It could be successfully argued that no one in the city-state of Nash, and perhaps the entirety of Appalachia, knew more about Necromancy than Professor Ian Barroes, or Master Barroes, as was his title as the head of Nash City Necromancer’s Guild. He came from a long family line of necromancers who believed strongly in recording and passing down their history and knowledge.
He had been actively practicing since he was three years old. His mother had seen the rare strength of his power, even at a young age, and had told his father. From that moment on, Ian had been put through rigorous tests to confirm his power, and he had been thrown into the family business by his sixth birthday.
Having a rich family opened many doors to him, including the closed doors of the City-State Private Archives and Library. As a boy, he spent many hours there and in his family’s extensive private library, hiding from his father, and learning and reading everything related to Necromancy and other forms of magic he could get his hands on. When he was old enough, the family money enabled him to enter the Academy of Magic and Science. He was among the first civilians to be accepted into the college. Up until then, only City Guard and Black Blade Cadets had been formally educated in history, science, and magic. Still today, only cadets and students that entered into a service contract with one of the local guilds received free education, and few families could afford the tuition.
The mages who had measured his power upon entry to the college had been amazed. Even today, anyone who knew anything about Necromancy would argue that Ian was the most powerful necromancer they had ever encountered. And even they had no idea of the true scope of his powers.
Unfortunately, his skills were not helping him now, which is why he was confused. Confusion was not something he had ever dealt with before, and he didn’t like it.
Ian was a man of practicality. He didn’t consider it conceited to know one’s own power and abilities. It was how one knew their limits. In the past, he had never reached a limit in regards to Necromancy that he couldn’t push past. His experiences had been vast, and he’d learned from each one. Yet, never, in his entire life, had he ever seen anything such as this. He wracked his brain, but nothing he had ever read or seen came even close. He could find no practical explanation. But he knew that was wrong. There was a practical explanation for everything.
Facts. He had to start with the known facts. He stared at the body, trying to piece together what he knew.
The Blade had said the body was less than twenty-four-hours old. But that couldn’t be. The body was dry and shriveled, as if it had been dead for months, or even years. Yet there was no decomposition, no rotting flesh to support that theory. But the most intriguing and perplexing complication was the lack of energy around the body.
Every living thing was made of energy. Even objects most would say were not living, like rocks, vibrated with energy. That energy didn’t die or cease to exist. In living beings, specifically humans, the energy that made up their essence stayed strong even after the body died. It could stay connected to the body for up to a year. After that, it began to lesson and float free as what most people called ghosts. Eventually, that energy would be absorbed back into the energy of other living beings, but it took centuries for that to happen.
Necromancers had the ability to see and communicate with that energy. The longer the body had been dead, the more powerful a necromancer had to be to communicate with the energy. Any untrained mage with level-one necromantic powers would be able to communicate with a twenty-four-hour dead spirit.
Ian’s power level was the highest ever recorded for a necromancer. He could communicate with spirits whose bodies had died several centuries before. He opened his senses and let his power flow full force. About a dozen translucent images of varying strengths appeared around him. Spirits that were strong enough, and wished to, usually took the form of the body they had inhabited. Newly dead spirits who still clung to their physical form always appeared as a ghostly form of their living body. The morgue was filled with the energy of spirits still attached to bodies and a few unattached, weaker spirits. But none of them belonged to this body. Not even any of the older spirits here had once belonged to this body. The problem was that there was no energy surrounding this body, no spirit to be called.
Ian pulled in his power and closed his senses until every spirit had vanished from his sight. This was useless and getting him nowhere.
“Miss…”
“Agent. You may call me Agent Moon or Fiona, no Miss,” she answered curtly.
“Yes, yes,” Ian said absently. He knew she hated being called “Miss,” and he loved irritating her. The barb had been automatic, but while he loved the way her eyes flashed when she was annoyed and usually enjoyed making them do so, he had no time to deal with Miss Cranky Pants right now. “Fiona. You are certain this is the body involved in the attack?”
She bristled. “As certain as I can be. I wasn’t at the scene, and I got here at the same time as you.”
“You there, Sonny.” He called his attention to the morgue attendant who was standing on the other side of the room, pretending not to be paying attention to them. When the young man walked over to them, Ian asked, “You are certain this is the body that was brought in last night? The one that attacked a young girl?”
The Morgue necromancer stammered, “Yes, sir. I’m sure. It is the only body that has been brought in this week.”
Before Ian could ask him another question, Fiona broke in.
“This is the damned body. What is this? Just call the spirit or whatever it is you do, ask him why he attacked the girl, and then tell me so I can go. I’ve got things to do.”
“Miss…” He stopped himself at her sharp look. He’d purposefully intended to bait her, but thought better of it. She looked as if she would throw him through the nearest window if he finished that phrase.
“Fiona,” he corrected. He carefully measured his tone as he explained, “As you can see, this body does not look as if it was alive just last night. Furthermore, I cannot speak to the spirit attached to this body because there is not one.”
“Maybe you just aren’t strong enough.”
He forced himself to stay calm. “I can assure you, I am. If the spirit associated with this body were within a hundred miles of here and less than a thousand years old, I could call it here.”
The look on her face told him the seriousness of the situation was starting to dawn on her.
“You are telling me there is no way this body attacked a girl last night?”
“No. I am telling you I cannot contact energy connected with this body. Without further evidence, I can’t make any conclusions. I need to speak with the girl.”
She turned to Sonny. “What did you find when you examined the body?”
Sonny looked nervously from Ian to Fiona and back to Ian. She had put the man in a difficult position. Technically, he didn’t work for Ian, and as an official city employee, he did not rely on getting work from the Guild. However, most necromancers wouldn’t like to be asked to contradict the head of the Guild. He was the founder and leader for a reason, after all. However, as a Blade, Fiona would be considered as the ranking official in this circumstance and refusing to answer would make her cranky. Waiting until her head was turned away from him, Ian gave a slight, nearly imperceptible nod for the man to answer.
Sonny took a deep breath. “It is exactly as Master Barroes said.”
The man didn’t seem to notice Fiona’s eye roll when he’d used the formal title, but Ian did. Though the “Master” moniker could be used for any mage with Master-level powers, it was reserved for Ian within the Guild. He had never insisted on its use, didn’t really like it for that matter, but to point that out would be to hurt the feelings of those who used it not as a sign of supremacy, but as a sign of respect.
Sonny made his way over to stand next to the body. “This body was brought in late last night. I knew something was wrong the moment I looked at it. It certainly does not l
ook like a fresh, hours-dead body. It doesn’t have any decomposition either. Except for being dry and brittle, it is completely intact. So, I began trying to contact the spirit of the man the body belonged to. But, like Master Barroes said, there is no spirit.”
Fiona’s frown deepened. “No spirit at all? Is that even possible?”
The morgue attendant looked Fiona straight in the eye. “Agent Moon, a few hours ago, I would have told you it was not possible. That is why I called Agent Sam and asked for Master Barroes. I have been training as necromancer since I was sixteen years old. My powers are moderate, but I have a good understanding of Necromancy. I’ve been working at this job for ten years. I have never seen a body completely void of energy, and I didn’t think it was possible. I hoped maybe it was just a very weak spirit that only a Master could contact.
“Unfortunately, Sonny, I haven’t seen anything quite like this either. I would like to talk to the girl about what she saw. Maybe that can help us get to the bottom of this.” Ian glared pointedly at Fiona.
Wordlessly, Fiona turned away, pulling out a porta-scry as she walked into the next room. He could hear muffled voices as she spoke to someone, and then silence. She stepped back to the doorway.
“Let’s go,” she snapped. Turning, she began to walk briskly through the building. “I have the address to where the girl works.”
Ian watched the swing of Fiona’s hips as she walked with a purposeful stride out the door and to the edge of the street to flag down a rickshaw.
“Fiona,” he called to her as he started down the street in the opposite direction. “Would you like a ride?” Stalking towards him wordlessly, she eyed the white stretch surrey with undisguised disdain. She brushed his hand aside when he offered to help her up into the carriage.
The leather pants tightened across the lovely curve of her ass quite nicely as she grasped the sides and hefted herself up onto the back seat. Ian couldn’t help but smile as he vaulted up alongside her.
She called the address out to the driver with a curl of her lip.
“I take it you dislike my surrey?” Ian asked.
“I think it is not an appropriate vehicle to be driving around on Blade business. I never took you for such a show off, Barroes.”
“Tut, tut. If I must call you Fiona, you are going to have to learn my first name too.” Ian chuckled.
Fiona huffed and crossed her arms across her chest. Ian laughed again. He saw no need to tell her he’d brought the surrey in to work today because he was lending it and the driver to a colleague who was attending a ball with his lady this evening, with the intention to propose afterward.
She probably wouldn’t believe him anyway. Fiona Moon had taken an immediate and complete dislike of him the moment they had met. It didn’t seem there was anything he could do to disabuse her of the poor view she had of him. It was too bad because he was determined to have her, willing and wanting, in his bed.
The thought of Fiona, her dark hair spread across his pillow, her pale skin flushed with need, sent heat shooting through him and pooling in the vicinity of his button-fly.
“We’re here.” Fiona’s voice broke him out of his erotic fantasy.