Holy Necromancer Novels & Stories

Liora had returned, watching my flank, her guilt bleeding into every strike. We cut through them. Until the center opened. And then I saw him. Aedric’s corpse still lay where I had left it days ago, pierced through the heart. But he stood now, behind it, reborn or reassembled, eyes hollow and wrong. Necromancy. Old. Forbidden. He smiled, lips cracked with dried blood. “You missed,” he said. I should have known death wouldn't be enough. He raised his hand, and the corpses of our fallen rose with him.

"Someone or something sent you back." "Her name is Janice," I said. "She's a necromancer. Not the kind from stories who raise corpses—she's something older, something that exists in the spaces between life and death, time and causality. She heard my dying prayer for another chance and she answered it."

I instantly disliked her. “Welcome back, Jericho,” Jack said with a smile and continued the briefing. “This is Nicolas Ramirov. He’s in charge of a splinter group associated with the Russian Organized Crime family operating out of Chicago. This one comes from Corporate. No specifics, they’re keeping loose tabs on him but the cops can’t get to him. He keeps himself holed up in their warehouse. That’s where you guys come in. Your job will be to infiltrate the warehouse, find him and eliminate him.”

He knew I was not the Lumira whose medical records he had studied. "Dark magic is not native to this body," he said, placing his cards on the table with deliberate precision. Not playing cards. Research notes, thin and precise, covered in diagrams I couldn't read from this distance. "Necromancy at your level requires a soul that has already crossed the threshold. A soul that has died and returned, carrying the imprint of the grave. The original Lumira never died — not truly. She was murdered. There is a difference." He looked at me, and for the first time, his clinical mask cracked. Not with emotion — with hunger. The hunger of a scholar who had found the anomaly he had been searching for.

“You haven’t experienced your first full moon yet. Well, I'm glad to meet you. It's the first time I've seen a Werewolf. We can help each other. I hope you understand what awaits you soon? If not, then I'll tell you. His voice flowed bewitchingly soft, enveloping from all sides, forcing to obey and listen. Vic somehow detachedly perceived what was happening, the necromancer can command only the dead - those whom he himself resurrected, the inhabitants of Reeta should not be subject to him. And he's not dead at all. Vic forced himself to shake himself. But the sorcerer's voice has not ceased to be less bewitching.

Brand had forgotten what it felt like – the all-consuming need for the blood of his enemies to be spilled on the ground at his feet. Brand shook his head another scream was silenced as he ripped out another throat. The blood dripped from his long snout as he took a breath and looked around him. Leather-clad warriors lay around him, some with eyes open staring at the sky as if looking for the Valkyries coming to take them to Valhalla. Brand snorted. Good luck. He couldn't believe the gods would want any of these followers of a deranged leader in their feasting halls.

I can feel his shame, but I simply can't understand why James, even he, would betray me. "Great, now I have you both as a focal point!" The necromancer said excitedly. Immediately, I feel my energy start to drain. Strïth is fighting against these chains that bind us. "The castle is almost completely overrun," James reported. "Now you can keep your promise." His expression is serious as he faces the necromancer. "Go ahead, you know where to find it." The necromancer replied. The Orb begins to glow black and the pieces of bodies move, coming together and beginning to create yet another unholy creature, and it's stronger because there are threads of Shadow, Light, and Metal, sewing and joining

"But -" "Lillith, listen to me. Would you have found him if he’d been Taken?" She nodded, wiping her wet cheek on her knee. Nick being Taken, becoming one of the countless people that had stepped too close to a dark corner and become, for lack of a better word, possessed by a shade, was our biggest fear. When they took hold of your body they forced you from it, sending your wandering soul to the other world whilst they used your flesh to fight the rest of us in the light of day. It was these faces that Lillith searched, trying to find our brother.

Only a flesh-colored smear appeared where his eyes, nose and mouth should be. “Are ye ready? To accept the offering of One Whose Name Is Not to be Spoken? Are ye willing? To be made over into His Unknowable Image?” Despite the fear clenching my guts, I nodded. He reached down, his massive fingers spread. I could see that ring with the onyx stone set in it. Could also see the blazing yellow symbol on it writhing . . .

He had seen few zombie flicks during his stay in the human realm. "Necromancers?" Alexa frowned and Dimitri knew what would be her next question. "Necromancers are wizards who practice black magic on dead people," he explained. Alexa's mouth formed a cute 'O' while she thought about what he said. "Alexa... baby, it's almost lunchtime. You are starving our guests," Lucian intervened and Dimitri let out a sigh of relief. "Oh... shit, I forgot. You guys talk. I will get on to it," Alexa said and bounced towards the kitchen.