Dark Heritage Trilogy

by Hoffman, Samantha

  The cats stopped growling at him, but their backs were arched, and they didn’t look happy to see him still here with me. I felt a surge of gratitude that they hadn’t abandoned me, and I crouched down low to stroke one from head to tail a few times. They all nuzzled against me affectionately, and one even began to purr.

  The young man stopped his pacing and he looked at me with a strange look on his face, almost like awe, or maybe even pity. “You really don’t know what you are,” he said, obviously surprised. “I would have thought seeing all those dead people would have clued you in, but I guess you’re just not smart enough to figure it out.”

  I was ready to snap at him for calling me stupid when I realized what else he’d said. “You know about the dead people?” I couldn’t help it. The words slipped out before I realized what I said, and I clapped my hand over my mouth, wishing I could take the words back. This guy was obviously crazy and I didn’t want him to know that I might be too.

  He scoffed. “Of course I know about the dead guys. They’re the ghosts of the people that haven’t yet passed over to the afterlife. You can see and hear them, therefore you can help them. You didn’t think you were the only one that knew about them, did you?”

  Despite his anger, and the fact that he terrified me, I was intrigued enough to lean in closer. “Do you see them too?” I asked eagerly. Right now I didn’t feel like running so much as I felt like pressing him for answers. “Can you hear them and speak to them? Do they ask you for your help?”

  He looked offended. “Hell no I don’t see those dead fucks! What the hell do you think I am?”

  “I have no clue,” I said with a frown. “I don’t know what you are, and I don’t know what I am. Who are you, and what do you want with me? What do you know about my dead guys?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me again. “You really don’t have the slightest clue what I’m talking about, do you? You know, that’s actually pretty pathetic. I mean, even the stupid ones usually guess right by this point in their lives. Whether they’re wrong or right, they’ve at least formulated a pretty good idea of their powers.”

  “Powers?” I was completely lost. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He snorted. “Jesus Christ, you’re a necromancer! You probably don’t have the slightest clue what that is, do you? I don’t know why I’m even here. You’re obviously not the person we’re looking for.” He turned around and hopped off the sidewalk and into the road. “Have a nice life,” he called out over his shoulder with a sarcastic smile. “I hope you get smarter in the future.”

  I glared at his back until he disappeared around the corner, leaving me standing with the cats and nobody else. They meowed comfortingly, and I glanced down at them. “I don’t suppose you guys know what the hell just happened?”

  That strange man obviously had anger issues and thought that I was someone or something I wasn’t, but he called me something. A necromancer. And I had no idea what that was, but I was sure I’d heard it before. Right now, I wanted to go home and search for that word, but I couldn’t, because Susan was home with Jessica, and she’d probably call the truancy officers on me.

  The library was right across the street to the high school, and I jogged across the parking lot. The blast of cold air hit me so suddenly that I almost gasped. I’d always loved the library, because it was quiet, cool, and peaceful, and the staff loved me. In the first years of my foster care, I spent quite a bit of my time here, reading old books and doing research just for fun and information.

  I headed upstairs where there were two rows of computers, and the lady at the front desk lifted thick eyebrows and smiled. “Aren’t you supposed to be in some kind of math class right now?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve got something more important to worry about,” I said, hoping she couldn’t see how freaked out the stranger’s visit had made me. “Can I get on one of the computers for a bit? I’ve got a little bit of personal research to do.”

  “Sure, help yourself, Sweetheart. As you can see, we’re not exactly busy right now.” She watched me sit down at the nearest computer and she frowned. “Are you alright? You look a little shaken.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “I just have some things to figure out, and I hope I can find it here.”

  She nodded and left me to my searching. She eyed the cat winding around my feet with interest, but didn’t say anything. Pets weren’t allowed in the library unless it was a Seeing Eye dog, but she made an exception for me, almost like she knew I couldn’t control the cats anymore than I could control the moon or the sunrise.

  I typed the word necromancer into a search engine, and sat back and sifted through the results, looking for something that looked like it wasn’t done by a ten year old. Finally, a black webpage with red lettering caught my attention, and I read through the page, with a growing feeling of dread. I read a small paragraph at the bottom of the page and my stomach dropped to the floor.

  A necromancer is a being that can see and even communicate with the spirits of the deceased. They are usually female, with powers over the dead. Any necromancer, with practice, could force the soul of a dead person into a corpse, reanimating it for a short time. Powerful enough necromancers may even be able to return the dead to life, though this perversion of magic is looked down upon.

  A necromancer could summon the dead and speak to the ghosts of those that had died and not moved on. I saw the dead, and I could certainly talk to them. I’d done it several times in the past, but nobody believed me when I said I saw those spirits. If they were usually female, did that mean that my mother was a necromancer as well? I had to get it from somewhere, right?

  I clicked out of the page, not wanting to see more, and I put my head in my hands. This cannot be happening. I am not some freak that can raise the fucking dead! What the hell kind of person can do that? It’s not normal, and it certainly isn’t desirable. Can I give this power up?

  Then I remembered something. Something that my mother gave to me a very long time ago, shortly before she died. Do I still have it? It was probably packed way in my closet somewhere, collecting dust and other debris. Right now, I could picture the necklace in my eyes.

  She said that I would need it some day. Was this that day? If so, she knew what I was, and she hadn’t bothered to tell me before she died. It’s not her fault she was killed. It’s the other driver’s fault I don’t have a mother to explain this to me!

  With a sigh, I turned off the computer. Then I nudged the sleeping cat at my feet, and tried to ignore the stares as he followed me out into the parking lot. From there, I headed home, willing to risk Susan’s wrath, because there was something I needed to find, and I needed to find it now. Strangely enough, as I walked home, I found myself thinking about the strange man. He obviously knew about what I was, and if I could find him, I could ask him some more questions.

  And hopefully this time he would give me answers, instead of hostile glares.

  Chapter Five

  Susan was feeding Jessica lunch when I slipped in the front door, and her eyebrows snapped together angrily when she saw me. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?”

  “That guy showed up at my school, and he said some weird things to me that kind of freaked me out. I didn’t think I could sit through the rest of my classes knowing that he was waiting outside for me. So I ran home.”

  For the first time since before Jessica was born, Susan’s eyes actually softened a little at me. Then she took a deep breath, and it looked like she was trying to think of something to say. “I’m sorry you’re going through something like this. No girl deserves to be freaked out like you are. Why don’t you go relax a little, and I’ll call Alan at work to let him know?”

  I nodded. “Thanks, Susan.”

  She went back to feeding Jessica as I climbed up the stairs and into my room. I closed the door behind me, and noticed Two Socks curled up on my bed. The window was open behind him, and the afternoon breeze flowe
d in along with the scent of something musky and, even though I’d only smelled it twice, I recognized it immediately.

  That guy had been in my room again!

  I checked all four corners of my room and got the strange urge to check under my bed and in the back of my small closet. Instead, I crossed over to the closet and used my desk chair to peek at the dust covered boxes on my top shelf. The one I needed was in the far back, buried under old board games and finger-paintings. I pulled it free, blew the dust off the top, and sat down on the edge of my bed.

  Two Socks forced his way into my lap, and I absently stroked his head while opening the box. There were old photos inside of both me and my mother, and I couldn’t help but noticing how happy the two of us looked when I was younger. Before she died, and I was left basically alone, with a father that couldn’t have cared less about me.

  I tossed the photos on the bed and dug around the rest of the box. My fingers brushed something cool and hard, and I lifted it out to examine the necklace my mother left for me after she died. The stone was in a tear-drop shape, and was fastened to a beautiful silver chain. The stone itself was dark purple and solid in color. It was amethyst, but I didn’t know any more about it than that. I remembered the note she left with the necklace, and I fished it out of the box and unfolded it.

  Dearest Veronica,

  I’m sure that you’re wondering why I’m writing this to you, but I promise you in time you’ll understand. There are many things about me that you hopefully will never have to know, but if my…uniqueness…has been passed on to you, you will need this pendant.

  It will increase your power–power that I’m sure you won’t have for many years–and it will help protect you if you should ever need it. If I’m not still around to explain things to you when the time is right, I want you to find a woman named Nancy Puckett. She’ll have all the answers for you. I promise.

  Veronica, if you’re reading this, than it means I’m not around to see the woman you’ve no doubt become. And that will be my biggest regret. I truly hope that you and I will see each other again some day, though hopefully not for a very long time.

  I love you, Veronica, so much. Don’t ever forget that you were the most important part of my life. Always have been, and always will be.

  Love, Mother.

  As it did the first time I read it, rereading her last letter made me cry. The first time I read it, I was too young to understand what she was really saying in the letter. At first, I was so angry with her for leaving me such a confusing and pointless final goodbye that I almost tore it to shreds, but it was the only thing left of hers that I had, and I’d kept it.

  Now I was glad that I did, or I wouldn’t have this information that actually meant something to me now. The uniqueness she was talking about had to be necromancy. If that’s even what this is, I thought to myself, but quickly dismissed that. I could see and talk to the ghosts of the dead–there was no denying that. So now that I have a name for it, am I going to deny that it exists? How stupid would that make me?

  I’d always accepted the fact that I was different, and now I had the proof. My mother was like me, and was just waiting for the right time to tell me all of this. But she couldn’t, because she’d died. But she left me a name in her final letter, and I could do a search of it now. Before, I was too angry to even consider looking for Nancy Puckett, but now I had to do it for the answers that she would hopefully have for me.

  I did a quick internet search for her and, while the page was loading, I slipped the necklace over my head. It settled between my breasts, and I could feel the power radiating off of it. It hummed gently against my skin, comforting me and filling me with a sense of amazement. I couldn’t believe I’d never noticed it before. Maybe it was because I hadn’t seen my first ghost yet. Of course, I might be completely wrong.

  I’ll have to talk to Nancy Puckett. She’ll be able to give me the answers I need. Maybe she’ll even be able to tell me what was with the strange man that was in my room…

  I got Nancy Puckett’s home address and shut off my laptop. The address was on the other side of town, but I knew the neighborhood. It was three houses down from my old home with my mother, which happened to be the last place I could actually call home and was truly happy at. I was not happy at the thought of passing my old home, but I had to go and talk to Nancy. If it was what my mother wanted me to do, I’d do it.

  *****

  I kept my head down as I passed my old house, unwilling to look at the rundown state of it, and finally stopped in front of Nancy Puckett’s home. It looked a lot nicer than my old home, with its light yellow pain, bright white shutters, and porch swing. The yard was green and taken care of and it looked like she had the perfect home. I remembered passing by it every day on my way to school, and I always wondered who lived there. My mother had told me that she was a friend, but wouldn’t tell me more than that.

  Now I knew why.

  I knocked on the door and had to wait patiently for a few minutes. I could hear shuffling around inside, and I knew that someone was home. I was just about to knock again when the door opened, and I saw a woman standing there. Her hair was long and blonde, and pulled back in a tight ponytail. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress. Her eyes were wide-set and gray beneath slightly bushy eyebrows.

  “Can I help you?” She smiled at me in a way that made me think she already knew who I was and why I was here. She waited patiently for an answer, but I was too busy staring at the woman in front of me. She looked the exact same as she did the last time I saw her more than six years ago. There wasn’t one line on her face, or any indication that this woman was older than thirty, though she was probably closer to forty-five.

  “Can I help you?” she asked again.

  “Are you Nancy Puckett?”

  Her smile widened, and she nodded her head. “Yes, I am. And you’re Veronica Parker. I’ve been waiting for this day for many years. You’re just in time, because I’ll have to be moving on very shortly. I had thought you’d come visit me right after you stared seeing those ghosts.” I flinched, and she laughed. “You’re not the only one who sees them you know.”

  I took a deep breath. “You see them too?” I asked. “I’m really not the only one?”

  “Of course you’re not,” she said, stepping aside. “Come in, and we can talk. Your mother told me that you probably wouldn’t know much, or understand any of it, so this might take a little bit.”

  “When was the last time you spoke to my mother?”

  “A few years ago. It was right after she died.”

  “After?” I asked, looking at her. “You spoke to her…” I couldn’t finish that thought.

  “Her ghost? Yes, I did. She came to me and told me that I’d need to inform you about some things, because she wouldn’t be around to do it. I hope you brought that pendant she left you.”

  I lifted the pendant up and showed it to her. “I took it out of a box of my mother’s things this morning.”

  Nancy shook her head in disapproval. “You should have put this on the moment your mother died, and never taken it off. It would have helped you a great deal.”

  “What does it do?” I asked, looking at the necklace for the first time since I put it on. The stone was small, about the size of a half dollar, and it was a teardrop shape. It was normally dark purple, but right now I noticed a faint silver glow around the stone. “Why is it doing that?” I asked. “It was solid purple earlier.”

  Nancy looked at it. “It’ll do that whenever another supernatural being is around. It’s warning you. Not all of us are so friendly. Remember that.”

  “You said another supernatural being,” I said slowly, unsure if I wanted to know more. “How many of us are there? Are there different kinds? If there are, how can you tell them apart without asking?”

  Nancy smiled. “One question at a time, and I’ll answer as best as I can. First off, there are many of us, and there are several species of supernaturals out there. With pr
actice, you can usually tell what a supernatural being is without having to ask. There are slight differences, but we’ll get into that later. Right now, I want to explain to you what being a necromancer entails.”

  “What it entails?”

  “Yes. Being a necromancer does not have to be as morbid and disturbing as it has been painted to be. We can help the souls of those that have died to pass on to the afterlife. However, not all necromancers use their powers for good. There have been some in the past that have tried to raise an army of the undead to take over the world.”

  I gasped, and she continued.

  “They have not been able to succeed, because the amount of power it takes to accomplish such a feat is beyond the reach of necromancers. We can raise a few dozen at a time, but no more. It doesn’t stop them from trying though. Thankfully, there are very few crazy enough to attempt such a feat. It usually ends in disaster, because the necromancer will burn themselves out, and they die.”

  “Could that happen to me?”

  “You’ll be fine as long as you stay away from the more powerful forms of our power. Do not attempt to raise more than one body at a time, if you have to do it at all. You shouldn’t have to, but if it does happen, try to limit the damage. Understand?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I think so. Nancy, can I ask you something?”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “Are there any types of supernatural beings that have glowing eyes?”

  She frowned, and looked at me for a minute before answering. “Werewolves have eyes that tend to glow, especially at night. They’re also on the larger side, not only taller, but more muscular. They’re very agile, fast, and strong, and they tend to be very temperamental. They can go from laughing to shouting in an instant. I’ve always considered them to be the most unstable of the different species. Have you met someone like that recently?”