Reluctant Necromancer Read online

  Reluctant Necromancer

  N. E Conneely

  Copyright © 2020 N. E. Conneely

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information-storage-and-retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher or author. Requests for permission to copy part of this work for use in an educational environment may be directed to the author.

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  This book is a work of fiction. References to historical events, real people, or real locales are made fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Thank You

  Also by N. E. Conneely

  New Release Newsletter

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  I gazed longingly at the tub of ice cream while I waited for Doris’s Delightful Arrangements to answer their phone. On the third ring, I shut the freezer door and spun around.

  Twenty-four orange roses with big fluffy blooms that could charm a zombie. In the center of the arrangement sat one sunflower the size of a dessert plate with petals that started yellow at the tips and brightened to a bold orange-red at the center of the flower. If the flowers had come from anyone but my stalker, they would’ve brought me such joy. Instead, all I could see was my stalker’s attempt to build a relationship.

  I turned the card over as the phone rang for a fourth time.

  I’m sorry. I know you could never love another as you love me.

  P.S. I’ll know you forgive me if I see the flowers sitting in your window.

  So far he hadn’t been bold enough to show his face, just to watch me close enough to know I’d been to a bar with a coworker. He’d sent me an angry note after that.

  The phone rang for a fifth time.

  If Doris ever answered her phone, I might just get the break I needed to identify him. After years of this, it would be a relief to figure out who he was. Then the police could do something.

  “Delightful Arrangements. This is Doris, how can I help you?” Her voice was as cheerful as one would expect from a flower shop.

  “Hi, Doris, I received a lovely arrangement from a secret admirer today, and I was hoping you could help me find my admirer so I can think him.” I tried to put the right amount of warmth and curiosity in my voice even though I didn’t feel it.

  “Oh, well, we get so many requests. I wouldn’t know which was yours.”

  “It was rather unique, two dozen orange roses and a sunflower. Perhaps you remember it?”

  “That one! Lovely.” She gushed. “No, I can’t say I do. The note was left in our box along with a request and the money.”

  “Box?”

  “Why, yes! My grandmother installed the order box when she ran the shop. It’s still popular today. Men love being able to slip in an order without admitting they were shopping for flowers!” The sound of shuffling papers came over the line. “Your admirer paid in cash and didn’t leave a name or number.”

  “Would you happen to have video of the front of the store and the drop box? I’d really like to thank my admirer.” The words tasted sour.

  “I’d love to help you connect, we’ve united quite a few couples over the years, but I’m afraid I don’t have video or any way of identifying your man.” A bell rang in the background. “If that’s all, dear, I have another customer.”

  “One more question. Was the order handwritten?” I could help but hope that this time he’d left evidence. Not that he had before, but he had to slip up at some point.

  “No, dear. He got our form off the internet and typed it up. I do love it when they do that. Makes them so much easier to read. Good penmanship is such a lost art.”

  I forced the last bit of cheer I could muster into my voice. “Thank you, Doris. I appreciate your time.”

  “Of course, dear. Enjoy the flowers!”

  As soon as the call ended, I dropped the phone on the table next to the flowers. On my way to the freezer, I snagged a spoon. The pint of cinnamon-bun-flavored goodness didn’t make the short trip to my couch unscathed.

  I flipped on the tv but ignored the show while I stewed. As tired as I was of being stalked, he was careful. Even after all this time, I didn’t have the evidence to identify him. Any solution to this problem required knowing his identity. The one piece of information I didn’t have.

  Then there was the potential for escalating behavior. He’d been jealous lately, and as much as I hated having a stalker, I’d hate it even more if my stalker turned into a killer… For my sake and the sake of everyone else in my life.

  I dug out another spoonful of ice cream and let it melt on my tongue. Humoring him could prevent an escalation, but it could also foster more of a bond. That tidbit of information had sounded better in my college classes and academy lectures than it did applied to my life.

  If life was kinder, my stalker would have an accident and cease to be my problem.

  I snorted. That wasn’t how my life worked. Nope. I was the witch who got punched by her boss on her first day as a Special Agent with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, had to chase blood magic all over the city, as well as a werewolf driven crazy by spells that shouldn’t have mingled, accidentally raised a dead corpse—yes, raised as in raised from the dead—raised a dead witness on purpose, and had the aforementioned boss try to kill her.

  As if that wasn’t enough, I took a few days off to recover—even witches needed time to regenerate magic and heal wounds—and came back to messages from my partner, Special Agent Wayne Harris, and my new (and much improved) boss Assistant Special Agent in Charge Tim Smith. Neither had said why we needed to talk, but from their tones, all had not been well while I was away. I’d intended to call them tonight, but that was before stalker flowers.

  Work problems could wait until work in the morning.

  Which still left me with stalker problems. Narzel blast him.

  Eying the flowers, I got a bolt of inspiration. Abandoning my ice cream, I yanked one rose out of the arrangement, hacked off enough stem for it to fit in a cup, and set it on a windowsill. The curtains fell back into place, effectively blocking it from my view. The rest of the flowers went in the trash. I’d get no joy from them.

  Satisfied that I’d found the least terrible solution, I sat down and returned to my ice cream. It would do fine for dinner.

  “Please let me sleep to my alarm and not have any emergency during the night.” I tugged the covers up.

  The next thing I knew, my alarm was beeping. This was how workdays should start, not in the middle of the night.

  That pleasant beginning lasted all of five minutes. As I was waiting for my shower to warm up, my phone rang. The cheerful display flashed Agent Smith and his number.

  “Narzel.” I answered the phone. “Eager to see me?”

  “Yes. Have you seen the news?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “A dragon crashed on the highway.
We need to get it transported for medical care and reopen the road.”

  “Okay. I’m not sure how that’s my problem. Don’t dragons usually take care of their own?”

  “Yes, but we can’t get a hold of them, and I’ve never heard of a dragon having this many injuries.”

  I turned off the shower. “Where?”

  “Mostly in the westbound lanes of Highway I-40.” Dispatch told me which exit to take to get onto the road and reach the dragon.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I hung up and hurried to get dressed. I should’ve been more specific in my prayers.

  Five minutes later, I darted out to my car. Fabian, a cherry red 1971 Volvo P1800E, sat in ready to go. He rumbled to life and we were off. I didn’t like taking him to scenes, but the dragon was closer to me than work, and the radio was a never-ending list of congested roads. I took the surface streets, which were moving but not quickly, to an exit upstream of where the dragon had crashed. With my badge around my neck, I turned up the exit ramp.

  It felt weird to drive the wrong way on the road. I stayed in the far-left lane, not that it mattered much because the road was empty. The other side of the road was at a complete standstill, so however the dragon landed, it was causing problems on that side too.

  A half mile later, the road turned, and then I could see the dragon. Poor thing was sprawled across two of the three lanes of traffic on this side of the road, and one of its wings draped over the center divider. Even from a distance, it was clear the dragon had broken both wings. Its amber scales shone in the morning sun, casting the streaks of blood into sharp relief.

  I pulled over next to a uniformed officer and flashed my badge. “Agent Kelsey Pine, witch. Anyone else from the TBI on scene?”

  “Nope, six of us officers and two news choppers.” She pointed up. “We tried to call the local dragons, but we can’t get them. Called for medical. They’re collecting specialists from the hospital and a flatbed truck. Best way we can think of to move the dragon without the help of other dragons. We couldn’t figure out how to hoist the dragon without potentially causing more harm, so we call the TBI.”

  And here I was.

  The officer cast an uneasy glance back at the dragon. “It’s in rough shape.”

  Not much I could say to that. I wasn’t a medical witch. “See if anyone else from TBI is on the way. I need to make a call and see what I could do.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket on the way back to my car. I hesitated for a moment, then dialed. Dragons were heavy, and lifting, well, that took a lot of magic and control. Maybe I could do it alone, but it would be safer for everyone if I had help.

  “Well this is a pleasant surprise.” Jamie’s voice sounded like a warm smile.

  “Not that kind of call.” I hesitated. When I’d all but broken with the clan to go into police work, I’d been forbidden from receiving aid from my fellow clan members. The head of our clan, the Bausen, was Minister Olivia Crowder, and she wasn’t known for being forgiving of rule breaking. But saving a dragon’s life could sway her, especially since we did a lot of business with the local dragons.

  “What is it? Did Olivia find out?”

  I cut in before he could specifically ask about my necromancy. “It’s work, not clan. A dragon crashed into the highway. They can’t reach another dragon, and it can’t get up on its own.”

  He slowly exhaled. “I would, I really would, but I got a call last night. In ten minutes, I’m getting a police escort to look at a government building. Which is both all I know and all I can say. Any other day, I’d skip out on work to help.”

  “I know.” I glanced at the dragon. “I’ll manage.”

  Jamie sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long shot. Stay safe on your super-secret mission.”

  “Save a dragon.”

  I hung up, already popping the trunk to get into the spare set of gear I kept in Fabian. For all the TBI said I would always have access to my work car, early morning calls made that tricky.

  I took all but one major healing charm, two sleep charms, and chalk.

  The mechanics of my job were simple enough today. Actually pulling it off would be far more difficult. Dragons were notoriously difficult to spell. I did have one advantage, though. I could get this dragon’s blood and incorporate it into the spells. That would overcome their natural defenses.

  Heading back to the dragon, I took in the scene again, this time with an eye as to how best to do my job. Thanks to the police blocking the road, there was plenty of room for the flatbed to pull up close to the dragon, which would reduce the distance I had to levitate the poor creature. Getting the dragon off the concrete divider and all of its parts tucked neatly onto the truck would be more difficult.

  The closer I got, the smaller the dragon looked. It wasn’t seventy or even fifty feet long, but more like twenty. Younger dragons age and length correlated closely, putting this one at about twenty years of age. Odd none of the dragons had come to check up on it.

  I paused about thirty feet from the dragon. Blood pooled under its chin. More blood gathered under the wing on this side of the road. From the angle, it had broken in at least two places. The dragon’s hip lay atop what was left of the center divider, with shattered bits of concrete dotting the pavement. Its other wing draped over the divider and didn’t appear broken. Its tail poked up from behind its body, propped up by the lane divider. A harness around the dragon’s chest had seen better days, but I could still make out Tennessee Dragon Flight’s logo.

  Oh, no.

  I crouched down and studied the dragon’s face. I knew this dragon. Jolly had given me a flight last week when I needed to see my dad. “I’ll get you to the hospital. I’ll do everything I can to make sure you can fly again.”

  The closer I got, the worse Jolly looked. As gently as I could, I touched the sleep charm to a cut oozing blood on Jolly’s shoulder and then placed it on top of Jolly’s head. A drop of magic ensured it would stay in place until a person physically removed it. I repeated the process with three major healing charms, placing them along Jolly’s back.

  Taking a step back, I closed my eyes and removed the shield that prevented me from seeing magic all the time. As I’d hoped, using Jolly’s blood had lowered the dragon’s natural defenses, and a haze of sleep and healing spells spread over Jolly. With this amount of trauma, the charms wouldn’t be able to heal much, but they could stabilize Jolly until better medical support arrived. More importantly, the combination of a sleeping charm and healing charms should keep Jolly sedated and quiet as I moved the dragon.

  Switching my vision back to normal, I paced off an area for the truck, when it arrived, and a spot near Jolly’s head where I would be able to see most of the dragon and the truck clearly for the transfer. Satisfied with the spacing, I got to work.

  Asphalt was far from the easiest surface to inscribe with runes. It was too bumpy and irregular, cracking bits of chalk off the stick. As long as the lines were mostly complete and didn’t mush into a different rune, they would do their job and amplify my power.

  Witches had active magic. It was the main thing that set us apart from other races. “Born a witch, die a witch,” that type of thing. While magic could do a great many marvelous things and cause more than its fair share of mayhem, it came with a cost. Channeling energy into spells was hard on the body, and every witch had a limit of how much they could channel or use for a spell before exhausting their well of magic.

  The spells to safely lift and transfer Jolly weren’t as easy as a simple levitation spell. Not only was Jolly big and heavy, but the dragon needed to be held relatively still to prevent further injury during transport. That was where all these runes came in. They would focus and amplify my magic into a set of spells that could stabilize and move Jolly without using all of my power.

  I sketched the last three runes. Not my best penmanship, but it would do the job.

  A beeping marked the s
low progress of a flatbed eighteen-wheeler into position next to me. It came close to my circle, but it stopped clear of the chalk. The door opened and a solidly built man in a faded blue baseball cap peered out. “Didn’t block your work, did I?”

  “Nope. You’re clear!” I dusted off my hands and shoved the chalk back in its bag.

  A black, unmarked SUV pulled up next to the flatbed. Six people, one in a TBI jacket, one in a coveralls, and four in white coats, poured out of the car. One of the white coats started toward Jolly, but a square mountain of a man barked an order, and the white coat returned to the group.

  The mountain scanned the scene, giving Jolly an extra-long look, before his eyes landed on me. “Agent Pine, get over here!”

  “Yes, sir.” I joined the group.

  Agent Tim Smith was as human as human could be. Though he sure looked like he was part bear shifter with his sheer bulk and height. He loomed over everyone—not intentionally, but it was hard not to loom at his size.

  “Agent Kelsey Pine is our resident witch. She’s going to do the spells to get the dragon on the truck. You tell her your concerns, and she’ll do her best to work with you. Got it?”

  The group nodded.

  “Agent Pine, this is the team from the hospital. All doctors.” He pointed at a slender woman with short cropped brown hair and a strong jaw. “Dr. Taryn is the head of the team.”

  Taryn stepped forward and shook my hand. “Taryn or ‘Hey, You!’ is fine. We want to get the dragon transferred to the hospital as safely and quickly as we can so we can patch them up.”