Kiss of the Necromancer (Memento Mori 1)

She put her hand on her cabinet door and shot him another venomous look. “I need a glass of water. I’m thirsty. Being abducted is hard work, apparently.” No, what she needed to do was call the cops. But she was on the edge of becoming a psycho’s hostage, so she figured she should wait for a better opportunity than this one.

“Don’t do anything stupid. You know I can stop you.” He moved his coat aside to reveal his gun, proving both their points.

“Just water, skippy.” She fetched a glass and filled it with water from the sink. “Besides, I don’t think you’re going to shoot me. You said you wanted me to help you find the necromancer’s—Philly whatever.”

“Phylactery.”

“And now you’re abducting me? Why?”

“I don’t have the time to explain here. We need to leave. I’ve already wasted too much time.” He picked up the edge of the table and looked underneath. “Do the legs come off this thing?”

“Are you going to steal my goddamn kitchen table?” She put her hand over her eyes for a moment. “I’m hallucinating this. I’m absolutely hallucinating this. This isn’t possible.”

“I’m not stealing it. I’m taking it with us. And just the top. Don’t need the legs for shit.” He put it down and stared at the top again. “You really don’t know what this is?”

“No.”

“Or what it says?”

“No.”

“I have a real, real hard time believing that.”

“I don’t care. Get. Out. Of. My. Home.”

Flipping the table onto its side, he began unscrewing the legs. “Whatever. Someone back home will know what this says.”

“Home, where?”

“The Vatican. I told you that.”

“You’re insane. You’re a complete loon.” She knew she was starting to sound desperate, and that her words were clearly more meant to convince her than him. But she clung to her raft in the rolling seas all the same. “This isn’t real. There are no necromancers. There’s no such thing as magic. You aren’t from some secret society of priests working in the service of the Vatican.”

“I’ll prove it to you in about two hours. Come on and give me a hand, will you?” He tossed the first leg aside and began unscrewing the second one.

“You have got to be kidding me. You’re trying to kidnap me! Why would I help you?” This was getting more farcical by the second.

“Because it’s…a Christianly thing to do?” He smirked at her. “I had to try.”

“What?” She shook her head. “Whatever. Screw you. I’m leaving. I’m calling the cops.” She headed toward the door. When he snatched her wrist again, she responded by smashing the glass of water against his face. The glass didn’t shatter, which was probably best for her hand, but bad for her escape plans.

“Damn it!” He gripped his face. He was soaked, and that had hurt, but not bad enough that he let her go. He still had her by her wrist. She tugged on him, but only got an angry growl and a rough tug in response. The tug left her staggering, nearly sending her to the floor.

Whatever pain he had felt hadn’t lasted long enough for her to get away. She grunted as he pushed her against the wall. Panic start to well up in her as he rummaged through his coat pocket. “No, no—”

“I didn’t want to have to do this.” Something pinched her throat. She whimpered as she felt him dig a needle into her skin. “Sorry, hellcat. You’ll wake up when we’re somewhere safe, and then we can talk like normal, civilized people.”

“Stop—” But it was too late. He pulled the needle from her neck and let her go. She figured the only reason he released her was because it didn’t matter anymore. She couldn’t get far. She wondered how long she could make it before whatever he gave her would put her under. “You absolute shithead. I was right. I fucking hate you.”

He frowned. “I didn’t want things to go like this. I really didn’t. I had other plans. But I was told to go faster, so here I am, going faster. Sit down. It’ll take a minute to work.”

Her arms felt weak. Her legs were about to follow. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to scream for help, but she knew he’d do worse things to her if she tried. Falling and smacking her head on the ground did sound like a terrible plan.

So she sat.

She felt stupid. Childish. Powerless. Her eyes teared up. “Why’re you doing this to me…? I have enough problems…”

“I know. I really do.” He knelt at her feet and smiled up at her with a shocking amount of regret. “You didn’t ask for any of this. Literally any of it. It isn’t your fault. Just shut your eyes, and sleep, and then we’ll talk.”