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

by Matthew Buza

  Isaac pulled again against the ropes. He felt the strain against his bone and felt as if they were ready to snap.

  He thought, maybe that is the only way to get out. Free the joint. Twist the arm and escape.

  How far could he go? A set bone? Dislocated wrist? He tried again. He steeled his mind, letting the pain wash over him like a wave. He was close, the cells and fibers in his bone resisted. But the rope was too much.

  He relented, sweat dripping down and burning his eyes.

  How the hell did I get here?

  A female voice sounded from behind him. “That's a good question.”

  Zinn.

  "Yes, it's me.”

  Isaac struggled to turn his body to get a glimpse. He jumped and slid the chair a quarter turn. He could see the outline of a shape against the wall. It was her, he knew that slim figure, those thin legs still haunted his mind. Always hovering over him.

  There was a slow click of heels as she slid against the wall. Her fingers and back grading over the sheetrock. He had seen her in the cell, dressed in inmate's clothes, but now her body moved with a seductive flow.

  “Hello, Isaac. It's been a while.”

  His anger took over. “Bitch. Take these binds off and I'll show you something.”

  “Would you hit a woman?”

  “Give me the chance to show you.”

  “Oh, you don't mean that.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Honey.” She turned to Isaac. “I've been there. Not a nice place. You have no idea. On top of that, I'm here tormented by a monster in my brain. Telling me what to do and what to say. You don't even know who you are. You do things. Think things that are impossible.”

  “You're insane.”

  Her face opened up, her eyes and mouth wide. “I know, that's what I have been saying all along. But no one will believe me! I'm insane and there's nothing I can do.”

  She stepped across the room and came into view under the light. She was still dressed in the black skirt and top. Her buttons were open and her soft pale chest shone in the light. She walked slowly towards Isaac and lowered herself over his legs, slowly pressing her weight down. She ran her fingers over his legs, gripping and squeezing his muscles. They tensed under her touch and Isaac recoiled as far as he could.

  “Very strong.” She whispered as if talking to herself.

  Isaac recoiled pulling away from her presence.

  “It's been a long time for me.” She licked her lips and Isaac could feel her hips roll gently. “You are a cute one. I'm sorry for all of the dramatics, but I needed you. You are part of my plan.”

  “What are you going to do?” Isaac asked nervously.

  “I am going to free myself, finally. And you are going to take him for me. He will be yours, all yours. And finally I’ll be free.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  She closed in on his face; he could smell her sweet breath against his cheek. She opened her mouth and made a series of clicking sounds that mimicked hooves walking along the ground. “I think you remember.”

  Isaac's heart raced. He quickly scanned the room but saw nothing.

  “Who are you looking for?” she asked.

  “No one.”

  “No one? Oh, there's someone. You can't see him yet. But you will.”

  “I don't know what you are talking about. You're fucking insane.” He didn't believe it. He looked back expecting to hear the hooves coming from behind like before, something bursting into view to take him. His time of denying what happened in that cell was over. There was something inside her fighting to get out.

  “In time. He told me how to do it. How to make the change. It's not necessarily my type of thing. You know, for as long as I've seen him I’ve wanted him gone. I knew he was evil, but he's kept me alive. Alive enough to find you. I'll do just about anything to pass him on. Anything.”

  Her eyes stressed her devotion. Isaac didn't doubt her. Not now, not ever.

  She stood up and reached into her bra and pulled out a small switchblade. She flicked her thumb and the blade opened in Isaac's face. The light reflected down from the bulb and shined in his eyes.

  “No, no, no, no. Please, we can make a deal. What do you want?”

  “I already have it. I don't need anything else.”

  She placed the knife in her teeth and she hiked her skirt up over her thighs. She slid herself to the edge of his lap. Her stockings ended and Isaac could see her smooth white skin running up her legs and ending at her lace underwear. She looked into his eyes and smirked. She reached again into her bra and pulled a small vial of dark blue liquid.

  “Open wide.” She reached down between his legs and squeezed. Isaac's mouth shot open in a voiceless scream. She quickly emptied the liquid into Isaac's throat. “Drink up.”

  Isaac's face released and he gagged and coughed onto the floor. His testicles throbbed, sending bolts of pain down his legs. The nerves went from shock to burning heat and ultimately stabbing pain that died in his stomach. He could feel the nausea gripping him. “What the hell was that? It tastes like shit!”

  She spoke through the knife. “It's going to help you.”

  “What?”

  She pulled the knife from her teeth and slowly lowered the blade against Isaac's face. She made a quick movement and Isaac could feel her cut his pants. His body flinched and seized up waiting for the pain and blood to flow She made two more jerks and he could hear the fabric tearing. He winced and turned his head.

  She leaned into his ear. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

  Isaac could feel a draft moving through his exposed crotch as she dropped the knife to the floor. It let loose a terrible clang that echoed in the room.

  Zinn leaned in and lowered both her hands over the exposed hole. Her fingers danced over Isaac turning and fondling him like a toy.

  “It has been a while for me. I'm a little rusty.”

  “What the fuck!”

  Isaac was short of breath and his stomach warmed like a small fire was raging inside. The burning sensation peeled back his resistance layer by layer. He fought the emotions, but it was too late. The potion now flooded through his veins and into brain, slowly taking over.

  Zinn's voice popped. “Oh.” She smiled. “I see it is finally working.”

  All sense had now left him and Isaac felt like a caged animal burning to escape. The chair was his cage, enslaving and binding his primal urge. He could feel something rising, trying to claw its way out.

  Isaac's voice was a low growl. “What was that stuff?”

  “Natious wasn't lying.”

  Zinn leaned in and kissed Isaac. He welcomed the embrace and pressed himself against the ropes.

  Isaac dove in and chased the embrace. His lips kissed along her neck.

  Zinn reached behind Isaac's neck and slowly circled her fingers, leaving behind shallow burn marks. The burns glowed and released a thin black smoke that vanished in the air.

  She reached down, pulling her underwear aside and lowered her waist over Isaac's. She broke Isaac's embrace and looked up into the single light above. Just beyond the light, deep in the surrounding darkness, Zinn could see two red eyes suspended from the ceiling. She rocked, rolling her hips as Isaac dug passionately into her neck. She remained locked on the ceiling and silently mouthed, He's yours.

  Pure and Clean

  The four men were dressed in white cotton shirts that dropped down over fitting pleated kilts. They worked in unison shifting their feet gently over the concrete floor. Their hands intertwined beneath as they carried Isaac's body from the empty room. Their shuffling resonated as they entered the hall.

  Isaac's pants and shirt had been removed and he was left wearing a new pair of briefs. His body was unnaturally warm and sweat beaded over his skin and glistened in the fluorescent light. A set of deep red scratch marks curled over his chest and arched down his belly and disappeared into the white cotton fabric.

  Down the hall was an open door that flic
kered from an old fluorescent light. The four men turned and entered the room. It was sparse from the construction as dust collected along the corners of the floor. A patchwork of partially completed masonry decorated the far wall and a shallow stainless steel basin stood in the middle. It was filled with warm water that released a fine mist of steam in the cold room. A hose was clamped on a stand just above the still water, forming a makeshift faucet. The men could hear the plinking of water drops that cascaded off the hose, falling harmlessly into the pool.

  “Be careful,” said the leader.

  The others nodded in agreement as they lowered Isaac slowly into the water. His body was quiet, almost coma-like as as his head and back bounced off the bottom of the basin. Isaac's face was still and exposed to the open air. He looked frozen in time, like a statue lost in a deep and tortuous sleep. The only movement were his eyelids dancing back and forth, hiding the nightmare he was enduring. Inside Isaac's mind the molten heat licked at his feet slowly peeling flesh from bone. Screams echoed as the pain rippled through his body. On the outside, the only indication of stress was the endless sweat that left his pores.

  Unbeknownst to Isaac the men continued to prepare his body. Their care showed their devotion to the ritual and their desire to obtain the promise preached to them.

  “Where's the willow branches?” asked the leader.

  One of the men nodded and quickly darted out of the room and came back holding a wrapped canvas tarp. Small twigs and leaves bounced out the top. He kneeled down and opened the wrap handing a branch to the men. They took them and dipped them into the water. The dry leaves softened in the warm pool.

  Isaac's briefs were removed and pressed into the corner. The four men carefully took the branches and began to exfoliate Isaac's body. His hairs danced under the water as the leaves brushed against his pale skin.

  The leader spoke in a prayer. “We clean to make pure.”

  In a chorus, the men spoke as their voices resonated, “To clean.”

  He continued, “We wipe the sin to ready the body.”

  Together, “To wipe.”

  The four bodies stood ominously above Isaac, their hands caressing and massaging his muscles with a tender care. One man swirled the water as he had been taught and sent a collection of leaves spinning around the basin. Another cleaned Isaac's privates and shifted his legs to reach behind. The men worked in a careful choreography that was the result of hours of practice and instruction. They worked methodically and with great purpose.

  The leader spoke again. “Drain the water.”

  A member dipped down and opened a small valve below the basin. The water fell out and splashed along the floor. It pooled and then swirled down the open drain. Water splashed against the four men’s legs as they stared down at Isaac’s nude body. Their eyes focused on his face, his eyes still dancing in fear. The water drained out leaving behind his exposed body with leaves and twigs collected at the bottom of the basin.

  “Towels. We must dry him.”

  The men obediently pulled small white towels from their pockets and proceeded to dry Isaac’s body. Their hands rubbed along his arms and legs, wicking away the moisture.

  They stopped. Their heads dipped and their lips danced as they each spoke silent prayers.

  Zinn appeared in the doorway. Her eyes burned as she stared at the limp body in the basin. It was Isaac’s time to realize his future.

  A tall thin man appeared behind Zinn. His face was long and his eyes were vacant from years of preaching and rituals. He wore shorts and no shirt and his body was covered in a thick white chalk. In the middle of his chest, grease had been smeared forming the image of two eyes. He moved slowly as if stuck perpetually at half speed. The four men praying around Isaac broke their concentration and looked to him.

  The chalked man arched his back and spoke in a high tone. “Has his body been prepared?”

  The leader responded. “He has been cleaned and he is ready, Sir, but his body is does not have our markings.”

  “No worries children, Sister Zinn has provided that already. Clothe him and bring him to the altar. We shouldn't keep the rest waiting.”

  Smokey Abyss

  A dirt plain stretched out and slowly climbed over a small domed hill. A dense fog surrounded the hill and rose up to the sky falling down like a curtain blocking out the world around him. Beyond the gray haze hid a series of dark shadows that slowly walked just beyond the edge. Their bodies contorted and disassembled into puffs of smoke only to be replaced by new figures cycling into view.

  Isaac woke disoriented and dizzy wondering what nightmare world he had been dropped into. He breathed in the cool air. It was crisp and smelled of almonds. His toes pressed into the dark earth and he squeezed and gripped, the black goo pushing up and out across his feet. The soft wet feeling reminded him of the days he spent along the edge of the creek bed after school. He could almost smell the rotting sandy muck.

  Surrounding Isaac were man-sized wooden totems covered with delicate etchings. Chiseled into the wood were repeating crosses and triangles wrapping around the column with words written in languages that have never been seen by mortal men. Towards the base of the totems the markings glowed a dull red as if embers burned within the core.

  On either side of Isaac were two black women dressed in white linens. Their skin looked like black satin and he could see their hard nipples pressing out against the thin fabric. The women were gorgeous and their curly black hair rounded their head and accented their supple shoulders. They stared forward, their eyes frozen on the hilltop.

  “Hello?” he spoke to one of the women, waving his hand in front of her face.

  She broke her empty stare and slowly looked at Isaac. Her voice was melodic and dream-like. “You need to focus.”

  “Focus on what?” he asked.

  “What's in front of you.”

  He looked at the hill and back at the woman. “Do you see the same world that I see?”

  “You have been chosen to serve. You need to focus.”

  “You don't do you.”

  “You’re a gifted dreamer.” She let loose a small smile. “You are very lucky to see the other side.”

  "I don't want to see the other side.”

  “You see what you want to see,” she said.

  “Where do you think I am?”

  “Just focus. The meeting is starting.”

  He asked the other woman, “Do you know what is going on?”

  “You are the main show.”

  “The show? Do you know where Zinn is?”

  “Sister Zinn is here with us.”

  “But I don't see her.”

  “You are on the other side. Just focus and you will move across space and time.”

  Isaac scanned the landscape and noticed the totems turning to reveal their wooden tops. Each one etched into the shape of a face with crude eyes and mouths. They were somehow alive and watching him.

  Isaac’s nerves were shot. He had spent hours with Zinn and in this limbo state, he had nothing left to give. His body was exhausted and his mind was ready to shut down. It was all too much. “What is all this?”

  There was an echoing answer, “You are here for us, Isaac.”

  “Where?”

  “Sister Zinn, bring the man back.”

  Isaac scanned the totems looking for any glimpse of movement. From the top of the totems Isaac could see a small stream of black smoke beginning to pour out. It fell on the ground like a cold mist and made its way towards him bubbling over the rocks and dirt. The black wisps reached out like narrow fingers and slowly climbed up his legs and around his chest. It was attracted to him like a magnet, slowly clawing its way towards his face. Isaac fought, waving his arms in vain, but the smoke engulfed him, freezing his body in place. He felt encased in cement, unable to move or cry out. The smoke reached his face and poured down his throat causing him to choke and convulse. Isaac disappeared under the swirling mass.

  Isaac choked and his chest
burned for clean air. He felt like he was pinned under a car drowning in a dark flood. The pressure forced him down, pressing against each part of his body. His heart raced in a desperate attempt to push the last bit of oxygen to his brain. He let loose one last faint cough before he passed out and the blackness took him.

  Isaac came to and he gasped for breath. His last memory was choking and the viscous feel of smoke pouring down his throat. His hands and feet clinked as his body convulsed and streams of spittle fell out on to the ground. He was in a large industrial building surrounded by men covered in white chalk. They stood like sentinels around him probing with their dark eyes. The two women from his dream stood next to him. Locked chains fell from their leather waist belts and connected to a small rolling cart where Isaac was bound. The women slowly began to walk as the sea of chalk-covered men parted. The women were steeds to Isaac's chariot, pulling him forward in a procession towards the center altar that sat beneath a yellow spotlight. In the center a large red circle surrounded a wooden stand as a steel-threaded cable was suspended from the roof and hung loosely on the ground.

  The chalk was heavy on the members’ bodies and any movement sent wisps of white swirling through the air. There was a soft murmur as if prayers were being read. Isaac wondered if they were saying them for him or against him. At this point he didn't care. His body was numb and he wanted it all to end. If this was it then he was willing to accept it. In his mind anything was possible and his guarantee to enter heaven was the only hope left in his mind.

  The women walked like models down a catwalk, their bodies gliding softly as the linens danced over their curves. Their ebony skin was a stark contrast to the rows of staring men. Isaac couldn't believe his eyes, they had failed him so often now that he couldn't tell dreams from reality. One moment he was lost in some hellscape and now he was being dragged through a cult ceremony.

  The women stopped and Isaac was rotated to face the crowd. The men's bodies slowly moved and compressed into a uniform mass. Their shoulders pressed tight against each other. Their white bodies indistinguishable and their black eyes like poppy seeds sprinkled over powdered sugar. Isaac's vision was saturated by the spotlight. He couldn't see anyone and thought, maybe that's a good thing.