The Vampire Executioner (A necromancer romance novel)

Chapter 2: The hunter

Lucan

“Hey, Lucan, you have a client waiting.”

I looked up from my desk at my partner Dana. We had worked together for almost six years in this firm and there was no one I trusted more.

“Send her the f***k in then you ditsy blonde.” I was only winding her up, we loved tormenting one another, being the weird f.ucks that we were, besides, we could have been siblings we looked so alike.

I had the same dark honey blonde hair, short and tousled, her lips were full and pouty while mine were Cupid bow shaped and full, I had a chiseled face with strong cheekbones and Dana had strong cheekbones too, but our similarities ended there, she was slim and toned and delicate looking while I was muscular and 6,5 next to her 5,5 height. Her eyes were dark blue whereas mine were a piercing ice blue with a ring of violet and flecks of gold.

Dana usually liked taking the p.iss and would say my eyes were an icy blue because of what I was, a necromancer, someone who worked with the cold undead.

She was right in that my eyes were the unusual shade they were because of what I was. She was human and in this day and age there was no need to hide what I was, humans had known for a decade now about supernatural creatures and by far, us necromancers were extremely rare but also extremely popular and sought out by humans.

Humans always found it incredibly difficult letting go of loved ones, and being a necromancer meant I was the only one that could communicate with their loved ones or in cases where messages weren’t enough I could literally raise their loved one to say one final goodbye.

I charged an outrageously high price for raising the dead because I didn’t like doing it, it took a lot of energy and time and ritual and most people I’d come across did it for selfish reasons, usually it was about money, so During our appointments I would try to find out why they wanted so badly to see good old uncle John one last time.

Dana rolled her eyes at my words but went out to tell Mrs Brooke that I was ready for her.

I instantly became cold and guarded, I could tell by one look what Mrs Brooke was here for, money.

She was in her mid-sixties and wore light makeup and a blue top with matching trousers. I watched Mrs Brooke sit down across the desk from me and didn’t flinch when a man appeared behind her.

“I know what you’re here for you cold b.itch,” the man spat at her. She didn’t respond and neither did I, she couldn’t see her husbands spirit whereas I could both see and hear him, but I wasn’t going to start talking to myself in front of my client, it always freaked them out when I did.

Mrs Brooke had a stern look on her face, completely unintimidated by my big frame and the tattoos that covered both my arms, the cold empty look I had perfected over the years didn’t faze her either, I couldn’t help but feel some respect towards her for that.

“Good afternoon Mrs brooke, how can I help you today?”

I’d perfected the cold and empty voice too, usually I spoke in a colder tone when spirits were around, it was a way of letting the spirit know I wouldn’t acknowledge them until I was alone or had explained to their loved one beforehand.

I don’t know if they spoke to one another on the other side, but it seemed overtime they had come to understand this code of mine.

“Well, Mr warlow, I would like to speak with my husband.”

This was when it was safe for me to explain to people that we were not alone, explaining to them beforehand seemed to creep them out less than me starting a conversation with thin air and no warning.

“He is here with us, I can relay any messages you may want from him.”

She shook her head no and angrily answered, “no, he doesn’t get to escape so easily, that coward can look me in the eyes and tell me everything about that night.”

I didn’t know what their issues were, but this one sounded more personal than just money after all, so I offered the fee for raising her deceased husband.

The fee went up by a hundred dollars for each hour. She was outraged like most clients were, even though nine times out of ten the clients I had were more than capable of affording it.

“Excuse me, did you just say it’s one thousand dollars for just two hours?

I shrugged and forced myself to be more professional and explained, “yes, one thousand for two hours, one thousand and one hundred for three hours and so on. I don’t like to make it easy Mrs Brooke, it takes a lot from me preparations aside to do this and not everybody wants a loved one raised for good reasons.”

I left it at that and for her to decide to do with that information what she will.

She sat back against the chair and thought for a moment.

I was already allowing her to go over her appointment time by ten minutes, making my next client have to wait so I spoke up when she still hadn’t said anything.

“Look, Mrs Brooke,” I started, and leaned forward placing my forearms on the desk and giving eye contact. “I can do this for you tomorrow night, I have no other appointments to raise the dead until next week, but if cost is a problem I can still communicate with him for fifty dollars, if you really want him raised, there is another necromancer in the next town and she only charges five hundred dollars.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at that, and she asked, “why is she so much cheaper, and why is this company more popular if she charges half the price?”

Oddly enough, I was starting to like Mrs Brooke and her tough attitude.

“Well, I don’t like sounding arrogant, but my zombies are the best. I raise them looking just how they did when they were alive and their brain fully functioning, other necromancers, or at least the ones I know about, cannot talk to spirits like I can and though they can raise the dead, they tend to look like your typical zombie, rotting or still looking decomposed and in whatever condition they were in before being raised. Depending how long the zombie has been deceased for depends on how much brain function they will have, age doesn’t matter with my zombies, so professionally speaking you’re paying for the quality of the zombie you would like.”

She mulled this information over for all of five seconds before giving a sharp nod and saying, “I want you to do it, I want him looking alive, and I want no confusion on he’s part, I want him completely coherent for our conversation.”

She gave me a check and I gave her the appointment card for tomorrow night at nine o clock. I didn’t have time to relax I’d left my next client waiting for over ten minutes.

Mostly the rest of the day was easy, most clients were happy for me to simply talk to their loved one’s spirit, only two clients wanted me to raise the dead.

Dana was already gone for the day by the time I closed up at seven, so I ordered a takeaway and headed home for the night.

Once I was home I relaxed, my cat Tom was a lifesaver. I don’t know why but cats weren’t just sensitive to the spirits, they also had some aura or some s.hit that repelled spirits.

When I’d been overwhelmed with constant ghostly night visits, Dana had done some research and one day just dumped a ginger cat into my arms and told me to keep him at home. I’d not had a visitation in my home since.