Diablo Gato (An Urban Fantasy Tale of Necromancy) First Draft

7k words. For 1 week only. A smash and grab in a massive corporate office hides a tale of loyalty, honor, and a man of many secrets.

DIABLO GATO
 

   A Tale of Necromancy 

                                    By Daniel Rodriguez

He wiped the rain off his brow. It bled into in his eye and Jonathon Crisp batted it out with his pointer finger. He pretended it was acidic and he would live the sooner he got under the cover of the unendingly large building next to him. He stared up and outside of the glowing clouds lit up by the downtown lights, a building next to him ascended to the heavens.

Mr. Crisp made his way under finally and inside. His trench coat was earlier a light brown, now it became a darker shade of damp. Lightning struck behind him but his mind elsewhere, didn’t register the noise that came outside. His Walkman on his pocket was playing his theme song as he proceeded to take off his gloves first.

The inside of Ichi Finance was a massive open space with old carpet 

floor. The walls were a stone, and even though it was one of the earlier buildings in the city built, unlike others with that were designed to conserve space, this one was designed for giants it seemed. The “chi” of the location was very flowing and yet, there was a bland atmosphere. The carpet was dull and chaotic in its design, if one stared at it and tried to discern any form of pattern, they would go insane.

No one was inside waiting for him, even security went home. He knew though that for five minutes the front door would be unlocked and any security set would be down. He had to get in and out as quick as possible if he wanted to walk away with his discovery.

 

It was called “The Spear”. It was an ancient Aztec item, carved by an unknown warrior whose fame came from the image of tlatoani (supreme leader) Montezuma the Second, held the spear and pointed to the new rising sun. It was an image captured by an earlier Spanish Painter and the spear had become something of a myth.

Art collectors and historians would pay millions of dollars for the spear but that was not why Jonathon Crisp came to this not so random building in the middle of the night. The spear was an ancient key to a hidden temple that contained hundreds of years of Aztec wealth banked into a vault, lost to time.

The temple however was found, at least the entrance was, when three of his comrades lost their lives to traps on the outskirts and he found himself the lone survivor, staring at the door.

In a run down cantina by the side of the road in Mexico, he had to pay a pretty penny for information on the second half of the equation. The door could only be opened by a spear tip plated in golden rings. He heard rumors of extensive collectors in the states and pulled what strings he had to get a further lead. It brought him to Manny Greene, some older chap who looked like a man lost in another generation.

Manny met him at a café in the outskirts of California, near the border. The meeting was set up with a down payment and promise of loot. Mr. Greene seemed more interested in the potential to further his education in Aztec history. Especially the latter days of Montezuma and the eventual fall of the empire. Trying to control the situation, Crisp asked Greene what he had on him that could prove his ability to procure items. That was when the older gentleman took out a dagger, “This was used on over a hundred sacrifices. Legend says its haunted and those who are predisposed to spiritual sensitivities could be possessed by such a dark item."

“You are bluffing. Its just a blade.”

And yet, Crisp starred at that dagger. It was too polished to be old. Its detail hadn’t eroded with time, but the lingering sensation of a dark and ancient aura was in front of him. No matter what logic he applied, he couldn’t deny that he knew he was looking at something special.

          

      “And you say you have a..”

           “Yes, I do some pro bono work at the university upstate. I also have a museum of collectables. This dagger is a taste of what I can acquire but it is not for simple collection. Im not here to make a buck by selling history outright. I am not that kind of guy.”

    

           “Everything has a price.”

            “You don’t strike me as a collector Mr. Crisp. I take it you are in for the financial gain.”

            

   “Yes.”

        

           “Well, to be fair, you have my curiosity. If the hidden tomb of the Ancient Aztecs treasury exists, I would love to see it for myself.”

     

          “But first I need the spear.”

Greene looked forward, looked to his left and his right. He took a sip, trying to slow down the gravity of their conversation. “I know a guy.”

        

       “Can you trust him?”

         “I already have deep roots, if I start putting my faith in fraudsters, I would be run out of town when it hits the fan long ago. I trust that if he tells me where I can get something, he is telling me the truth.”

               “How do I meet him?”

               “You don’t. I meet him. I will send you my more personal contact information at a latter time. If we are talking about something worth millions…”

               “Billions or more.”

               “I really am not fond of having conversations where busybodies can listen in.”

               “But do you know that…”

Manny smiles, “The spear has already been found.”

               “Bullshit.”

               “We will continue this conversation another time Mr. Crisp.”

 

He needed Manny Greene to hurry. He had taken out a loan to fund his “journey” and promised a percentage of the bouillon to some really shady individuals. By percentage, he meant a few coins, for he lied when he told them about what level of wealth was in that vault.

It was later that night at a motel he got a call to meet him at a makeshift museum.

Manny was able to pull some strings and at best, have the spear not only turn up, but it was part of a display some Japanese Financial company had set up in the historic downtown district.

        

       “I told you I know a guy.” Manny said with a smile. He made his way to depart.

               “But how do we use it, its on display.”

               “I know a guy who will let us borrow it.”

The word “us” threw Crisp off his game. This was not the plan.

 

That was when he decided he had to make precautions. He needed to steal the spear. He paid a hacker five thousand dollars of the money he borrowed to turn off the power and security. That was the easy part.

The hard part was the damp rain and having to spend more time in this depressing miserable building that somewhere held one floor dedicated to priceless art he did not really care about. There was one thing he needed more than anything, that damn spear.

He made his way up the grand stairs. The second song was playing, meaning 3 minutes had passed. He wasn’t aware at what point he stopped and realized he was in awe of the main lobby being vacant and the dimness of the backup lights leading him to the stairs.

His feet made their silent noises as he moved up. The pulsating of his heart was drowning out his own music and the world around him was inaudibly dark. The emergency lights on the stairway pointed his way to the destination. The song was halfway over. Crisp took that one last moment to realize his feet had been dragging behind him. For some reason, he was not moving with purpose, he was not racing to his destination.

There was an oppressive nature about this place. It had cursed him. When he reached the top, time was no longer an asset. He was going to fail on this little endeavor of his. The gentleman however was not one to accept failure and went with “Plan B.” This new plan was essentialy the same as his original, he would need to just get out with the power and the alarms on. Not easy, but he had survived worse in the past.

With a history like his, he knew all to well that perfect plans were never a thing and bloodshed and fighting one’s way out was always a possibility. He pushed his sheathed knife further into his buckle strap, calming himself and remembering that it was there. People often overlooked that he was a genius with the small blade, even though it was not his preferred style

.

Where had he gone wrong though?

It was this place. The lights came on as a final chorus pushed him on. He took off his headphones. They were useless now and they were not powering him through. Greeting him on the outside world of his self, was lame cover music of a playlist that could be best described as the employers lovingly torturing their working staff. His redemption was to listen to the music as he searched for the directory to find the the mini museum hidden in the middle floors.

His hand was shaking as it scrolled the map. What was this fear he was feeling?

It was the same as that day he met Mr. Greene. It was the same when Mr. Greene suggested going against his stratagem and said he looked forward to working with him. His hand shook at that exact moment too.

The alarm hadn’t come on yet, so the alarm wasn’t set by motion sensors. The security guards could be coming back soon. He wanted to hurry but his legs moved sluggishly, his mind foggy as if running on fumes.

“What the hell is wrong with me today.” He said aloud. It wasn’t his style to talk to himself even when facing an extreme stressor. Grab the f*****g spear, go out the front, or go out the roof access. He needed to make the midnight flight to Mexico, and in six hours from that point, by sunrise, stare down the Aztec vault and make his way to the glory. Pay of his debts, and in 12 hours all together, his life would be set. No more trafficking. No more cons. No more scrapping off the streets. He would leave his old life behind and probably find some place in Switzerland where no one would know him and just live in silent luxury.

This brought a smile to him as he found the side stair case leading all the way up. He didn’t want to risk the elevator. Too noisy, and with the power fluctuating, he really didn’t want to bother with a potential power outage trapping him. He had enough gear in his backpack to scale the chute, but the idea of that dark closed space…

He shuddered. He would be dealing with enough close spaces and darkness once he got back to Mexico.

What felt like thirty minutes passed as he…

How much time had passed?

He was on the 5^th floor.

“They say, time passes differently for the dead.”

He shook out of his trance.

        

       “What are you doing here?” Standing at the front of the opening of the museum wing was Manny Greene.

 

              “We were going to meet here, no?”

No. That wasn’t the plan. Five minutes, run to the elevator atop the stairs, go to the 5^th floor. Smash, grab, get out. He walked up the stairs, and then walked up another set of flights. He hadn’t been present in his own mind the entire time this surgical operation started. Now there was a figure inside that had been…

        

       “I have been waiting. I don’t like to be kept waiting. Believe it or not my schedule is pretty busy.”

               “Busy?”

               “Oh yeah, I had to cut a lecture short in order to make it here before the power went. Fortunately I know Ichida-san on a first name basis so he left me with the keys to this place. Good news for you. I have the master key so we are free to partake in anything we want while they are absent. By the way, I hope you know, security wont be returning back to their post for another fifty minutes. So there is no need to rush this business arrangement of ours.”

               “I don’t like surprises, you being here…”

               “I have the keys. I delayed security. I don’t think you get the right to lecture me on surprises. Especially when all of them are convenient.”

               

“Mr. Greene, I am going to be blunt. I don’t know you very well, but how the hell did you do this?”

         

      “I should ask you about cutting the power. I did not see that coming. Congratualtions on pulling one over me. That is a rare feet and let me tell you, when I say something is rare, I mean it rarely happens.”

The figure then pointed to the opening of exhibit room. It was a friendly invitation. This just pissed him off that much more. These two people were existing at two separate wavelengths. Jonathon Crisp thought to himself, he could either treat him as hostile, which was what he felt, or he could play along until an opening presented himself. The latter he decided would be better.

        

       After all, what betrayal could Mr. Greene show? The older gentleman had no idea of the whereabouts of the temple, he already had access to the spear so why double cross him for it?

               

“This stinks,” Greene said.

        

       “What?”

         “They used outdated air fresheners in here. I can’t stand that sterile smell.”

The glass door opened and the room was a yellow set of walls that branched out in obtuse ways that almost made it feel less like a room and more of a maze, but too small to be such. One branch turned the corner to the right and at the center piece was a clay jar flanked by other designs. To the left was a darker corner that turned into a bathroom. The two people stood in the center between two makeshift benches. There was a small water cooler to the left. He only could imagine when the water was last changed.

               “Welcome once again to the art room. Ichida-san likes to think of this as his private museum and he likes to show his wealth of historical knowledge here. What he really does is buy and trade oddities and trinkets of historical and fun fact natures changing on a month to month basis. A week ago he approached me and asked what would be something that people wouldn’t expect of him. He tried to go with Kamakura period pieces but I told him that perhaps it would be best if we fused Mayan and Aztec stories. Him being ‘cultured’ agreed with what I said. After you approached me, I realized I could use his resources to facilitate a nice exchange and well, here is the spear you have been seeking. Ready for you to claim it.”

The middle room ended with a roped off segment that went deeper behind a curtain.

               

“You told me all this.”

        

       “I am sorry, its my curator nature. I have been doing this for far too long. I see things and I know their stories and I can’t help but talk about them.”

               “How about we talk less and get right to it?”

               “I see you are a man who values his time. I mean time is by nature a valuable resource and so precious at that. I will oblige good sir.”

They stood there in a brief silence. A man dressed in a hoodie, with head phones and a backpack. The other refined and dignified. They couldn’t be more different and Crisp was getting anxious at feeling out of control of the situation.

        

      “And now I shall show you the room of Diablo Gato.”

 

The curtain moved. He doesn’t remember the older person moving it at all, the curtain just seemed to move back. This “room” was different. He felt a chill, his legs hurt from the goosebumps that were hardening. His breath quivered for the briefest of moments and Mr. Greene turned to him, “We can call this off right now if you want. I understand.”

               “Why would we call this off?”

This wasn’t the first time Crisp saw this room, but it felt more imposing this time around. It was as if he was now a child surrounded by grandeur when yesterday this was just an open space holding some rare antique items.

        

       “The Axe,” Greene pointed to, “this was said to be able to kill a god.”

               

“Something about being used to pierce Spanish metal armor, right?”

               

“You remembered well.”

They walked further on. Next to the axe, strange as it was, was the spear, laced in a gold ring on its tip. This was the object he came for.

               

“And if you look to your right,” Greene pointed.

The distraction annoyed Crisp. The ‘tour guide’ was pointing to a woven poncho or some shirt that was braided in multicolor yarn.

               

“I don’t remember the importance of…”

        

       “Well you see, it was believed by many of the early Spanish-Mexican locals to be mystical. A shroud of invincibility if you could believe.”

               

“I don’t.”

Crisp was tired of the distractions all he wanted now was that damn spear that was placed in a rectangular glass The spear had no name but…

Next two the spear was a skeleton in an Aztec-esque head dress. That wasn’t there yesterday. He turned to his right, on the other side of the room. There was another, a skeleton wearing nothing but a dagger in its hand and a bow on its back. Neither of these “pieces” were there the day before. He realized something had changed at the last minute and these two figures looked…

         “The Guardians…I brought them in myself.”

“Are they real?”

         

      “Oh yeah. I don’t concern myself around skeleton figures but notice by how I added them, next to the spear, the axe, and even this silly little rug-shirt, that it adds an ‘authenticity’ to everything in here?”

  

             “Where did you find two skeletons, and why did you put…?”

               Manny Greene played with his walking stick for a brief moment and pointed with it, like some sort of spy-villian revealing his master plan, 

“I told you I know people. I have my secrets Mr. Crisp. But I promise no laws have been broken on this. Everything on display is purely legal. I wouldn’t dream of stealing things I do not own…”

               “Pardon me Mr. Greene, but you have quite the amount of secrets to you and I am not feeling comfortable getting too close with you on my dealings.”

               “Are you saying the deal is off and you want to walk away? You are free to.”

It wasn’t the needing to walk away, no. He needed that key. It was this gentleman with some snobbish walking cane and cocksure attitude he needed to get rid of. He had the knife, no one knew he was there with the soon to be victim. If he was going to kill him, he would need to be fast, and make sure it was done quick.

Those skeleton guards looked as though they were watching him.

        

       “Why do they call this Diablo Gato? Yesterday it was just a room with a couple of items.”

               

“That is an excellent question and I am glad you asked. You see, the spear belonged to Montezuma ii.”

        

       “The Second.”

               “

Indulge my humor. Number 2, what people don’t know, is he had a fondness for cats.”

        

       “Cats?”

       “Gato.”

        “I get it Spanish for cats is ‘gato’.”

The story was, along time ago, during the reign of his father, a cat had snuck into the child's room and made its nest on his bed. Montezuma came home to find the beast staring at him, as if waiting for him. After several attempts to get rid of the cat, it would return, using the opening in the wall and would crawl in his bed, sometimes sitting on his stomach waiting for him to wake up.

In the street below, one day, a man threw a piece of food at the cat, trying to hit it as it went by. The next day, that same man was found dead. That part is likely myth, but the stories grew of the cat who would make its bed next to the younger, soon to be supreme leader of the Aztec.

Eventually Montezuma stopped trying to throw the cat out and began to feed it. He would wake up to it purring on his stomach and nustling against him in public. Over time this cat became unofficial royalty and even his father would not raise a hand against it, unless to pet it.

Within a year, they say that no pest or vermin was found at the castle for this had become the domain of the devil cat. The devil cat that protected the young lord and watched him as he slept.

One day, as all things go, the cat passed on. The next day, Montezuma the Second was crowned as emperor.

        

       “This little box right here” Greene walked up to a strange lock box in front of a mural of Montezuma the Second. “We believe inside, although no one has ever opened it, contains the ashes of Diablo Gato.”

Greene’s keys jingled as he told this story. His back was turned to him. Crisp know this was his chance. He still had plenty of time to take the spear and get out. And yet, he felt like he was being watched by the two skeletons flanking him. He needed to rely on his cold rationale thought.

He drew his dagger out. The moment was just as quick as he needed it to be. Within a full blink of an eye he had the dagger in the front of Greene’s throat, and Greene hadn’t had time to register there was an object there. Before the signal of the victims eyesight could reach his brain and react, Crisp planted the knife firmly into his throat and pulled with all his speed to return the knife back to the sheath.

The blood came out instantly. Manny Greene, soon no longer to be in the world of the living fell forward instantly and grabbed his own throat with his free hand. A reaction, no doubt to stop the bleeding and live on, but it was too late, the cut was too deep. His other hand, seemingly refused to let go of his black walking cane. His hands must have fully clenched and not let go.

Death seemed to come quick as Greene lay on the floor, a pool of his own blood acting as a bed to his body and then, he ceased moving. The blood flowing after a moment ceased.

He knew Manny Greene, man of mystery, was dead. Jonathon Crisp, man of equal mystery now had to move fast to get out and finish this long winded adventure that had one too many detours.  

On this night, in an abandoned building were three corpses, two of them skeletons, the other some weird man the world would hopefully have forgotten. And then there was Jonathon Crisp, a man who was not done with his work yet. He looked at the two skeletons standing guard, not moving but staring at him with their void eyes.

Another shiver reached from inside him. His hands were getting jittery. Was it the adrenaline from the recent kill? Or was it just this place that was giving him the willies? In the end he had to hear some stupid story about a cat stored in some ancient lock box. He really cared for none of these tales. He was a man of goals and adventures. Soon he would be done with all of that and live a nice simple after life in a town where no one knew him.

He smiled through his growing fear. He wasn’t one for feeling scared and alone in empty buildings and yet he just brushed by death.

        

       “What are you looking at, you want to fight?” He taunted one of the skeletons. It looked back at him, as if having a wide eyed grin. But it didn’t move. A sound clicked from the walls. Must be the electricity or vents, he thought to himself.

That is right, buildings make noises.

`It had been a whole minute since he committed his crime and yet, his hand had not grabbed the spear yet. He was getting tired of this spacey behavior of his. It was as if he wasn’t in control of himself today and it could cost him getting caught. He wasn’t going to jail, the victim said he had an hour and he just needed to force the lock...

There was a creaking sound of… he didn’t know how best to describe it. The best description would be like moving inside a sheet against a bed. He looked up and saw the reflection of the skeleton behind him. It’s head was tilted downward just a little. For some reason his first instinct was to look at the skeleton to his left, closest to him. It hadn’t moved at all. He heard the sound again and this time he turned around facing the skeleton without the head dress. It was hunched over, but still standing.

Upon closer look, its spine was rattling on the hook used to keep it propped open. The rattling stopped and the intruder thought to himself as he felt a breeze come from the vents, “it must be AC.”

 

Then a hand touched his shoulder.

Terror seized the man as he was worried he had been caught by security or…

The skeleton in the head dress tightened his grip on Crisp’s shoulder. He felt a surge of pain as bone pressed into his skin and muscle with a vice lock. It was as if a giant snake had bitten down on him and was trying to close its jaw completely with his upper arm inside.

He fell to one knee, dumbstruck. Within a full second of processing what was happening he realized the skeleton was alive!

               

“what…the…hell….” He weakly whined, caught up in his own horror and shock.

The Skeleton with the dagger and bow finally came undone from it’s stand and took two steps forward. Crisp was still on one knee and wanted to change the channels of whatever horror show he was watching. The dagger skeleton did not move towards him though, instead it walked towards the deceased Mr. Greene. And then, to insult the dead, the skeleton with the daggers gave the corpse a kick with the heel of its undead foot.

               

“The f**k…” was all Crisp could say. He still hadn’t processed the trauma he was enduring. In one set of moments, black had become white and the rules of the universe chose now of all times to stop making sense.

The skeleton kicked the body again. Crisp did not care about watching that, he needed to survive. Step one in this insanity was to get the skeleton to let go of its hold. “Please, let go of me?” That was the weak sound of a man not understanding who he was talking to. It came out as a question and even that sentence structure was hard as hell for him to form.

The head dressed one looked at him in the eye, as if to acknowledge it understood him to an extent. Then the pain of the bony fingers pulling him up from his shoulder/clavicle area. Crisp felt like something wanted to pop from the pressure but nothing did.

        

       “So we are doing this, huh?” Mr. Greene’s voice came out from behind.

The skeleton with the dagger watched as the corpse of Manny Greene stood up. A massive gash that was no longer bleeding in his neck, probably severing his vocal cords. Yet Crisp understood the statement clearly.

              

He looked back at the skeleton holding him. “Let me go. Please.”

Crisp found his free arm digging for the blade he had.

               “That won’t help. Honestly stabbing a skeleton is like stabbing a wall. You can leave a hole in it, but since they do not have vitals…its very redundant. And you don’t strike me as a man who enjoys doing redundant actions Mr. Crisp.”

               

“What shall we do?” The skeleton in the head dress asked with its mouth open the entire time to the figure behind Crisp.

        

       “I got the bleeding to stop pretty easy, so we don’t have to worry about me making a mess of the place. Ichida-san will not be happy if we ruin this exhibit of his. He is one of my biggest patrons.”

               “What kind of magic…”

               “First rule of Necromancy. Necromancy and magic are not the same thing.”

               “But you are dead. I just killed you.”

               “I died along time ago. My real self, is not much different than my two friends in this room. I just happen to wear skin. Sorry, I am babbling. I am sure you are quite scared right now and honestly that wasn’t my intention.”

               The skeleton with the dagger unsays, “This man tried to kill you in order to steal an artifact. We shouldn’t let him walk out.”

   

            The husk of a man known as Manny Greene holds his cane to his own chin as if to ponder. “You are right. I thought at first this was just some treasure happy hunter but…lets be honest, from the day I met you, we both knew Mr. Crisp, you are a killer. Am I correct?”

The figure before him had no answer.

               “Honestly, had you only sliced my throat out of desperation, believe me, I get it. I would understand. I would respect you and your quest. But those eyes are those of a remorseless monster. You have killed…oh I would guess five?” There was a pause, “No. More?” Again pause. “Yeah, I was afraid as such.”

               “I am sorry. Please let me leave. You can keep the spear.” Crisp didn’t know what to do.

               “The spear? I could care less about the spear and honestly, you should as well. Let me show you something.” Greene had begun talking in his curator voice again. “Oh and Wing, please let our friend go, but if he runs, feel free to kill him.”

       
        The skeleton nodded. “Do not try to run.”

       

        “Do not try to run yet” Greene corrected the Skeleton in the head dress known as Wing.

               “What are you going to do to me?”

              
“I just want to give you a refresher course of all the stuff you see before you. Almost all of it way more valuable than a silly key laced with a gold ring. Take for example this axe! Remember what I told you of it?”

        

       “You…you…you said…it could kill a god…”

        “Well I haven’t tested it on the undead but, it’s a unique trinket in that whoever gets cut by the blade, has their life essence slowly drained from them until they die. No one knows how it works and since the blade is now dulled, and we dulled it intentionaly so, no one recently has discovered how. But honestly, I promise, the smallest knick with this thing and you would be dead within a week and no doctor would ever see it coming.”

               Crisp noticed the figure with a hole in his neck smile. He apparently liked telling this ‘fun fact.’

The undead curator then walked to the woven, technicolor vest.

        

       “And this thing. This is the real prize. It was made by the blood of slaves and literal sacrifices. I told you that whoever wore this would be invincible, no? Well the true story behind this is, actually yes. The coat here, you can’t see it because the absorption of the material actually causes any trace of blood to fade but all one has to do is spend just a simple drop of blood and this beautiful piece of craftsmanship becomes unbreakable.”

          

     The human in the room wasn’t sure to believe it. “How?”

               “I don’t know all the answers Mr. Crisp. Whether blood magic or demonic energy, fact is, we test drived this thing, and I can tell you from experience; this thing can stop it all. Bullets, knives, the lot. The only problem is, you are still vulnerable everywhere else.”

               

“And the spear?”

        

       “Just a stupid key. Really worthless except as an antique that once belonged to Montezuma to seal his vault, I guess. Although honestly, my research into the whole thing probably would suggest that what you think is in that tomb isn’t really what you think.”

        

       “Whats in there?”

           “His family. Their treasured possessions sure. But you aren’t looking at their rendition of Fort Knox. One thing I have learned in the scholarly pursuit of knowledge and history is to often lower your expectations. I know that sounds rude.”

The figure made its undead way to the lock box under the portrait of Montezuma the Second.

        

       “And what is the true story behind that box?”

               “Exactly what I told you Mr. Crisp. It is Montezuma’s The Second’s beloved cat. His guardian. Nothing more, nothing less.”

               “So it’s useless compared to…”

It turned around to face him as if offended. “Oh no. Not useless. No guardian who watches over their charge is useless. Would you like to meet Diablo Gato?” Green smiled.

Jonathon Crisp’s anxiety was growing. He began to think, maybe he could draw the line of insanity at the idea of a dead cat talking.

Manny Greene pressed a series of buttons, and then whispered something small in the opening. Crisp, shoulder still reeling from the pain was baffled as specks of grey matter fluttered from a hole in the box onto the floor. It then began to move and sway until it became a pile of ash. It then stopped. To the man at the mercy of two skeletons, it was a fancy horror show and nothing more. Maybe the summons failed?

        

       “You see, not all of the ashes were inside the box, but the spirit is present in the room and that is all that matters.”

Whatever grey matter that came from the hole in the box started to move again. Greene then pushed out his cane towards the small pile and the same grey matter blew out of the cane and into the pile.

It started small. A vague resemblance of what a feline skeleton might look like. The pool of blood that came from Greene’s neck moved on its own as well towards the shifting dust. The poor creature or whatever it was started jerking inside its little haze of ashy smoke until the gelatinous blood merged with the cloud and sinew and muscle started to build. A cackling sound like a creature trying to breathe was heard and Crisp just wanted this madness to stop.

The cat stared at him, looking incomplete and like a zombie until parts of its missing body started to slowly form. Fur took root and grew. Color came into its eyes. Teeth formed on its open mouth and the monstrosity siftfed left and right until it stopped moving all together.

He blinked one last time and before him was not an abomination against a just and loving God. It was simply a cat with massively unkempt fur. The cat was not looking to him though, it was staring at Greene.

The two of them stared at one another for a solid minute, Greene nodding at one point, and then pointing to Crisp the next. The cat only once glared at Crisps direction and then continued to stare deeply at Greene.

        

       “What are you doing!?” Crisp yelled.

The skeleton with the dagger pointed at Crisp, “You keep your mouth shut!”

Wing simply whispered, if that was even possible, “They are speaking the language of the dead.”

        

       “Only people who have died can speak or hear it.” Greene chimed in.

               “What are you saying?” Crisp asked.

               “I told her who you were. That you were looking to plunder a vault where the cat’s friend has kept his family to rest. She has told me she swore to watch over him and his land so you going after one of his tombs is a bit of a no no.”

               “Tell her I wont.”

               “Oh um, about that.”

               “What about what?”

               “She wants to kill you. She doesn’t trust you. And as I said, had I been your only victim, I would have talked her down from it.”

The cat makes eye contact with Jonathon Crisp and hisses.

        

       “Being that you are a killer with no redeemable qualities however, I just see no reason to override her request.”

The cat straitened its back. It then began to slowly stalk forward.

        

       “By the by chap, you are free to run now, but I would avoid getting outside. Good luck Mr. Crisp.”

He threw a knife at the cat and it sunk in. The Cat still moved.

He turned a corner and made his way downstairs only to find that during the chase, the two skeletons had barred the downstairs door. He looked up to the second story and for some reason, he couldn’t tell why, he could swear the cat was bigger.

He thought he could hide. He thought he could get passed it.

Five minutes later he realized the cat was back to being on his scent again. It hissed loudly as it was chasing him up the stairs.

That sluggishness he was feeling since he walked into this building was gone. His adrenaline was kicking into high gear and he could feel time slip by.

He didn’t know how he made it to the main executive offices on the top floor or when he got here but he knew he had cliff jumping equipment in his backpack, all he had to do was make it to the roof. Glass broke behind him.

It wasn’t a small cat, but what looked to be a giant white wildcat, about four feet in height. He heard the sounds of objects hitting the windows and he didn’t bother to register what they were, he just knew the Devil Cat was getting ready to corner him and he needed to find the roof entrance/exit and then get the hell out of here. It let out a guttural sound that could only be described as unholy and calling for his death.

It lunged in the air and by some miracle, he got right under the claws and the creature overjumped him. There was a sign that said emergency exit and he ran for it. He slid over a table but fell over the second one. It did not slow him down as his momentum propelled him forward and he was back on his feet. He winced from the pain. He looked down and saw the cat didn’t completely miss it’s target. He was bleeding. Not too heavily but he had to power through.

“I can make it.”

The monster behind him watched as it leapt from furniture to furniture to plan its angle of attack before he busted open the exit going north. He slammed the door behind him. The monster thudded against it.

He was safe.

He could hear the sound of objects continuing to hit the building outside and then they stopped as he made his way to the roof.

How did the creature get so big?

It started small until it absorbed the undead blood, and the ashes that came out of that vintage looking walking stick. Was the walking stick made out of the same ash content? Not ash, bone and dead materials. They stuck to the creature and it grew. Maybe it absorbed other dead material. But from where?

He opened the last door and was on the roof. He found his answer.

They looked like birds but they weren’t. They were skeleton birds and half decayed creatures flying. They were hitting at the windows trying to get in. Not trying to get in, trying to be absorbed. Just how many dead things were inside this building to begin with? Insects? Bugs? Rodents? Over how many years over the vast ventilation systems?

The sound of the door behind him breaking open was heard. The wave of birds blocked his vision but he ran forward. He fell over one of the blasted things and as he stumbled he looked behind him. The Devil Cat had reached the top. This time it wasn’t a cat. It was bipedal with massive claws, glowing yellow eyes and a sharp jaw that opened wide enough to swallow a person. The birds started to fly into the monstrosity and its shape grew and twisted more and more until they were all gone and only the Devil Cat remained.

It was a being of death incarnate.

He turned to run but before he could take two steps, it grabbed him by its claws. It was so fast that it covered that much distance in but a moment. The force of the blow threw him against the wall. Despite its size it kept its feline agility. His ears were ringing. He stood up. This was it. He was against the wall, on the other side, a complete drop into the city below.

He jumped.

His arm hurt so bad, he wasn’t sure if he could pull the emergency glider out to parachute him to safety.

The creature jumped after him.

Jonathon Crisp was never seen again.

However the next morning a nice gentleman paid Ichi Financial’s building a visit. He was greeted by the security guard who mentioned someone must have broken in last night as there was a shuffle of broken furniture upstairs and the roof door had been broken off. The gentleman nodded and continued his walk. He walked up to the fifth floor and was welcomed by one of the coffee runners for a middle manager. The two people tipped their hats together and briefly talked about the energy this little section of Mexican heritage had on the office and to those in the know. They shared a joke and then the coffee runner went back to his job.

The gentleman stood by himself for a moment, wanting a sip of coffee himself. He found himself missing the dark and bitter taste.

He heard a meow behind him. It would look like an unkempt stray cat to anyone else, but to the gentleman, it was a friend. It walked up to him, meowed one more time. He took out a little cup of milk and placed it down. The cat drank happily from the cup. The man petted the cat behind the ear and it tilted its head in approval to be touched. It purred loudly.

In a language that could only be heard by some, “Thank you my friend. I hope he appreciates everything you have done for him. I release you of your burden.”

“It was no burden. I will never truly repay him for the kidness he had shown me.”

“You have done plenty. Was he really that good?”

“To me, yes. He was the best.”

“I have a feeling he thought the same of you.”

The Necromancer left the building a few minutes later. The lockbox containing the ashes of the dreaded Diablo Gato was soon sent back to its original museum where it was noted to still have its contents within.

At least she had one last meal.

Author's Note

Im actually going to attempt to self publish this really soon on Kindle, so please leave any feedback or comments.

Manny is a main character for a book I am writing called "Necro" and its going to be a Noir starring our Necromancer

If anyone has questions or such about the work or suggestions, id love to discuss them!