I had finally done it. Finally, after nearly thirty years of working my ass off, I’d saved enough money to buy a house. Granted, it was in need of a little repair; a little TLC. Nothing that a little elbow grease, paint, wood, drywall, brick, mortar, plumbing, and electrical work wouldn’t fix.
Yeah. I’d bought a dumpster fire of a house. But, it was mine. I was able to pay for it outright, and still had money left over for the needed repairs due to some rumor that it had been haunted or some such bullshit. Superstitious people were always willing to part with good things if only you could convince them that it was in their best interest. I have always been rather convincing. Except when it came to dating. I nearly always struck out there. I could convince you to sell me your grandmother’s pearls, but I could never convince anyone that I was worth the time and energy to date. Oh well. My new house would be big enough for me and me alone. I looked forward to making it liveable.
After walking through and seeing the relatively clean home, hiring an inspector to give me the gritty details, and consulting with some contractor friends, I had a pretty good idea where to start with the fixing. Thankfully, the bedroom was pretty much clean and liveable with some minor work, so I started there, and in an afternoon I had it cleaned, wired, insulated and patched. Ready for me to move my meager belongings into the next day.
My new room was fairly spacious. To me, anyway. I’ve never had much, so I surmised that my new home would likely wind up being nearly empty for a fair bit, if not forever.
I started early the next morning, and began the process of moving. It took me four trips, but I was able to get everything in the house in roughly three hours. After I moved my belongings into the house, and set up my room, I realized that all I really needed was the bedroom. And the bathroom and kitchen, of course.
Armed with this new knowledge, I set about fixing the next biggest item on my list. The bathroom. After taking stock of its state, I made a list of things I knew I’d need, and made my first of many trips to the hardware store.
Upon my return, I noticed tiny little marks in the dust on the floor. They looked like they had a pattern, but I couldn’t recall any animal with feet like that. Since the prints were tiny, I elected to ignore it, and continued on with my repairs.
It took several more hours and two more trips to the hardware store, but by five PM, I had a completely working bathroom. I felt pretty proud of myself, actually. I knew I had mechanical skills, of course. I wouldn’t undertake such a task otherwise. But, still. I felt proud of this accomplishment. I had managed to fix part of my own home!
I quickly realized I hadn’t eaten at all that day, thanks to a growling stomach, so I went back to town and got some cheap fast food. A cheeseburger, fries and a coke. Simple stuff. I sat down on my bed, and ate my dinner. As I did so, I realized also just how tired I was. A nap wouldn’t hurt. I kicked my boots off, and lay down to rest.
Sleep came like a thief in the night. So subtly that I only realized I had fallen asleep when I woke up, and the light was fading. I stretched, and that’s when I felt it. An extra weight on my chest that hadn’t been there before. I also felt a gentle vibration from the same area. No heat, though. I slowly reached to my right for my cell phone, and clicked on the flashlight, hoping and praying to the gods that I wasn’t feeling a rattlesnake on my chest.
The good news is that it wasn’t a rattler. The not-so-good news is that it was a complete skeleton. Of a cat. A very tiny cat. As I stared, perplexed, the damn thing moved. It stretched and flexed its tiny feet, its tiny, needle-like claws poking at my chest through my shirt, just like any cat would. And just like any normal cat, it completed that stretch by arching its back.
And just like any normal, well-adjusted human, I screamed like a schoolgirl.
This scream apparently startled the bone cat, who shot off my chest with a distinct clatter of bones rubbing together, and dove behind my door.
I panted, hyperventilating, absolutely certain I had simply woken up at the tail end of a dream. A wild, weird dream, but a dream nonetheless. I took a moment to calm down. Well, more like ten minutes. It took a while for my heart rate to come down, but drop it did. I got off my bed, and looked over to my door, where the dream phantasm had dove. I saw nothing there, and heard nothing, so I elected to walk over and actually look behind it.
Have you ever made a mistake so perfectly that you were certain that it hadn’t actually happened? This is what I did. I pulled the door back, and looked in the corner. Sitting there, its hollow eye sockets fixed on me, its head cocked at what could only be described as a questioning angle, was this skeletal cat. I nodded, satisfied, to myself, and pushed the door back to where it was, and left my room; the cat clickety-clacking behind me. Somehow, I completely missed the fact that I actually saw an animated cat skeleton, and went about my next task of getting the kitchen habitable.
It wasn’t until I was elbow-deep in the guts of my sink that I realized two things.
1- Yes, I actually did see a skeletal cat behind my door, and
2- It was sitting atop the counter watching me as I worked, and had been for the past half-hour.
I actually noticed three things, but realizing that my bladder was suddenly empty didn’t warrant any sort of attention at that moment.
I slowly scooted out from under the sink, maintaining eye cont- can you maintain eye contact with something that only has empty holes where the eyes should be? Anyway, I stared this tiny monstrosity in the eye sockets and slowly stood up. It hopped down, making a rattling noise as it lit upon the floor, and began to rub against my ankles like any other cat. I blinked several times as I stared.
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“What the actual fuck? How is this pile of bones moving on its own?” I hadn’t realized I’d asked the question aloud until the cat faced me and opened its mouth. I assumed it was meowing. Or would have been, if it had vocal chords. It sauntered away, and stopped to stare at me. I took a step towards it, and it slowly resumed its walk. I shrugged, figuring that this situation couldn’t possibly get any weirder, and followed it.
I’ve never been more wrong in my life.
The cat, or kitten, I should say, as it was pretty tiny, led me to a hatch that I somehow hadn’t seen in my initial inspection.
“Huh. Should I open this? Is that what you’d like?” I shrugged. Couldn’t get any worse, right?
I squatted down, gripped the ring handle, and gave a measured pull. No movement, so I kept increasing my force until my legs began to shake. It was then that I noticed the latch, and felt really dumb. I flipped it up, and began to pull again. This time, the hatch opened, and I was greeted with a blast of stale air. A draft of stale air which reminded me that I had pissed myself. Once the hatch was fully open, the kitten bounded down the steps. I flicked on my flashlight and gave chase.
Once down the stairs, I saw several candles and a fireplace. The fireplace was stacked with wood, and the candles looked fairly new. I scanned the area, and found my new “friend” sitting on a rather large book. I reached out, and picked both the book and the kitten up. The kitten bounded up my arm, and perched on my shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. As it wrapped its tail around its tiny body, I suppressed a shudder as the tip of it brushed against my ear.
I headed back up the stairs, closing the hatch as I did so. The kitten leapt down and started furiously clawing at the latch.
“Do you want me to latch that back, kitten? Okay. Sure.” I mentally shrugged, and latched the hatch down tight.
I took the book back to my room, and scanned the cover for any information. There was nothing but an odd sigil I’d never seen, some latches that didn’t appear to have any method of opening them, and a small depression. I rubbed my right thumb around the edge of the depression, and pushed down on the center.
As I did so, I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in the center of my thumb. I yanked my hand back, dropping the book, and saw that I was, indeed, bleeding. As I stuck the wounded digit into my mouth, the latches popped open, one by one. I picked up the book, tentatively opening it, and saw writing appear on the pages within, in a script I’d never seen, in a language I’d never witnessed. I could somehow understand it, though. It read as follows:
Greetings, new owner of the Necromancer’s Grimoire! We aren’t sure where you came from, or even who you are yet, but you are now a Necromancer! Command the dead! Build an army! Get servants! The possibilities are endless!
All new necromancers receive a familiar upon coming within the vicinity of an unowned Grimoire. Whatever form yours took, look after it! It needs your love, after all! And blood. But just a little! A few drops will suffice to bind it to you, and allow communication. Your familiar will explain all to you, once you bond with it.
Within these pages, you’ll find many useful rituals and spells designed by the Necromancer’s Union (Of which you are now a member, whether you wish it or not. Speak to your familiar for the details.) and by all predecessors who previously owned this particular Grimoire! So much knowledge at your fingertips, Stu!
Good luck! And don’t forget to bond to your familiar.
I looked down and saw the kitten pawing at my leg gently.
“Why not?” I said as I saw the open mouth of the kitten, waiting for my blood to seal the contract.
I squeezed my wounded thumb, and watched as three crimson drops fell into the mouth of the kitten, and vanished.
The little kitten’s jaw worked up and down, as if it were savoring my blood and licking its lips. I cocked my head to the side, and waited.
After a few moments, I heard a small, feminine, childlike voice in my head saying “Hello! I’m glad to meet you. I’m Katira. I want to help guide you in your new life as a Necromancer.” The skeletal kitten rubbed up against my calf.
I moved over to my bed, intending to sit down when I had a realization. I had recently soiled myself. As I began to sit, I had felt the wetness that was my pee, and opted to simply remove my clothing. I grabbed a towel from my bag, and wrapped it around me.
Certain I was dry, I sat down on my bed, Katira following me, and asked, “But what if I don’t want to be a Necromancer? Do you go back to wherever you came from?”
“Nope! You’re stuck with me as your familiar until you die. I can hide myself, of course, but you’ll never be without me,” she said happily.
“Must you be a skeletal kitten? Could you take any other form?” I asked hopefully.
“Oh, no! I can take any form you wish,” her voice became much more mature, “And I can sound like anything you wish, too. All I need is access to your mind so I can tell what form you would prefer, Stu.” she explained.
“And just how will you do that, Katira? Do I have to scoop out some of my brain? More blood? I’m new to all this,” I said, somewhat exasperated.
“Oh no, silly! When you wake in the morning, I will have all I need. I’ll drift in while you’re dreaming, take a poke around, and when you wake up? Ta-da! New me. How does that grab you?” she asked.
“Well, I guess it’ll be okay.” I sat and thought, the grimoire open on my lap. Idly, I leafed through the pages, seeing nothing familiar to my mind. “What do you eat, if anything? What exactly are you?” I mused aloud.
Katira bounded up onto the bed, and sat on the grimoire, staring up at me with those empty eye sockets. “I don’t eat. Not like you do. You’ll understand more tomorrow. As to what I am, exactly? I’m not really sure. I know I’m not a cat. I don’t think I was ever human, and I’m pretty sure I’m not what you’d call an angel or a demon. I just…exist, I guess,” she replied, curling up on the open grimoire.
“Are you trying to keep me from reading the grimoire? I don’t mind, as this is kinda cute and all, but if I’m to be a Necromancer, I would suppose I’d need to read the damn book, right?” I asked.
I heard Katira yawn in my head, which was an extremely disconcerting thing. “Not at all, sir. I just need to rest. You look really comfortable to rest on,” came her sleepy reply.
“Well, Katira. I need a shower, since I pissed all over myself earlier. Why don’t you rest here, and I’ll go get clean,”I said.
The only reply was the soft sound of snoring in my head.
I set the grimoire and cat down on the bed, and stalked off to the bathroom. At least it was working. I pulled the curtain, and washed the day’s sweat and grime off my tired body.
As I stood there letting the water cascade down my body, I reflected on the day’s events. What a weird thing to have happen. I was still questioning my wakefulness, actually. I sighed, deciding that if this really was happening, there was little I could do about it. After all, didn’t that book say that I didn’t have to be a Necromancer? I could simply have myself a familiar. That thought was kind of neat. I’d have a spirit all my own, bound to me throughout this life. I wasn’t cruel or capricious, so I’d not treat Katira harshly. It was an interesting thought, though.
I finished the shower, and turned off the water. Opened the curtain and toweled off, then headed to my room, turning off the lights as I went. Once I got inside, I saw Katira, still asleep atop the open Grimoire. I shook my head and smiled in spite of myself. Her little skeletal paws were twitching as she chased some imaginary prey in her dreams. Just like a real kitten.
Once I was thoroughly dry, I moved the Grimoire to the nearby dresser, and shutting off the light, I crawled into bed.
As I pulled the covers up around my neck, I wondered what form Katira would take in the morning.