The Necromancer ✓

Chapter Five

I came back to myself surrounded by the sounds of people screaming.

"We have to make her wake up," the Professor was saying. Panic was thick and heavy in his voice.

"Because your last plan worked so well," Kieran spat, sarcastically.

"I could use a little help here," Jack called, frantically.

I sat up, slowly, and looked around. I was still sitting on the top of the hill. Eolande's skeleton was laid out beside me, where I'd left her. Kieran was running down to the bottom of the hill, where Jack stood, fighting off the living dead. The Professor had his back to me, staring out across the cemetery.

From what I could see, every single person who had ever been buried in the graveyard was walking towards us. The Fae were running around, screaming. Some of them had taken dress swords and were fighting the dead back. I saw the tall red haired woman beating a raised corpse with her shoe. A fire blazed in a corner of the cemetery and some of the Fae had lit branches with it. They brandished the burning wood at the living dead, hoping, I suppose that the flames would drive them back. I groaned.

"You're up," the Professor said. "What the hell have you done?"

"You think this is my fault," I said, indignantly. "None of them would be here if you hadn't smashed my shields."

"I suppose you'd have preferred it if I'd just let her murder you?"

"I had it under control."

"Well, it didn't look like it," the professor said. "From what I could see, she had you pinned to the ground and you were losing consciousness."

"Maybe," I snapped, "you just weren't looking properly." I stood up and looked across the cemetery. "In case you didn't notice, she's the only corpse in this damned place that isn't moving." I raised an eyebrow at the professor. "Or are you trying to take credit for that, too?" He looked away from me.

Metaphysical pissing contest over, I dragged my hair out of my face. The effects of the professor's 'liquid courage' seemed to be wearing off. I felt tired and my body ached all over. But most of all, I felt pissed off. These people had asked me to come and then, the second I did my job they cocked the whole thing up.

"All right," I sighed, scraping my curls back into a messy bun. There was no hope of getting my hair under control in the time I had. All of the Fae were panicking and when people panic, they get hurt. They were attacking the dead just for walking towards me. As much as people might like to believe that death absolves you of imperfections, it doesn't. Not from what I've seen. People don't change just because they stop living.

There was only so much violence and fear the dead were going to take before they started reacting in kind. I knew that I was going to be blamed for any injuries that occurred. Just my luck. I drew my spine up straight, took a deep breath and whispered a single word.

"Stop." Nothing happened. I said it again, louder. "Stop." The reanimated dead didn't even pause. "What's going on?" I asked the professor.

"Oh, now you care about my expert opinion?"

I wanted to tell him to grow up. Instead I gritted my teeth and forced myself to say it, "I need your help." The professor smiled triumphantly and stood beside me.

"They're ignoring you, right?" he said.

"Apparently."

"Perhaps it's because you're ignoring them."

"I'm not ignoring them," I said, gesturing angrily at the graveyard, "I just told them to stop."

"Did you," he asked pointing at my chest, "in here?"