As a trans man Neri's been struggling to win his mother's approval, and failing the necromancer academy test and doing pet resurrections for scraps don’t help. So when the ghost of a murdered girl asks him to find her body, he jumps at the opportunity. But as Neri teams up with the ghost, and an alchemist detective, one tiny problem arises: the guy they’re up against might just be the greatest—and prettiest?—necromancer of all time, tempting Neri to join him; to have everything, or lose it all.
“Mrs. Brogini, contrary to popular belief, we necromancers cannot actually raise the dead!” I smile at the middle-aged woman in front of me, making a point of ignoring the shoebox she’s dropped on the table, though the stench of rotten hamster is not easy to dismiss.
“Listen, kid!” She crosses her arms. “My son will soon be back from school, and he can’t see this corpse! Just last week his goldfish jumped out of the bowl.”
“I wonder why …” I mutter.
Kid? I’m seventeen, and a bearer of dark knowledge. I won’t let a rich suburban mom with an over-inflated perception of herself disrespect me.
I wouldn’t. If only she wasn’t rich.
I play with my raven skull pendant—the amulet that connects me with the source of my power. “I’m not a warlock of a videogame. I can’t command armies of skeletons. I’m but a bridge. A means to allow the passage of information between the living and the dead.” Dramatic pause. “The corpses I raise are just a temporary shell for their spirits, so that the dead can gift humanity with their invaluable knowledge.”
I’d conclude the speech with a list of the packages I offer, but this woman’s already paid me seventy euros for a standard séance.