Path of the Necromancer - FACTION WARS

Chapter 1 - Dani

Chapter 1

* * * * *

You will never see tomorrow's sunset, or yesterday's sunrise.

* * * * *

Dani -

'What am I doing here?' Dani asked herself once again. It was as if the words echoed inside her skull. Each time her thoughts quieted, that distant, ever present reverberation came back, demanding an answer she didn't have. She'd been asking herself that question, over and over again; each time an expectation was broken, each time a revelation came and nearly broke the flimsy damn that held back her emotions. And each time it did, she became less sure of an answer. And now, here she was, sitting in an Italian supercar, being driven across Seattle in the company of not one, not two, but three of the most dangerous individuals she'd ever heard of.

Any one of them 'should' have been reason enough to stop her,, a Church sanctioned Demon Slayer, from getting into the rear passenger seat. Instead, she'd climbed in, willingly, eagerly, all while knowing full well that she was heading towards a bloodbath. The clink of her rucksack, filled to the brim with her ironmongery, would make sure of that.

'What do you want to do?' That was the other question that echoed in her mind, the one posed to her by a one Ian Cale.

She dared a glance at the Necromancer, reclined without a care in the front passenger seat. He wore, what Dani thought at the least, a very casual ensemble, considering the nature of the people they were to be meeting. Dressed in well fitting jeans, a lightweight jacket left open, and a pale grey t-shirt almost the same shade as his stubbly chin, along with a set of battered trainers, he looked like someone dressed for an evening with the boys. Not, as it was, on his way to meet representatives of a criminal empire. Compared to her though, he was eminently more presentable. She turned away, back to looking out her window, narrowly avoiding meeting those emerald, almost luminous, green eyes.

"That's up to her," He'd said the last time those eyes had met her own. "What do you want to do?"

She still wasn't sure what she wanted to do. She knew she needed to act, to perform some task to show her gratitude over the efforts she'd learnt about over breakfast. Replaying the events of that morning blurred her vision of the world outside her window. She'd awoken with her body thrumming in happiness, warmer than she could ever remember waking.

And yet, as the lull of sleep sang its Siren's call, her years of training told her something was very wrong. For one thing, the cot she claimed in the 9th Order's conclave was 'not' this comfortable. Wiping away the sleep encrusting her eyes, and plucking a few lashes for her trouble, the scent that had roused her finally registered.

"Pancakes?" Ian had asked.

Dani had been so startled by the voice, she'd almost made it upright from her prone position in a single jerk. She might have made it too, if it weren't for the sudden betrayal of her haven of slumber. With a gasp of surprise, legs locked together by entangling blankets, Dani hit the floor with a thunk.

"Smooth," A voice remarked.

She had extricated herself with a mighty kick, spun on her ass, and saw Ian, frying pan in hand, frowning at her. His thick shaggy black hair was unkempt, as if he'd combed it with his fingers and been satisfied with the results. It obscured his preened brow, but thin lips turned down at the corners was enough to tell he wasn't amused.

But Ian hadn't been looking at her. She'd followed his gaze to the far corner. That time, she had made it to her feet. Squatting in the corner was the scariest gargoyle Dani had ever seen. The... 'thing,' bedecked in black rags, never moved. It remained motionless in a way no living soul could hold. Aside from the executioner's hood that hung low over it's face, the creature resembled a stocky Mummy.