The Necromancer was most commonly seen with a black cat.
Shade bounded through the night straight to Elena’s waiting lap. She sat back down and petted the shaking creature. Vibrations resounded through her, letting her know that Shade considered her a safe person and that he was afraid. Elena considered if he’d ever sat on her lap before, and realized he’d never done this. He’d usually run through the dark, roll in the dirt, or focus on William. She let herself enjoy the moment. Worries about William quickly faded, he’d be out there somewhere, likely wandering, hiding, to escape the police or prying eyes.
Still, the thought that he’s been taken, or captured, filled her with dread. What if the police came for him? He’s undead, they’d want him, and they’d kill him. Thoughts of William trapped in a cell, unable to wander around like he wants to, and unable to enjoy the night air, scared her. He didn’t seem to enjoy cramped spaces and tended to avoid the other undead, except for.
The thought ended. Elena tried to remember how William interacted with the other undead, and he always kept away from them, so she did too. All those nights, they’d wandered alone, just the two of them. It made all the sense in the world. She petted Shade and felt his wild purring subside into a more even tempo. The cold air felt good on his fur. She sighed, and relished the moments, wondering where exactly William had gone.
Shade stood, and sat to her side. He raised his paw and began cleaning himself. He appeared regal as if he wanted Elena to watch him take his bath. She waited, half expecting the little void to run off into the night at a moment’s notice, as he often seemed to do. Instead, he took his time, carefully washing his face, and cleaning between his toe pads. When he finished, he sat there, gauging her.
After a few moments, Elena felt a tugging sensation on her heart, as if it were being pulled. The sensation didn’t feel as though her heart were being pulled down, or up, but rather outward. It wasn’t forceful enough to cause her to lurch forward, but it instead felt as though a piece of string had been pulled from her heart, and connected to Shade. He sat there and looked content with himself.
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Shade appeared more real, more focused in her eyes, and more than he was before. Somehow, he seemed larger, more imposing. Without saying any words, Shade seemed to communicate an intention, “Save. William.”
Elena leaned forward, unable to believe what she felt she understood. “Did you say something?”
“Must save. William.”
Elena lept back and pushed herself backward against the ledge of the fountain. She’d seen undead, but a talking cat felt more in line with the old stories of Jaan.
“How are you doing that?” She asked. Curiosity won out and allowed her to bring herself closer to Shade.
“Soul. Special. Mine accept. William, too.”
He nonchalantly walked over to Elena, became comfortable on her lap, and began purring. It took Elena a few minutes to calm down and began to pet Shade again. Old stories popped into her head about the Necromancer and about the Jaan. One type of story stood out, the stories that talked about the Necromancer and a black cat that followed him around. The stories said that the black cat was a regular cat, but some of them said that long ago the Necromancer tamed a shadow panther.
If the shadow panther became a normal-sized cat, then he’d look like the purring ball in her lap. She remembered how, sometimes, William seemed to talk to Shade, as if they could understand each other. Moments where William would wander off, or when he didn’t trust the fortune teller, or how he’d react when she talked about the old stories. She looked at the purring cat in her lap and asked the question that was on her mind.
“Is William the Necromancer?” she asked, not quite expecting a response, but hoping anyway.
“Help. William. Save. Need us. William lonely. Taken.”
Shade’s response didn’t quite answer her question, but one fact remained true in her mind. Everyone hated the Necromancer, shunned him, and hunted him down. Maybe Shade finally trusted her. For now, she’d believe that William hid the truth because of how people react.
“Where is he? Who took him?”
It took a few moments for Shade to respond. He seemed to contemplate his words, even though he remained curled into a ball. “Lady. Skull person. Cult. Bad people. Friend William. Taken. Slave.”
It was broken up, but maybe Shade had a hard time communicating. It sounded like a lady took him, and a skull person took him. It was the cult? Shade seemed genuinely tired. She sat there for a time, stroking his fur, wishing she knew where he was taken, and what to do.