The Necromancer ✓

Chapter Six

"Are you okay?" Kieran asked.

"No," I said, honestly. "Eolande is up," I felt a tug on the strand that bound her to me. Apparently the connection went both ways. "And she's coming."

"Maybe you should have stayed outside," the professor said to Kieran.

"Too late now," he grimaced.

"It'll be okay," I said, squaring my shoulders. "I'll just go in and give my orders," before she kills me, I finished in my head. There was no way I was saying that out loud. Bad for morale and all that tripe. Mostly, I just didn't want to face the thought and saying it would bring it into focus. It's always easier to ignore things that go unsaid. Easier to pretend they aren't real.

"Before she tries to strangle you again," the professor said.

"Yeah," I gritted my teeth. "Thanks."

"We're right here," Kieran said, standing behind me, "if you need us."

"Thanks," I said it genuinely the second time. "Let's get on with this." Deep breath. Shoulders squared. Ethereal threads binding the dead to me in place. I marched towards the centre of the graveyard. Back to the hill top. Back to Eolande's grave. On the bright side, things couldn't possibly get any worse. Could they?

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I regretted it. You know how in movies, whenever a person says that things can't get any worse they always do? I was really hoping that that was just a lame cinematic cliché.

I came across a dead man, wandering around near a crypt.

"Hi there," I said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Hi," he said, smiling at me. It was the kind of uncertain smile you give when you're hoping someone is going to explain that something really bad isn't actually happening. Hopeful and scared, all in the same brief twitch of muscle. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Um," I glanced at the crypt. I hated it when people didn't get that they were dead.

"Are you sure he's..." I watched Kieran visibly struggle to find the right words. Eventually he settled on, "one of them?"

I looked back at the man outside the crypt. I felt the thin streak of power between us, so I knew he wasn't one of the living. But you wouldn't be able to tell that just by looking. He wasn't half decayed, or walking around like some mindless brain eating zombie. Real zombies just weren't like that. I really hated Hollywood sometimes.

"Yeah," I said. "You should go back," I told the man, "you know, to where you've come from."

"That's it?" the professor asked, clearly disappointed. "Where's the ceremony?"

"What do you want me to do?" I asked. "Throw holy water on him?"

"I'm sorry," the dead man said, politely, "but I'm not exactly sure where I come from, you see? I've been walking around in circles, trying to figure it out, but..." he shrugged, lamely. "I don't suppose you know where I'm supposed to be?"

I shook my head.

"Maybe, if you tell us your name," Kieran said, "we could find where you should be."

"Okay," the dead man said. He opened his mouth to answer but no sound came out. He tried again, to no avail. He tilted his head, puzzled, and looked at me. "I'm afraid I cannot remember it right now." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm sure I'll think of it in a moment." He frowned, as though that would make him think of it sooner. "Just give me a moment."