Modern Necromancy

So they like to blab on the news a lot about how necromancy is an “ancient, respectable art” with “grand traditions” that is innately built around the “inherent balance between life and death.” That may all be true. But when you get right down to it, there's an awful lot of blood, viscera, rot, and really, really late night shifts.

Don't get me wrong. I knew what I was signing up for when I took the job. That stuff doesn't really bother me, in practice. Looking at the TV, the NNC publications – hell, even just the ads you see posted on Craigslist – you'd think it was all libraries and grand science. There might be some of that somewhere, but certainly not at my pay grade.

I washed my hands for the fifteenth time that evening as Igor – yes, I'm serious – brought in the last body of the shift. It was imperative that I not contaminate a corpse with any remains of the previous. All of the ritual implements and circles had to be washed down, scrubbed with salt, and purified with alcohol. It was the only way to be sure the magic went untainted. Believe me, if you think necromancy is creepy as it is, you don't want to see it when it gets corrupted.

The majority of my work was preparing the recently deceased for the rites of restful passage. This allowed their souls to move on to whatever fate awaited them. Without us, the souls would stay trapped until the bodies had decayed. That's what I've been told, anyway. It certainly made a lucrative business so I wouldn't be surprised if some of these facts were... exaggerated.

As to why it always had to happen at night? I've been given plenty of reasons for that, too. Mostly, though, I just think Mr. Jevol was a traditionalist. I did have to admit that the idea of performing these rites in a brightly-lit, modern office at high noon did feel kind of wrong.

So here I was, in the obligatory dark dungeon, three stories below the main office, at three AM, with Mrs. Sanderson's linen-wrapped remains sitting on a stone altar. Anyone who came in and saw me with my black robes and silver dagger would probably form some very immediate opinions about me and my abilities. From my perspective, though, I was just one step above the guy who brought everyone coffee.