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He runs his tongue along his lower lip, pretending to actually consider it. Finally he nods. “I’ll do it,” he says.

I gesture to the body. “Then have at it.”

George stands, his attention moving to the corpse. One moment he’s a junkie, the next, a professional. He circles Hugh Anders, tilting his head as he inspects the dead man.

“Sleek looking asshole,” he comments. “What’d he do to get offed?”

I ignore George’s question.

When he realizes I’m not going to answer him, he raises his palms. “Alright, man, no questions.” He returns to the task at hand. “Beer?” he offers.

I glower at him. He and I both know he’s trying my patience.

He shakes his head. “Just trying to be polite.”

George lowers himself to his knees, grabbing one of Hugh’s arms. “Still warm,” he says to himself. He bends the appendage. “And rigor mortis hasn’t set in—this is a fresh one. That makes this easy.”

He stands, turning off his T.V. and the game I interrupted. He then heads over to his entertainment system, opening a cupboard situated next to the T.V. From it he pulls out little baggies of various herbs, several candles, and a packet of matches. Setting the candles on the floor around the coffee table, he lights them one by one.

After he does so, he flips off the living room lights and heads to his bedroom, returning with a hairy spider cupped in his palm.

I fold my arms and lean against the wall, idly watching the necromancer, my blood simmering. What happened to her … it had been going on for years. My mate had been victimized, and I had no fucking idea. I work my jaw, letting my anger turn cold and hard.

Still holding the spider captive, George begins to sprinkle the herbs around the body, reciting an incantation as he does so. Finally, he takes the spider he holds and, pulling out a pocket knife, slices the creature open.

Normally necromancers need a bigger blood supply, but since Hugh Anders is freshly dead, it only takes a spark of magic to call his spirit back to his body, hence the sacrificial spider.

A moment later, I feel the heat of George’s magic rush through the room as he converts the creature’s blood into power. The candles around George flicker. Then, all at once, they snuff out.

In the darkness I hear a gasp, then the sounds of heavy breathing.

George’s voice rings through the room. “According to the bylaws of the Seven Necromantic Accords, it is my duty to inform you that—”

I flick my hand, muting the necromancer’s voice. George clutches his throat, glaring at me.

I stride towards Hugh, my boots clinking against the floor. “You don’t know who I am,” I say, stepping up to the man. “And you don’t know where you are, only that it’s not hell.” I crouch in front of him. He can’t see me in the darkness. “Unfortunately for you, by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to return you there.”

I cock my arm back and sock the seer in the face. His head snaps back, out cold.

George stumbles away in shock, making a raspy sound that is his version of a shout. For a man who kills bugs and little rodents for a living, he sure doesn’t have an appetite for violence.

I haul the previously dead seer over my shoulder.

What are you doing?George mouths. I’ve brought him many bodies in the past, but almost always they were people someone else paid me to revive. The necromancer has never seen me go rogue.

I jerk my head, and ten bags of pixie dust manifest out of thin air, each falling onto George’s coffee table. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

And then Hugh and I are gone.

May, 8 years ago

In the worldof monsters, there is still a divide between good and evil. Even the most depraved of us have a code of ethics, a rulebook that allows us to survive. The man in my arms might as well have torched that rulebook.

The rules are simple: you fuck with innocents, you get blacklisted.

The thought of what he did to my mate … I’m tempted to crush his body inward and pulverize his bones. I hold myself back.

I have something better in store for him.