The Necromancer's Curse

Prologue

Jay sat on the curb, barely registering the cold that seeped through his suit. He'd been running on adrenaline for the past half hour, but it was gone now. And he was shaking. Pulling his knees against his chest, he buried his head between them for a moment. He wanted to cry. He wanted for his parents to be there and wrap their arms around him and tell him that everything was going to be alright. But that wasn't happening any time soon, and everything probably wasn't going to be alright.

"Mr. Matthews," the detective said, leaning down a little to talk to him. "Or can I just call you Jacob? Would that be alright for you?"

Jay shrugged. He didn't want to be here right now, and he wanted to talk to a detective even less, so he didn't care what she called him. He was tired.

"Jacob, I know that it's been a long night and a lot happened, but I do need to get a statement from you. Around eleven o'clock tonight we received a distress call from a Camille Leicester, saying she had been attacked. Can you tell me what happened?"

He looked up at the detective. The lights of the surrounding police cars flashed red and blue on her face and on her jacket, and she was twirling her pen around anxiously. A couple of feet behind her was Cam, talking to a different detective. She was hugging herself, probably freezing to death in the short strip of black fabric she called a dress. Her back was tense, but otherwise she looked fine. His fingers found the bandage on his calf, reminding him that he too would be fine. They were all going to be, every single one of them – every single one except Ki. His stomach lurched at the memory. He didn't want to recount the evening's events. He wanted to go home, pretend none of this had ever happened, and call Ki. He wanted things to go back to normal.

But tonight had happened, and nothing would ever go back to normal.

He found himself blurting out: "I'd feel more comfortable if you sat down too."

The detective sat down next to him with a pitying smile. She looked at the sky, rolling her shoulders, and sighed.

"You alright?" he asked. Better to talk about the detective than about his night.

She shrugged, glancing back at the night sky. "Not a big fan of the night shift."

He studied her for a moment, before following her gaze. The moon hung in the sky, fat and white, and he probably shouldn't be as surprised about this as he was. It made sense to put supernatural people into the Department for Supernatural Offenders.

"You're a werewolf," he muttered.

She was studying him intently. "It's not full, if that's what you're worried about. But they wouldn't let me out in the field in the first place if I weren't able to control it." She clicked her pen on, resting her notepad on her knee. Ready to take notes. "But let's get back to why I'm here and what happened tonight, shall we?"

Jay rubbed his wrist, wishing he had a bracelet to fiddle with while he avoided her scrutinizing gaze.

"I understand if you have some...reservations about talking to the police, but I promise you, I'm just here to help. We all want justice for what happened tonight, and the sooner you tell me what happened, the sooner I can make that happen."

It wasn't funny, but he laughed. Justice was a heavy word to throw around, especially in a case like this, where the system would work as designed to make sure that didn't happen. Did the detective know that or was she an idealist? In the end it wouldn't matter, but he hoped she knew. The idea of someone who actually gave a shit working this case made him feel marginally better.

He sighed and dropped his hands between his legs. There was no point in putting this off any longer. The sooner he gave her what she wanted, the sooner he could get out of here. So, he said, "It's a longer story," and started talking.