Stolen Souls

by Debra Dunbar

  Sure enough, the picture inside the folder was of a balding, heavy–set man with glasses. His Internet presence seemed to mainly be a chat room for Civil War re–enactors, and online poker. He joined an action committee to protest a cell phone tower in Urbana and had served on his Home Owners Association for two terms.

  “Are you sure he’s a necromancer?” Ben asked. “Maybe it’s a typo and he’s really a macramé–er, or a necromaniac, or a micromanager. Or even a macaroni artist.”

  Tamika wrinkled her nose in revulsion. “Necromaniac? Ewww. I certainly hope he’s not having sex with dead people. That’s just wrong.”

  As opposed to raising the dead for other purposes? Nyalla shook her head. She’d never truly understand the humans here. “I’m thinking this George guy should be at the bottom of our list. I mean, he certainly looks to be more of a macramé–er than a necromancer.”

  “Do we have addresses for these guys?” Ben asked. “Otherwise I don’t think we’re going to get much done before nightfall.”

  “Yep.” Tamika stole a cold French fry off Ben’s plate and jabbed it towards him before stuffing it into her mouth. “I tracked down addresses for Rathma and Ash through my contacts. Nostradamus has an occult store down in Ellicott City. George unwisely put his home address on his Facebook page.”

  “Then who should we check out first?” Nyalla asked, shuffling the folders in front of her.

  “Do you want to do Ellicott City first or last? That’s the furthest one out.”

  Nyalla thought. It was getting late. “Let’s do him first. I don’t want to be stuck forty minutes away when this thing wakes up.”

  “Well I do want to be forty minutes away when this thing wakes up,” Tamika mumbled. “I want to be more than forty minutes away.”

  They all piled in Ben’s Toyota, since Nyalla was nervous about driving so far and was worried that the damage to the Surburban might turn out to be more than cosmetic and leave them stranded. Traffic was light, and within half an hour, they were pulling up to Nostradamus’ shop, interestingly named All Things Dark and Light.

  Thick clouds of incense choked them as they walked through the front door. Heavy velvet draperies over the lamps and windows made the store dim. Nyalla could just make out a man behind the counter. He’d been bent over, but straightened abruptly as the door clicked shut and came around the counter to greet them.

  Nyalla stopped dead as soon as he came into clear view, and she felt the others halt by her side. The man wore flowing black robes, and thick white make–up covered his face. Black kohl rimmed his eyes, matching his black lipstick. She stared at him, uncertain what to say. The man had no such hesitation. His eyes swept them with a flash of greed as he took in Ben’s neat clothing, and Nyalla’s tan shorts and navy tank top. He’d clearly pegged them as tourists.

  “Greetings, voyagers of this mysterious life. What may I interest you in today? I have a variety of lovely Tarot decks, and some beautifully crafted crystal balls. Or perhaps the ladies are looking for some herbs for their caldron?”

  “Knock it off, weasel–dick,” Tamika replied. “Venus Moonhaven referred me to you. She said you might be able to help us with a problematic dead guy.”

  Nostradamus cast a regretful look toward Nyalla and Ben, before turning his attention to Tamika. “Depends. What’s the problem with the dead guy?”

  “Well, he’s not in his grave for one thing.” Nostradamus looked intrigued at Tamika’s words. “And someone managed to put a ghoul in his body.”

  “Oooh, that’s unfortunate.” He rubbed a hand over his chin, smearing the make–up. “Normally putting a dead guy back in his grave isn’t too difficult, but the ghoul raises this to a whole other level. How long has he been out and about?”

  Nyalla winced. “This will be the eighth night.”

  “Oooh, yes. Very unfortunate. I won’t be able to help you with that one. Sorry.”

  “What do you mean ‘sorry’?” Nyalla sputtered. “This ghoul is killing people. He’s got to be stopped. You’re a necromancer; you must know how to do this sort of thing.”

  “No, actually I don’t. I mainly communicate with the recently dead to glean visions into the future. I’m not really big on animating corpses, stealing and confining souls, or resurrecting the dead. Too much psychic blowback for my tastes. No, thank you.”

  “But there must be some way you can help us. Can you refer us to another necromancer?”

  “We don’t exactly have a professional organization with a list of members. And I’m not sure it would help if we did. No occult practitioners are going to touch this ghoul with a ten–foot pole. We all talk a big story, but when it comes down to it, we’re a pretty risk–averse bunch. Like accountants.”

  “Come on, let’s go,” Ben said, reaching for Nyalla’s arm. It was the same type of gesture that had led to her fight with Eric, and she yanked away from his reach.

  “How about a necromancer named Tadax? He’s probably within an hour or so of here? Have you heard of him?”

  Nostradamus shook his head. “I’m sorry, really I am, but I don’t know this guy. Nobody is going to tackle a ghoul, especially one that’s eight days above ground. Your best bet is to get an angel or demi–god.”

  An angel. If only she could. But even if she managed to somehow find a way to contact one, they would probably not interfere. Angels were notoriously impersonal when it came to day–to–day human affairs. Even the elves, who adored them, spoke of how unbending and strict they were. No doubt an angel would just scold them on the folly of meddling in what they were not evolved enough to handle and tell them that the death and destruction would serve as a good lesson not to do it again.

  Heart heavy, she followed Tamika and Ben to the car and headed to the next necromancer on their list.

  Ash turned out to have an impressive collection of grimoires, including several bound in rather questionable skin hides. He was thrilled to hear of their ghoul problem and immediately volunteered to help, but as Tamika questioned him, it grew increasingly obvious that Ash’s knowledge was strictly obtained through Hollywood productions. His first–hand experience consisted of drug–enhanced encounters with the undead. Once he began telling them of his zombie girlfriend, they beat a hasty retreat.

  Rathma wasn’t much better. He was completely shocked when they told him of the ghoul and shakily confessed that he wasn’t a “real” necromancer, but only played one online.

  “The chicks totally dig it. You have no idea how much virtual sex I’ve gotten in the past year. It’s amazing. Necromancers totally score.”

  They were about to head to see George out of desperation, when Nyalla finally received the text she’d been waiting for.

  “I’ve got it,” she shouted. “Tadax. His name is Richard Young. He lives in Walkersville, and I have his address.”

  Ben practically spun the car in his haste to turn around and gun it, his face tight with anger. “Good. I want that guy to have a few words with my fist. Botching my brother’s resurrection then running away and leaving us to handle it.”

  “I don’t think that’s the best approach,” Nyalla warned, holding tight to her seat. “And can you slow down a bit? I know we’re in a bit of a hurry, but I’m not used to going very fast in cars.”

  Up until a few months ago, she’d never even seen a car. Ben obliged by dropping their speed a few notches, although his knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. Nyalla worried that if he attacked or threatened the necromancer, they’d never get any help from him. Of course, given that the guy had run away from the gravesite, he might be unwilling to help without threats.

  Within twenty minutes, they pulled up to the house in Walkersville, but Tadax didn’t seem to be home. Ben paced in front of the house, peering in windows while Nyalla texted Wyatt back to see if he knew where Richard Young worked.

  “I think we should get in the car and park down the road a bit to wait,” Tamika counseled. “I mean, if I were Tadax and I came hom
e to find a bunch of people waiting for me, especially one I just screwed over big–time, I’d burn rubber outa here.”

  Ben halted and grudgingly accepted her suggestion. It wasn’t pleasant, huddled in the car together with Ben becoming increasingly agitated by the moment, but luckily they were rewarded by the sight of a red Mini Cooper coming down the road.

  “Stay here.” Nyalla put a hand on Ben’s arm. “Let Tamika and I try to approach him first. If he won’t cooperate, then you can come in and punch him.”

  Ben ground his teeth, but agreed, glaring down at the dashboard. The two women got out of the car and approached as the Mini pulled into the driveway. Tadax appeared to be in his mid–twenties with a mop of jet–black hair and a short, neatly trimmed beard. Intricate tattoos covered the sections of him arms that were visible beneath his short–sleeved shirt, and as he turned to face them, Nyalla saw that he also had a series of tattoos across his neck.

  “I got this,” Tamika told Nyalla as she stared in amazement at the man’s colorful skin. How pretty to have your body as a canvas for art. Did they wash off, or were they the permanent kind of tattoos? Nyalla was thankful Tamika was taking the lead as she’d temporarily lost her train of thought, admiring the pictures decorating the man’s arms and neck.

  “Hey. You Tadax? Cinder gave me your name and told me you might be able to help us with something.”

  His gaze had been appreciative the moment he’d caught sight of Tamika, taking in the green and blue spiked streaks in her hair then traveling down over her snug tank top and jean shorts. The moment he heard the name “Cinder”, his eyes darted to Tamika’s face in surprise. A slow grin spread across his face, and his expression changed to one of eager excitement.

  “Cinder? Wow, you’re one of Cider’s friends? Darn right I can help you.” His chest puffed out with the statement. “Let me just grab some stuff out of my car, and you both can come in.”

  Tadax walked around the back of the tiny red vehicle and popped the trunk, half disappearing inside it as he began to yank out plastic grocery–store bags. Tamika turned to Nyalla and rolled her eyes. “Thought I recognized her ink work. Only drawback is that she has a habit of blowing her customers. He’s obviously assuming we’re going to do the same.”

  “Aren’t we?” Nyalla asked, frowning over at the man still pulling bags from the trunk of the car. She wasn’t sure what ‘blowing’ was. Did it have something to do with the artwork on the man’s arms?

  Tamika snorted. “Well under normal circumstances I might. I know this guy is a total douche though, so no way his dick is getting anywhere near my mouth.”

  Ohhhh. Nyalla felt her face redden as she tried to appear casual and indifferent. All those television channels on human sexual activity had been very educational. Now that she thought about it, she had heard several of them talking about blowing; she just hadn’t put the name and the activity together at the time.

  Tadax emerged from the trunk, both hands full of groceries as he closed the lid with his elbow. They followed him to the front door of the two–story townhouse. Nyalla glanced back as he struggled with the keys, giving Ben the thumbs up. Hopefully his patience would hold out, and hopefully Tamika could convince Tadax to help them with the ghoul. Perhaps he’d do it if one of them gave him a blow–job. Nyalla wrinkled her nose at the thought. She hoped if that was necessary, Tamika would do it. In spite of his decorative arms, Nyalla didn’t find the necromancer particularly appealing. Besides, she’d never down this “blowing” activity and was very worried she’d get it wrong. The television programs she’d watched hadn’t included any instructional narration.

  They stood in the front room of the house and watched Tadax put his plastic bags on the counter. His furnishings were rather sparse — a couch, and two mismatched chairs. A few wooden stools sat next to a bar that divided the kitchen from the main room. A narrow stairway along the left wall led upstairs. Behind the kitchen, a sliding glass door led to a yard, the dry grass slightly overgrown. Tadax must have been eager to talk to Tamika, because he left his groceries in the bags, only taking a quick second to stuff a container of milk in the empty fridge.

  “Sit, sit,” he urged, coming around the bar into the main room.

  Nyalla looked down at the sofa, really not wanting to put any part of her person on it. But Tamika had readily plopped down, and she didn’t want to appear rude. She wished she wasn’t wearing shorts the moment she sat. The sofa fabric was hard and crusty, as if someone had been saturating it in liquid over the years and not cleaning it. As someone who spent most of her life cleaning up bodily fluids, Nyalla assumed the worst and held herself rigid, as close to the edge of the cushion as she could without falling off.

  “Now what is this problem I can help you with?” Tadax moved to sit between the two of them, but appeared to lose his confidence at the last moment, and instead perched on the chipped coffee table in front of them. It looked less comfortable than the couch, but Nyalla still wished she could trade places with the necromancer.

  “Well, we’ve got a dead guy up and about, and we need to put him back.”

  Tadax looked momentarily suspicious at Tamika’s words, but the expression quickly fled his face as the woman bent forward, resting her elbows on her knees and giving him a clear view at the breasts nearly spilling out of her tank top.

  “Dead guy? Like ghost? Or zombie? Or do you mean someone who needs a pharmaceutical remedy?”

  “Worse.” Tamika leaned forward. Tadax’s eyes were practically glued to her chest at this point. “Dead and buried guy, that clawed his way out of his grave and is running around hosting a ghoul.”

  That broke the necromancer’s fixation with Tamika’s boobs. His head jerked up, and his whole body stiffened.

  “Ghoul? That’s a bit out of my realm of influence.”

  “Hmmm, not what I heard. I was told you were a necromancer of great skill.” Tamika tried the seductive thing, but Tadax’s self–preservation seemed to trump his libido.

  “I am, but ghouls aren’t my thing.”

  Tamika smiled. “You were highly recommended. I was told you were the best necromancer on the east coast.”

  Flattery didn’t work any better than seduction. “I communicate and animate the dead. I don’t have dealings with beings like demons, ghouls, or vampires. Nope, not one bit.”

  “Well, since you raised this particular ghoul, I’m thinking you know enough to put him back.”

  Tadax stood. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t help you with your problem.”

  Here we go again, Nyalla thought as Tamika stood and pointed a finger at the necromancer’s chest.

  “Ben Mayfield says that you do know what we’re talking about. He paid you to do a resurrection, and you raised a ghoul in its place. Instead of staying and dealing with it while the ghoul was weak, you ran off. Now it’s eating corpses and killing people.”

  “That guy is crazy. Nuts. I told him he had to pay me whether the resurrection worked or not. I did my job, what I was paid for. Whatever came out of that grave is his problem, not mine.”

  Screw this, Nyalla thought as she watched the argument between Tamika and Tadax grow heated. Closing her eyes, she used her gift, linking with the necromancer and exploring his thoughts and emotions.

  Fear. Anger. Murders? The feds are going to get involved now. They’re probably going to trace this all back to me. I’ll have to leave the country. I don’t have enough money to run. What would I do to survive? Curse that Ben Mayfield; he didn’t pay me enough money for this. I should have asked for more.

  Nyalla opened her eyes. “The FBI showed up at Ben’s business today to question him. If we managed to track you down, you better believe they will too. They’re not going to believe some ghoul is doing all this. They’re convinced it’s an occult practitioner gathering the recently deceased and killing people for black magic.”

  Fear flowed from Tadax in waves. His eyes darted toward the door, as if he could someho
w escape the future through the opening.

  “You’ll get the chair for this one, Richard Young.” Nyalla mimicked one of her favorite television shows. She had no idea if the state of Maryland executed people for this kind of thing or not, but it had the desired effect. A bead of sweat rolled down Tadax’s forehead, and his eyes were wide with terror.

  “Now, you can help us get rid of the ghoul, and I’ll give you ten–thousand–dollars cash to help you escape the FBI, or you can refuse to help and take your chances with the justice system.”

  At the mention of money, Tadax’s eyes narrowed with greed. She could see him weighing the odds.

  “Cash,” she added. “You must have some kind of spell somewhere that will send a ghoul back to the grave.”

  Nyalla saw the moment when Tadax decided to go for the money. That calculating look returned to his face, and he looked back and forth at the two girls.

  “You have this kind of money readily available? Cash?”

  Nyalla nodded. There were stacks of money still in Sam’s safe, way more than ten thousand dollars.

  “Thirty thousand.”

  “Done.” Nyalla didn’t hesitate one moment to agree to his terms.

  Tadax narrowed his eyes, nodding to indicate a done deal. “I did have some things researched and ready, just in case the ghoul decided to track me down and come after me,” he admitted grudgingly. “It seems that after five days, the necromancer that woke them is the only one who can reverse it. I figured he might decide to track me down and kill me to ensure that he wasn’t vulnerable to being exorcised.”

  Jerk. Nyalla tried to appear encouraging, while she seethed inside. He’d not only run away when the ghoul was easy to kill, but had deliberately held back when he knew how to get rid of it. He wasn’t just a coward, he was a murderer. The blood of that Findley family, and anyone else that died, was on this man’s hands.

  “Bring everything tonight at ten o’clock, and we’ll have the cash for you then. Where are we supposed to do this thing? Is there any equipment or prep work we need to do ahead of time?” Tamika was back to all business, ticking questions off on her fingers as she spoke.