[This is a continuation of a series of stories co-authored with Aath as we continue explore our ever-expanding list of characters by throwing them into the proverbial deep end of the pool and watching what happens.
[Aath kindly lent me Aathryl for this RP as we explored Daniel “DJ-Spectre” Murphy, a reluctant and unlikely necromancer suddenly thrust into the Secret World. Readers may notice some inconsistency in style between characters, and that’s for a reason–Daniel’s POV sections were written by myself, while Aath provided Thryl’s posts. Aath has my thanks both for the fun I’ve had collaborating on this story and for their patience during my bouts of IRL and writers’ block.
[A note before we begin: as much as I would love to take credit for the setting and magics, much of the worldbuilding is a blend of the works of Garth Nyx and Jim Butcher, two authors whom I highly encourage you to check out if you like what you’ve read here!
[With that said, join us, gentle readers…]
People are said to be haunted by what they see on the job. Imagine what means for a necromancer.
The irony isn’t lost on Daniel Murphy as he pulls up to his latest job: a hospital. Not the first one he’d been called in to clear out–they’re places of death as much as healing, and spirits can cause all kinds of chaos when they don’t accept or realize that their mortal coil has long since been shuffled off. On the scale of Casper to La Llorona, this one seemed to rank about a Moaning Myrtle: unusual cold spots, dark figures peeking around corners, malfunctioning equipment, objects moving or even getting thrown around on their own. The encounters varied depending on the time of day–things seemed to happen more often at night–but every report he’d read had one consistency.
Things had kicked up recently, which was why Daniel had been called in. Rennovations more often than not disturb the Dead by taking what they know as familiar and changing it, and it was no different here. The haunting had become more violent, especially when the lights went out. Machines malfunctioned, saw horses went flying, the whispers became screams–some incoherent, others asking the same question over and over again.
“Where is she?”
The whole night crew–burly construction workers, probably all easily able to bench Daniel–sat outside, flatly refusing to go back in. Not that he blamed them, he was still adjusting to this whole new world he’d fallen headfirst into this mad, hidden world of myths and legends when he inherited a set of old bells from his aunt, along with her Glocks and Mossberg.
Said bells were strapped across his chest diagonally, like an old-timey ammunition bandolier. He checked the padded lids carefully to ensure none of them could accidentally ring, double-checking the largest one for good measure. They were mysteries he was only beginning to unlock, though thankfully he had Aunt Karrin’s research and her wizard friend to help out. And on top of that, someone new.
Aathryl (‘Thryl’ as she was usually known to her friends and family) was still a little uncertain why she accepted the bell-wielding necromancer’s invitation to experience the sort of things he was now dealing with. She had formed a friendship with the man at the various DJ shows she’d attended and also when their occasional attendances at The Horned God coincided, the God being the casual meeting place for those looking for some relief from their involvement in the secret war.
His role in these hauntings seemed to be as a guide for the lost who were having difficulty moving from living to their final rest–a role that seems to have been thrust on him rather than sort out. She glanced over at him as he’d driven to the hospital that was the site of his next job. The bandoliered bells carefully dampened by the close-fitting leather lids. These the ornately runed pair of Glocks and a Mossberg shotgun, had been left to him by his predecessor, his Aunt. She wasn’t sure but thought the Aunt had died due to the job.
He’d also talked about another advisor, a close friend of his Aunts. She had never met him and only knew of him as The Wizard. Considering the circles she and Daniel lived in, the Wizard likely was just that: a wizard.
She had first been attracted to Daniel because of his firearms. She was a skilled gunsmith, a more than competent runesmith and also had a degree control of the Anima associated with Gaia’s gift of The Bee.
She was fascinated by his pistols and could sense some of the power held in the engraved rune-work’s Norse origins. Still, much of the engraving was foreign to her. Following his example, she came armed with her heavily worked pistols. Outwardly they appeared to be a brace of Colt Navy in .44 calibre, and her shotgun was at a glance SPES-C221. A closer examination would relieve to one with ‘the sight’ that these firearms were something considerably more.
She was excited to be included but did briefly wonder if she should have asked permission to leave the ‘reservation’. Ah well, it was always easier to beg forgiveness. Besides, if she’d asked and Aath had said ‘No’ and that would have been the end of it.
She appreciated the quick but thorough briefing he’d given as they drove to the haunted hospital. She had a good idea of what to expect when dealing with this type of manifestation. She had never thought about how renovations to a place could affect the stalled dead … fascinating.
The key being to not panic and stay close to Daniel. She also knew she’d have to curb her curiosity and not always demand to know why when she was instructed to do something.
Daniel steps forward, a little self-consciously, feeling both under- and over-prepared for this job at the same time. Under, since this brand of magic required him to leave his cell phone in the car–the kind of magic Aunt Karrin’s trinkets worked off of tended to short-circuit modern technology that hadn’t been specifically magic-proofed, and his phone was too damn new for him to risk it.
Over, because he knows it’s a biiiiiig no-no for anyone outside of uniformed law enforcement to enter a hospital with a firearm, much less three apiece. The bells on their own might have drawn a few raised eyebrows (and a few panicked ‘Sweet jeezus come no closer!’ hand gestures from the MRI techs), but he couldn’t fault the security guards for tensing up at the sight of two strangers walking in looking like the discount Boondock Saints.
Not for the first time, he’s grateful for the help of the Paranet, a group known to Aunt Karrin that was something between a safety net and the Anonymous (with a capital ‘A’) of the magical world. Made up of low-magic or magic-adjacent individuals who weren’t powerful enough to be part of any Big Name Org, it was a growing group of small fish in the big proverbial pond who banded together to watch out for each other; sometimes that meant reporting odd disturbances, sometimes getting bigger players involved to protect one of their own a thousand miles away, sometimes just checking in on someone after a full moon.
And, apparently, sometimes greasing palms to let one of their number bring guns into a hospital. Ah, America…
They were met at the hallway juncture by a well-muscled African-American in a hospital security uniform, a man about 10 years Dan’s senior who had the lingering but not unpleasant odor of pipe tobacco mingled in with his cologne. All things considered, it was understandable that he didn’t ask who they were. “The whole hallway’s shut down for this voodoo shit–uh, no offence, Sister. You two had better be the real deal–we were four weeks behind on this renovation project before the Internet started pointing idiots our way.”
“I ain’t here f’YouTube likes, I’m here t’help,” Dan answers, sharing the man’s annoyance with the charlatans. He politely doesn’t mention the firearms, and the guard politely ignores their existence.
Greased palms, indeed.
Thryl was walking a half pace behind Daniel. She was well aware of the nervousness that wandering about a hospital ‘armed for bear’ could induce. She also knew from Daniel’s briefing, that the security were waiting for someone who was going to exorcise the haunting. So, she gave the observers the distraction that played to what they were expecting.
She had skills she was certain Daniel was unaware of. Although to be fair, he’d been thrown into the deep end of this fetid pool known as The Secret World, so his experiences may put this revelation in the ‘another day ending …’ category.
*That half pace behind Daniel, walked a stern, alluring middle-aged woman dressed in a traditional black nun’s habit and coif with a crisp white coif. The habit was caught at the waist with an ornate rosary ending in a thick formidable looking cross. *
*Some of the looks Daniel had noted may have been due to the apparition following the man with the bell bandolier, pistols and shotgun. *
Further, Daniel likely noticed the slight wince on the large security guards face when the man glanced at Daniel’s companion realizing it was to late to stop his “… VooDoo shit …” comment. Following Daniel’s comment, the guard adds “No offence, Sister.”
Thryl chuckled to herself internally, she wasn’t sure if Daniel’s apparent stoicism was because he was so wrapped up in planning the evenings encounter that he hadn’t noticed her transformation. Or was professional enough to control his surprise.
Daniel stares at the mention ‘sister’, then does a double-take at Thryl’s sudden new appearance. He knows glamours are a thing, but it’s one thing to know about them and another to see one in person–best to just run with it and ask questions later. (Though where the f^<k was she hiding her guns…?)
The guard waves for them to follow, and he leads them to the ward in question. The hallway is cordoned off to all but construction workers, separated by an impenetrable tape barrier and decorated with posters reminding all present about their PPE. Dust follows their footsteps as they enter a half-redone collection of rooms, the walls exposing the inner supports normally hidden from view by drywall. A scattered collection of tools, hard hats, and goggles litter the area, along with a few chairs resting on their side or upside-down, well away from any nook or wall that one would normally put them.
“Those got tossed around,” Daniel says, more as an observation than a question. “Things always been this bad?”
The guard shakes his head as he guides them further in. “This started with the renovations a few weeks back. Before that it was all just stories: patients saying they heard voices in the night, the occasional on-call resident see someone peeking around the corner at the ass-e–sorry, sister, way early in the morning, but every time Security got called in we never found anyone who wasn’t supposed to be here.”
“That’s fair,” Daniel answers. “Drugs are a helluva drug, an’ sleep deprivation’ll do weird things to ya mind–especially if ya off-cycle. Carbon monoxide poisonin’ll do that too, though I’m guessin’ ya already checked ya detectors?”
The guard stares at him with a neutral frown. He seems surprised and confused by Dan’s skeptical outlook. “Uh–yeah, how did you guess that?”
“Past experience,” Daniel says. “Not firsthand, mind, but I’ve read tha–”
He pauses mid-sentence, staring down a half-lit hallway. He knows he’s primed to see things that aren’t there, given the nature of his line of work, and is careful to avoid seeing shadows.
But he would swear he just saw a black mass duck back behind a wall and into a room, like someone who just got caught listening in on something they know they shouldn’t hear.
The guard rolls his eyes. “I thought you said you weren’t here for YouTube likes. Influencers…”