Page 50 of Death Raiser

Kang raised his eyebrows.

“Even raising two sets me apart,” I explained.

Kang shook his head.

“It’s not good for me to stand out as a glamy.” I didn’t really want to explain why. Gregor had found me because of my skill level. Power drew other power. Those who had lots of it wanted to amass even more by either pulling in other strong glamies, or by eliminating them. Either way, being known as a powerful necromancer placed me in more danger especially when I had serious deficits in my training and foundational knowledge. The one person who could train me had disappeared from my life fifteen years ago.

I shouldn’t have to explain any of this to a glamy who pretended to be a drab.

“That’s not why I shook my head,” Kang said.

I waited.

“You already stand out, Lark,” he said, his expression growing serious. “With or without your magic.”

“Sure.”

“You do,” he said, voice firm. “To me.”

The tension in my shoulders faded and I stood still, holding a chicken and met Kang’s smouldering gaze. “You need to stop saying sweet things.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m about to sacrifice a chicken and it’s going to kill the mood.”

“I’m pretty sure you could be drenched in blood spatter, and I’d still want you, but I’ll play by your rules.” He held his hands up and stepped back. “For now.”

Not knowing what to say to…that…I turned away from Kang and opened the evidence bag. I withdrew the finger, cold to the touch. The edges were raw and jagged, suggesting the finger had been torn off instead of neatly severed with a weapon. Kang reached out and plucked the evidence bag from my hand. He’d have to record the raising to maintain chain of custody.

With the bloody finger in my knife hand, I sacrificed the chicken, murmured the incantation and pulled my magic around me. I didn’t know the name of the dead person, so instead of calling the name, I sent my magic rushing through his amputated finger as a call to the soul instead.

Kang stepped in and relieved me of the chicken’s body. He’d bag and seal it for me while I spoke to the spirit.

A spectre materialized above the pools of blood, floating at eye level. The man had one of those faces that still had a youthful roundness to the cheeks even though the lines on his forehead and neck clearly indicated he’d seen some decades.

“My name is Lark Morgan,” I said. “I’m sorry to call you from your resting place. I’m a necromancer on contract with the Victoria Police Department and we’d like to know who or what did this to you and your companions.”

The spirit continued to hover over one of the pools of blood, bobbing in the air like a floatation device in the ocean.

Nothing.

“I’m sorry we don’t know your name yet. Can you tell me?” I asked.

The spirit continued to lock his unblinking gaze on me but didn’t reply.

“Can you bring me another chicken?” I asked Kang.

Normally, I didn’t have to put much effort into calling spirits or getting them to answer my questions. Only glamies presented any kind of resistance, and even the few I’d raised in the past had been no match for my power.

Kang grunted and walked away, presumably to get another chicken, but I kept my focus on the non-compliant spirit. Drawing from the well of power inside me, I pulled more magic and wrapped it around the soul. “Answer me.”

The spirit jerked and writhed but didn’t speak.

Kang nudged my arm and handed over another chicken. Without turning, I gently took the hen from his hands. I didn’t waste time. Using my knife, I ended another life to gain power over the dead.

With the new sacrifice, my magical pull on the spirit strengthened. I clutched his severed finger and let the sacrificial blood and my power soak in. Then I squeezed, pushing more and more power into the finger to reach the bone.

I poured my command into my voice. “Tell me your name.”

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