Holding Space

Mr.Bubbles_Esquire · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Mr.Bubbles_Esquire** on Mon Sep 25, 2023 9:05 pm

I'm just going to use this as a temporary holding space for certain documents that I need to be sure won't get lost either on my computer or in another cloud storage service.

Please pay none of this no mind, it's not related to anything here.

Mr.Bubbles_Esquire · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Mr.Bubbles_Esquire** on Mon Sep 25, 2023 9:22 pm

You might not expect it, but the time it takes for a bolt of lightning to flash across the sky is actually quite long, compared to how long it can take to die.

Those final moments, I've often wondered what they would be like. I always imagined they'd be full of pain, fear, maybe even some relief? What I didn't expect was the silence, especially what with a whole battle going on around me.

It's so strange, like everything is muffled and far away, even though I'm right there. It's the strangest feeling, seeing my own body lying in the dirt like that. This is what they call an out of body experience right?

Back home, there's a tradition of setting markers at the place where someone dies. I never really paid attention to that, but I remember it being something like "to know where the story ends".

Where the story ends, huh...

Dad... Never really cared about endings. Is it wierd that I'm thinking about that now? When I was little, he would tell me stories at bedtime. I mean I guess everyones dad did that, or at least the good ones did.
But my dad always seemed to have trouble ending the stories. There was always some cliff hanger or "next time".
Until... Suddenly there wasn't a next time.

I think... Maybe an ending isn't such a bad thing, but I think knowing how the story begins is better yeah? I mean a good story, the best stories really, they have to have a really good beginning, to hook you into it right?

What am I even trying to say with all this anyway...

I guess... I'm trying to say that, even though this is the end of my story, I'd like to tell you the beginning.

Funny enough, when I think about where it really begins, ya know what I see?

Me, lying in the dirt, covered in mud and bleeding from my nose...

|

"C'mon then, get up. You was talking mad shit just moments ago, this really all you got?"

A dirt field, littered with rocks amid the grass tufts desperately clinging to life plays host to a scene so common it's almost boring: a gaggle of kids picking on a smaller, weaker child.

Rains recently turned this field of dirt into a muddy pit fit only for hogs and, apparently, the bullying of children. As if that weren't bad enough, the clouds overhead make it clear that more rain is soon to come.

The smaller child stands, spitting blood and mud out of their mouth as they take up a boxing stance. The others just laugh and lift up the sticks they'd been using as toy swords up until that moment. Before the ring leader could swing however, a deep and overwhelmingly angry voice shouts out.

"What in the absolute fuck are you twat waffles doing here!"

The three boys that had been picking on the smaller child go as pale as snow and drop their sticks, turning and running as fast as they can to a wooden bridge that seperates this muddied field from drier, greener pastures.
The smaller one tries to catch up, but trips over a rock they couldn't see on account of the swelling of their face.

Moments later, the shadow of a griffon flies over their head, and lands between them and the bridge. From the great and majestic beasts back, a man in heavy plate armor, polished and decorated with gold embossing, dirties his hitherto pristine sabatons with the mud by dismounting. Even through the dirt, the small child can feel the impacts of his armored feet, stomping as he is towards them. With one hand he reaches down, grabs them by the arm and lifts them full on off the dirt, depositing them back onto their feet.

"What kind of absolute sodding moron are you, diddling around an isle marked for a folding?" The knight says to them, his no doubt furious expression hidden behind a helm of steel. "You're damn lucky I was on patrol, else they might've gone ahead and then you'd be nothing more than a stinking pile of guts, mate."

The knight wipes some of the mud out of the childs face, being far gentler with their broken nose and bruises than their anger might suggest. "Oh hey now, I know ya. Your Ean's girl ain't ya" He chuckles to himself as he starts guiding the girl over to the griffon. "Heh, going easy on them boys were ya? Well c'mon, let's get you outta here and back to your dad."

The girl is silent, fuming as she mounts the griffon. "...Terrae." She eventually whispers, barely audible over the beasts complaints. "...My name is Terrae."

|

"Alright, you ready?"

"No, but that doesn't really matter does it."

"Not really. Go ahead and state your name and occupation."

"Angela Tejeda, I'mma journalist, self-published."

"And what is your relationship with Eric Iandryle?

"Wow, right to it huh. He's the subject of my first big publication, a private investigator with a reputation for solving otherwise unsolveable cold cases and bringing closure to people who desperately need it."

"....And?"

"And what? That's it."

"Ms. Tejeda, if you would cooperate, we'll get through this a lot sooner."

"..."

"...Okay, look. This is just for an internal review, nobody will ever see these transcripts or hear these tapes. There's no reason to be afraid, I promise you no matter what you say, it won't be held against you. Your not under arrest, you can leave any time you want, the only reason why your here is because we want it on record from a witness who was at the scene, to help us understand... anything, about this whole situation."

".....And once you have what you need, I'm free to go? No like, dissection or experimentation? No white coats?"

"We just want your testimony, nothing else."

"...Alright, Then the first thing you should know about Eric Iandryle is that he's a Necromancer."

Chapter 1: Interview with a Necromancer

I had grown up in Dallas, local girl ya know. Guess I was a bit of a tomboy, cuz I spent most of my childhood reading comics and dreaming of being a superhero or something. Course, as I got older I figured out that that sort of dream just wasn't realistic. Never really grew out of it though, I guess.
See, I got it in my head that the next best thing to being a super hero would be being a journalist, a reporter. So that just kinda became my dream, my goal for pretty much my entire life. Through highschool right up into college and then beyond, my number one goal was to be a classic comic book style journalist. I would be like April O'niel or Louis Lane ya know, bringing the truth to the masses.

Of course, reality hits all of us like a brick through a window eventually. For me it came right out of college, when I quickly learned that most news stations don't actually care about truth. Nowadays, the only thing that matters to them is clicks, and supporting the agenda of whoever happens to be paying them. I couldn't stand for it, and so I decided to go free lance. My mom and dad were more than willing to support me, of course. But seeing how they struggled just to get me into college in the first place, I couldn't bear to put any more pressure on them.

Long story short, I needed a break and a big one, something that would garuntee me enough money to get off my parents backs and into my own. But the problem was I wasn't willing to compromise. For most people, eventually you break one way or the other. I got lucky though, which the more I think about it, the more I realize was kinda my super power all along.

Opportunity came knocking one day in the form of the most obnoxious person I'd ever known. It was a fine spring saturday, not too hot, not too cold, relatively peaceful considering the neighborhood. All of that ruined by a man I actively want you to put on record as being a dickwad, though for official reasons I suppose we can call him Kyle.

Kyle Nimura, japanese american coming from a very rich family that apparently has a long and storied family history. I've met his parents, and their quite kind and polite, which only force me to ask the question as to what in the actual hell went wrong with him.

In any case, Kyle knocked on my door as I was eating breakfast that saturday morning, asking me if I wanted to go hang out. The answer to that question should have been no, but unfortunately, I was still oh so very naive to his true nature and the absolute dick wad that he was.

No, I will not stop referring to him as a dick wad, I don't care that it's inappropriate for the record.

"G'mornin' Angie, how are ya?" Kyle's smile shined brightly when I opened the door for him, but I could only scowl in response.

"I told you I can't go out today Kyle, I'm busy."

"What? Did you get that job I recommended then?"

"The Radio station gig? I want to be a reporter Kyle, not a DJ."

"Aww come on, it's not a bad place, and yeah it's not like mainstream journalism but it's close yeah? Plus they pay pretty well considering"

"I said no, Kyle. I'm going to find a real story, and publish to my own website. It'll be real reporting, without any of the politics. Like, an underground magazine where the real facts are at."

"Oh... But how're you gonna pay for the website?"

"I'm.... I'm working on that okay I just, look I don't have all the details but I know that once I have the story, I'll be able to put everything into place."

"Well, I have an idea if your open to it." Kyle pulled his phone out and opened a video, showing a group of people going into a "haunted" tunnel in the hopes of catching footage of it.

"Your idea is what exactly? Ghost hunting?"

"Well kinda, these guys get lots of views. Maybe you could do something similar, do like some interviews of people who've been through the supernatural ya know?"

"God Kyle, how in the hell does that sound like honest journalism to you?"

"I'm not... Look, I get that it's not exactly what you were hoping for, but it's kinda close right? And you can use it as an income while you work on your dream."

He looked at me expecting a retort that, unfortunately i couldn't give. Money was getting tighter by the day and I needed a way of supporting myself. And he was right, if Instead of going after ghosts, maybe I could just interview the guys doing these types of things. If they were true believers then all good, but if they were just scamming people with nonsense, then I could be the one to reveal the truth to the world.

"Well?" Kyle asked me, watching intently as if he could see the gears turning and my will faltering. I rolled my eyes at him and shrugged, saying "It's something I can look into at the very least. Thanks, Kyle."

He clapped his hands and nodded. "fantastic, then when you go to interview them, let me know and I can go with you. We can take my car and I'll get to meet them."

"Ah, I was wondering where the other shoe had gotten to." I said, scowling at him, although I couldn't help smiling a little.

He just smiled apologetically and chuckled a little. "Well I mean, if your going to be interviewing them anyway I don't see any reason I can't chat with em too."

"Of course not," I rolled my eyes at him, then decided to change the subject. "So how are your parents by the way."

"Oh same old same old." He said, his face darkening as he did. "Dad's still expecting me to turn out just like him, and mom is pretending that he and I aren't fighting about it."

"Sorry about that." I said, stepping out of the way and into the kitchen. He came in and shut the door behind him, then proceeded to raid the fridge for sandwhich supplies. "And what about your uncle, You said he came to visit recently."

"Yeah, but they still won't talk to him so it's super awkward, I have to run out to meet him at places."

"What did he even do that made them so mad at him."

"Well, dad says he dishonored the family, so probably undercooked a chicken or something, I dunno."

"Hah." I snirked at him, immediately regretting having taken a biteful of eggs at that moment. While I was busy clearing my throat and trying not to choke on scrambeled egg, he continued.

"Uncle Angyo says it's because he chose his own path, where as my dad chose the one grandpa had laid out for him. He also says that I should be careful, because if I don't follow the road dad wants, then I could end up in the same position." He sighed, taking a bite of turkey and provolone on wheat.

Still coughing, I broke in saying "No way, Your dad wouldn't do that. He cares too much about you."

"And yet not enough to understand that I might not want to be an office accountant." He returned in between mouthfulls of turkey.

"Yeah well. You already know my thoughts on the matter." I said, giving him a sideways glance. "You should talk to him more, explain things. I can help with that if you want."

He shook his head. "No, if you did that then he would just forbid me from talking to you. And that would mean even more sneaking around."

I shrugged back at him. In my head I tried to think of a way out of the situation for him, but I couldn't. My own parents had always been supportive of me and my dreams, no matter how outlandish they had been.

"My Angel, you have wings to fly, and no matter where you fly away to, you will be brilliant." My dad had said this to me every night before bed, back when I was young enough that being tucked in didn't feel wierd. Even when I told them I wanted to be a super hero, they hadn't told me I was being crazy or that I couldn't do that, they simply smiled while my mom would make a costume and dad would start giving me boxing instructions for when I was fighting bad guys.

"I'm sorry." I said to Kyle, sitting across from me. "Really I am. I just don't know how to help you."

He sighed while covering his mouth so he didn't breath turkey all over me. "I know, but even still I'm glad that you listen. Having someone I can tell makes it a little easier I guess."

I reached over the counter and gave his hand a squeeze. Just to let him know that it would be alright, somehow.

After a few more minutes talking, we finished eating and made our way up to my room. The rustic nature of my parents house belied it's history. According to my grandpa, it had been built by some of the first people to settle out this way. I'd be inclined to believe him if it wasn't for the fact that the house was located in Alverado down south fifth street, and was basically a trailer sitting on a solid acre of property.
Suppose that's not entirely fair though, calling it a trailer. It is a pretty nice house, and apparently was built some time in the early 60's or Late 50's. I don't know much about what it's made out of or anything like that, but I do know that it's a cozy place, large enough for our entire family, yet small enough to garuntee we'll all be close together.

In my room, I had newspaper articles, magazines, and pictures printed off the internet of various highlights from interviews. I wasn't really good at decorating, and so everything was just kinda plastered to the wall in no real order or pattern. It made my wall look like it was made of trash to be honest, but at the time I thought it looked pretty cool. The only other thing of real note was my bed and my computer, both plain and straightforward things, with the computer being an old Mac pc my dad managed to buy from a pawn shop, probably stolen from a school or something.

I booted it up while Kyle plopped down on my bed and started reading through my comics. While I waited for my computer to start, I dug my notepad out of my bag. Other girls went for purses and the like, but I had wanted a classic messenger bag. My mom had managed to get one for me when I was six, and I'd had it ever since, patching it up with duct tape and the like whenever it got a new hole in it. Thing was more tape than bag now, but it was reliable.

By the time I found where I'd stashed my pencil, the computer had finished booting up, and I got to work. The very first thing I set to doing was searching for local ghost hunters, but I didn't get many results for that. The ones I did get were for haunted houses or haloween reservations for the various bands that Dallas spit out every now and again.

I thought to myself that maybe ghost hunters wasn't a good search, so I typed in "local ghost Investigator" instead. The first few results were, as expected, nonsense and ridiculous. But then I found something interesting...

Eric Iandryle
Private Investigator and Necromancer
Bringing closure to the Living and the Dead.

"Huh?" I uttered, catching Kyles attention.

"What's up?" He sat up from the bed, setting the comic to one side and reading the web page over my shoulder.

Haunted by unfinished business? Hoping to resolve it before the end? Or maybe you have beef with a deceased loved one that you want to clear up once and for all?
Then you need Eric Iandryle, PI/Necromancer.
Certified as Sane by Psychiatrist Lenore Wade, Mr Iandryle specializes in settling affairs left unfinished for extended times. Whether it's only ten years or ten thousand, if you need answers and closure for peace of mind, then you need Eric Iandryle.

We both looked at each other, making the same 'What the hell' face, then continued reading looking through the website. It was pretty straightforward, provided an address for the office, times to call, and even a message system that would let you contact them directly through the site.
But then towards the bottom of the page it got even stranger. There were reviews from, as far as I could tell, actual people. I read through several of them, and they all said mostly the same thing.

"He helped me find peace after my wife died, now I can rest easy." - Michael Conners

"If not for him, I might have gone the rest of my life without knowing where I came from" - Lee Nangeu

"My son had been missing for almost fifty years, and I was afraid I'd go to my grave never knowing what had happened. The police couldn't find him in all that time, Eric found him in two days." Grant Mathers, Deceased.

The more we read, the weirder it got. There was a review from a couple who had lost their daughter and were struggling in their marriage because of it until Eric apparently helped them say goodbye to their girl. And then another review that spoke of how Mr. Iandryle had helped a young man find a way to stop his father's land from being foreclosed on.
From the outset, it looked absolutely like a classic scam, except it was almost too strange to be fake. I clicked on another tab on the website, services rendered it read.
On that page, I saw that the business was mostly PI work, though there was a note making it clear that Mr. Iandryle apparently did NOT do investigations into marital issues. Most of his services seemed to be related to investigating and providing answers and information that would otherwise not be accessible. On top of that, the page also referenced the Dallas Police Department, an Officer by the name of Miranda Ergyle to be exact.

"This is absolutely wild." Kyle said, chuckling as he did. "The idea of a necromancer as an actual job title"

"Yeah, classic circus act scam right, but... All these reviews, doesn't seem like bots, they're a bit too specific for that."

The more I read, the more I was convinced that I had found exactly the story I had been looking for. I paused then, as I looked over at my bed not really seeing it anymore. Instead, I was picturing this Eric Iandryle in cuffs, arrested for fraudulent business practices and taking advantage of the public, as well as a number of other things. And there I was being awarded by the Mayor for revealing the truth and unmasking a scoundrel who had gotten away with such villainy for far too long.

"Yo, Angela, you coming back to earth soon?" Kyle snapped his fingers to catch my attention.

"We should look into this. We can meet with some of the clients in the reviews, if they're real people." I said to him, going about and collecting my stuff.

"You sure we should do that? I mean what if they are real people, if he helped them out like they say on the website, they might not be too keen on us digging into it." He responded, folding an ear in the comic to save his place for later.

"And if he's just using peoples trauma to line his pockets, should we just let him get away with it?" I retorted.

"Ahh... The Savior as ever... Alright, well. At the very least it would be an interesting way to spend an afternoon."

And so we set off in search of some of the names in the reviews. While Kyle drove, I looked people up through my phone. One of the wonderful and scary parts of the internet was the fact that you could use it to find pretty much anyone. Some of the people who had left reviews on the website were on facebook, and with a bit of digging and some luck, I was able to find at least one that lived in Dallas.

Michael Conners, he lived in an upscale neighborhood a bit of a ways from downtown, and once we got there the first thing I did was check my clothes to make sure I didn't seem TOO out of place. Unfortunately, that ship had fully sailed. Kyle on the other hand, fit in perfectly, looking exactly like a glee club student. I said as much to him as we made our way up to the door and rang the doorbell.

"We've gone to karoke together, you've seen what it looks like when I try to sing and dance. No way I'd ever be on that show.

Before I could respond however, the door opened, and an elderly gentlemen looked at us with a smile. "Hello there, how I can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm looking for Michael Conners?" I said.

"You found him, what can I do for you, young lady."

"My name is Angela Tejeda, this is my friend Kyle Nimura." I said, shaking his hand as he offered it. He felt like he was made of paper, bones thin and almost gone. If I had to guess, I would have said that he was in his late seventies.

"A pleasure to meet you both, and how can I help you today?" He said.

"I'm a journalist, and I'm doing a piece on obscure businesses local to the Dallas area, and I came across a review with your name on it for a service rendered by someone named Eric Iandryle." I said to him.

"Oh," The way his eyes lit up with recongnition as I said that name made him seem like he'd suddenly de aged by twenty years. "Oh you want to know about that? Then come in, please no don't worry come in."

Me and Kyle both started to protest, but were quickly silenced as the old man made his way inside, welcoming us all the while. Once we had, I gently shut the door while Kyle slipped off his shoes. The old man made straight for the living room, where I saw he had a collection of papers.

As we followed him in, I noticed that one of the papers was very official looking, and a quick glance over revealed a Will.

He smiled as he followed my gaze. "Just finishing up what needs doing before the end, you know."

"Your expecting to die soon?" Kyle said, prompting an angry glance from me for his tactlessness.

"Well yeah," The old man responded. "When you get to my age, you always start expecting it. Oh but don't worry, I'm not afraid, not anymore."

He sat down, slowly and carefully. He smiled after, and then began to speak.

"The only thing that really bothered me about dying was not knowing whether or not I would see my wife again. See she passed away only a few months ago, and it had been pretty heavy on me. I probably wouldn't have gotten through the year frankly speaking if it hadn't been for that young man."

"Eric Iandryle, I'd never heard his name before, and didn't know him. Yet he spoke to me as if he knew everything about me, and surprised me by knowing quite a bit in truth. He told me that he had been asked by my wife to come and see me. Being married for over forty years, I didn't think there were any secrets between us, but at first I just accepted it as her being who she was. My Marigold had always been a very kind and forward thinking person."

Eric interrupted then. "Wait, at first?"

"Oh yes, see the truth was a whole lot more than I was expecting." Michael continued, "See, I had assumed that my wife had set this all up before she passed, but that turned out not to be the case. What had actually happened was my dear Marigold hadn't been able to move on after dying, worried as she was about me. She'd been hung to me even as I started falling apart without her, and she had never been one to simply watch while people she cared about suffered. So she started looking for a solution, and found Eric."

Both me and Kyles eyes were wide, incredulous at the story this old man was telling. And yet the sheer confidence with which he spoke, as if this was all just matter of fact events, made it hard to disbelieve him.

"She found Eric, and then explained the situation to him, and he then came to meet me. At first I thought it was a hoax, a scam to rob me or something. But he didn't ask for money, in fact he even gave me money for a lawyer so I could have my will notarized. I tried to tell him I couldn't accept it, tried to tell him off really, but then he did the strangest thing."

Listening raptly, both me and Kyle were leaning in close as the old man smiled and said, "He asked me if we could step outside so he could smoke".

Continuing on he explained, "He told me that it was extremely important that we step outside together for a smoke. I had never smoked before, Marigold insisted it was bad for you. But something about how he said it made me feel like he was about to tell me something crazy. So we stepped outside and he lit up a cigarette, and then he drew a deep breath and just let it out."

"But instead of just blowing away on the wind, the smoke actually grew into a big cloud right there in front of me. And then the next thing I know, I'm looking straight into the eyes of my wife."

"Whoa, like for real?" Kyle exclaimed, his face full of excitement. He had always had a love for occult things, and this was right up his alley.

"Now mind you, it wasn't like she was back in the flesh. She was made out of the smoke itself, but even so I would never mistake her face, those kind eyes of hers, the way her hair always fell perfectly over her ears..." For a moment, The old man closed his eyes, and a tear came down his face. I pulled a napkin from a box on the coffee table between us and handed it to him.

"Thank you dear," He mumbled as he wiped away the tear before continuing. "She spoke, but I couldn't hear what she was saying. Eric was able to hear her though, and through him I was able to hear her voice again. A lot of things were made better, thanks to him, truth be told. I'm not afraid of the future anymore, because now I know whatever might happen, I'll be able to see my wife when it's over."

After he finished telling us his story, he sat in silence staring at his hands on the table. Kyle was overly excited, but even he knew better than to bother the old man with the thousand questions he no doubt had.

I however, was considering the story. It's an unfortunate fact that elderly people tend to be a bit too trusting at times, especially when vulnerable and missing loved ones. Hell, the Funeral industry is built on that exploiting that vulnerability. The more I thought about it, the more sinister this Eric's actions seemed. He was likely a master manipulator, using some kind of drug in the cigarette smoke to make people hallucinate, and then guiding their hallucinations with sweet words and cunning guile. My blood was boiling just thinking about it.

"And... Did this Eric happen to charge you afterwords? Maybe ask you for a boon or a reward?" I said, looking to uncover the angle, the dirty truth behind the matter.

"I know what your thinking little lady, and I can tell you right now he's not that sort." The old man locked eyes with me, his tone sharp and insistent. "I... Can't really explain how he did it, or even why. Maybe it was all an illusion, maybe he made me see things that weren't really there. But even still, the things he showed me were exactly what I needed to find peace with my wife's death. So if it was all fake, then that's fine by me, because whatever else might be going on there, his intentions were rightous."

I was stunned. It wasn't uncommon, of course, for people who had been taken advantage of to try and justify things, to make excuses so they didn't seem like they had fallen for a trick. But that didn't feel like this to me. Rather it felt like the old man truly, whole heartedly believed that, even if it was all a trick it was one he was glad to have gone through.

As I thought that, Michael shook his head. "I doubt you'll believe me. Worlds a skeptical place, and that's not necessarily a bad thing what with the future looking how it does for you kids. But I will say this, I tried to pay that man for the good he had done me. Tried to reward him, didn't sit right with me to not give him something back for what he had done. He refused everything, said it was pro bono work and didn't need paying."

"But now I think I know of a way to properly pay him back. You said your a journalist, and your looking into obscure businesses right? Well, go talk to him. Meet with him, and then tell everyone in town about his work. People will pay for the things he can provide, and with you advertising him then... well it's about all I can do."

These words followed me, rotating in my head as we said our farewells and made our way down Michaels driveway back to Kyles car. Meet with the man myself... If what Michael had said was true, then meeting this Necromancer would be the only way to get to the truth of the matter.

Except... Even if it was a scam, he refused payment? So then why bother with it at all? Maybe it was like a trap? Do something good for someone, then they talk you up and make it easier for you to trick others? But if that were the case, there would be some bad reviews somewhere right? Or even a lawsuit or two. But no matter how I looked, I couldn't find anything more about the Necromancer.

It was around this time that Kyle, noticing me in what he jokingly referred to as Investigative mode, said "Hey, how about we get something to eat and mull it over while we do? Yeah, it's almost lunch anyway."

"Yeah... Yeah that sounds good." I responded noncommittedly. No matter how hard I thought about it, I still couldn't find an answer to my question.

Why didn't he take the money?

"Ya know, tacos don't really seem like winter food. They feel more like a summer thing, yeah?" Kyle's words didn't really get through to me, talking as he was through a mouthful of street vendor tacos.

"Thanks, Jay Jay," I was giving the proprietor of the taco truck some extra cash for a tip, ignoring Kyle and his blathering. "Say, you spend a lot of your time around here right?"

"Oh yeah chica, muchas dias working all up and down this way. We got the big events that go at the center over that way, and then the old dominion freight line with all them factories over there, we see plenty of work hitting them all up.

"Cool, Do you think you can help us find this place here?" I asked him, showing off the address from the website on my phone.

He brought the phone closer to him to see and after eyeing it for a while he shook his head.

"You won't get there in a car mi senora, it's set back out in a field with nothing around, there ain't no roads leading to it. The closest you'll get is south Ledbetter drive, you'll see some power lines, and there's a dirt path there you'll have to follow."

I blinked in response to the all-too-specific directions he gave. "Wow, have you been there before?"

"Oh yeah, el jefe knows the guy who owns the place, he calls us every so often when he's working to grab a bite. Great guy, always tips really well."

"Well, thanks for that Jay jay. Anything else you can tell me about him? I'm looking to meet him but I don't really know what to expect."

"Oh you don't have to worry, he's really cool. Laid back kinda guy, probably real glad they legalized ol' mary J ya know?"

"Oh, he's a smoker?"

"Yeah, but he's also just an all around cool dude, spends most of his time working from the look of 'im. The real danger is gonna be his Secretary, she's spicier than habanero salsa that one, and twice as mean too."

"Great... Thanks again Jay Jay, this is a huge help. Have a good day man."

"Ay you too chica, have a good one."

I walked away from the truck and back over to Kyle and his car, where he was trying to wipe off the stain he'd left on the front of his jacket. "Okay, I think I know where we need to go now. He said south Ledbetter drive is the closest street we can get to the place, know where that is?"

"Nope, but that's what GPS is for right?" He shrugged as he got into the car, plugging the address into his phone again.

While looking for something to eat for lunch, I had decided that to get to the bottom of this, I would need to meet this "necromancer" myself, face to face. Not exactly an exciting prospect for me, but Kyle was all for it.

So I pulled the website for the business up on my phone, and found the address for the business on said website. But when we tried to plug it into the GPS, it simply gave us a four-oh-four error. After double and triple checking the address, and getting the same response each time, we decided a different approach would be needed.

The website stated the necromancers office was located in south western dallas, near mountain creek. So we drove over that way and decided to ask the locals around if they knew how to get there. However, everyone we asked gave us the same response.

"No idea"

"Sorry, I don't know"

"Uh... Nope, couldn't tell ya."

Nobody seemed to know anything about the place, and after spending a few hours on that, Kyle made the executive decision to stop and get some food in us. That's when we pulled over to find a Taco Truck.

Jay Jay was a godsend, our first real lead all day. That and the phenomenal food that, in all honesty, I was very glad to have after spending an entire day having eaten only some scrambled eggs. The day was starting to burn out though, and it wouldn't be long before it got dark.

"We should probably head home soon." Kyle said to me, eyeing his phone.

"The website didn't specify a closing or opening time, so hopefully we'll at least be able to meet with the guy for a few minutes." I responded

It took a few minutes before I realized that Kyle hadn't heard me, he was busy looking at his phone. It must have been important, because it wasn't until the car behind us honked at Kyle for sitting at a green light that he finally seemed to wake up. He then dropped his phone over the dash and continued on.

"Something wrong?" I queried. His face looked grim and serious.

"Mom texted, told me I need to be home A.S.A.P." He replied, though from the expression on his face, it seemed much more serious than that.

"Like... Right now?" Mrs. Nimura was a traditional japanese woman, and that meant she normally kept quiet and to herself unless something was seriously wrong. "We can head over to your place if that's-"

"At the very least I can drop you off there," He cut me off as he pulled into south ledbetter, heading north from the look of things. "You said it yourself, this was your big break, your chance. And the least I can do for you is get you in reach of it."

I... probably should have said something. Should have told him it was fine, or that his family was more important. But I knew him very well, and so I also knew he wouldn't take that, not when his face was set like this. Kyle... felt like he owed me, and as much as I didn't see it that way, he was raised with that traditional japanese view of honor.

See when Kyle and I first met, he wasn't exactly very popular. To put it in simple terms, he was like a prince being dropped into the ghetto. How and why his parents decided to make him come to our school, I'll never be able to guess. But they did, and his fancy bag, rich boy clothes, and overly clean face made him a huge target.

But as someone who knew what it was like to be bullied for being different, I sympathized with him. So when I was walking home from school and caught him getting bullied by some of the other kids, I didn't even hesitate.

Part of that was probably my whole "wanna be a superhero" thing I had going on, but regardless of what it was, how it ended was pretty bad. We both ended up getting our faces shoved in dirt, and left without his shoes or my new watch that I had begged my mother to get for me.

But in all honesty? I thought it was a fair trade, I lost a watch and gained someone to watch my back all throughout middle and highschool. Partners, that's what we were. And we both went out of our way to make sure everyone knew it, taking the same classes in high school, walking the same road home, and getting caught up in the same fights.

But him? He called me his Samurai, come to stand at his side even as we both went down. And he was always doing everything and anything he could to repay me for simply being his friend. I probably should have tried harder to make it clear to him that he didn't owe me anything, but having someone I could count on to join me in whatever crazy adventure I was diving head first into was... Nice. I guess a part of me saw him as my sidekick, the Robin to my Batman, the Watson to my Sherlock.

"I... You know it's probably not very manly to drop a woman off in a random part of town, so far away from home." I said to him

"Your joking right?" He gave me a dirty look, "Your more dangerous than anyone else out here. I'm willing to bet money that I'll be picking you up from a holding cell after the cops drag you out of whatever mess you end up making. Besides, Anything happens, you speed dial me, and I'll drop everything to be your getaway driver."

"..."

"Angie, you know I'll always have your back right?" The way he said this while looking at me all serious like, sent chills down my spine.

"Ay, eso no justo, idiota!" I shouted at him, smacking his shoulder.

"Ow! I'll take that as a yes then, Jesus."

"Oh oh hey! Pull over, I think we're here."

And sure enough we were, Kyle slowed the car as we searched for what Jay Jay had told us to look for. And when we saw it, I genuinely could not believe my eyes.

We both stood outside the car, looking at a gloomy dirt path that snaked in between the legs of a giant steel lattice power line and then carried off into what I could only call a cartoonishly dark tunnel made of trees.

It would have been terrifying if it wasn't so ridiculous. It was like one of those classic spooky forest trails you see the cartoon kids drive down in search of a mystery to solve, except this was south side Dallas.

"Well... I mean it looks the part, right?" Kyle said, breaking the silence that had stretched on just a little bit too long.

"Yeah... I mean.. if I was a necromancer, this is definitely the type of place I would set up at." I responded, unwilling to move forward.

Somehow, we both managed to catch sight of the sign, partially obscured where it had been nailed to a bush. It looked as if it had been painted by kindergartners, in several different colors of paint. And there it said it.

Necro P.I

It was missing the last period, which on the one hand boded well for my fraudulent business theory.

"So... I'm... I'm gonna go ahead and go yeah, just uh... call me if you need anything" Kyle said, slowly backing over to the driver's seat and climbing in.

I rolled my eyes as he took off, spitting just a little bit too much gravel and dirt. With a sigh, I set my shoulders and started walking down that path. At first, it was pretty classically spooky, but that got kinda boring and routine after about five minutes of walking. Course, after about thirty minutes of walking I was more tired of walking than anything else. It had been nothing but creepy trees, gravel path, and the occasional squeak of what I really hoped wasn't rats.

And then at long last, after what felt like days but was probably no more than an hour, I saw an old derelict house that looked like someone had spent about a week patching up, but their heart hadn't been in it and they eventually gave up. The result was something that was kinda liveable, but only if you were really desperate, I mean like you just did not have anywhere else to go so you needed a place to squat in for a while.

And even then it just was not clean in the slightest. Garbage in the yard, which was unkempt as all hell, and the sign that dangled from the front was off-center. The porch looked like it was made of driftwood, and the railings were all haphazard.

But... The lights were on in the window, the cracked window. So after a couple of seconds of rethinking my life decisions, I clenched my teeth and soldiered on.

Entering into that place was easily one of the scariest things I'd ever done, not because of the look of the place though. See, after I walked in the very first thing I noticed was how utterly different it looked inside compared to outside. I went in expecting a decrepit, decaying house, maybe with meat hooks hanging about with bones and skulls for decor or something. What I actually saw was a cool cedar wood floor, some soft warm lamp fixtures, and a solid oak desk with all the fixings and tools you'd see on your typical secretaries work station.

And sitting at that desk was a pale white girl, somewhere in her late teens, with pitch black hair dyed with streaks of white and kept in a tight bun with a chinese style hair pin decorated with a skull spider thing.

"Uh hi," I said upon seeing her, still somewhat reeling from the sudden juxtaposition of expectation versus reality, "I um... I'm looking for the Necromancer?"

She raised one finger, her other hand going to town on her phone. This girl was the definition of fulfilling stereotypes, looking exactly like what most people think of when they think of "Goth chick".

She wore black and white pants with a large skull emblem emblazoned on her left thigh, which I could only see because she had both her feet kicked up on the desk. Her makeup made her look super pale with the darkest eyeshadow I could imagine, and she had piercings in her ears, nose, and lips. Her hands had a ring on the middle finger, which was attached to her sleeves, which themselves were attached to a wierd thick ring thing that was settled in the middle of her bicep, disconnecting it from her shirt, which had the sleeves cut off.

Her shirt also had a wierd triangle made of triangles, with the words Power, Courage, and Wisdom, printed in red, green, and blue respectively. The whole thing looked like it had been hand made, though it was pretty clean looking aside from that.

I had been standing there quietly waiting for about five minutes before speaking up again. "Uh..."

"Hush up for a sec though, I'm texting him. He's not easy to cut free when he's out of it ya know" She said, sounding all the world like a bored teenager. Completely unprofessional, though I'm not sure what I was expecting otherwise.

After another minute, she put her phone down and actually looked at me for the first time. She had this intensity to her look that caught me off guard, like she was a hardened cop and I was a criminal at an interrogation. She stepped up from her chair and slammed both her hands onto her desk, rattling the various skull, spider, and death metal decorations that covered it.

"Right then, whatsyaonfor?" She said, her mouth slinging words together so quickly I genuinely had no idea what she had said.

"W-what? I don't, Look I saw an ad for a guy here, Eric Iandryle, that purported to be a necromancer. I was wanting to do an interview with him in hopes of verifying the authenticity of his business."

"That right? And what gives you the authority of verifying authenticity of anyones business, little miss pink slippers"

"They're not pink they're salmon, also what do my shoes have to do with anything"

"Avoiding the question aren't ya?"

"I'm a reporter, and as such it's part of my job to investigate and report on all sorts of activities, including businesses and such"

"So just cuz you gotta camera and an attitude, your allowed to come digging around, sniffing out peoples secrets to put on blast to the world?"

"That's not what I'm doing, I'm just looking to interview him. And besides if you weren't doing something sketchy then you wouldn't have any reason to hide it would you?"

"This is an investigative service, which means just like you, we dig around in peoples closets looking for skeletons. However we are licensed, we don't just give out peoples private information, and you digging into our business threatens that."

This could have gone on for awhile, it was very clear to me from the get go that this girl wasn't your average highschooler. She was clearly intelligent enough to see through any deceptions I might put forward. Of course that only made me more determined to dig out the truth of this whole debacle.
Regardless, our back and forth was cut short by the front door, the door I had just come through, opening to reveal a rather terrifying figure.

He stood around six foot two, with the solid build of a man in his prime. The moment I saw him, the first thing that came to mind was "cowboy". And it fit, considering his clothes. His shirt was a grey, weathered thing that looked like it hadn't been washed in a week, and the jacket he wore over it was a classic duster, the sort that Nathan Fillion wore in Firefly. Blue jean pants were kept up by a solid black belt with a shiny silver buckle shaped like a skull, but his boots were a curious pair of leather things with metal plates on them. In his left hand he was carrying a hat, folded up but I could tell it was some wierd triangle type of wide brimmed hat. His right hand was holding a cigarette, halfway up to his mouth as he stared at me and then her.

And then my eyes got to his face, and the very first thing I noticed was how tired he looked, as if he hadn't slept in days. His eyes had black bags under them, his gaunt expression with pale skin making him look like a skeleton himself. His long black hair that tumbled about his neck and face had some strands of grey through it, and looked wet, as if he had just come out of the shower, though it wasn't raining outside. The stubble on his face suggested he hadn't shaved in at least a day or two.
But of all these things, it was the sharpness, the light in his eyes that caught my attention the most. They were nearly electric blue, and were crystal clear and seemed almost to shine in the dark recesses of his face.

Those eyes, those crystal clear eyes, as blue as lightning and as sharp as steel, cut first to me, then over to his secretary, and then over to me again. His expression shifted from surprise to confusion, then to curiosity. I could immediately tell that this man would never win a poker game, his emotions and thoughts were all over his face, despite how creepy it was.
I could tell from the look he had as he stared at me exactly what he was thinking. He was trying to find a way to twist this situation he suddenly found himself in to his advantage. It was the expression of a con artist putting a scheme together.

That's what I thought, anyway.

"Yeah, Let's talk" He said, nodding with his eyes closed.

It took me several moments to actually process what he had said, and apparently his secretary less time because she spoke up moments before I did to say, "Wait what? Seriously your actually going to meet with this chick? She just showed up here, no appointment or anything, she didn't even call!"

Course he probably didn't understand her cuz at the same time I was shouting, "Are you for real? Just like that? No appointment or anything?"

"Holy crap that was impressively loud and impossible to understand" He responded, a grim sort of smirk on his face as he took the cigarette and put it in his mouth. He was digging in his pocket for a lighter when suddenly the secretary appeared in front of him, moving so quickly and quietly I hadn't even noticed her, and plucked it out of his mouth before holding it at him, resembling nothing so much as my fourth grade teacher when she was chewing me out for something or other. "We talked about this! No smoking in the office, it makes the place smell bad and makes it hard to keep clients"

"Right, sorry, forgot." He mumbled.

"So uh, we're actually, like really doing an interview?" I said, wanting to verify that I was in fact getting my chance.

"Huh? Oh uh... yeah sure just um... Give me like fifteen minutes, I have to do something first some uh... Paperwork" He replied, shrugging as he shuffled his way past me.

He made his way down the only hallway and over to a door in the back, soaked in shadows like the depths of a cave. I heard his voice, which by the way after I'd gotten some time to listen to it, reminded me of Mark Harmon.

After the door shut I just stood there looking between the hallway and the secretary. After a few minutes of awkward silence I said to her "So... I'm Angela."

She rolled her eyes as she made her way back behind the desk. Once she plopped back down into her chair, she pulled out her phone and turned the chair so it was facing away from me. Pursing my lips I pulled my own phone out and started reading my texts.

I had one from my mom. I immediately popped it open and started reading

Hey sweety, Papi told me you have found an interview with someone for your journalism magazine. I am so proud of you, but be careful okay mija. I know you are a brave girl and smart enough to handle anything, but you also tend to double down way too hard when you get scared, and that can get you up to your neck in trouble. Just please make sure you don't do anything reckless, your dad and I worry.

It was pretty hard not to tear up on the spot there. I... Wasn't the best of kids, I was stubborn and insistent on my dream. But that didn't matter because mama and papa always had my back. Papa used to tell me that even if the whole world turned on me, he would still take my side no matter what. It's crazy what that kind of support does for you. Sometimes I feel like I can take on the world, and then other times I'm terrified that I'm dragging them down with me.

Something made my hair stand on end, and I glanced over my shoulder to see the secretary peeking over to see my phone. She had somehow managed to move her chair directly behind me, and was standing on it so that she was tall enough to look over my shoulder.

"...Do you mind?"

"Not at all"

I stood there for a few more seconds before stepping swiftly away from her and closing my phone.

"Therese."

As she was dragging her chair back behind her desk, she said that word back to me over her shoulder. Unable to understand, I just looked at her with my head tilted. Universal body language for "what?"

"You said your name is Angela," She responded, planting her butt back in the chair. "Mine is Therese."

"Oh... Hi, Therese... I guess."

"Sorry about earlier..."

"Yeah... It's fine, I'm getting my interview right? So no harm done."

"It's not fine," The sharpness of her response, not really a shout but really intense besides, caught my attention and I looked to her as she went on. "See... We get a lot of people in here who think what Eric does is a joke, or a scam, and it's not. Eric... He cares about people, a lot ya know. But most people think he's just some loser or scam artist, and he just doesn't do anything about that. He's a really good guy, ya know. So... I guess I'm kinda protective of him, which means sometimes I... Say things I shouldn't to people who don't deserve it."

Where was all this coming from? Did she read my moms message and suddenly decide to be friends? I was just about to ask for clarification when I heard the creak of the door at the end of the hall open up.

"Angela Tejeda right? Come on in, let's talk a bit."

I didn't see his face, but his voice carried well enough that I didn't really need to. I gave Therese one last curious look, she was back onto her phone now, and made my way down the hall, and into the dark room at it's end.

As forboding as that entry was, the actual office space was rather warm and welcoming, pleasant even. Everything was clean, the desk was simple and uncluttered, and a set of lamps gave off a gentle and warm light. He was sitting behind the desk in an oak chair that looked real expensive and professional, with maroon cushioning and fancy carving on the arms. His coat was hanging on a rack behind the desk, and hanging up with it was a holster with a small pistol in it. Seeing it made me swallow nervously, I couldn't help but wonder if he had been wearing that under the coat or not.

The hat was, curiously, not on the coat rack but set off to one side of his desk. Now that I could see it properly, it was probably the wierdest thing I'd seen on him. It seemed like what someone would make if they decided they wanted to combine a cowboy hat with a pirate captains hat. The brim was remniscent of an arrowhead, and the actual bowl of the hat was angled. The front of it, strangest of all, had what looked like eyes carved into the leather itself.

"Curious about it?" He said, catching me stare at the hat. "Got it from a friend a long time ago, was his favorite, though personally I think it's a bit gaudy."

I looked back to him and he gestured to a pair of chairs in front of his desk. But when I went to sit in one he spoke up, "No no, not that one it's... Taken." He said, with a slight and somewhat self defeating chuckle.

I looked first to him, then to the chair that was as empty as the day it was made. He gave a apologetic smile, and finally I decided to set in the other chair, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

As I got comfortable, he remained patiently silent, every so often glancing to one side. "So... Do you need to get a recorder out, pen and paper?" He said to me, smiling softly.

"Uh... not really, just here for some questions, not doing anything on the record just yet." I replied. Course, I did put my recorder on in my bag, but I wasn't going to tell him that.

"Alrighty, well. Whenever your ready, go ahead and start with your questions." He said, smiling softly as he did.

I was taken aback by this, and it took me a minute to recover. He was... Just going to let me question him, no limits, no restriction? He was even willing to let me record? Something was definetly up.

"So... I guess the first question is the most obvious, you advertise your work as a necromancer"

"Yes that's right. I do what I can for people who can no longer do anything themselves."

"And that includes people who are deceased."

"Well, Yeah."

The silence sat in the air for an uncomfortable minute before he chuckled softly and said, "Yeah I know, sounds like bull, Right?"

"I mean..."

"But think about it, for a moment. Is it any more crazy than like, half of the world clapping their hands together and looking up at the sky for help with problems they themselves can fix?" He clasped his own hands together, whether to make a point or just out of habit. "It's... Different when they die. They don't have hands, they don't have a voice, and yet sometimes they still have problems that need fixing."

What he was saying was... It was out there to be sure, but his eyes, his expression. Everything in me wanted to believe him, because he sounded so sincere. But I knew better than most that sometimes just because someone looks like they mean what they say, they really are just good at manipulating others.

And I guess something of what I was thinking was on my face because he sighed and whispered something so quietly I almost didn't catch it.

"I'll give it a chance"

"What was that?" I asked him, but he simply shook his head.

"Look, let's not waste each others time here, okay?" He pointed at me and said "You came here because you think I'm scamming people and want proof of it, right?"

"W-well do you honestly believe anyone would believe you about being a necromancer? Your clearly taking advantage of people" I kinda lost my temper and started shouting at him in response. A bad habit I have when I get called out on something, I go on the offensive.

But where I expected him to start shouting back, he just sat there calmly as I laid into him, calling him a con artist and a grifter, berating him for abusing the grieving, the scared. I told him that even if he threw me out, I wouldn't rest until I had uncovered every dirty truth behind his crimes and exposed him as the fraud he was. Then, as he remained quiet even still, I started to panic a little and made sure to tell him that my parents, and friends, knew where I was and if I disappeared then they would ask questions.

But when I started to tell him that I had friends on the police he just chuckled and, for whatever reason the soft and quiet way he did had me silent in a heartbeat. It wasn't a mean sound, in fact it actually reminded me of my grandpa... Him and one other person.

And that's when he looked at me, raised an eyebrow as if to ask if I was done, before he started explaining things.

"I ain't gonna hurt ya, and I promise as long as your with me ya ain't gonna worry 'bout being hurt. And I'm telling ya this 'cause I want ya to come along with me when I next do a job."

"I... You what?" Flabbergasted, I looked like a fish the way my mouth just opened and closed for a minute.

"Look... I'm not, I'm trying to help people in the only way I know how. And yes, I do take peoples money sometime but that's 'cause I have to in order to live, even I have bills to pay ya know. I have to pay Therese too, and I gotta pay for gas in my car so I can get places. But the money ain't never, and has never, been the reason for it. Just like for you, being a journalist ain't about getting paid."

He looked me dead in the eyes, his terrifyingly blue eyes felt like guns pointed right at my soul as he said, "If all you wanted was to get paid, then you would have no problem getting a job with any of those news stations who are more concerned with ratings and profits than the truth."

"The fact of the matter is, I do what I do 'cause I want to help people. But I can't... Just prove that to ya by telling ya. Actions speak louder than words, after all. I want ya to believe me, and the only way I can think of getting that 'cross, is by having ya join me on a job. You can record the whole thing, take pictures, whatever ya like."

"And after, I'm sure you'll see the truth. So how about it, We gotta deal?"

He didn't hold out his hand, but stood up from his chair and looked at me, waiting for my response. Now, I'd been through enough crap to know when someone was lying to me, was being sneaky or manipulative. I came here prepared for that, I really did.

What I had not been prepared for was this level of... Open honesty. And... unprepared as I was, I decided to test the waters a bit.

"So... I'll be allowed to record everything, full spec, no restrictions?"

"None from me at least, If the job comes from the police then they might not let you record or take pictures, but that's out of my hands."

"But if it's just you, your doings?"

"You can record me as much as you like."

"And... Ghosts, pictures of them."

"If you want to take some, sure, but You might need my help on that."

"Going to edit my photos?"

"No, I won't touch any of your equipment, just... Ghosts aren't tangible and can't interact with the material plane. The only way to see them is to provide a manifestation for them, which I can do."

"And... how does that work?"

"That... That's something it'd probably be easier to show than tell."

"Right, and if I end up proving your a fraud, you won't try to stop me posting to the news."

"Hell, if it please ya, then I'll let ya put the cuffs on me yerself. But only if ya manage to prove me a fraud."

"But your really okay with me following you around, knowing I'm going to try and prove your a conman whose been scamming people?" It just didn't follow, and as I stood up and leaned over his desk, trying my best to be intimidating to him, he only smiled and leaned back in his own chair.

"Well Like I said little miss, I ain't gonna convince ya with words, so I'll just have to show ya the truth." As he said this, he didn't meet my eyes but instead looked over to the other chair in the room, and then nodded.

Something about that caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand up, and I glanced back at that chair. There was... Something in the back of my mind, a thought that I couldn't quite pin down.

"In any case, it's getting kinda late isn't it. Almost eight at night, you got a ride home?"

"Ah yeah, I do."

"Alrighty, in that case, Make yer way up here roughly around ten or eleven. I should be able to find a job we can use for your ride along, and then we'll discuss the process during lunch, 'kay? Oh, and make sure to clear it with yer parents, ya might end up pulling an allnighter if it comes to that."

And just like that, I had an open invite to watching him work. There weren't many more details to go over and he clearly had other things on his mind, so I left him to his work and made my way out of the office. But as I did, once again I glanced at that chair, and yet I still couldn't pin down what it was that was bothering me.

After leaving the office, I texted Kyle to let him know I needed a pickup, though I was sure to explain it wasn't an emergency, just that I was done and didn't have a ride home.

While waiting, I went up to Therese at her desk, ready to ply her with questions as well.

"So, you have fun?"

"...I'm sorry?"

"I could hear you shouting at him from here."

"Oh, Oh I didn't mean-"

"Nah don't worry about it, It's good to get it out, and he's a very patient guy, he can take it."

"You... Would you mind telling me how you met him?" I asked her, quite sure she wasn't going to be willing to share.

Imagine my surprise then when she opened right up. "I'm finishing highschool this year, and I don't really have good grades or much of a future lined up. It's not really a problem cuz my parents are loaded, but they've been worried that my hobbies are too obscure. They have been trying to change me ever since I discovered who I really am, ya know. And I just wanted them to back off."

She leaned back in her chair and slowly spun in a circle, and it was right then that I realized how short she was. She was clearly in her late teens, but could probably pass for like a thirteen year old if she wanted to. Tallest she could be was maybe four foot ten or eleven.

"Well, eventually I got tired of it and we got into a huge fight. During which, I made a bit of a bad deal. I told them 'I garuntee you I can find a place that not only will I be able to work at, but I'll make a thousand dollars before the end of the year.' And they took me up on that, telling me that if I couldn't, then I'd have to go along with their plans." She sighed as she continued.

"For the first few months it was fine, I was looking around and trying out different places, but more and more it started to look like I was going to have to change in order to fit in with what other people wanted ya know. But I didn't wanna do that, I didn't wanna change who I am, what I believe in, just to get by in life. It's not fair to have to do that."

The way her words echoed my own from this morning hit me right in the gut. The fact that I had spent so long trying to find work that wouldn't demand I abandon my morals just to get paid, and this girl only gave herself a year. "Believe it or not, I understand how that feels." I couldn't help but agree with her.

She looked at me then and smirked. "Yeah, and just like me you found this place. Well, actually I found Eric and he showed me this place. I caught him in a job and, despite his best attempts to convince me otherwise, saw that he was the real deal. I had to badger him for like, a month straight before he would finally tell me everything."

"Oh... Sorry about that."

"What? Why are you sorry?"

"Well it's just... Your saying you saw what he was doing and had to pester him for awhile before he would tell you anything, and then earlier he just straight up agreed to let me interview him"

"Oh yeah that pissed me off a bit, No appointment or anything either." She gave me a sideways glare before shaking her head. "Doesn't matter though, your in so I'm not going to say anything about it. Anyway, Eric knows a lot of cool stuff, but he's absolute garbage when it comes to computers, but I'm pretty handy with the stuff. So I told him that if he would teach me magic, that I would hook him up with a website and social media connections so that he could grow his business."

"And... Has he taught you magic?"

"Oh yeah he's taught me a bunch, most of it is just the basics though so I'm not yet able to do anything really cool."

"Like?"

"Well there's all kinds of different ways to use magic. Transmutation, Divination, blasting stuff with fireballs. Or at least that's what I was hoping, but apparently magic is less scrolls and spellbooks and more idea's and emotion."

"Wait really? So what can you do then?"

"Well, for example, I can do this."

She said this as she rotated in her chair, but when the chair turned back to face me, she wasn't in it. I blinked a few times and called her name out softly. "Uh.. Therese?"

And then I nearly jumped out of my skin as Kyle opened the front door. "Hey, Angela. Did everything... You uh get what you needed?"

"Fucks sake, Kyle... You scared the crap outta me."

"Oh well in that case we should get you home for a change of clothes."

"Don't, right now, okay? I'm... Let's just get out of here."

I glanced around the room one last time, looking for Therese. As I did, I noted the desk and how short she was. In all liklihood she was probably hiding under it, having slipped out of sight somehow. Well whatever, if they wanted to play childish tricks like that and call it magic, fine.

After me and Kyle got back to his car and started heading home, I told him everything that had gone down. He wasn't as excited as I had thought he would be though. I mean he was excited for sure, he wouldn't stop asking questions about everything. But it wasn't with the same energy that he normally had for these kind of occult things. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but I was also too tired to give him the attention I felt he needed for whatever it was. It was probably a family thing, I told myself, eyes closing as he continued driving.

"Hey, Angie. Wake up, we're almost to your place."

My eyes snapped open as Kyle gently shook me awake. I hadn't thought I was so tired as I left, but the fact that I had dozed off clearly pointed otherwise. It wasn't until I had gotten back to the car with Kyle that I realized I had been so tense. For his part, Kyle was apologizing repeatedly as we drove home.

"I meant to finish up and make my way back sooner, I was worried sick that something would happen to you. Honestly we should have just waited a day and done the interview later, it was so stupid of me to just leave you there."

"It's fine Kyle. Besides you know me better than that, if you had said we need to come back later then I would have just argued otherwise until you followed me in."

"And besides," I said, looking to him as he started to pull into my parents driveway. "Everything turned out okay in the end, so it's a happy story."

He frowned at me, but he also smiled, so I figured that was the end of it. I was going to offer to have him come in, but before I could say anything he shook his head and started out of the driveway. "I gotta get back home, Mom's gonna be worried about me."

"Oh right, hey text me and tell me what was up won't you!"

"Yeah, I will."

And with that, he turned out of the drive and started making his way down the street, back towards his place across town. I on the otherhand had to turn and face my front door, knowing full well what to expect.

"Mija it's late, where have you been?" My mom whispered to me as I came in the door. She had been sitting at the kitchen table, clearly up late worrying about me. Even from here I could see dad in the living room, sleeping in the reclining chair he had.

"Sorry mama, I was following a lead." I said, giving her a hug. She smelled like caramel and muffins, and her curly black hair tickled my nose.

My mama was in her late fifties, though her exact age is a mystery I'll leave you to risk finding out. Like most of the women in our family, she had been a beauty during her twenties and thirties, slowly but surely achieving matronly status as she passed through her fifties. Even now, she looked like she would be right at home either dancing at a club or doing the dishes. I had gotten my black hair and brown eyes from her, and my chestnut skin as well.

While mama was very clearly a pure blooded mexican-american, I wasn't quite so pure. Papa was an Irish Immigrant, who had managed to woo my mother with songs from the heart, and fiery passion in his loins, as he liked to torment me by saying. And where she was roughly five foot ten, he barely reached the bar at five feet exactly. He was always saying that it was a blessing from the lord that I had gotten all of my mothers looks and none of his, but I did get some of his freckles, as well as his smile and squashed nose. It didn't matter to me what anyone said though, I was glad to have even just that much of him.

Both my mother and father were kind and compassionate people. Mama worked at a hospital as a nurse, and papa worked both a factory job in the mornings and a delivery job in the afternoons. And even still they didn't push me to help with finances or anything, only ever encouraging me to make my dreams come true. Even now, after everything that's happened, the thing I feel most lucky about is my parents. After all, how many people can say they had people taking their side, no matter the argument?

"Papa didn't stay up too late waiting for me did he?" I whispered back to her.

"No, Mija. He wanted to, but I snuck a little sleeping pill into his drink after six to make sure he would sleep."

We both giggled quietly at that, then mama handed me a bowl of chicken and rice. It was still warm, and I thanked her quietly before we both made our way through the house, taking pains not to wake him.

Once we were in their room, and the door was shut behind us, Mama turned to me with hopeful eyes.

"So... How did it go? Did you find the big break you were after?"

"I think so. I don't know for sure but I have a lead, and I'm definetly going to have to follow it."

So I explained to her about the days events, how me and Kyle had met with Mr. Conners, and what he had said about his wife. How he had encouraged us to talk to Eric himself, and our eventual run in with him.

She was a little upset about Kyle leaving me alone though. "That boy should know better than to leave a girl out in an unfamiliar place without a way home."

"Mama, it was all me. I told him I'd be fine, as long as he came to pick me up, and he did didn't he?"

"That doesn't matter. A real man would have stuck around even if you told him to go, that's what your Papa would have done."

I just shook my head, and took the time with her ranting to eat some food. She started talking about Mr. Conners and what he said, though it seemed more like she was talking to herself than to me.

"From the way you described it, it didn't sound like he had alzheimers or dementia. He didn't sound confused or seem to have trouble differentiating between events?" When I shook my head in response, she just shrugged. "Well, I will chalk it up to just plain old grief. He wanted to see his wife, and this Mr. Iandryle gave him a way to pretend he did."

"You don't think it's real at all?"

"Oh mija of course not, You can't bring the dead back to life, that's just fairy tale video game nonsense" She shook her head at me. "But your going to go back there to double check anyway, so I'm sure whatever the truth is, you'll find out."

"Yeah," I muttered noncommittedly, "But... It still bothers me".

"What does Mija?"

"The fact that this conman, this Eric Iandryle, the first thing I noticed when I met him is how expressive he is. You can read him like a book, absolutely no poker face at all... And..."

Something in my expression must have tipped her off to my feelings. "Mija, c'mon, you can tell me anything."

I swallowed hard, thinking back to just how sincere he was. "It's just, the way he spoke of it all... He seemed so... sincere. And desperate, like without any prompting he just started telling me everything, as if he couldn't wait to get it off his chest."

My mother was silent, hands clasped together with her thumbs pushing up against her chin, a pose I knew well from when she was trying to balance our checkbook. She sat like that, thinking for some time, enough that I was able to finish my food before she finally said, "Secrets are hard to keep... Especially if they're painful. It's like holding a pinecone in your hands, you squeeze too tightly and it pricks your hands, but hold it too losely and anyone can come up and snatch it. The only ones who can really keep a secret are either numb to the pain, or loyal enough to endure it."

I just tilted my head at her, unsure of her meaning. She saw this, and then giggled softly at me. "You know, your pretty bad at poker too sweety."

"Well yeah, that's why I don't play"

She took my face in her hands then and rubbed her forehead against mine. My weak protests did nothing to stop her. "Mom, what did you mean by all that?"

"Well," She said, "From the sound of things, this Eric fellow seems less like a conman, and more just niave. You see similar things from priests and others in church. They believe so strongly in doing good by their faith, that sometimes they convince themselves that the things they believe are real."

I could see the dark and sorrowful expression on my moms face as she spoke, and knew that the discussion had to end. Mom... Had a real bad experience with religion when she was young, and it broke her faith in god and his followers. She had always tried to be unbiased with me, letting me make my own decisions and choices, but she could never completely hide her contempt with those who prayed, regardless of who or what they prayed to.

After that, I simply nodded and smiled at her. "It's fine mom, Whatever this guy's deal is, I'll be extra careful." I comforted her with a hug, and the darkness left her face as she smiled again.

"I know you will Mija, your father didn't teach you boxing for nothing, now did he." She chuckled

I grimaced in response. Papa's boxing lessons had been... thorough. He had wanted to make sure his little girl wasn't just strong, but tough as well. And he succeeded.

"Whatever else happens, just make sure you let us know where you are, that way if you get in over your head, we can be there to help." She finished, rubbing at my cheek before taking the plate and quietly opening the door to the room again. Then, together, we made our way back to the kitchen, She placed the plate in the sink, and I made my way upstairs. She, however, went over to the couch in the living room to sleep. That was how much my parents loved each other, that they would rather sleep in the same room to be together than separate to be comfortable.

I slipped into my room as quietly as I could, sat my bag off the side of the bed, and collapsed into it myself. But even though I was still insanely tired, I couldn't sleep.

No matter how I tried, it was still bothering me. Something about this guy, this Eric Iandryle, just didn't line up with everything else. The way Therese talked about him, the way Mr. Conners had, hell even the way Jojo from the Taco Truck had. From everyone's perspective, this guy sounded like a saint, but he was openly claiming to be a necromancer.

Something about him... Reminded me of someone else, and something he had said to me before he was gone forever.

"It's not an easy job, but it's one worth doing, and one I can do."

As I finally started to drift off to sleep, I saw his face. A face I hadn't seen since I was still a little girl, dreaming of being a comic book hero...

Chapter 2: Ridealong the Crazy Train

The following morning was hectic. Dad was off to work early in the morning, but he popped in and shook me awake just long enough get the rough details of what happened, and to let me know he loved me.
Then I woke up a second time to a text from Kyle, which I barely managed to read the first few words of, before falling back asleep.
By the time I woke up for real, it was already ten thirty, and I was in a panic. I scrambled to gather my things, skipped the shower and a change of clothes for speed, and all but sprinted out the door.
My mom knew me too well, because even as I was making my way to rush out, she stopped me only long enough to hand me a tightly wrapped breakfast burrito. She had also called Kyle to have him waiting for me and ready to go.

He was a lot happier this morning than I remembered him being last night, so I took the risk and asked him about what had happened yesterday. Took only a little more prodding to finally get him to unload.

Apparently, his dad had all but ordered his mom to call him to the house with an emergency, but the only emergency had been his dad wanting to chew him out for wasting time with frivolous pursuits. His dad had essentially given him an ultimatum, saying that by the end of the year, if he didn't hit the mark expected of him with his grades, then he would be sent to boarding school for "correction".
I'd only met Mr. Nimura a few times since Kyle and I first began hanging out, he had always been respectful and cordial, but also seemed quite high strung. For the longest time I had simply chalked it up to him being a businessman and a lover of tradition. But Kyle... I guess it's true what they say, that having to live with a person is going to show you things about them you'd rather not know.

"There is an upside to it," Kyle said, with a smile.

"Oh?" I replied, curious.

"My uncle showed up, and immediately got into it with my dad."

As I raised my eyebrows at this development, I tried to recall Kyle's uncle. The man was, by all accounts, the polar opposite of Mr. Nimura. Where Kyle's dad was a strict, by the book, tradition following japanese man, His brother appeared to be something of a free spirit, who sought to express himself in whatever manner he enjoyed most. In many ways, Kyle was more like his uncle than his dad. For one thing, where his father rejected the very idea of Kyle becoming a DJ, His uncle actively encouraged him to "find his sound".

"Yeah... He actually defended me ya know, told my dad it was wrong to put 'That kind of pressure on someone still growing'. After that, dad insisted they go to a private room to discuss it, and Uncle straight up told him no. 'We're talking about your son, he has a right to hear what we say'."

"Hell yeah, that's exactly what I would have said." I cheered

"Heh, yeah I know, when he said that I immediately thought of you." His smirk as he turned the corner onto the gravel road that led to The Necromancers 'office' made his face look impish. "You two should meet sometime."

"Oh absolutely!" I smacked his shoulder. "Be about time I get to meet your mysterious uncle. Every other time You've tried to set up some kind of meet, he's always got some new age art project that he has to get to."

"Well I can't help that, but I'll definetly lock down something this weekend." He responded, rolling his shoulder.

Kyle pulled off to one side of the building, shutting the engine down and clambering out after me. This time he was going to stick with me, so that if this Eric guy tried anything funny then at least I'd have backup.

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Main Cast

Core characters who will show up in almost every episode

Eric Iandreyl

Even as a child Eric could always feel a presence hovering over his shoulder, never really understanding what it was. All he could tell his parents, or the psychologist they took him to, was that the present meant no harm. In fact, he believed it was trying to help him, to protect him.
He was so intrigued with this present he felt, that during college he began experimenting in a way entirely different from that of the usual college student. He was already studying for a major in physics and biology, and in his free time was researching Occult and Esoteric fields of magic, ghosts, and other such things.
One day he achieved what many thought to be impossible, and indeed nobody truly believed him. He managed to psychically attune himself to the spirit world, and meet the presence that had haunted him all his life, face to face. Its name was Terrence Duncasse le Veriano the VIIIth, but Eric calls him Terry.
Now in his late 30s, Eric and Terry have formed a Private Investigation business, focusing on cold cases as the main clientele. Eric's abilities allow him to not only speak with the dead but also to manifest them in such a way that others can interact with them. He uses this to run his side business where he helps wayward spirits and ghosts finish whatever business ties them to the mortal plane and move on to the other side.
His interactions with the living however tend to be less pleasant, most people think he's insane or otherwise. Even the ones that don't have trouble fully accepting what he claims, though he does have the tools to change that. He refuses to fully expose himself and his abilities on account of not wanting such attention, fearing that if everyone knew what he could do, the entire world would be coming to him for answers.

"The living may want answers, but the dead have been waiting longer."

Angela Tejeda

A hispanic girl born and raised locally in Dallas Texas, Angela has always wanted to be a reporter. Citing such heroes of journalism like Clark Kent and Louis Lane, Angela worried her parents with what they believed was an overly naive, childish view of journalism. Despite this and wanting to be good parents, they did their best to support her, while also bracing for what they feared would be the inevitable heart break of learning her dream was not so grand after all.
However Angela proved herself to be quite resilient as she grew up and persued her dream. She came to understand and accept that things weren't exactly as she has thought as a kid, but still stuck to her ideal view of a Reporter, unafraid and willing to bring the truth to light, no matter the obstacle.
Now in her early 20's and working for a small time magazine editorial, Angela is looking for her first real big story. She believes she's found it in Eric Iandreyl, a private investigator rumored to be tied to supernatural events and situations.

Terrence Duncasse le Veriano the VIIIth

Once, Terry was a knight serving a noble lord of the house Iandreyl. He had been taken in when he was injured during battle, his life saved by his lord whom he vowed he would serve forever to protect him as he had himself been protected. Unfortunately, Terry got drunk one night and spent an evening with a woman.
That very night, the Iandreyl ancestral home came under attack, and Terry ran away in a drunken panic. His oath forsaken, Terry sought to claim vengeance for the death of his lord, and succeeded. However he was informed by one of the victims of his revenge that the Lady and Lords first born son had managed to escape.
Realizing that he now had a duty to find and protect the child, Terry scoured the world for him, but never found him. Eventually Terry himself would be persued by the family of the men he murdered in vengeance, and thus a curse fell upon him. Believing himself an utter failure, Terry's final breath was spent swearing he would never rest until he had found and protected his charge.
Thus did he spend a thousand years wandering the world as a haunted spirit, until chance brought him upon Eric Iandreyl, the descendant of his lord.
Dedicated completely to Eric, Terry often serves as his second pair of eyes, making use of his spectral existence to go places that Eric himself is barred from. And after Eric's research granted him the means to manifest Terry, The old warrior often serves as a contingency plan in the event that Eric's investigations land him in dangerous territories.
After all, a knight that's already been killed once makes a wonderful bodyguard, when you think about it.

Miranda Ergyle

Dallas Police Officer assigned to the cold case unit. She often works very closely with Eric, though not openly. Most of the police force think of Eric as either a lunatic or a con artist, though harmless enough in either case. Miranda doesn't know if he's either, but she does know that he's somehow able to find things nobody else can, and the leads he produces for her often result in solved cases. Having grown up an orphan, both her parents murdered in a drive by shooting that still hasn't been solved, Miranda knows all too well the value the closure he brings to people can be.

Therese

At 17 years old, Therese has spent about five years longer than her parents had hoped in her goth "phase". Therese is super into occult, witchcraft, and other such things. She came to work for Eric after finding out that he apparently talks to ghosts from the rumor mill. After working with him for about two years, she came to earn his trust enough that he revealed his true abilities to her. She felt validation for the first time in her life, coming to realize that all that hooky witchcraft stuff that everyone else thought was just for attention was actually real. Now she works for him for a reduced paycheck in exchange for lessons on how to do some of the things he does, an arrangement he has agreed to only on the condition that she help him modernize his business, something to which her tech savvy nature is keenly capable of.

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A world located towards the northernmost fringe of the empire, isolated and alone. It is a largely unexplored wilderness that consists of large polar caps, large mountain ranges, and a desert band skirting it's equator. It is a primal world, filled with large and dangerous creatures the likes of which are not found elsewhere in the realm.

There are very few actual settlements here, most of them dwarven and located in the mountains. A penal colony was started in the northernmost section of the world for the retrieval of adamantium deposits. A bit further beyond towards the coast of the only liquid ocean of the world is a smaller village that, although ostensibly part of the empire, does not hold particularly strong allegiences to them.

The world is generally devoid of many resources that would be required for it to be considered habitable, and devoid of almost any resources that would make it valuable. The empire maintain's it's control over the world solely and entirely because of the ancient ruins that litter the surface of the world. There are multiple such ruins all across the landscape, including several that have yet to be accessed properly, buried under ice and sand as they are.

Aside from that, towards the northern ice cap is a large supply of Adamantium, as well as some particularly unique creatures that produce a substance of little value on it's own, but alchemists have been able to refine into both a fuel source and a delicacy. The sheer number of unique creatures also attracts a large number of adventurers and thrill seekers hoping to prove their mettle against such wild beasts.

Regions

There are three distinct regions in Makereth. The Ice Caps, the Mountains, and the Desert Band.
The northern ice cap holds the majority of The empires direct ownership to the world, where the mountains are held by various dwarven vassal states to teh empire. The Southern Ice cap is almost entirely unsettled and wild, consisting of little to nothing of value to the empire..

The settled regions (Term used loosely) are known as Londi, Akbergha, and The Dune Watch.

Londi, The Forsaken

Londi is a dwarven word, meaning lost. But it is not used by the dwarves to refer to something so simple as a lost tool or treasure. In dwarven, Londi means lost beyond any hope of salvation, forsaken and forgotten. It means that you are gone, and will ever be so. The Land of Londi was named so by the dwarves because of the desolation of the place, it is a barren and empty wasteland of ice and frozen rock. The only people who could live here would be those with no where else to go, no where else that they are wanted. That was the belief of the dwarves who settled it, and the Master of Justice when he established the penal colony of Cliffbreak in this area.

And yet, The village of Palebank was founded a scant thirty years ago by a married couple, who did not see this barren frozen wasteland as a forsaken place, but as a chance to start anew. Where all others looked upon the land with despair, they found hope.

They have had their share of hardships. The village was founded without any tribute or authorization by the empire, who retaliated by sending a punitive force. That force was subsequently decimated by the harshness of the terrain itself. A larger punitive force was sent after, one garunteed to survive the region's nature.

It was completely defeated by a single man, whom the survivors of that army terrifyingly recalled as "A Dragon in Knights Armor".
Shortly after this event, the master of magic and Master of war were sent to investigate, and when they returned to the empire, they made it clear that Palebank was not a threat, and would serve the empire without issue. When questioned about the so called "Dracoknight" as the rumours had named him, the master of magic simply denounced the rumours as "superstition". He claimed that the threat of the native species of fauna in the region was more significant than originally estimated, and that was the true source of the problem.
The master of war, it is curious to note, was silent throughout this exchange. He announced his retirement a mere three days later, and vanished to parts unknown.

Akbergha, The Dwarven Tunnels

It is a known facet of dwarven society that dwarven clans populate quickly. This presents a two fold problem, as Dwarves are exceptionally long lived. Space becomes sparse for dwarven clans, who are well known for fiery tempers and lack of patience. Clan wars were not uncommon during the early days of their society. When they joined the empire, access to multiple worlds provided a feasible solution. Clans that began to overpopulate the area's they were found in would splinter off a number of missionary groups who would then settle into new regions. They would found new dwarf holds, and expand thereupon.

The overall result is a very well developed method of population control, and makes these fringe worlds with large mountain ranges quite lucurative to the dwarven population of the Empire, as it provides a ready means for population expansion.
Akbergha is one such dwarf hold, and fulfills exactly that purpose. There are little enough resources available in Makereth for the dwarves to make use of, but they are an ever resourceful people, making the most of nothing at all.

Sprawling across a solid expanse of over 25 miles worth of mountain range, Akbergha is quite large for a dwarfhold of such recent development. It largely consists of housing, with a fair amount of industry and some minor mushroom farms towards it's fringes. The most important structure would be the central cone where the primary governmental facilities and Imperial offices are located. The largest present is of the Archeology Guild, whose primary purpose in this world is the study and access of Ancient ruins. Directly tied them is the Mercenary Guild, who fields a large number of their requests for the so called "Adventurers"

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Holding Space

a part of “Scattered Realms”, a fictional universe by Mr.Bubbles_Esquire.

Holding Space

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