So during the editing process I've come to notice my methods of breaking up paragraphs. Other writers will insert a small picture, or just an empty line. To make it obvious with online postings, I started with the ***, but somehow, somewhere I started putting in *&*. I don't know why. I like it, though. It's different than the typical asterisks or empty space.


*&* ;)

“Oh what the hell?” I almost laughed. It certainly was laughable. “I’m not a witch. Why would you want to bind yourself to me?”

“You’re not a witch,” he agreed. “But you’re a necromage. Witches aren’t able to handle dragons as familiars, something our little friend would have known if she had paid more attention in her classes.” He turned to spare Merula a glower. “We bind to darker magicks. Specifically, we have been known to bind to mediums, voodun priests and the occasional necromancer.”

“So…what does this mean? I’ll be able to raise anything with little effort? I’ll be able to draw more energy or…what?”
He shrugged, sort of. “You’ll be able to do anything and everything with energy. You’ll even be able to do some weird witching. The dead will obey you, wholly. Even those called undead may be subject to your whim, with your power and mine.”

“So what, we’ll rule the world?” I mocked him. I couldn’t help it.

He laughed again. “No, probably not. But we will do many strange and powerful things.”

“Well then. I have no say in this anyway, do I? Or you’ll haunt me like you have been haunting Merula.”

“It is not haunting. I was following her because she was the only one I knew of here. Now that I have found you, I have no further need of her.”

“Don’t dismiss her,” I told him sharply. “After all, she is my witching partner.”

He laughed mockingly, “You have no need for her now, I am sure. But she can do defensive magicks. Perhaps she’ll save your life again just by watching your back,” he finished thoughtfully. “Do we have a deal?”

“Will I bond to you? Yeah, I think so. I don’t think I’ve got anything to lose by it.”

“Very well.” He reached up and pressed his snoot against my thumb—his entire body was enough to fit into my hands when I cupped them. I did, and he crawled up, fitting perfectly into my palms. His teeth settled above my wrist and he nipped it gently.

“What do…I do?”

Merula answered, “Nothing. You’re not a witch, so he does this rite by himself. It’s…nothing that has been done in recent years. If he wants something from you, he’ll have to tell you.”

The dragon didn’t say anything. He just stared up at me as he licked the wound. As it closed before my eyes, I asked, “What is your name?”

His eyes glazed, orange and radiating heat. “I am Foyl.”
“Foyl, huh? I’m Lucifel. Are we done now?” I asked, admiring the sliver of a scar there.

“Yes, we’re done, impatient necromage.” He smiled, rising from my hands to settle on my shoulder. “You run this as a business, I see. Strange; I have not seen anyone yet take an open approach to necromage services.”

I wondered how long it had been since he’d been in this world. “Necromages, as well as vampires, werewolves, witches, mediums and all manner of creatures and occupations, have been legal for almost the last century.”

“Really?” His shock was unfeigned. “I remember they wanted to legalize all sentient creatures, but…there was serious skepticism about its ability to hold its way through the human legislature. The vampire’s guild was talking about setting up their own government so that humans couldn’t eradicate them.”

Merula shook her head. “I don’t remember that…”

“I do.” She looked at me with shock, and I pointedly flipped my purple and black hair over a pointed ear. “I’m an elf. We live longer.” She nodded, and I explained to Foyl, “For the vampire guild to make themselves a government, they would need territory. They talked about buying some collectively, but as long as they were on another country’s soil and not citizens of their own country, they were still subject to the will of the country. The UN backed up the decision.”

“So…how did they gain legality?”

“It’s been about five decades since the movement to create their own country,” I commented. “There was a lot of debate and then the medical field announced that they could officially declare vampires to be alive. Werewolves were decided by the SPCA to be more human than animal and that was all the landslide took. If they are alive and human, we have to allow them to be citizens and the vote. Elves got in on the coattails of that—I don’t think they expected us to care or vote or anything.”

Foyl chuckled. “I hope you proved them wrong.”

“Pretty much,” I agreed with a smile. “Anyway, necromancy was a step behind legalization of mediums and witches that came about ten years later. Then the legislature to allow necromancy in public and private cemeteries, making it legal within the borders. Course, that was about twenty years after Europe approved the practice, and fifteen after Asia.”

“The same thing seems to happen with all radical legislation. No matter; it is enough that it has become an accepted practice.”

Thinking of the first few years of my practice, I said, “Not always accepted. In the early years we expected threats to us, but even lately groups like RIP keep protesting and bitching.”

“RIP?” Merula and Foyl asked together.

“Rest In Peace,” I explained. “They’re adverse to the idea of raising the dead. I’ve even had a few friends who’ve put up with hostile efforts from them.”

“Would that have anything to do with last night?” Merula leaned back in her chair, regarding me with curiosity. “I mean, it would suit them to hire elves, right?”

“Probably not,” I argued. “They’re not exactly peaceful, but lots of them are in the Neo-Klan that’s against all nonhumans. They wouldn’t hire elves, no matter how spiteful it gets.” But…suddenly, it hit me. RIP didn’t have to be responsible for the hit, but what about a similar faction in the Elven community? Stars knew I didn’t pay enough attention to it, running from bitter memories. But if there was one, I would be their first big pick. What if they were from Death’s Touch, but working through a version of RIP?
“Son of a bitch,” I said out loud. “I need to make a phone call.” I rushed from my study—I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want them to hear this. I picked up the extension in the living room that was now a comfortable meeting room and dialed.

“Hello?” It was Erin’s chipper voice. For the second time that day, I was calling a friend to talk to her lover who I’d never met. Nonsensical.

“Hey Erin,” I greeted her. “I know I’ve already bothered you today, but is Strass still there?”

“It’s no bother, but he’s not here. He left a few hours ago.” I heard her chuckle, “Why are you setting up an affair already? Naughty, naughty!”

“Nothing like that,” I assured her before I realized she was only joking. “I need someone who’s been in the Elven community lately, and my uncle and his sons are just as disconnected as me. Strass is the only other elf I could think of who would have a chance of knowing what was up.”

“Why, what’s going on?”

“You know who RIP is, don’t you?”

She paused for a moment then said, “Yeah, aren’t they those crazies against zombie raising?”

Usually, I’d have protested to the term ‘zombie,’ but I let it slide. “Yeah. They get violent sometimes. I was thinking about that hit on me yesterday. I know RIP couldn’t have hired the elves. But there might be a similar faction like RIP in the Elven community. If there was one, I’d be their first pick to kill.” The elves could even have been from the Death’s Touch clan, but working through their affiliation with this version of RIP.

“Shit,” Erin agreed. “If there is, they’ll hound your ass, and the cops won’t be able to catch them. Hold on—I’ll give him a call and tell him to call you.”

“Don’t tell him what it’s about,” I cautioned. “If there is something like this, I don’t want him freaking out on me to start with. And if there isn’t, I don’t want him to worry too much.”

“I’ll just tell him you needed some topical news from the clans and you didn’t have your newsletter on hand.” I laughed. “Good—you can still laugh. He’ll call you in five.”

“Thanks, Erin.”

“Na, don’t thank me. Just let me in on it if we have to pull a reverse blackout on them when you go out next. Let’s see how cool they are when they’ve got ghosts swarming them.”

I took a deep breath after we hung up and held my forehead. “An Elven version of those radical groups?” the draconic voice said as I felt him settle on my shoulder. “That could be very dangerous.”

“I figured,” I said, not uncovering my eyes.

“Lucifel,” Foyl said softly. I looked up at him, and he stared sincerely into my eyes. “The community at large would not support something that threatened their own with violence like this, let alone support anything so blatantly close-minded. You have enough supporters who will back you and fight them, if it comes to it. This insane faction will disappear to be a smeared footnote in the ultimate tally of time.”

“All of us are a footnote,” I replied bitterly.

“Nope,” he retorted. “You are too unique to be a footnote.”

I would have retorted but the phone rang. I picked it up and heard Strass’s even tone. “Erin says it’s an emergency—what’s up?” I explained the situation to him. I could hear his exuberance drain away. Someone in the background was impatiently hitting rim shots on a trap set. Strass interrupted me for a second and yelled back, “Hey, guys, let’s take lunch or something, ok?”

“Shit, you ok, big S? You look like somebody died! Dude, what’s up?”

Strass replied, “Some bad shit, Diego. I’ll tell you guys later, k?” He urged me to continue and I did. By the time I was done, his breathing was so shallow I wasn’t sure if he was really still there at all.

“Do you know of any groups like RIP in the Elven community?” I asked finally.

“I want to say no, Lucifel. But…shit, it’s been three years since I’ve been back. How long has it been since you’ve gone home?”

I resisted the urge to protest that I was home, and answered, “It’s about thirty years now.”

“Shit. But…they couldn’t just crop up overnight. Last time I was home…there were some kids. They were maybe ninety, tops. And they kept calling me things like ‘pretty boy’ and ‘human lover’ and that kind of crap. I get crap all the time. People who think I’m a sell-out or a fake or some crap like that. You get as much of that as you do admiration.”

I scoffed, “Shit, I don’t get any admiration. All I get is the scorn. So what was different about it?”

“Well…I get a lot of shit, alright? But ‘unclean’ isn’t one of them. I figured that he meant I’d been fucking around or something. But when they stare you in the eye and say ‘fucking unclean bastard’ and dart off, something’s different than them calling you a whoremonger.”

“So that’s all I’ve got now,” I sighed bitterly.
“Not necessarily. Do you know Nadia? She’s one of the liaisons between the feds and the Elven communities. She’ll probably know more. I’ll give you her number.”

“Thanks Strass.”

“No problem—besides, if there is a sect of those wackos, they’ll be after me sooner or later, right?” He chuckled and gave me the number. “Tell her that Strass gave it to you, and that I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I’ll give her a ring.” Strass hung up and I dialed Nadia. Foyl had found his way into the room and I could feel Merula leaning in the doorway, seething with curiosity.

“Hello?” a cultured female voice said curtly.
“May I speak with Nadia?” I tried to keep my voice even without sounding too needy.

Her voice turned cold and even curter. “This is she. Who is this?”

“I want to apologize, ma’am. This is Lucifel.”

I heard the surprise in her voice. “I have heard of you before. You’re a…necromage, correct?”

“Yes,” I replied evenly. “I apologize for calling you so out of the blue. Strass gave me your number. He also said he was sorry for it,” I felt myself smile.

“That I can definitely see. What can I do for you, Lucifel?”
“I’ve been away from the lands for thirty years. Strass has been away for three. Neither of us have recent news from the lands.”

“You didn’t just call me to ask me about news, did you?” I would have expected her to be mocking but her tone couldn’t have been more serious.

“No,” I agreed. “I was attacked last night by a group of Elven assassins. They claimed to be Death’s Touch.”

I heard her gasp softly. “Shit,” she said to herself. I didn’t think diplomats could swear. Then again, considering her line of work, she could probably swear fluently in eight languages. “You must have been very lucky.”

I scoffed, “You called me a necromage, Nadia. I’m not lucky. I’m good; it ended in reverse blackout.” Was I bragging? Maybe a little…

She laughed softly. “Then I am properly rebuked.”

“You know about the Rest In Peace society, right? They’ve been hunting necromages and whatnot for years—“

“So you wonder if the two are connected? You are aware that RIP wouldn’t involve themselves with anything nonhuman either. But…”

I sensed the hesitation in her voice, and jumped on it. “But there is something similar.”

“Yes,” she said simply. “They call themselves the Purist Society. They are opposed to…any elves who have broken with their clans in any way.”

“I haven’t broken with my clan!”

“Not in reality,” she agreed. “But you left clan lands to live among humans and work as a necromage. And you haven’t been back to the lands in thirty years.”

“Shit,” I said. “The ties there are weak. So are they really part of Death’s Touch or…”

“The assassin squad probably is, yes. Or was of the clan originally. But it isn’t limited. Even Winged Bough will have their members who wish to see us back in the secular days. They don’t realize how much this open trade has done for our people.” I was a little surprised she knew my clan, but then again, she was well practiced. She probably knew my mother’s surname.

“True,” I agreed. “I was younger, but I remember when free trade was established. The businesses expanded almost overnight with the desire for the ‘exotic’ Elven goods.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Listen, I have very little pull with this community. They are viewed by the other elves as…a fad, I suppose, but one they tolerate because whether or not they will do so openly, they agree with their purpose, for the most part.”

I sighed. “Thank you, Nadia. I’ll make sure to watch myself closely. Hopefully by killing enough of these assassins, I can convince them that the fad is not as wise as they think.”

“Killing elves…” her voice was soft. “Can you…handle it?”

“Frankly? No. It was hard, but it was kill or be killed. I’ve been shrived of the sins, and I will do so again if I must.”

She sighed. “Very well. If you need a priest, however, don’t hesitate to call. I can give you the numbers for some very good, open-minded shamans.”

I smiled a little, “I trained for awhile under shamans. I don’t think I left the most favorable impressions, even on the priestly ones. Thank you, Nadia, but while I can, I prefer to handle that by myself.”

“You must be very strong or very wise. Or both. I wish you the best of luck—we all want to see this cult ended before…before it becomes a clan.”

I felt my breath stop in my chest a little. Overhearing, Foyl tightened his claws on my shoulder. “Do they have those kind of numbers?”

“We aren’t sure. They could have anything from thirty devout to three hundred. We can’t know. They have been secretive, but if they apply to break and form a new clan, we’ll know.” She sighed softly. “We’ve been keeping a tight eye on this little group. The Purists can dream all they want, but if they try to break away, we’ll fight against it. Ultimately, though, we are bound to give them their own clan. Of course, there is no limit to the bureaucratic red tape we can put them through first.”

I smiled unwillingly at that. “Thank you, Nadia.”

“Take care of yourself, Lucifel.”

I hung up the phone and stared at the wall. Merula leaned casually in the door, and Foyl loosened his claws on my shoulder, and then tried to rub out some of the tension. It was a small effort, but a kind gesture. “Shit. A clan of elves that oppose anyone who deviates from the norm. They refer to it as breaking with the clans.” I wanted to rant and throw things. I seemed to be doing that a lot lately.
I tried to imagine myself growing up where there was that strong psudo-clan. Would I have been drawn towards it? I didn’t think so—I’d been so odd when I was a kid. But what about others like my cousins? Would I have to fight and kill them? But they lived apart as well…I turned very cold. “Son of a bitch,” I swore, dialing my uncle’s home number.

It rang. Three, four, five, sixteen times without answer. I slammed the phone down, ignoring the noises of concern and confusion coming from the witch and dragon. They weren’t important. My uncle and his kids were. I called the shop. It rang and rang without answer. I returned the receiver carefully, trying not to betray how badly I was shaking.

“Who are you calling?”

“My uncle and his sons…they’re in danger.” I fought hysteria, trying to remain calm. “But they aren’t answering their phones. Not even the shop’s phone.”

“What? That’s decidedly not good,” Foyl replied softly.

“Shit,” I swore, grabbing for a coat, my keys, and my guns. “I have to get there. I have to save them.”

“Where is it?” Merula asked as she dashed for her own coat.

“Wichita,” I replied grimly.

“That’s three hours away!”

“I can’t stay here, or they’ll die! I have to go!” I was on my way to the door.

“I can’t imagine why they would live in Wichita. I never knew it was so unsafe.”

“What are you getting at?” I snapped as strode into the yard.

“I mean that there is no police force; I never knew that you were the sole hand of justice in the entire city!” I turned to stare at her. Merula was turning red with fury. “Don’t be an idiot! This could well be a trap! Do what everyone else does; pick up the phone and call the cops!”

“What do I tell them?” I was yelling and didn’t care. The neighbors were mostly gone to work, but those remaining peeked through their blinds and withdrew. They’re used to the way I conduct myself, I supposed. “‘Pardon me, but my uncle won’t answer his phone even though I haven’t seen him in a year. We think there are renegade assassins out to kill him’?”

“Yes!” she shouted in exasperation. “Tell Coil that you think those elves are after your uncle too. He’ll call the OWLE department in Wichita and they’ll handle it!”

“You know,” Foyl interrupted. “Much as I am loathe to agree with an ignorant witch, that is the wisest plan. They can take care of an immediate threat or tell if there even is one.”

“Fine,” I conceded softly and all but ran back into the house. Coil’s new secretary was getting used to my calls—she patched me straight through to the Sergeant. I explained it to him, trying not to rush so badly that my words slurred together.

“Shit,” was all he said when I finished. “Give me the address and I’ll call Paul. He runs the OWL division in Wichita. We’ll find your uncle. Spell his name once for me?”
“E-L-R-I-S,” I replied. “Elris and his sons are Derek and Fanin. Elris is stocky for an elf, with brown and golden hair. Derek and Fanin are both tall, and strong, but wiry. Derek’s got very light brown hair with orange and Fanin has pale blonde with blue.”

“I’ll send an ABP through Paul. Don’t worry, Lucifel. For once, it’s good to be able to protect you a little.” He gave me a wry chuckle, “You can’t put yourself in front of too many bullets this time. Less paperwork this way.”

“Yeah, and maybe more bodies.”

“If it came down to paperwork to get a civilian on the case or paperwork for DB’s, I always pick the former. We’ll keep you informed.”

“Thanks,” I said to him. Hanging up the phone, I slumped down against the table, feeling helpless.

“I can’t stay,” I moaned, and Foyl sat soundlessly on my hand. “I can’t stay. But I can’t go either!”

“It’s a hard choice,” Merula agreed.

“It’s not like I can get there in time to help,” I mourned. “If I could teleport I would. But it isn’t as if I could use the Afterways or something.”

Staring into my silver eyes, Foyl said softly, “What if you could?”