Necromance

Necromance: Chapter Three

NECROMANCE

By: Rachel Kramer

Chapter Three:

As I was driving home, alone, in the dead of night, after having had a very close call with death, I realized that going home was probably not the best idea. If Daniel had been able to find me out and about on a Saturday night, he surely knew where I lived. Just two months ago, the last hit-man he hired to take me out, had been waiting for me in my last apartment. I nearly killed the guy in order to get away. I had to work very hard to do as little as possible harm, while still inflicting enough damage to render him unconscious long enough for me to pack up and leave.

Why go out of my? Well, I've killed before, and it's not fun. I use it as a last resort, because that kind of guilt - even if he or she is not a good person - still sticks with you forever. It haunts your conscious during the day, and follows you into your sleep. I have nightmares about it nearly every single night. It's why I could never do what my brother does. Monsters or not, I could never be an assassin. After all, the monsters had been human at one point, and if there was anything left of their humanity left inside of them, I didn't want to be the one to kill it. Daniel, on the other hand, had no qualms about that. "Do or die" was his motto. And so, did it seem, was "an eye for an eye". He strongly believed in just revenge. Even if I was his sister, he'd make no exception.

So it seemed I was S.O.L. And if I couldn't go home, where was I going to go? Almost immediately, I felt stupid for having had to even contemplate that. I had plenty of friends, but none that were close enough to ask for this kind of favor. They were all normal - human like me - only they didn't share the knowledge that I did. They lived in a world where monsters didn't live. Well, all of them, except for one. Camille.

Camille had grown up in a family just like mine - a family of trained preternatural assassins. For centuries it was only the men who took on this family tradition. Within this last generation or so, the women had been given the option to learn and train alongside our brothers and fathers. Both Camille and I had joined in on the action, working on our craft since turning thirteen. The only difference was, she still did it, whereas I had dropped out after the first hunt. That was the night my father was murdered by the monsters. The night I failed him.

I mentally shook away the awful memories of that night, and reached down to retrieve my purse from the passenger-side floor. I unzipped it, digging through the contents of my bag for my cell phone. I came across my Glock 27, a semi-automatic pistol, and situated it between my legs (with the safety on of course). It was small compared with most guns, and only slightly larger than my own hands. It wasn't an ideal gun to use since it worked best at close range and only carried nine bullets, but a gun was better than no gun. Besides, it fit nicely in my purse and was virtually undetectable.

I reached back into my bag, and finally found my cell. Camille lived nearly an hour away, in Riverside, but it was a drive I was willing to make, if it meant I didn't have to go home and face what evils surely awaited me there. As I got on the 55-north freeway, I dialed her number. To my dismay, it went to voicemail.

"Hey Camille, it's me, Brigitte. Don't you know you're supposed to answer your phone when I call?" I sighed, "Listen, this is sort of an emergency. I know it's late, but call me back as soon as you get this. I don't care if it's at four in the morning. Just call me."

I hung up and continued down the freeway, faced with a dilemma. Did I head to Camille's house anyway, and just show up? If she wasn't home, I'd pretty much be screwed. Of course, if she wasn't there, I could always just get a hotel room. The only downside to that was the fact that I had no cash, only a credit card. Daniel could easily track that. Damn. I was really screwed this time.