The Haunting

Chapter Nineteen--Necromancy Senses I

Necromancy Senses I

I looked at the picture in terror, wondering how it had gotten in my hands.  Had Ryan given it to me?  How in the name of all that is good did he do that?  Is he some weird half-demon?  What the hell kind of half-demon did that?

Was he part of the Edison Group experiments?  Had he seen me at the Lab, but hadn't been able to reach me because of the anti-ghost shield?  But why did he want me?

I still held the picture in my shaking hands, just kind of staring at it.  I started, then looked closer.  It...it almost looked like-like Simon's drawing.  Or one of them, anyways.  The styles were just so closely matched, and in the picture, I looked like Simon had always made me look; I looked powerful, confident, pretty, and the pencil shading looked erratic, just like the way that Simon shaded with pencils.

This was giving me a huge headache, and I could already feel the tension building up inside of my skull.  My neck muscles were stiff, as well, and I absently rubbed at the knots that had formed.

Then I shoved the picture in my pocket where I wouldn't be able to see it.  My hands raked my hair back from my face, and then shielded it with my elbows.  More silent tears trekked down my face, and I vainly tried to stop them, but couldn't.  This was just so wrong, and it felt like I was trapped in a B movie.  An extremely bad B movie, and that is saying something.

I could almost feel the imaginary audience yelling at me, telling me to just use my eyes.  That they saw something that should have been obvious to me, but just wasn't.  I bet they were right about it, too.

Once I made it back to my room, I ran to my bed and collapsed on it, only to immediately spring up again.  The sheets were wet, cold, and sticky, and smelled like bad BO.  I wrinkled my nose in distaste, and tried not to gag.  I really hope that isn't how I always smell when I sweat.

I, instead, laid down on the plushly carpeted floor, and went spread eagle.  The floor really is comfortable, I thought tiredly.  Ideally wanted to go to sleep, but I wanted the answer to what is wrong with me, the ghost, and what he said about Simon.  I just couldn't believe something was wrong with him, but...he had been acting strangely, lately, I can't deny that.

I need to find answers more that I needed sleep.  I need to think my way through this, I thought.  But Ryan said to focus on my otherworldly senses, another part of me said.  That they would help me find the answer, so I focused hard on all of the things that made me who I was, albeit, a little skeptically.

The necromancy.

The shamanism.

My "other" senses, as he so eloquently put it.

Slowly, my vision started to fade away, tunneling from light, soft gray, to the deep, unforgiving black of night.

*****

"Roxanne, your sure that this book tells the truth?" I said, raising the demon book.

"Yes, I am sure."

I looked doubtfully at the leather-bound book I was holding.  It didn't look like it would have the answers I was looking for.  I glanced at it dubiously again, and set it back down on the table.  It was nearly midnight, and I was getting tired.

"Goodnight, I'm going to bed now.  Unless you need anything else."

"No. We may both sleep now.  Dream well, Derek."

I nodded and left the room, while rubbing the back of my neck.  I wonder how Chloe was doing.  I had left her after Roxanne had 'paged' me, and I hope she was okay.