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The door slammed leaving me stuck to the table by hand cuffs. The lock clicked. Like I could do anything to a lock stuck here with null bracelets suppressing my magic. Don’t panic. That’s what Maria would say. Take stock of your resources.
I can barely move, can’t do magic, and having my magic disrupted is making me feel nauseous and slightly feverish. I leaned my head into my hands and breathed deeply. The Mortemors betrayed me. They hired me, and knew what I was doing. Now I knew why other necromancers had taken to grave robbing. It didn't used to be this way
Now people had views about the undead and talking to them, and rituals with black candles and red chalk. I’m stuck in a box because I didn’t listen. Didn’t listen to the other necromancers. I let out a sigh that turned into a long voweled curse. I’m stuck in a box. Ten years ago, people like me advertised their services. Five years ago they could still operate publicly, but now, now we’re arrested for practicing profane magic. *I’m going to end up in jail and I'm going to die there. *
No. I’ll run. I’ll join Jothem and Kendrite in the Abacus ruins. Or flee to the Themadrin caverns. Or anywhere rich with dead souls for a necromancer to get to know. Despite having a heart beat, many of the undead treated necromancers as though they were one of them. *We smell of death and maybe that’s why the living hate us? *
I just need the bracelets off.
The door opened. A rather pretty man in an entirely too nice suit walked into the room. His expression reminded me of a rock. Hard, and any emotion was entirely of my own imagination.
He sat down and straightened the file in his hand. “Hello Maloney, I’m Fredrick, and will be your lawyer if you agree.”
He has grave dirt under his fingernails. “I can’t afford a lawyer.”
“I am from the Necromancer Legal Defence Foundation. They will be covering any fees or expenses.”
I’d heard of them, just didn’t expect to need them. That’s what I get for trusting the living, apparently. One year a hero for fighting in the Ossuary wars, the next I’m here. “So how screwed am I?”
He grimaced. “Unfortunately, due to how you were apprehended there are no loop holes in which to gain your freedom unscathed.”
I wanted to curse, to pace, to do something other than sit in this uncomfortable chair in dusty robes trying not to have an emotional breakdown in front of anyone watching from the one way glass.
“As the ritual was not completed and the skeletons you were preforming the ritual on were your personal property there is space for leniency.”
“A fine?” I asked hopefully.
He nodded. “And agreeing to wear null bracelets until you are judged reformed.”
My stomach turned like a poorly trained gymnastic who failed the landing and broke a leg.
“So forever.” I hated the tremble in my voice. “Curse those two toffs. Did they even have a kid in that crypt they wanted to talk to?”
“I do not know.” His expression impassive. “You would also be required to preform a public apology.”
“Not in this life or the next,” I growled. “I did nothing wrong. Everyone was fine with Necromancy when it was winning them wars, and then it was in vogue for contacting loved ones. Then one lich kills a town and were all evil."
He nodded, expression blank despite my tired. This guy would give a skull a run for its money as far as giving away emotion went. “Do you have any evidence that the Mortemors hired you and gave you permission to enter their crypt?”
“No, of course not.” Which means it’s the word of a vile necromancer against the word of a lord and lady. D*amn these null bracelets. *Without them I could get out of here. People have no idea how many angry skeletons there are everywhere. Dead rats in the walls, murder victims in the basement, taxidermy hunting trophies, dead flies on the window sill.
“The judges will also want your materials.”
“No. They’ll kill my cat, and my family.”
“Your cat is not technically alive. Nor is anyone else in your home.”
“He purrs, plays, and sleeps in sunbeams. He’s alive.” Never mind that he was all bones and wire. He wanted to be alive. Other wise I wouldn’t have been able to re-animate him at five years old. “And my aunt and uncle aren’t ready to move on. Forcing them to isn’t fair. I will not abandon my family.”
He nodded. He was likely aware that the rest of my family included a ghost which possessed a flamingo marinate, a parrot that molted more than feathers and a pair of ferrets that only had skin thanks to the magic of taxidermy.
He stood and took my hands. They were cold for a living person, and he slid something into my hands. Maybe he wasn't a living person“You should consider a normal life.”
“A normal life was never an option.” I told him, looking at our hands.
“I know it can feel that way.” He pulled his hands away, leaving the glassy item in my hand. “However, without a plea deal, you will have significant jail time.”
“Thank you for the advice.” I gripped the item he’d left with me. A key. The key to these foul bracelets. I tried not to smile. With my magic I’d escape. It wasn’t far to my home to collect the few things I cared about enough to take them. And no one would ever hear from me again. I might stop at the Mortemor’s crypt though. I was going to be a criminal so funding my life with grave robbing made sense.