The Necromancer

Three

It only took a half an hour to determine that shopping was no longer the same. The first reason being the penny pinching attitude I'd acquired during my time overseas. I'd spent the last four months buying strictly necessities. I was no longer struggling yet it was hard to adjust to my pre-necromancer mindset.

Jen kept getting frustrated every time I picked up an item, sighing longingly, then put it back. By the tenth time I'd done it, I thought she was going to seize.

Secondly, shopping would never be the same on account of the dead woman that'd followed me all the way from Wild Man Vintage to the Dusty bookshelf. I now always ran the risk of picking up departed stragglers whilst going out in public. They were everywhere. The streets, the stores, the bathrooms.

She eyed me curiously. I ignored her.

Rude? Definitely, and I felt a tad guilty about it. But what was I supposed to do? Introduce myself, ask her how I could help her and look totally nuts when everyone thought I was talking to thin air?

So I waited until Jen and Lilah were distracted and meandered on over to a dark, vacant corner, hidden behind stacks and stacks of books. The woman followed. She was a pretty, plump lady in her late 40's, maybe early 50's. She had bleached blonde hair and laugh lines, loose khaki capris and a button-up pink sweater. My heart seized with a familiar ache. This woman was entirely too young to have died.

I did a quick 360 to make sure the coast was clear, pulled out my handy dandy cell phone, opened it and put it up to my ear. It was a nifty technique I'd developed in order to not look crazy.

"Hi. I'm Juliette," I said to the woman, holding out my hand.

She looked at it, confused. "Uh...I'm not sure I can—"

Smiling wide, I took her cold hand and shook, amused when her eyes went wide with astonishment.

"I don't understand."

"Trust me," I said. "Neither do I and for some reason I never got a Necromancer's Guide to All Things Supernatural. I thought it would come with the gig but I'm not complaining."

A little smile tugged her lips. "I'm Molly. I saw you in that vintage store and for some reason I just had this feeling—like a magnet. Gosh, I know that probably sounds silly."

It didn't and it wasn't the first time I'd heard that. Many departed had told me that there was an energy about me, some kind of pull that attracted them to me. I figured it had something to do with trying to ferry over as many souls as possible. I was like a convenient flame attracting moths. Why go looking for the dead when they can come right to me?

"I was a little shocked when I noticed you could see me," Molly admitted. "And pleased. I was hoping—if you would be so kind, of course you can say no—that you could deliver a message to my husband?"

I'd expected this. All departed had a reason for being here—if they didn't, they'd have moved on already. This was part of my job description, literally what Necromancers were supposed to do. I couldn't decline.

"Sure can," I confirmed, pulling a notepad out of my raggedy, army green satchel. I'd taken to carrying one on my trip. It was way more convenient than a purse. Seriously. This thing held snacks galore. "What's his name and address?"

She told me then relayed her message. When Molly finished, she wiped at her eyes. I considered telling her the dead couldn't produce tears but decided against it. What she didn't know wouldn't kill her. Especially since she was already dead.