you and your friend have enjoyed your stay. But I'm sorry. I spent enough time in your loony-bin factory. I'm not interested in your voodoo witch trials or whatever you call them.”

  The voice sounded from next to the fridge. “Séances.”

  Isaac pointed at the man. “I also don't give a shit about you, man. I don't give a fuck what you call them. It's total garbage.”

  Lazarus moved closer. His arms were slightly outstretched as if welcoming Isaac. “I need you. You were very helpful yesterday. I also think we would make a good team.”

  “No…deal.”

  “Isaac, you need to be reasonable right now. We've got more you need to know.” He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. “This is Jalon. He is part of the reason why I'm here.”

  Jalon stood up. His towering frame was impressive to view up close. Along his shoulders, a thin feathered fabric unfurled onto the ground and opened up. Isaac's eyes lit up as the wings spread across the room and touched the far side. Jalon's neck arched back and a small smile came across his face as if releasing some internal joy in displaying his rights.

  Isaac's heart began to pulse in his throat as Jalon began to speak. “Isaac, I understand this is all new to you and that you might have some questions. Lazarus came to me and explained what you did at the séance. You saved Lazarus from a potentially deadly moment.”

  Isaac was transfixed on the wings as his breathing deepened. “I…I…kind of panicked more than anything.”

  “There's no shame in that. Seeing the other side can be overwhelming. Even Lazarus panicked his first time. Isn't that right?” Jalon glanced at Lazarus who was staring down at the ground. “Isaac, I've come here to ask you to be Lazarus's apprentice. Lazarus will be moving on soon and the job needs to fall to someone new.”

  Isaac's voice was tight and the panic built in his face. “I don't want it.”

  Jalon rubbed his forehead as his wings fluttered. “Isaac, I am asking you do take this job. It will make it easier if you just say yes.”

  “I am telling you I don't want it.”

  Jalon glanced at Lazarus for an instant. “Isaac, you already chose.”

  “I haven't chosen anything.”

  “You did. You stayed that night. That moment when you were on the other side of the door. You looked to the exit and you chose to go into the room. That was your choice. God gave you the choice and you took it. You cast out the spirit. You chose and you must own that choice.”

  “You can't force me into this.”

  “Isaac, it is the will of the Lord. You have been selected and you chose to stay.”

  “It's not fair!” he cried out, walking back from the two men. “I didn't know there was a choice being made! Regardless, I don't think you understand, I'm not doing it. I am making a new choice. I don't care who the hell you are, Jaron…”

  “Isaac, my name is Jalon and it will be important that you learn that as you will be working for me.”

  “Working for you? Hell no!”

  “It is out of your hands now.” He took a large step towards the door. “Do you know what I am?

  Isaac shook his head. “I don't know. Some type of winged thing or angel?”

  “That is close enough. I am a seraphim. Do you know what that is?”

  “Am I supposed to?”

  “You're going to need to open the Good Book and learn some things if you want to be successful working for me.” He took a deep breath. “Seraphim are guardians of Christ.”

  “Christ?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jesus Christ?”

  “Is there any other?”

  Isaac turned to see Lazarus staring at him. “Is this guy kidding?”

  “No. Jalon is the regional Seraphim operating in this part of the world. He reports directly to Jesus. I and many others report to him.”

  “You are talking about heaven and crosses and rising -from-the-dead type of Jesus?”

  Lazarus smiled briefly. “Yes, that Jesus.”

  “Get the fuck out of here.”

  Jalon stepped forward as his wings curled back behind him forming a large curtain over his head. His face fell into shadow as the room's light was blocked. Jalon's eyes glowed blue in the darkness. Isaac could feel an anger pulsing through his body. “Isaac, you are going to work with Lazarus. You don't have any choice anymore. And since you will work for Lazarus, you work for me. And you need to dig down into your soul and believe what I am saying. I expect respect from you and right now, I am not getting the respect I demand.”

  Isaac felt the hot breath pour over his body.

  “But, I don't want to work with Lazarus. I'm just a student. I was looking for an internship. Why…why me?”

  Jalon's voice was impatient. “It is out of your hands now, Isaac. You assisted Lazarus with the earlier séance, and unfortunately, that binds you to the job. I was trying to get you to join of your own accord, but you are forcing me to be more direct.”

  Jalon's wings fluttered and pulsed as he spoke, as if his words and emotions were tied to the
individual muscles in his wings.

  Isaac shook his head as he fought back the mixture of emotions. His lips pursed. “I thought I was working for a coroner.”

  Jalon let loose a wry smile. “Lazarus is a necromancer. He works with the dead, and more importantly, he works for me and through me, the Christ. This is God's will. You cannot fight this.”

  Isaac stepped back. “I don't believe you. I don't want any of this.”

  “Isaac, most apprentices and necromancers don't want this life. Your reaction is nothing new. But know this, by taking this job, you have been guaranteed your entrance into heaven.”

  Jalon's wings slowly curled around his body forming a tight wrap about his midsection. The feathers shifted and folded into a patterned design. Two small additional wings protruded from behind his head and folded down over his face but stopped before he closed his mouth.

  He turned to Lazarus. “There will be a new job next week and you will need your new apprentice there. I'll send you the details later.”

  Jalon exited the room and his shadow melted slowly into the ground as he disappeared down the hall.

  “I'm not going to do this.”

  “Isaac, you have no choice.”

  “You tricked me.”

  “In some way, we are all tricked into this.”

  “Yeah, but I've got school and plans and expectations I need to maintain. I can't just disappear and tell people I've gone off to be some death dealer.”

  “You need to continue your studies, continue on like nothing has changed. You continue to work at my office and life goes on as normal.”

  Isaac's hands lifted up to the ceiling as he paced in a circle. “Are you listening to yourself? You sound insane. Go about my normal life and moonlight as a necro-whatever's apprentice?”

  “Necromancer. And it is one of the oldest jobs in history.”

  “Oh great, you and hookers.”

  “Yes, us and prostitutes.”