Necromance

by Armand Rosamilia

  "What's your deal?" I asked, but kept her down on the floor.

  I heard a knock on the door and the voice of the waitress. "Is everything alright, Miss Daulton?"

  When I twisted her arm and put the silver stake near her shoulder, she grimaced. "Everything is perfect, Marybeth. I'm just catching up with an old friend. Make sure your side work is done."

  Comfortable the waitress was gone, I pulled the Doppelgänger back onto the desk but stayed behind her with a grip on her arm. I wouldn't kill her by yanking her arm off but it would still hurt like a bitch, especially if I shoved the silver stake between her shoulder blades. "Tell me everything. Start with why you attacked me."

  "I thought you'd recognized me yesterday and come back to destroy me."

  "Yesterday? I wasn't anywhere near this diner yesterday."

  'Don't mess with me. You were with the old man with the dyed red hair and the weird moustache. You were dressed differently, though." The Doppelgänger looked back over her shoulder at me and frowned. "Your hair was shorter, too. I'm confused."

  I wasn't. I knew exactly who she'd seen. My twin sister, Krysti… and my father, who I'd sworn I'd kill if I ever saw again.

  * * * * *

  Not every supernatural creature needs to be put down. Besides, I wasn't born to kill everything I came across. Some places you couldn't walk six feet without running into some sort of demon or monster, anyway. I was only supposed to take care of the ones The Itch sent me to find, and no more. Yes, sometimes a Fiend or a Vamp got in my business and I didn't regret killing them, but I didn't go after them without a reason. I was too busy for shit like that.

  I let her live her life, such as it was, because she'd been the manager of a diner in Jacksonville, Florida for months, and it seemed like she was actually happy living the life she'd slid into. I guess she just wanted to feel like a part of something and to feel like she belonged. I didn't really get it but I couldn't judge her harshly. Sometimes I wished I had a normal life; although, I'd get bored quickly. I'm just wired to travel, live day to day, and kill things, I guess.

  Bubba was sitting in his pickup truck when I went outside to the parking lot.

  I waved at him and walked to my Charger, which was parked next to him.

  "I don’t want these," Bubba said and held the three pie boxes in his hands.

  "Why not? They look delicious."

  He was shaking his head. "I don't know what you did but I can't accept them from you. Here, take them back."

  I put up my hands and smiled. "I got them for you. Besides, I didn’t do anything illegal or wrong. It turns out I know the manager. She was family on my mother's side, a distant cousin. She's actually been in contact with my sister. She took care of our bill and supplied the pies for you and your family because I told her how you had saved me with the gas. Go, Bubba, and have a slice of pie with your future bride."

  "Thanks and good luck. It was quite an adventure meeting you, ma'am."

  "Bubba, I'm glad we met."

  * * * * *

  Downtown Jacksonville was quite the happening place. I had to park a few blocks from the center of the city and walk, admiring all the street vendors and artists set up on the sidewalks and in the park across from the library.

  "Is this all the time?" I asked a vendor selling hot dogs, which I really wanted but had no money.

  "Every first Wednesday. Welcome to Jacksonville Art Walk, pretty lady."

  I thanked him and wandered off, enjoying the weather and the crowds. Mixed in with couples and kids were post-punks in Misfits shirts (the girl I saw wearing it wasn't even a thought by the time the band broke up in the early 80's) and sporting Mohawks and a plethora of dyed orange and pink hair. Boys and girls.

  At the next corner was an old church, with some artists and their wares before it. I took a look at some of the work, and wished again I had some cash on me.

  I walked past the church and was admiring a table filled with handmade silver jewelry when my feet began to throb. I looked down at the cobblestone sidewalk and my head swam.

  I casually bent down and touched the brick and the spark I felt was electric, running up and down my arm and spine.

  "Holy shit," I mumbled. I'd found what I was looking for, and it was right underneath my feet. It was also really fucking big and really bad ass, whatever it was.

  "Is there a way into the church?" I asked a man standing nearby but he just shrugged.

  "I doubt it. I don't think it's actually open to the public anymore. I think the city owns it or something."

  I went to the next building and started to go inside an open door but there were dozens of artists and customers milling about, while a large man played a bongo in the corner. Just past this scene there was another open door, with two men and a mousy woman selling books. I slipped around them, ignoring the gawking from the two men, and entered into the lobby of an old building.

  "The elevators are closed," one of the men said, probably the fat, bald one I'd give a heart attack to if I got naked. Of course, I didn't pay attention to him.

  The stairwell door was closed, and you needed a swipe card to enter from this side. I looked around but there was nowhere to go. I could feel my mark directly underneath me now, and the power it emanated was frightening.

  Two women walked into the lobby and the man called out his dire warning to them as well. They looked right through me as they got to the elevator and it opened as if by magic.

  I got in the elevator with them but at first nothing happened. The doors didn't close. I pushed the buttons, while the two women were fine just staring at attention like zombies. A young man, no older than twenty, appeared and got in, standing between the two women. The bell chimed and the doors started to close.

  As if Pavlov had rung the bell, the women attacked the man, raking their nails on his face, while kicking and punching at him.

  I tried to pry them off of the poor guy and saw he wasn't even fighting back, just taking it without blocking the attack.

  Something crazy was going on.

  The elevator went down to the sub-basement, which I had figured it would. Whatever was down here would be ready for this trio and me as a stowaway.

  When the bell rang and the doors began to open, the three stopped fighting, held hands and headed quickly to their left.

  I followed at a safe distance, and I was glad I did.

  The room was large, with dull overhead lights running its length in two long strips. In the center of the room squatted an amorphous blob, greens and reds and blues mixing and changing as you looked at the glistening skin.

  A Breeder.

  I'd never encountered one in person, and I was frightened. They were massive, used their mind powers to control humans around them, and they lived to breed. Hence the name.

  They drew in females, using their powers to control males and corrupt them. I'd heard tales of one Breeder commanding over fifty males, all ready to knock up as many females as they could. No one could really tell why they did it, though. Babies were born normal, and unless you knew what a Breeder was, you would have no clue what they were up to. The only really evil thing they did was eat the males when they were of no more use to the creatures.

  Whatever the case, I knew this was the basis of The Itch, and I knew if I didn't eliminate this pulsing mass of sickness I'd be stuck in Jacksonville until I did. As much as I was enjoying the city, I didn't relish the thought of hanging around and watching people breed.

  And they were breeding. There were just three males but they had twice as many females, and all of the women were currently naked, and in a line. The males were getting behind them, mounting them in order as they copulated. It was anything but sexy.

  I wondered how many more would be summoned to do this tonight. Above, on the sidewalk, perhaps hundreds of potential victims awaited. They would come down here to the sub-basement in pairs or alone and get in line for the sex train happening.

  The thing was so busy enjoying the show wit
h its six iridescent eyes it didn't seem to notice me. I needed to get as close to it as I could and destroy it before it became aware of my presence.

  Sliding to the far side of the room, I still had a view of it and the people doing the nasty. All three men seemed to finish at the same time, falling onto the backs of the women they were with. The doors to the elevator opened and two more men entered, stripping their clothes off as they walked. I wondered how long this had been going on tonight, and how long in general. Maybe a dozen women got pregnant each month? Or was this each night, regardless of what was happening above?

  It didn’t really matter, because I was going to kill this big hot mess right now. I drew my silver stake and aimed at what I thought was the head.

  I threw the stake and watched it sink into the flesh and disappear with no discernible marks or blood leaking from a wound. Shit, I didn't even see a wound.

  But now it was pissed. I felt the vibration and saw the men in the room stop having sex and rush me. I ran around the blob, which was at least thirty square feet round and touched the ceiling above at its highest peak. I didn't want to go near it, if I could help it.

  A naked dude (who looked really nice naked, I gotta admit) tried to grab me but I clocked him in the face and figured, from the way he fell, I had broken his jaw. As they came at me, I easily fought them off, kicking a couple in the balls and watching them go down silently. If the spell of this Breeder was broken, these dudes would have some serious ball problems.

  The women were still on all fours and silent. I ran to the group and gripped one by the arm. I was going to save at least one of them and come back when I had a better idea what I needed to do to defeat it.

  She offered no resistance as I lifted her onto her feet.

  One of the men punched me in the back and I turned, inadvertently swinging the woman as I did. As soon as she moved closer to the Breeder, it shrieked.

  The men were frozen for a second and I was going to use the break to escape, but I was now more curious. I pushed the woman closer to the creature and it let out an audible yelp.

  Now I smiled, hooking another woman by the arm and dragging the two over to the monster, which tried unsuccessfully to recoil from them. When the first woman touched it, the Breeder's skin began to smoke and melt. The woman's hand was unaffected. I noticed the men were now covering their faces and falling to the cement floor. The women were beginning to raise, confusion on their faces. I gripped them and pushed them at the creature, which had nowhere to run.

  Within minutes, the Breeder was destroyed, a mass of what looked like wet snot running into the drainage system.

  Before the men and women could recover fully and ask me too many questions, I hopped onto the elevator and was glad to see the doors close.

  I decided to stay in Jacksonville and enjoy myself, while I could.

  Necromance 4: Downtown

  I watched the security guy flirting with two bleach blonde bimbos, and waited for the right moment to walk past him. I didn't want to have to do any favors to get inside the club, and hoped the desperate whores were doing a decent enough job to get me ignored so I could get inside.

  When I went inside, the music was blasting, the opening band already on the stage. I blended into the crowd, moving randomly and looking for my mark. He or she was here, inside this tiny hot club in downtown Jacksonville, Florida, and I needed to find and eliminate it before someone else died.

  The shame of this was the band wasn't half-bad. Sure, the singer was trying too hard to be Metal but he sounded more Slipknot than Judas Priest, which was a shame. The guitarist was pretty damn good, though. This dude listened to his Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden albums growing up.

  More than a few guys were checking me out as I moved, my long red hair streaming over my shoulders and strategically covering the tops of my ample breasts. Wearing a cut-up Morbid Angel concert shirt, tight leather pants and my high black boots, I knew I was hot. I ignored them and, with a smile on my face, decided, if I could get rid of the mark early enough, I could actually enjoy a night out.

  "Hi, can I buy you a drink?" a handsome man, with his hair pulled into a ponytail, asked me, stepping in my way.

  I hated cheesy lines, and wasn't in the mood just yet. Again, if I finished what I'd actually come here to do, I'd have no problem flirting with this guy, letting him buy me some drinks, and then going home with someone else.

  "Maybe later, if you're lucky," I said and pushed right past him. He wasn't who I was looking for. And he wasn't my first choice to spend the latter part of the night with. I needed to be smart about that, too. I was broke. Flat out poor right now. No gas for the Charger, I hadn't eaten in almost two days, and I'd spent the night in the backseat of my car. A trade of sex for a hot shower and a warm meal wouldn't be too bad.

  The band ended their set just as I got to the front of the stage. None of the band members were the mark, and, despite the guitarist being really cute, I knew he didn't have any money. You could spend all day with the cliché of dating a musician, but they were mostly true: this guy lived on someone's couch (probably his mom's) and slept all day, only waking to smoke a cigarette or something stronger, eat cereal and play Call Of Duty until band practice in the singer's mom's garage.

  The guitarist caught me staring and casually made his way to the front of the stage, bending down to retrieve his pedal-board. Without looking at me, he began to speak, "You want to hang out? Come backstage?"

  "Sure, why not?"

  Instead of pulling me up onto the stage, he glanced to his right. "I'll tell the guy you are cool to come back with me. See you in a second."

  I looked around before going to the door, trying to figure out which of these bimbos was his girlfriend. Because the way he was acting meant he had a steady chick, which he probably lived with, and she paid all his bills. The combination of stripper and musician was usually a common combination.

  I found her, off to the other side of the stage, watching his every move. She was definitely a stripper; although, she was too skinny for my taste. She had a nice set of tits, though. About the size of mine. I'm not being catty, but mine are real. She had spent way too much money on them, and got it back one folded dollar bill at a time.

  OK, I was being a bit catty. Fuck it.

  By the time I got to the door, the security guy standing there let me right in, and I walked backstage into a nightmare. My mark was there, along with his four band mates. They were all Fiends, and I was in trouble when they turned and knew who I was.

  * * * * *

  The headlining band was called something stupid, Eviscerating Bambi or some such shit. It didn't matter right now. What mattered was the fact five Fiends were smiling at me and licking their chops, ready to pounce.

  "You guys know any Slayer songs?" I asked them, trying not to show my fear and stall for as long as I could.

  The question threw them for a loop. Which was a good thing.

  The bassist (I knew he was because he was hanging onto his bass) began strumming a song, which I thought was "Angel of Death." When the rest of them smiled at him, I casually moved to the far corner of the room, where the cute guitar player was.

  "You want to get out of here?" I asked him quietly.

  "Um, I can't right now… I need to show support for the headliner, and… um…"

  "Look, we can sneak out the back. Your girlfriend won't even know you're gone."

  His eyes lit up when I mentioned her. I was definitely on the mark with Skinny Big Tits out there.

  "I just gotta tell the boys I'm leaving," he said and started to move toward the group, which included the Fiends.

  I grabbed his crotch and squeezed. "It's either we get out of here right now, or I find someone else. Maybe even the drummer."

  I knew he'd respond to that. No singer or guitarist likes losing a chick to the drummer. The only thing worse? The bass player. You can tell me I'm wrong or cite stupid examples, but you know in your heart I'm fucking right.

&n
bsp; He ran down the hallway, me in tow, and we found an exit which led to a back alley. In seconds, we were on the street.

  "You got a car?" he asked.

  "Yeah. Do you?"

  "Um, not really. My girl… a friend drove me over tonight."

  I pointed at my red Charger sitting across the street. "I'm right here."

  "Where do you want to go?"

  "The backseat of my car," I said with a smile. I didn't want to leave the area for a few reasons: I needed to keep the Fiends in my sight and knew they would be getting ready to go onstage in a few minutes, and I didn't have enough gas to cruise around or money to get a room somewhere. I needed to be on this street when the shit went down, and tonight it was definitely going to explode.

  "Give me a second," I said to him as I opened the back door. I had all my shit strewn about the back of the car, from where I was sleeping, and needed to clean up. I reached in, grabbed handfuls of my clothes and bags and tossed them into the front seats. I'd clean up later.

  He was looking around as he waited, staring at the alley and the front of the club. If his girlfriend came out looking for him, he'd be dead. I didn't care about him but I didn't want a scene or the drama. His eyes focused on me when I bent into the car, making sure my jeans were down a bit, exposing the tip of my thong.

  Now the dude was focused only on me. I slid into the backseat and to the other side and patted the seat for him. He didn't need to be asked twice.

  "Lock the door," I whispered into his ear. "We don't want to be disturbed."

  As he did as he was told, I expertly unzipped his fly and yanked his pants down to his ankles. Even in the poor lighting (I had made sure to park in shadows and not under a streetlight), I could see he was ready to go.

  "Take off your pants," he said.

  "How about I just mess with you first?"