Page 5 of Resurrection

The strangest part was that it felt like the golem wasn’t an empty vessel filled with intent, but rather powered with actual souls. That wasn’t possible though, was it?

His magic filling the room meant the ropes tightened as though they were going to sever him into pieces. He dropped the phone as his arm went numb, but he kept his power flowing, even while his sight completely blacked out.

The human form was so fragile sometimes. Even his.

He sank into the spells. It was a complicated weave not all that unlike a spider web as he’d thought earlier. Layers of spun design, rolling one on top of another. This wasn’t a newbie’s experiment. Nor was it some frat boy’s wet dream of getting out of schoolwork. A practitioner had cast this mess. Not a mess so much as art.

And Sei memorized it as such. Locking it away, not just inside of his memory, as he’d spent years mastering his vault of internal knowledge, but also within the golem. He tied the creature to himself, taking over the bond to its previous master, and wrapping it in his magic to have a firm grip on the golem’s power. With the shifting of the bond, the spell released, wards shattering like a glass window pane, and he hit the floor hard.

Okay, hard enough to knock him out for a minute or two, but not more than that. He groaned and tried to drag himself off the floor. His chest hurt from the compression. Since it wasn’t the first time he’d had that feeling, he knew he likely had a couple broken or cracked ribs. By nightfall he’d be covered in bruises, stiff, and hopelessly sore. His phone, however, was going to need to be replaced.

He glared at the protective coating, just as shattered as the screen itself, and the dark screen underneath. “So much for gorilla glass, eh?” Sei said, growling at the phone that was supposed to be unbreakable. “Fuck, Jamie is going to be pissed.”

At least the rope ward was broken. He was not a fan. Whoever created that mess really needed to be tied up in it for a lesson in what not to do with wards.

Sei turned to look at the golem who was sitting up on the bed now, looking at him with eyes that were far too alive to be that of the creature. It no longer looked like sticks, but a person, young and male. Sei hoped it wasn’t the visage of one of the ones who died to create it.

“Forest,” Sei called it by the name it had been given. Once they got back to the office, he would have it show him whose blood had been spilled to create it. Were their souls trapped inside? Was that what he was sensing? The underlying awareness of a soul?

Necromancy hadn’t been an area he studied much. Most of the magic was hidden from the Dominion as it seemed to appear more in men than in women, and the women still controlled the Dominion. Though spells could be universal, the power wasn’t. Maybe whoever cast this spell hadn’t been a necromancer, which was why it had started to unravel? Sei only knew of one person to ask.

Which meant another call to Sam. The undead dealt with the dead. “Come with me,” Sei instructed the golem. He gathered up the magic items he could find, the rope, a handful of basic books and spell supplies, but found nothing of real significance. If the casters had been living in this room, they kept their good stuff elsewhere. Though he suspected these frat boys had been given this golem. Perhaps they’d bought it? Or it had another means to an end? Since it was bound to Sei now, that meant he could ask a lot of questions. He prayed he could find the creator before they brought another to life.

Chapter 3

The box stopped and Gabe had no idea how long he’d been moving. Only that when the lid opened, the lights were too bright, and he smelled blood everywhere. The need to eat tore at his sanity, demanding he break free and devour them all. He was so ravenous he couldn’t think straight, his mind focused on the pulsing heartbeats, following each rhythm to place exactly how close or far they were from him.

He growled, lurching for the first who loomed over him, not caring if it fed him or not, only that he was free and could ease the sharp ache in his stomach.

Someone grabbed him. Strong arms clamping down, unyielding, even while blood filled his mouth. He groaned, the flavor bitter and hot as lava going down his throat. This blood was not as strong as the first cup given to him by Sam, but it filled him just the same. Spreading out, bringing life to every vein and cell, he sucked down the hot fluid until the one holding him commanded him to let go.

It took real effort to release that first vein. Even while Gabe gagged on the aftertaste. The lingering hint of… dog?

“It is an acquired taste,” the one holding him said. “Now drink from me to regain control.” The blood he got this time was dead blood, and Gabe tried to spit it out. But he was held down, and the slimy coldness of it forced down his throat, replaced seconds later with warm fluid life which he gulped at until he thought he’d burst.

The cold blood seemed to circulate slowly, with an almost binding edge, taking a grip on the dark hunger inside him, and shoving it back. It wasn’t pleasant, but it didn’t really hurt. The heat of the other blood soothed the chill, coating over the bonded layer, filling him with warmth and life, and easing his hunger. It was a strange combination of hot and cold, fire and control, chaos and peace.

Finally, he lay exhausted, so full he couldn’t move without contemplating throwing up, but warming as the blood worked its way through him. The aches began to ease, giving rise to a tingling sensation that almost hurt. More as though his limbs were actually awakening for the first time. The cold bond relaxed him, soothing some of the rising panic that had nearly taken him over, and making him sleepy.

“At least he doesn’t look dead anymore,” Sam said from somewhere to Gabe’s left. “Maybe I’m getting old, but he doesn’t look like he used to?”

“You don’t age, baby,” someone told Sam.

Gabe looked over to find Sam curled up on the couch with a pretty young man. Both looked barely legal, and gave him a mess of broken memories if he thought too hard about them. He blinked to ease some of the strain of memories.

“You don’t either,” Sam said.

“I do. Just not very fast.”

Sam stared at Gabe. “He’s still thin. Does he need more blood?”

“Time and his Focus will help,” a voice said from behind him. That one still held him, the bond tying them together slowly weaving stronger, but not overwhelming. He wasn’t sure he liked the feeling of being tied to another like this. It was restraining in a lot of ways, though it kept the dark lingering presence of his revenant quiet.

He flexed a little. Not physically, but with something that felt more intangible. Magic? The bond strained. Gabe felt like he could break it if he worked at it. But the man clamped a hand around his throat and whispered, “Leave that be or I’ll have to put you back in the ground.”

The hand cut off Gabe’s air, and he knew deep down that he didn’t really need to breathe, but that didn’t stop his brain from freaking out. Gabe let go of the magic and stopped pushing at the bond.

“There you go,” the man said. “You’re not in control enough to function on your own. Once I’m assured of your sanity, we’ll discuss removing it. You don’t want to let the beast free to slaughter everyone, do you?”