Page 10 of Necromancers Don't Raise

I stood in front of the mirror of the armoire stuffed with the goblin bodyguard’s clothes and stared at my reflection. I looked at a stranger who may very well have goblin blood. My hair had always been carefully styled and highlighted, but now there was no hair to soften my sharp features. My eyes were pale, creepy blue-green that I’d always covered with contacts. They were technically the same, but the rest of me was so alien, haggard, asymmetrical. The word was ugly. At least my pointed nose had grown back without a scar.

I’d done a lot of makeovers for the beauty branch of the family business to showcase the newest line of cosmetics. If I had a client who looked like me, it would be all about the contouring, highlighting and shadowing to get my features more in line, to soften the sharp nose. Or I’d go the opposite way, and go for striking, like that elven woman I’d seen at a gala who had leanedinto her unusual looks and went beyond beauty into something unforgettable.

My mother had nudged me as the elven woman walked down the stairs, so unutterably graceful. “It’s how she holds herself that finishes the look. Beauty is only one piece of the puzzle.”

I shook my head, trying to get memories of my mother out of my head. The only time she hadn’t been a constant presence in my life was when I was in boarding school. Would she be devastated that I was dead and gone? Of course she would as far as her business plans went since I was an essential part, both my own work and my upcoming marriage to Philip. But would she actually grieve for me in any real way?

Maybe I should call her, put her mind at rest. What if they were still looking for me? What if they spent years of time and energy searching? No, I had to at least give them closure, let them know that I’d died. Looking into the mirror made it obvious that I really and truly had died. Cassandra Clarence wasn’t ever coming back.

I took off my robe and draped it over the mirror to cover it up before I focused on the clothing. I pulled out a vest that was heavy enough to strain my arm. This was women’s clothing? I poked at it and realized that it was armored. I’d worn armored vests from time to time when I travelled to more dangerous places for my charity work. Not mine, the corporation, but I’d given my face for the effort. Not my face anymore.

I shook my head and dropped the vest on the floor and pulled out another shirt, this time sheer. Was this to be worn over the armored vest? I dropped that and dug deeper. The goblin bodyguard had a few things that were probably appropriate for goblin nightclubs, and the rest was armored.

I stood there, holding armored pants. Mercury was clever. He’d bargained his way into me wearing protective gear, because he was genuinely concerned with my safety. He reallywas attached to those he brought back to life. Was that a necromancer thing, or a Mercury thing? I finally shrugged and put on the most lightly armored clothing I could find, a pair of leather pants with reinforced knees and seat, and the first vest I’d pulled out. Everything else was heavier. I pulled the mesh shirt over the vest, which provided more warmth than I expected. It must be spelled warm. Everything smelled like essential oils and guns, two scents I’d always liked. It was nice to be dressed, even if I lacked support layers.

Did goblins not need underwear? I suppose goblin skins were supposed to be tough. I could regenerate, but it wasn’t pleasant. I’d have to purchase underwear, but I had no money. I had nothing. Not even a driver’s license and a real name. That thought struck me with the force of a gut punch. Tears rose in my eyes, but I shook my head and took a deep breath. I had to focus on the present or I’d drown in all of the miserable uncertainty. The main thing was that I felt better, my mind was clearing up, and I had to stop whoever had killed me so horribly before he killed someone else.

My room was at the bottom of the tower that housed the necromancer’s laboratory, probably so that the goblin bodyguard could give the stairs an extra layer of security. When I came out of the room, determined to find Bones and the kitchen, I froze then looked to my left where a shadow stood that hadn’t been there when I’d first fumbled my way from the laboratory, down the stairs to my room. Maybe it had been. Was it a person? A ghoul? A demon? How long had I spent staring into the mirror at the whole new me? It didn’t matter. I was hungry and needed underwear before the leather pants really made me chafe. Not that perfect skin was the priority anymore. I had only one priority: find my killer. Also a job. Also underwear. My stomach rumbled loudly. Well, there was that. Fine, I had a few priorities I’d have to juggle.

“Excuse me, could you direct me to the kitchen?” I asked the shadow. Maybe it was just a shadow. Maybe it didn’t talk or respond. I felt so weird talking to thick air, but it moved away from the wall and flowed over the floor ahead of me and then turned left at the next intersecting hall.

Mercury’s house was a labyrinth, built to confuse. I counted halls and turns so I wouldn’t get lost on my way back. I needed to sleep, to rest, because I was alive, but I also needed more nourishment than had been in the IV. And I needed to find out what was going on in the outside world, particularly the Clarence world.

The kitchen was unexpectedly cozy. It was still dusty, but there were crochet doilies in various bright colors over everything, including the refrigerator and the little couch parked in front of a television with rabbit ears. Did those still work in this day of technological advancement? Could it pick upTheWarlock Detective?

Bones stood creakily from the couch when I entered. I turned to thank the shadow for bringing me, but it had already disappeared.

“Thank you for your help,” I said, anyway, because impeccable manners were a habit. Someone might be watching me, and I was always responsible for representing the brand. Only I had no brand. No one would want me to represent anything. Which meant that for the first time in my life, I could be invisible. That would probably help me find my killer.

I smiled and turned back to Bones, who was hovering and looking anxious in a mustard and black striped suit. Where did he get those things? And what would the female version look like? I was intrigued. I didn’t have to be cutting-edge fashionable anymore.

“Beg your pardon, Miss Nova, but the master said I did great wrong in putting you to sleep so roughly. I was unaware thatlive guests were so delicate. Perhaps if we had more guests, I would be aware of the proper protocols.” His frown was so exaggerated. He was kind of adorable, like a wrinkled apple. All of our servants were always attractive. They were also extremely competent, because as my mother said, there was no reason to not have beauty and sense. Bones seemed to have neither, and yet, there was warmth to him that you wouldn’t expect from the walking dead.

I walked over to him and flung my arms around him, squeezing him tight for a second. “I’m not delicate at all. I can regenerate from death, and even my fingers grow back.” I squeezed him one last time as hard as I could and then released him and stepped back, beaming up at him. “I hope you don’t mind the hugs. I’m alive, so I need lots of human contact.” And that was my revenge for him knocking me unconscious.

He stared at me for a moment, then shook his head. “I’m not human, but if you must try to strangle me from time to time, I’m sure it could only help you improve your grip. It is shockingly weak. And if the master tells me that I did wrong, he is right.”

I deflated. My grip was weak? Weak? I’d have to do something about that. “He’s always right? That explains why he hired you. One must always have servants that can discern your own superiority. Bones, I have two questions for you. The first is, do you have anything to eat? And the second is equally essential. Does your television work? I think it’s almost time forTheWarlock Detective.”

His eyes lit up. “Of course, Miss Nova!” He beamed at me and then hustled to the refrigerator and began getting out ingredients, eggs, peppers, mushrooms, cheese, and a variety of spices. He turned on the stove and a flame flared up before he clapped the iron pan over it.

I watched him slaughter my omelet with something like amazement. When he placed it on a plate in front of me at thesmall table, he looked so pleased with himself, like he rarely got a chance to exercise his cooking talents.

“I will turn on the television,” he said and hurried off to fiddle with the doily-wearing dinosaur.

I ate a bite and then offered him a smile when he looked up to check if I was eating. It was terrible. The eggs were slimy in the center where they’d been trapped by a heap of uncooked spinach, and the flavoring was entirely unbalanced, with so much pepper in one spot that my eyes watered. I ate every bite with the confidence of one who knows they won’t stay dead if it kills her, and then placed my fork neatly on my plate while he stayed looming over the television, fiddling with it.

“Bones, you have the potential to become a truly talented chef. I can tell that you care about each ingredient that goes into your masterpiece. It must be a challenge to cook when you, yourself, don’t eat.” There was no way he’d be able to cook so terribly if he had any sense of taste.

He nodded ponderously, looking up from his work. “It is difficult. The master himself forgets to eat, however elaborate a dish I prepare. I worry about him a great deal. Perhaps if you convinced him that you’re afraid of me and need his company to eat comfortably, he would take better care of himself.”

“Ah.” Mercury had specifically told me that I could order anything in from Apple City or Singsong. Did he not tell Bones that he ate out? Of course not, because it would hurt his feelings to know that his precious master didn’t like his cooking. Mercury always worried about the dead’s emotional health. “Bones, I’m not afraid of you, but perhaps I could cook something as a thanks for all of his help. Surely he wouldn’t turn down my offering of thanks.”

He smiled brilliantly. “Yes! That’s a very good idea. Do you know how to cook? The bodyguard didn’t understand anything about cooking. Sometimes she’d eat the rats.” He shudderedlike that was beyond the pale, then turned and thumped the television. “Why won’t it turn on? It worked the last time I tried.”

I blinked at him, feeling a wave of revulsion at the thought of eating rats. “I wouldn’t ever eat the master’s pets. Why don’t I make a nice, simple fried chicken dinner with mashed parsnips and a nice green salad with aoli? Can I make a list for you of ingredients to get? Why don’t we go to the market together, and I can buy a few clothing items while we’re there, things that I couldn’t find in the goblin’s closet? That is, do you think the master would mind if I spent some of his money? I don’t have any right now, and he’s reluctant to give me a job until I’m fully rejuvenated.”

He nodded eagerly, forgetting about the malfunctioning tv. “You don’t need to worry about money, Miss Nova. I will show you how to make a fine dinner, and you will convince the Master to eat it, and then he won’t be quite so thin. The market will have some clothes for you to buy while we’re there. We can go now.” He nodded decisively, apparently motivated most of all by the need to fatten up his master. He was sweet. Simple and sincere. The dead don’t lie. That’s what Mercury had said, why he was so comfortable with them. He didn’t want to wear his mask all the time to hide his vulnerabilities. But he wouldn’t let me walk away until he was sure I was safe, because he’d found me when I was dead and already taken me under his evil sorcerer’s wing by the time I came back to life. So much so, that he was willing to play the hugging torture game.

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