"Barb..." I reached out to pat her hand. Barbie recoiled sharply.
"Don't touch me George. I can't trust myself anymore. I fed recently but my control is still so raw that I'm not sure I can be touched without going off and I'm not sure that I'd be able to fuck you without ruining you in the process." I opened my mouth but was interrupted. "Not just your marriage, George, but YOU. This... thing that I was given, it eats energy. Normal humans don't put out enough to come out intact. IF you survived- and that's a huge if- you'd be a slave to Torrid and I. More Torrid than me since the power really comes from him. I get to have all the "fun" but he still calls the shots with whatever happens with the STD."
I take a deep breath and lean back in my chair. This is quite frankly one of the most fucked up situations I've come across recently. Not the most fucked up, but up there. The most fucked up case had to have been in the early days of supernatural law when a guy in California tried to justify the raising of an 8 year old girl as a sex toy. His justification was that she was dead, he didn't kill her, and she had no living blood relatives to complain, so it wasn't an arrestable offense. Necrophilia laws didn't quite cover her since she was walking and talking.Since this happened before supernatural protection laws were drawn up, there wasn't anything to really outlaw his actions and he ended up getting off with probation, which he ended up not serving when he was promptly shot coming out of the courtroom. Now I'm not sure, but I've heard rumors that his corpse was raised and defiled nightly until the government passed a law outlawing that sort of thing. Now you can only get a zombie sex slave if they've previously agreed to it beforehand. DMV "donor" questions are the fodder for endless late night show jokes, but I'm purposely avoiding the subject at hand. Barbie's life was still messed up.
"Barbie. I'm going to be frank. Do you want out of this relationship with Torrid? The system doesn't have anything that precisely covers your situation but if you want I can apply to have your bonding ceremony dissolved. If you want to stay, that's fine. I just want to make sure that you know your options."
Barbie stuck her lower lip out and stared at the floor. "I don't know. Yes. No. I want to be with him but I don't want to screw everything that moves. It's good sex but when you come out of it and realize that you screwed a werewolf with a combover because Torrid wants a free car, you end up feeling sort of cheap." She paused thoughtfully. "But it is a kickass car and the guy was pretty good in bed. And we only do it to the people who want to use or hurt us."
Yeah... the dissolution isn't going to be happening anytime soon. Barbie's already started justifying the relationship in her head and by the look on her face I think she's just now started to realize that she can profit off of this as well. "If you change your mind at any time, I'm here to help you."
10 PM:
I was startled out of my paper induced coma by screaming. I poked my head out of my office to see some goth girl come out of Barbie's office.
"TRAMP! HOMEWRECKER! I'm going to make sure that you never see Derek again!" Goth girl seems to be really pissed, knocking over anything that comes across her path.
"Is everything OK here?" I know I should stay out of it, but dammit- I'm not going to let this girl leave with that murderous look on her face. Last thing we need is for Barbie to get more death threats. Or more love notes, for that matter. If she's not getting letters covered with blood she's getting them covered in semen.
"Everything is fine, George. Falacia's just upset because her boyfriend chose to come to my bed. She just needs to vent." She ducked a pencil sharpener that was lobbed at her head. "I told you and I'll tell you again. I didn't know that he was seeing anyone. If I'd have known, I would have told him to get lost."
"Oh yeah, like that's a good excuse. I saw the two of you in the parking lot earlier tonight. With the amount of time you spent in the backseat of his car you should have seen the pictures of me on the dash." She sneered. "Oh wait, you had some guy's crotch in your face the whole time. How could you have seen them? Or did you and you just didn't care? It wouldn't be the first time you screwed someone else's guy. Maybe you're fucking this guy behind someone else's back as well." Falacia gestured at me and I backed up with my hands raised in protest.
"No way. I wouldn't go there." I shook my head emphatically. Barbie looked a little hurt at how enthusiastically I was denying any attraction to her.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Gritty Sue and the case of the pulsating vampire
Author's note: This isn't really based on any one person's story in general. Just UF tropes.
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I stepped out into the night, feeling leather caress my every curve. Not many people had the guts to wear a leather catsuit in July, but it's what made me feel good. It matched my dangerous and gritty personality, which also unfortunately kept almost everyone at bay. That had its benefits on occasion but unfortunately it pushed a lot of guys away as well. I hadn't gotten hit on in at least 2 hours.
My best friend Sally kept pace beside me. She was the exact polar opposite of me. Where I had hair that some compared to the darkest midnight, her hair was the color of sunlight and golden sheaths of wheat. I pushed back my waist length hair, cursing that it'd somehow managed to come out of its tight braid.
We'd decided to go out drinking but we'd wandered into the wrong bar. For a town that looked incredibly old fashioned in certain areas, it had a large amount of bars for us to stumble in and out of when needed. The night life here was incredible, especially after all of the supernatural creatures had exposed themselves to the human population.
I heard Sally chirp something at me but I generally ignored her. After all, it was only going to be a short while until she dropped dead from one attack or another. I mentally practiced how I would react to her death- would it be cooler to go all "cold murdering ice bitch" or would it be better to go the "wail and scream up at the night" route? I guess it depends on whether or not she'd be able to gasp out her last dying words, which would probably tell me how I was the greatest friend ever and/or a cryptic detail about her murderer.
"...so then I told him 'hey, you'd be sore if you had that many at a time'." Sally turned towards me waiting for me to acknowledge her. I smiled at her and she scowled. "Hey Mary, I know that I'm only going to be around for a few more hours and that you chose me because I was voted 'most likely to be garroted before she's 30', but-" I cut her off with a glare.
"Don't you ever say that! You're totally not going to die and you're also my bestest friend ever!" I smiled in her direction.
Then I saw him. A vision of fanged beauty. I reacted exactly the way I did to all vampires. I instantly pulled out a stake and lunged at him. He attempted to dodge but I caught him and held the stake at his heart while my other hand cupped his genitals. A look of surprise overtook his exquisite face.
Then I staked him. Dust flew everywhere. Sally turned towards me with a look of surprise. "Why'd you do that Mary? He was gorgeous and I'm really certain that he has an angsty past that only you can soothe."
I rolled my eyes. "I staked him for the same reasons I stake every male vampire. Small dick. I do have some standards, Sally."
We walked down the boulevard and Sally tried to soothe me. "Don't worry Mary, that perfect vamp is out there somewhere. Maybe if we're lucky I'll be horrifically murdered in the next five minutes and my killer will be some guy with a mule in his pants and a wicked heart full of angst that you can rehabilitate into the perfect humanist. Er, vampirist. Whatever."
I looked over at Sally. "With your ghost giving me the OK to bang him (although I'll totally already be doing that) from the hereafter while I angst over my lust for your undying killer?"
"You bet." And with that, we wandered off into the night.
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I stepped out into the night, feeling leather caress my every curve. Not many people had the guts to wear a leather catsuit in July, but it's what made me feel good. It matched my dangerous and gritty personality, which also unfortunately kept almost everyone at bay. That had its benefits on occasion but unfortunately it pushed a lot of guys away as well. I hadn't gotten hit on in at least 2 hours.
My best friend Sally kept pace beside me. She was the exact polar opposite of me. Where I had hair that some compared to the darkest midnight, her hair was the color of sunlight and golden sheaths of wheat. I pushed back my waist length hair, cursing that it'd somehow managed to come out of its tight braid.
We'd decided to go out drinking but we'd wandered into the wrong bar. For a town that looked incredibly old fashioned in certain areas, it had a large amount of bars for us to stumble in and out of when needed. The night life here was incredible, especially after all of the supernatural creatures had exposed themselves to the human population.
I heard Sally chirp something at me but I generally ignored her. After all, it was only going to be a short while until she dropped dead from one attack or another. I mentally practiced how I would react to her death- would it be cooler to go all "cold murdering ice bitch" or would it be better to go the "wail and scream up at the night" route? I guess it depends on whether or not she'd be able to gasp out her last dying words, which would probably tell me how I was the greatest friend ever and/or a cryptic detail about her murderer.
"...so then I told him 'hey, you'd be sore if you had that many at a time'." Sally turned towards me waiting for me to acknowledge her. I smiled at her and she scowled. "Hey Mary, I know that I'm only going to be around for a few more hours and that you chose me because I was voted 'most likely to be garroted before she's 30', but-" I cut her off with a glare.
"Don't you ever say that! You're totally not going to die and you're also my bestest friend ever!" I smiled in her direction.
Then I saw him. A vision of fanged beauty. I reacted exactly the way I did to all vampires. I instantly pulled out a stake and lunged at him. He attempted to dodge but I caught him and held the stake at his heart while my other hand cupped his genitals. A look of surprise overtook his exquisite face.
Then I staked him. Dust flew everywhere. Sally turned towards me with a look of surprise. "Why'd you do that Mary? He was gorgeous and I'm really certain that he has an angsty past that only you can soothe."
I rolled my eyes. "I staked him for the same reasons I stake every male vampire. Small dick. I do have some standards, Sally."
We walked down the boulevard and Sally tried to soothe me. "Don't worry Mary, that perfect vamp is out there somewhere. Maybe if we're lucky I'll be horrifically murdered in the next five minutes and my killer will be some guy with a mule in his pants and a wicked heart full of angst that you can rehabilitate into the perfect humanist. Er, vampirist. Whatever."
I looked over at Sally. "With your ghost giving me the OK to bang him (although I'll totally already be doing that) from the hereafter while I angst over my lust for your undying killer?"
"You bet." And with that, we wandered off into the night.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
As the Water Cooler Bubbles (Part 1)
Author's note: This is part of an ongoing parody series. It's not really all that funny, but it's mine.
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I guess you’d say that it’s a fairly boring job, all things considering. Yeah sure, there’s the whole “I get to play with dead bodies” thing (not in that way, you perv), but that’s only a small percentage of the job. You’d be surprised at how much paperwork is needed to raise just one body- and that’s even with the cases where everyone is in agreement that the deceased needs to be raised.
Don’t even get me started on the paperwork and stress that’s involved when one of the family members states that they hate that their father, sibling, or great uncle needs to be raised. It doesn’t matter if it’s to settle a will that’s been contested for the past five years or to confirm paternity on a child whose mother is clamoring for a portion of the estate. No, you get some people who state that it’s against their personal religious and/or emotional desires to have a body raised. Sometimes the people claim that the deceased never would have wanted to be raised.
To answer some of these problems there’s been some legislation pushed through Congress that’s similar to the “living will” stuff that doctors, lawyers, and anyone generally involved in healthcare try to get you to file. I could list all of the stuff that went into the proposal, but in layman’s terms it basically states whether or not you want to be raised from the dead and if so, under what circumstances. Not unsurprisingly, it’s called an “unliving will”. Cute, huh?
In any case, that’s where I come in. Every necromancer in the United States has someone on call that helps smooth out the legalities of whether or not the deceased has an unliving will and if not, how legal it is to raise them. Some necromancers have several, especially if they’re… infamous when it comes to their spillover magic. ESPECIALLY if they have a habit for raising more than one zombie. Some call us undead lawyers, although that’s not exactly the case. People like me can represent our clients in a court of law if it comes to that but our duties are more composed of day to day mundane activities. We’re more of a specialist in these legal matters. Titles and responsibilities are kind of fluid right now, since the whole “raising from the dead” and other supernatural elements are still pretty new concepts.
Necromancers and other supernatural people have been around forever but as far as legal concepts go they might as well have been born yesterday. After existing for hundreds of years and going through huge things such as the Crusades, the Salem Witch Trials, and other hugely dangerous time periods, it took the internet and the paparazzi to get them to come out of the supernatural closet. Senator McCarthy’s communist accusations might have made them a little nervous (you’d be surprised at how many stars were supes), but there’s nothing more frightening than TMZ paying people to camp outside of your house to root through your garbage. There was some talk about the vamps draining the reporters and feeding the bodies to the ghouls and weres, but I think that was just a joke. I think, anyway.
After the supernatural elements came out in the late 90s there was a flurry of people who lumped into two camps. One side wanted to kill anything that even looked slightly supernatural, including late night B-movie host Elvira. (If you’re wondering, she’s 100% human. I’ve checked.) The other side wanted to make the supes legal citizens, arguing that most of them WERE already registered here as normal tax-paying citizens. Once the governments started to realize that they could make quite a bit of money off of the supes, they embraced them with open arms. (Although there’s a few rumors that a late night visit/threat by one of the head vampire honchos helped grease those wheels along.) There were a few people who were caught in the middle, but if you walked into any bar or beauty parlor in the US you’d find that the sides were pretty clearly drawn.
Soon after the government acknowledged that supernatural creatures existed and were here to stay, they immediately set about making laws to govern them. That was the hugest headache ever. Some vampires immediately requested social security rights and demanded some of the tax benefits that the elderly would receive. Needless to say, the Grey Panthers weren’t too happy with this. This almost lead to a riot in 1999 and I’ve got a great snapshot in my house where a rather spry grandmother was attempting to hammer a cowering vampire with her quad cane. It was a mark in the vamp’s favor that he knew better than to attack her in return and turn her into granny jelly.
There’s still a ton of legislation that the supernaturals are trying to get passed, but we’ve got a pretty great framework set up. That’s where I come in. It’s only in the last 4-5 years that undead rights have begun to become an issue and that’s mostly due to the complaints of the families and graveyard maintenance. While the actual “coming out of the grave and going back” bit doesn’t really disturb the earth that much, the ceremonies that are required can sometimes be pretty messy and some necromancers aren’t big on cleaning up after themselves.
So anyway, back to me and how I came to be. I’m pretty much a normal guy. I’m 31, average build with a slight paunch forming around my middle. I’d probably not have that if my wife had her way- she’s always bugging me to go to those yoga classes with her in the evenings, but the evening is when I’m always at my busiest. Not all of our clients are human. Alive, I mean. Sheesh, if one of those supernatural rights activists heard me say that I’d probably get sued to high heaven for supernatural discrimination. It’s just so hard to deprogram years of Hollywood movies and penny dreadfuls describing the supernatural as inhuman.
I was in the middle of a legal ethics degree when the supernaturals came out and the demand for people skilled in supernatural law came about. I jumped at the chance to switch degree focuses, especially since many of the classes were the same things I’d already been taken. They just had “supernatural” slapped onto their course titles. I was going to be a lawyer that specialized in ethical affairs, but now I’m someone who goes over the legal documents necessary for supernatural things to take place. If I worked in a public office rather than for a private business, I’d be approving requests for werewolf and vampire conversions as well as various other supernatural requirements that need legal permission. I can still help out with those things, but you still need to go through the proper channels. My wife absolutely adores this, especially since her best friend is a practicing witch. I helped her get a permit to practice magic in public, something that’s surprisingly hard to get under normal circumstances. You can get a permit to carry a wand in public but you still have to prove that you are capable of using magic safely before they’ll allow you to actually use it.
My current job is at a well known necromancy firm that I’m not going to mention for the same reason I’m not giving you my name. Too many people know this firm and if I gave you my name then you’d be able to find out which one it is. It’s not an especially great firm. It’s more known for the escapades that certain employees (or employee singular) tend to get into. You wouldn’t believe the amount of paperwork I have to file on a daily basis for this person. She’s incapable of self-control in any format and the paper’s filled with her excesses. You can’t go a day without seeing some trash magazine showing the latest pictures of her latest public gaffe.
I just want you to know that I feel sorry for her as a person. I do. Even though she refuses to take any sort of personal responsibility for her actions and doesn’t seem to want to avoid this type of thing, nobody really deserves to have the paparazzi snap pictures of your bare ass while you “feed the beast”. Yes, that’s really the excuse she gave our boss when the press caught her having some very public sex. There are a few videos of the whole sexcapade floating around on Xtube and various other porn sites. She’s tried having them taken off but they keep coming back on and now she’s pretty much stopped trying to fight it and just leaves them up. I remember her coming to me asking if she had any sort of legal rights in the matter. She brought me coffee and muffins, which was incredibly nice of her. My wife’s friend didn’t bring me coffee and muffins. (Although my wife made it up to me later on that night, if you know what I mean.)
There wasn’t a lot I could really do to help her, although I did point her in the direction of a few friends who could. I think that all she really wanted was someone to vent to and as a result she’s come by my office quite a few times since then. Always carrying coffee and muffins. And yes, I know what you’re asking. She did hit on me. I turned her down as politely as possible but I don’t really hold it against her. Poor thing, I don’t think she knows what it’s like to have a male friend who is completely platonic and doesn’t require anything of her. My wife has a few names for her, but generally she feels the same way I do. Poor girl is just too messed up for words.
In the end I believe that’s why I got assigned to her. For the sake of this article we’ll call her Barbie. Just call me…George. I’m going to walk you through an average day with Barbie. Hopefully by the end of it you’ll think of her a little more kindly.
12 PM:
My alarm clock goes off, waking me up. I love sleeping in- it’s one of the perks of the job, not having to take part in the whole early morning shuffle. The floorboards are always nice and warm from the sun shining on them and I never have to worry about my wife getting woken by my alarm in the mornings. The only downsides are the late nights and not getting to wake up with my wife on a regular basis. She volunteers like it’s going out of style so most mornings she’s up baking for yet another PTA bake sale or something to fight some sort of disease. Her current kick is anorexic vampires, although I think she might have been making a joke. Some of her causes tend to get pretty bizarre.
I take my shower, dress, and shuffle into the kitchen where my wife Donna’s pulling scones out of an oven. My attempts to snag one are rewarded with a near smack, although I pull away at the last moment. After a little light snogging I’m out the door with my briefcase.
I pull into the office about a half hour later and despite leaving my desk relatively clean when I left at 2 am this morning, there’s already a pile of work waiting for me. Barbie was a busy girl last night.
2 PM:
After wading through the paperwork I’m positive of two things. The first is that they don’t pay me enough for the work I have to do. The second is that this is going to be a coffee and muffins day. Evidently Barbie had a little supernatural rumble off company hours that resulted in her raising five bodies, three dead pets, and one urn filled with ashes. I’m not entirely sure how she managed that last one, but from the way the report was filled out I gathered that it was pretty impressive.
Now before you start throwing around things like “Barbie’s a terrible necromancer” and “she needs to learn self-control”, you need to be aware that stuff like this tends to happen with most necromancers. Not on this scale (usually it’s just a dead pet in the backyard or an accidental zombie as they were driving past the graveyard), but it does happen. A necromancer does need to practice a lot of self-control but there’s only so much they can do when they’re close to dead things. That’s why so many practitioners don’t like to wear leather and why my briefcase is made of cloth. Some necromancers who own their own business take pride in wearing leather as a sign of their self-control, but you just can’t do that when you’re in a business that has a staff of six necromancers on call. That’s just too much power in one confined space waiting to explode. But like I said, it usually doesn’t happen on Barbie’s level. She’s… special that way.
Since necromancers almost always end up seeking employment that utilizes their skills, they pay a little extra for the pencil pushers like me to handle any unpleasantness that erupts from their little necromancy emissions.
If Barbie would just settle down a little and delegate, she probably wouldn’t get into as many problems as she does. See, she’s dating one of the head vampires of the city and ever since then she’s gotten drawn up into the whole vampire drama. Barbie’s powers seem to have a rather strong effect on vampires that she compares to catnip. I’ve told her that she needs to dump her boyfriend but then she says something along the lines of “we’re linked” and “he needs me”. I keep telling her that even if he needs her, she needs him like she needs another hole in her head. Vampires are nothing but drama, some of which stretches back decades.
In any case, this particular vampire she was dating was called “Torrid”. You’ve probably seen his underwear ads smeared across every billboard in the city. I’m not sure what his real name is, but I’ve heard it was something pretty embarrassing like Eugene or Percival. What his real name lacked in coolness he made up with in terms of drama. He’s had fights with just about every high ranking supernatural being in the city over territories and profit margins. Since Barbie’s pretty powerful magic-wise and rather wealthy (necromancy pays well), he’s been using her to help throw his weight around when it came to competitions. Many of these arguments and competitions are solved without any physical altercations but not always.
This was one of those times when it wasn’t enough to sit down (or as Barbie alludes to, laying down) to discuss everything over a cup of blood. Torrid had persuaded Barbie to come with him to a meeting taking place in a summer house down by the river and things started getting hostile. When blood started getting drawn and her guns (of which she has many) ran out of ammo, Barbie did the only thing she could and that involved raising whatever she could raise. Her span was pretty powerful and as such, she ended up raising not only a few dead bodies out of the river but also some pets that were buried in various backyards. I’m still not sure where the urn came into play.
I sigh and get started on the paperwork. I already know it’s going to be one of those days.
8 PM:
I finally finish my paperwork when Barbie strolls in with the usual. I grab a muffin and gratefully bite into it.
“Thanks Barb,” I mumble through a mouthful of muffin. “I’ve just got one question…”
She smirks and finished my sentence for me. “The urn, right? That one surprised me as well. So here I am, with Torrid, Bart, and Marc, arguing territorial rights with this huge dirtbag when all of a sudden he decides that he’s not going to talk anymore- he’s just going to kill us and take over Torrid’s territories. Seriously, didn’t he know who he was dealing with? Torrid’s got gobs of fighting experience, as does the other two, and I’m always carrying enough metal to give the Tin Man lead poisoning. Unfortunately there were far more of them than was initially stated and Torrid made me wear this utterly ridiculous outfit that covered just enough to keep me from committing a felony, so I wasn’t armed as much as I normally was.”
Barbie stops to take a deep breath, which causes her chest to swell out impressively. Hey, I might not take her up on the offer but a guy can look. She’s got curves that almost put Pamela Anderson’s to shame.
“Well, I had to raise some zombies in order to fight. I wasn’t really expecting anything beyond a few pets and wild animals, so imagine my surprise when a few lake draggers come shambling in.”
I raise an eyebrow at the term. “Oh get off of it George, they’re dead bodies that were tossed into the river. That’s exactly what they are even if the PC police want us to call them ‘grave-challenged’. So anyway, these guys come bursting through the windows and following after them is something that resembled a dust devil. Well, the zombies helped pull the guys down but it was the dust devil that really distracted them enough for Torrid to give them a huge ass kicking. I wasn’t really asking a lot of questions at that point.”
“So… where did the urn come from?”
Barbie raised a hand to massage her brow. “One of the neighbors a few doors down had recently had a husband pass away and was storing the ashes on her mantle place. Evidently the grieving widow was not pleased when the urn broke and the ashes whirled away up the chimney. I managed to talk her out of a lawsuit by offering her a nice chunk of change and some free necromancy sessions. I know the boss isn’t going to be happy but what else could I do? I didn’t know the urn was there and at that point I wasn’t exactly in control of my powers.”
I sighed and reached across the desk to pat Barbie on the shoulder. “Is that all, Barb?”
Barbie’s eyes flashed. “What do you mean, is that all?”
“You know what I mean, Barb. This sort of stuff doesn’t really phase you. Hell, you’ve been through similar stuff before. What’s really eating at you?”
I was shocked to see Barb’s lower lip quiver. She doesn’t cry. She never cries.
“Torrid… he… “ Barb trailed off and I motioned for her to continue. “Torrid gave me an STD!”
My jaw dropped open. “Uh… Barb?”
Barbie began to stalk across the office. “Yes, yes. I know. Vampires don’t have diseases. This isn’t your typical STD, George. Remember how I said Torrid and I were linked? Well, we did a bonding ceremony- don’t you dare judge me- and what he didn’t say was that he had some super horny sex magic that he’d inherited from his creator.”
Barbie sank into one of the chairs and hid her face in her hands. Her tiny frame began to shake as large sobs began to overcome her. As I reach inside my desk for a box of tissues I hear her sobs grow even louder. I pass her the box of tissues, which she accepts gratefully.
“It’s just, I thought ‘hey, here’s this really cool guy that really seems to be into me’. I didn’t think that would turn into him causing me to turn into the village bicycle. George, I have to have sex now. All the time. ALL. THE. TIME. Seriously, if it wasn’t for the three-way I had about 20 minutes ago in the parking lot, I probably wouldn’t be able to be in this office without trying to rip your clothes off. I’ve tried ignoring this thing but that only makes everything worse… and then I end up having sex with just about anyone.” A shiver of revulsion crosses her face. She’s not sharing tidbits on that particular front, but it must be pretty bad for Barbie to get disgusted. She’s not completely without some standards, but she’s pretty much an easygoing gal when it came to dating.
“I tried talking to Torrid about it but he doesn’t seem to really care. He was happy that I caught it. HAPPY!” Barbie’s fist banged down on the chair’s arm, leaving a sizable dent that she didn’t seem to notice. “He said that it would make things better for negotiations and that this would make us even more powerful than before. Now I’m having sex 4-5 times a night with various different guys, some of which I never would have looked twice at before all of this happened. “
Barbie looks over at me, her voice tiny and scared. “I’m losing control of myself, George. I wore that stupid fucking outfit yesterday because Torrid promised me that everything would be solved with sex and I wouldn’t need that many weapons.” I tried to keep the look off of my face, but with no success.
“Yeah, that’s right. He’s pimping me out to his enemies in order for financial gain. Isn’t THAT wonderful? You take your wife out for dinner and a movie, my guy takes me out to sleep with the vampire equivalent of Donald Trump.
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I guess you’d say that it’s a fairly boring job, all things considering. Yeah sure, there’s the whole “I get to play with dead bodies” thing (not in that way, you perv), but that’s only a small percentage of the job. You’d be surprised at how much paperwork is needed to raise just one body- and that’s even with the cases where everyone is in agreement that the deceased needs to be raised.
Don’t even get me started on the paperwork and stress that’s involved when one of the family members states that they hate that their father, sibling, or great uncle needs to be raised. It doesn’t matter if it’s to settle a will that’s been contested for the past five years or to confirm paternity on a child whose mother is clamoring for a portion of the estate. No, you get some people who state that it’s against their personal religious and/or emotional desires to have a body raised. Sometimes the people claim that the deceased never would have wanted to be raised.
To answer some of these problems there’s been some legislation pushed through Congress that’s similar to the “living will” stuff that doctors, lawyers, and anyone generally involved in healthcare try to get you to file. I could list all of the stuff that went into the proposal, but in layman’s terms it basically states whether or not you want to be raised from the dead and if so, under what circumstances. Not unsurprisingly, it’s called an “unliving will”. Cute, huh?
In any case, that’s where I come in. Every necromancer in the United States has someone on call that helps smooth out the legalities of whether or not the deceased has an unliving will and if not, how legal it is to raise them. Some necromancers have several, especially if they’re… infamous when it comes to their spillover magic. ESPECIALLY if they have a habit for raising more than one zombie. Some call us undead lawyers, although that’s not exactly the case. People like me can represent our clients in a court of law if it comes to that but our duties are more composed of day to day mundane activities. We’re more of a specialist in these legal matters. Titles and responsibilities are kind of fluid right now, since the whole “raising from the dead” and other supernatural elements are still pretty new concepts.
Necromancers and other supernatural people have been around forever but as far as legal concepts go they might as well have been born yesterday. After existing for hundreds of years and going through huge things such as the Crusades, the Salem Witch Trials, and other hugely dangerous time periods, it took the internet and the paparazzi to get them to come out of the supernatural closet. Senator McCarthy’s communist accusations might have made them a little nervous (you’d be surprised at how many stars were supes), but there’s nothing more frightening than TMZ paying people to camp outside of your house to root through your garbage. There was some talk about the vamps draining the reporters and feeding the bodies to the ghouls and weres, but I think that was just a joke. I think, anyway.
After the supernatural elements came out in the late 90s there was a flurry of people who lumped into two camps. One side wanted to kill anything that even looked slightly supernatural, including late night B-movie host Elvira. (If you’re wondering, she’s 100% human. I’ve checked.) The other side wanted to make the supes legal citizens, arguing that most of them WERE already registered here as normal tax-paying citizens. Once the governments started to realize that they could make quite a bit of money off of the supes, they embraced them with open arms. (Although there’s a few rumors that a late night visit/threat by one of the head vampire honchos helped grease those wheels along.) There were a few people who were caught in the middle, but if you walked into any bar or beauty parlor in the US you’d find that the sides were pretty clearly drawn.
Soon after the government acknowledged that supernatural creatures existed and were here to stay, they immediately set about making laws to govern them. That was the hugest headache ever. Some vampires immediately requested social security rights and demanded some of the tax benefits that the elderly would receive. Needless to say, the Grey Panthers weren’t too happy with this. This almost lead to a riot in 1999 and I’ve got a great snapshot in my house where a rather spry grandmother was attempting to hammer a cowering vampire with her quad cane. It was a mark in the vamp’s favor that he knew better than to attack her in return and turn her into granny jelly.
There’s still a ton of legislation that the supernaturals are trying to get passed, but we’ve got a pretty great framework set up. That’s where I come in. It’s only in the last 4-5 years that undead rights have begun to become an issue and that’s mostly due to the complaints of the families and graveyard maintenance. While the actual “coming out of the grave and going back” bit doesn’t really disturb the earth that much, the ceremonies that are required can sometimes be pretty messy and some necromancers aren’t big on cleaning up after themselves.
So anyway, back to me and how I came to be. I’m pretty much a normal guy. I’m 31, average build with a slight paunch forming around my middle. I’d probably not have that if my wife had her way- she’s always bugging me to go to those yoga classes with her in the evenings, but the evening is when I’m always at my busiest. Not all of our clients are human. Alive, I mean. Sheesh, if one of those supernatural rights activists heard me say that I’d probably get sued to high heaven for supernatural discrimination. It’s just so hard to deprogram years of Hollywood movies and penny dreadfuls describing the supernatural as inhuman.
I was in the middle of a legal ethics degree when the supernaturals came out and the demand for people skilled in supernatural law came about. I jumped at the chance to switch degree focuses, especially since many of the classes were the same things I’d already been taken. They just had “supernatural” slapped onto their course titles. I was going to be a lawyer that specialized in ethical affairs, but now I’m someone who goes over the legal documents necessary for supernatural things to take place. If I worked in a public office rather than for a private business, I’d be approving requests for werewolf and vampire conversions as well as various other supernatural requirements that need legal permission. I can still help out with those things, but you still need to go through the proper channels. My wife absolutely adores this, especially since her best friend is a practicing witch. I helped her get a permit to practice magic in public, something that’s surprisingly hard to get under normal circumstances. You can get a permit to carry a wand in public but you still have to prove that you are capable of using magic safely before they’ll allow you to actually use it.
My current job is at a well known necromancy firm that I’m not going to mention for the same reason I’m not giving you my name. Too many people know this firm and if I gave you my name then you’d be able to find out which one it is. It’s not an especially great firm. It’s more known for the escapades that certain employees (or employee singular) tend to get into. You wouldn’t believe the amount of paperwork I have to file on a daily basis for this person. She’s incapable of self-control in any format and the paper’s filled with her excesses. You can’t go a day without seeing some trash magazine showing the latest pictures of her latest public gaffe.
I just want you to know that I feel sorry for her as a person. I do. Even though she refuses to take any sort of personal responsibility for her actions and doesn’t seem to want to avoid this type of thing, nobody really deserves to have the paparazzi snap pictures of your bare ass while you “feed the beast”. Yes, that’s really the excuse she gave our boss when the press caught her having some very public sex. There are a few videos of the whole sexcapade floating around on Xtube and various other porn sites. She’s tried having them taken off but they keep coming back on and now she’s pretty much stopped trying to fight it and just leaves them up. I remember her coming to me asking if she had any sort of legal rights in the matter. She brought me coffee and muffins, which was incredibly nice of her. My wife’s friend didn’t bring me coffee and muffins. (Although my wife made it up to me later on that night, if you know what I mean.)
There wasn’t a lot I could really do to help her, although I did point her in the direction of a few friends who could. I think that all she really wanted was someone to vent to and as a result she’s come by my office quite a few times since then. Always carrying coffee and muffins. And yes, I know what you’re asking. She did hit on me. I turned her down as politely as possible but I don’t really hold it against her. Poor thing, I don’t think she knows what it’s like to have a male friend who is completely platonic and doesn’t require anything of her. My wife has a few names for her, but generally she feels the same way I do. Poor girl is just too messed up for words.
In the end I believe that’s why I got assigned to her. For the sake of this article we’ll call her Barbie. Just call me…George. I’m going to walk you through an average day with Barbie. Hopefully by the end of it you’ll think of her a little more kindly.
12 PM:
My alarm clock goes off, waking me up. I love sleeping in- it’s one of the perks of the job, not having to take part in the whole early morning shuffle. The floorboards are always nice and warm from the sun shining on them and I never have to worry about my wife getting woken by my alarm in the mornings. The only downsides are the late nights and not getting to wake up with my wife on a regular basis. She volunteers like it’s going out of style so most mornings she’s up baking for yet another PTA bake sale or something to fight some sort of disease. Her current kick is anorexic vampires, although I think she might have been making a joke. Some of her causes tend to get pretty bizarre.
I take my shower, dress, and shuffle into the kitchen where my wife Donna’s pulling scones out of an oven. My attempts to snag one are rewarded with a near smack, although I pull away at the last moment. After a little light snogging I’m out the door with my briefcase.
I pull into the office about a half hour later and despite leaving my desk relatively clean when I left at 2 am this morning, there’s already a pile of work waiting for me. Barbie was a busy girl last night.
2 PM:
After wading through the paperwork I’m positive of two things. The first is that they don’t pay me enough for the work I have to do. The second is that this is going to be a coffee and muffins day. Evidently Barbie had a little supernatural rumble off company hours that resulted in her raising five bodies, three dead pets, and one urn filled with ashes. I’m not entirely sure how she managed that last one, but from the way the report was filled out I gathered that it was pretty impressive.
Now before you start throwing around things like “Barbie’s a terrible necromancer” and “she needs to learn self-control”, you need to be aware that stuff like this tends to happen with most necromancers. Not on this scale (usually it’s just a dead pet in the backyard or an accidental zombie as they were driving past the graveyard), but it does happen. A necromancer does need to practice a lot of self-control but there’s only so much they can do when they’re close to dead things. That’s why so many practitioners don’t like to wear leather and why my briefcase is made of cloth. Some necromancers who own their own business take pride in wearing leather as a sign of their self-control, but you just can’t do that when you’re in a business that has a staff of six necromancers on call. That’s just too much power in one confined space waiting to explode. But like I said, it usually doesn’t happen on Barbie’s level. She’s… special that way.
Since necromancers almost always end up seeking employment that utilizes their skills, they pay a little extra for the pencil pushers like me to handle any unpleasantness that erupts from their little necromancy emissions.
If Barbie would just settle down a little and delegate, she probably wouldn’t get into as many problems as she does. See, she’s dating one of the head vampires of the city and ever since then she’s gotten drawn up into the whole vampire drama. Barbie’s powers seem to have a rather strong effect on vampires that she compares to catnip. I’ve told her that she needs to dump her boyfriend but then she says something along the lines of “we’re linked” and “he needs me”. I keep telling her that even if he needs her, she needs him like she needs another hole in her head. Vampires are nothing but drama, some of which stretches back decades.
In any case, this particular vampire she was dating was called “Torrid”. You’ve probably seen his underwear ads smeared across every billboard in the city. I’m not sure what his real name is, but I’ve heard it was something pretty embarrassing like Eugene or Percival. What his real name lacked in coolness he made up with in terms of drama. He’s had fights with just about every high ranking supernatural being in the city over territories and profit margins. Since Barbie’s pretty powerful magic-wise and rather wealthy (necromancy pays well), he’s been using her to help throw his weight around when it came to competitions. Many of these arguments and competitions are solved without any physical altercations but not always.
This was one of those times when it wasn’t enough to sit down (or as Barbie alludes to, laying down) to discuss everything over a cup of blood. Torrid had persuaded Barbie to come with him to a meeting taking place in a summer house down by the river and things started getting hostile. When blood started getting drawn and her guns (of which she has many) ran out of ammo, Barbie did the only thing she could and that involved raising whatever she could raise. Her span was pretty powerful and as such, she ended up raising not only a few dead bodies out of the river but also some pets that were buried in various backyards. I’m still not sure where the urn came into play.
I sigh and get started on the paperwork. I already know it’s going to be one of those days.
8 PM:
I finally finish my paperwork when Barbie strolls in with the usual. I grab a muffin and gratefully bite into it.
“Thanks Barb,” I mumble through a mouthful of muffin. “I’ve just got one question…”
She smirks and finished my sentence for me. “The urn, right? That one surprised me as well. So here I am, with Torrid, Bart, and Marc, arguing territorial rights with this huge dirtbag when all of a sudden he decides that he’s not going to talk anymore- he’s just going to kill us and take over Torrid’s territories. Seriously, didn’t he know who he was dealing with? Torrid’s got gobs of fighting experience, as does the other two, and I’m always carrying enough metal to give the Tin Man lead poisoning. Unfortunately there were far more of them than was initially stated and Torrid made me wear this utterly ridiculous outfit that covered just enough to keep me from committing a felony, so I wasn’t armed as much as I normally was.”
Barbie stops to take a deep breath, which causes her chest to swell out impressively. Hey, I might not take her up on the offer but a guy can look. She’s got curves that almost put Pamela Anderson’s to shame.
“Well, I had to raise some zombies in order to fight. I wasn’t really expecting anything beyond a few pets and wild animals, so imagine my surprise when a few lake draggers come shambling in.”
I raise an eyebrow at the term. “Oh get off of it George, they’re dead bodies that were tossed into the river. That’s exactly what they are even if the PC police want us to call them ‘grave-challenged’. So anyway, these guys come bursting through the windows and following after them is something that resembled a dust devil. Well, the zombies helped pull the guys down but it was the dust devil that really distracted them enough for Torrid to give them a huge ass kicking. I wasn’t really asking a lot of questions at that point.”
“So… where did the urn come from?”
Barbie raised a hand to massage her brow. “One of the neighbors a few doors down had recently had a husband pass away and was storing the ashes on her mantle place. Evidently the grieving widow was not pleased when the urn broke and the ashes whirled away up the chimney. I managed to talk her out of a lawsuit by offering her a nice chunk of change and some free necromancy sessions. I know the boss isn’t going to be happy but what else could I do? I didn’t know the urn was there and at that point I wasn’t exactly in control of my powers.”
I sighed and reached across the desk to pat Barbie on the shoulder. “Is that all, Barb?”
Barbie’s eyes flashed. “What do you mean, is that all?”
“You know what I mean, Barb. This sort of stuff doesn’t really phase you. Hell, you’ve been through similar stuff before. What’s really eating at you?”
I was shocked to see Barb’s lower lip quiver. She doesn’t cry. She never cries.
“Torrid… he… “ Barb trailed off and I motioned for her to continue. “Torrid gave me an STD!”
My jaw dropped open. “Uh… Barb?”
Barbie began to stalk across the office. “Yes, yes. I know. Vampires don’t have diseases. This isn’t your typical STD, George. Remember how I said Torrid and I were linked? Well, we did a bonding ceremony- don’t you dare judge me- and what he didn’t say was that he had some super horny sex magic that he’d inherited from his creator.”
Barbie sank into one of the chairs and hid her face in her hands. Her tiny frame began to shake as large sobs began to overcome her. As I reach inside my desk for a box of tissues I hear her sobs grow even louder. I pass her the box of tissues, which she accepts gratefully.
“It’s just, I thought ‘hey, here’s this really cool guy that really seems to be into me’. I didn’t think that would turn into him causing me to turn into the village bicycle. George, I have to have sex now. All the time. ALL. THE. TIME. Seriously, if it wasn’t for the three-way I had about 20 minutes ago in the parking lot, I probably wouldn’t be able to be in this office without trying to rip your clothes off. I’ve tried ignoring this thing but that only makes everything worse… and then I end up having sex with just about anyone.” A shiver of revulsion crosses her face. She’s not sharing tidbits on that particular front, but it must be pretty bad for Barbie to get disgusted. She’s not completely without some standards, but she’s pretty much an easygoing gal when it came to dating.
“I tried talking to Torrid about it but he doesn’t seem to really care. He was happy that I caught it. HAPPY!” Barbie’s fist banged down on the chair’s arm, leaving a sizable dent that she didn’t seem to notice. “He said that it would make things better for negotiations and that this would make us even more powerful than before. Now I’m having sex 4-5 times a night with various different guys, some of which I never would have looked twice at before all of this happened. “
Barbie looks over at me, her voice tiny and scared. “I’m losing control of myself, George. I wore that stupid fucking outfit yesterday because Torrid promised me that everything would be solved with sex and I wouldn’t need that many weapons.” I tried to keep the look off of my face, but with no success.
“Yeah, that’s right. He’s pimping me out to his enemies in order for financial gain. Isn’t THAT wonderful? You take your wife out for dinner and a movie, my guy takes me out to sleep with the vampire equivalent of Donald Trump.
Trading Spaces With Anita Blake
Host: And now we're here to see what the results are of the swap between Ronnie & Anita!
Anita: Here you can see what I've done with Ronnie's living room. (Gestures to an interior that's mostly covered with black & penguins.) I switched out the ugh... pastel sofa for a nice leather couch. I've even waterproofed it so it's easier to clean.
Ronnie: (Ronnie looks vaguely nauseous) Please tell me that you're talking about cleaning food & wine off the sofa.
Anita: (blithely ignoring Ronnie) Well... Nate & I had to "feed the beast", but we cleaned it off! That waterproofing really works!
Ronnie: You've got to be freaking kidding me. (looks at host)
Host: (in chipper tone of voice) No, she's telling the truth. We've got video! (gets a glare from Anita & an interested look from Nate) But uh... it got destroyed. (hushed voice) Note to self: leak the videos through demonoid.
(Group goes over to Anita's place)
Host: So Ronnie, tell me what you did for Anita!
Ronnie: Knowing Anita's current hobbies, I took extra special steps to make her living room fit her current lifestyle. (gestures to the sofa) See this sofa?
Anita: It's not water proof...
Ronnie: It turns into a bed!
Host: How very in- (gets cut off by Ronnie)
Ronnie: See this armchair? It also turns into a bed! (Anita starts scowling even more than usual) The real trouble came from the more customized items. Check out the media center- top of the line electronics, game systems, & a bluray player. (Nate brightens) But push this button here...
(Ronnie pushes a button on the wall as motors start whirring)
Ronnie: It turns into a *vibrating* bed! You should see what I did with the counters...
Host: Let's stop you right here. Does *everything* you changed here turn into a bed? (Ronnie nods.) Exactly how many beds did you manage to fit in here?
Ronnie: About eight. Anita's a busy girl, don't you know.
Anita: Are you calling me a skank?
Ronnie: Hey, when your partners get up into the triple digits on a single *day* I think that it starts becoming a little excessive.
(Anita starts drawing out one of her pistols as the host starts hurriedly going through the closing spiel)
Host: And that's all the time we have today... (cowers) WTF, don't shoot me lady, I just work here.
Nate: Oh, don't worry- she rarely shoots anything. She just likes to pull them out & look impressive. I don't even thing they're loaded.
Anita: ....
Anita: Here you can see what I've done with Ronnie's living room. (Gestures to an interior that's mostly covered with black & penguins.) I switched out the ugh... pastel sofa for a nice leather couch. I've even waterproofed it so it's easier to clean.
Ronnie: (Ronnie looks vaguely nauseous) Please tell me that you're talking about cleaning food & wine off the sofa.
Anita: (blithely ignoring Ronnie) Well... Nate & I had to "feed the beast", but we cleaned it off! That waterproofing really works!
Ronnie: You've got to be freaking kidding me. (looks at host)
Host: (in chipper tone of voice) No, she's telling the truth. We've got video! (gets a glare from Anita & an interested look from Nate) But uh... it got destroyed. (hushed voice) Note to self: leak the videos through demonoid.
(Group goes over to Anita's place)
Host: So Ronnie, tell me what you did for Anita!
Ronnie: Knowing Anita's current hobbies, I took extra special steps to make her living room fit her current lifestyle. (gestures to the sofa) See this sofa?
Anita: It's not water proof...
Ronnie: It turns into a bed!
Host: How very in- (gets cut off by Ronnie)
Ronnie: See this armchair? It also turns into a bed! (Anita starts scowling even more than usual) The real trouble came from the more customized items. Check out the media center- top of the line electronics, game systems, & a bluray player. (Nate brightens) But push this button here...
(Ronnie pushes a button on the wall as motors start whirring)
Ronnie: It turns into a *vibrating* bed! You should see what I did with the counters...
Host: Let's stop you right here. Does *everything* you changed here turn into a bed? (Ronnie nods.) Exactly how many beds did you manage to fit in here?
Ronnie: About eight. Anita's a busy girl, don't you know.
Anita: Are you calling me a skank?
Ronnie: Hey, when your partners get up into the triple digits on a single *day* I think that it starts becoming a little excessive.
(Anita starts drawing out one of her pistols as the host starts hurriedly going through the closing spiel)
Host: And that's all the time we have today... (cowers) WTF, don't shoot me lady, I just work here.
Nate: Oh, don't worry- she rarely shoots anything. She just likes to pull them out & look impressive. I don't even thing they're loaded.
Anita: ....
Hanging with Anita Blake
Coworker: (hand jerks to the side, ruining the paperwork) Aw man... (sighs & grabs another piece of paper as the desk keeps jiggling & moans or various cries come from off camera) Now I have to fill it out all over again... (as he begins to attempt to fill out the paperwork a length of hair falls onto the paper & he moves it to the side, only for the hair to whip back again & to hit him in the face)
(phone rings just as he's getting ready to say something)
Coworker: Thank you for calling Animators Inc, how can I help you?
Anita: WET AND TIGHT, PEOPLE! WET AND TIGHT!
Customer: Excuse me?
(coworker attempts to talk over the sex noises only to get drowned out easily)
Coworker: (sighs as a leg suddenly gets thrust over his half of the desk & starts wiggling back & forth) Anita, could I have a moment for this phone call?
Anita: Can't... stop... ardeur... needs feeding...
Nathaniel: By the by, how is it that you're not getting drawn in?
Coworker: Because I'm not pretty or notable enough to the author to warrant getting drawn in to the orgies. I'm fairly immune.
Anita: I suppose if you HAVE to take that phone call I can work on my... oral presentations for a while.
Coworker: (listens to receiver) Never mind, they hung up. Again. Seriously, I'd rather work in the bathroom than work in the same office as you. It's not like there would be any less amounts of bodily fluids or small hairs floating around here.
(phone rings just as he's getting ready to say something)
Coworker: Thank you for calling Animators Inc, how can I help you?
Anita: WET AND TIGHT, PEOPLE! WET AND TIGHT!
Customer: Excuse me?
(coworker attempts to talk over the sex noises only to get drowned out easily)
Coworker: (sighs as a leg suddenly gets thrust over his half of the desk & starts wiggling back & forth) Anita, could I have a moment for this phone call?
Anita: Can't... stop... ardeur... needs feeding...
Nathaniel: By the by, how is it that you're not getting drawn in?
Coworker: Because I'm not pretty or notable enough to the author to warrant getting drawn in to the orgies. I'm fairly immune.
Anita: I suppose if you HAVE to take that phone call I can work on my... oral presentations for a while.
Coworker: (listens to receiver) Never mind, they hung up. Again. Seriously, I'd rather work in the bathroom than work in the same office as you. It's not like there would be any less amounts of bodily fluids or small hairs floating around here.
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