Fated Bond of Blood and Bone

CHAPTER ONE

The dull, throbbing dark energy pulled away from the shadows surrounding the trees and the mausoleums and slowly came together, making a large mass of vibrating blackness.

There were multitudes of these forms coming to life in the cemetery and in other dark and desperate corners of Mt.

Pleasant. Nighttime was feeding time, and every night the shadows grew stronger and larger and more powerful.

The living were becoming the empty and the dead.

The deliveryman drove past the cemetery, sparing it not a glance, until the darkness swallowed his car like a thick black fog bank.

"What the fuck?" He shouted to no one because he was alone in his car and alone in this blackness.

He reached for his phone as his car stalled and rolled to a stop.

It wouldn't start, and his phone showed no service.

That was impossible; he was within the city limits. There was service here.

The order was growing cold in his passenger seat; it would be rejected if he did not complete the delivery soon.

The darkness outside his car scared him enough that he did not open the door.

Instincts were telling him to stay put, but the car was not airtight, and soon the horror outside came in.

He began to panic when the feeling of being strangled overcame him.

He thrashed and pulled frantically at his throat, but there was nothing there.

His vision blurred and his body shook. "What is happening?" He slurred the words; his eyes closed, and he slumped against the steering wheel, motionless, and then the shadow dissipated.

***

"There's something affecting the humans in town.

" Kass Keller, the hellhound Sheriff of Mt.

Pleasant, reported to Silas, commander of the coven forces.

"Whatever it is, it's not killing them immediately but leaving them hollowed out spiritually and mentally.

Some have died, some are in a coma, and some are functioning but vacant.

" Silas listened while he sat across from the Sheriff in his office downtown.

Silas wanted to tour the town and get a feel for what Kass was describing to him.

Kass brought him to the shelter, a repurposed hotel that provided beds, meals, and services for those in need.

It was set up and managed by a department of DuCane Industries.

The town wasn't large, and the shelter usually had approximately fifty percent occupancy at any given time.

Today it was filled with extra cots being set up in available spaces.

Additional staff were brought in, including medical and mental health professionals. The place was overrun with individuals who appeared drained; they were listless, pale, and thin, unnaturally gaunt and unfocused. Silas walked around and spoke to staff and observed the residents.

“Who are they?”

"They're found on the streets, inside businesses, and in their cars.

They appear primarily in the morning, but a few have appeared in the daytime.

The hospital looks just like this." Kass looked over his shoulder at a woman seated on a chair in the corner, staring off into nothing.

"Family has claimed some of them, but there are entire families showing up here.

We have something feeding off the humans in Mt. Pleasant."

“No paranormals have been affected?”

“All the victims are human.”

"What has the doctor said?"

"Every victim is the same: sudden weight loss, confusion, the body missing crucial nutrients, and lethargy to unconsciousness." Kass walked outside, and Silas followed. They stood together on the concrete porch and surveyed the city beyond.

“Blood loss?” Silas asked.

"Strangely, no blood loss, but the iron content of the blood lowered significantly, along with the calcium in the bones.

Some have died, and others are on the edge.

The victims here at the shelter are grossly affected but are manageable; they will survive.

" Silas nodded as he listened, and all he could think of was soul eaters, a very literal title for a scourge of demons that can infect an area.

"What is your best guess?" He wanted Kass' opinion because Kass was a hellhound with dark and desperate experience; there wasn't much he hadn't seen.

"Wraith, revenant, or the blight of shadows. All are capable of this level of attack; they target humans, and they operate primarily in the dark."

“How do we get rid of it?” The most important question.

"Each curse requires a different antidote, so we need to figure out who is doing this before we can design a cure.

" Kass shook his head. "Wraith requires blood magic and is steeped in symbolism and ritual, so you would need to find a practitioner.

Revenants must be confronted on the death lands, cemeteries, or battlefields and faced by a religious leader or sorcerer of sorts trained to bind them. "

“What about the blight of shadows?” Silas had a feeling this wasn’t going to be easy since he left it for last.

"The only person who can break up a blight of shadows and neutralize their power is a necromancer. Not just a cultish group of dead talkers; you must find a powerful necromancer." Kass enunciated the word powerful.

"I'll take this to the Master, and we'll get back to you before dark." Silas said and quickly headed back to the Palace. The sheer number and condition of the people of Mt. Pleasant was startling. Whatever was affecting them needed to be stopped before the town was destroyed.

***

Silas gave the report to Master DuCane, who then sent a series of requests and specifics to Easton, the head of Information and Intelligence.

A full meeting was then held that included Ismael, the Coven Second, Easton, Silas, Ira, the head of Master DuCane's personal guards, Valarian, the Master's Hellhound guard, and the Master himself.

Easton charted when the sicknesses started and determined that the number of victims increased each day, indicating that the perpetrator was growing and needing more fuel.

"No sightings or information regarding who or what is doing this has been reported or discovered.

The cameras show nothing, although I have my people dissecting it frame by frame. "

"At the rate this is growing, it won't take long for all the humans in town to either be infected or dead," Ismael spoke up. "Were there any magic indicators or marks found?"

Easton shook his head. "No traces of mystical energy were present.

" The meeting continued with little being discovered; they had more questions than answers.

Silas reiterated the three possibilities stated by Sheriff Keller, and Master DuCane decided it was time to call on an expert in the field of magic.

Jean Jacque Batiste appeared almost immediately.

Unlike many who called on the ancient sorcerer, Master DuCane was never left waiting.

The two had met centuries ago, and the meeting was memorable; now they gave one another a stiff nod.

Batiste appeared with his usual flourish, although tempered for the Palace of DuCane. "You called, my lord." He bowed and cast his gaze around the room.

"Yes." Master DuCane stated, sharp and succinct, and then explained their situation, not wasting words or time. "What are we dealing with, Batiste? What is it that is draining my people, and how do we kill it?"

"You have a blight of shadows which would have started as a revenant." Batiste made the statement strong and clear with no hesitation. He then explained its origin. "Your town fell under an eclipse of death and dying these last few years that has apparently tarnished and weakened the light.

Your people have experienced much darkness.

This darkness grew in the bone yards and fed on the oblivious, forming the revenant.

There was no purification, no limits drawn, so its power swelled and intensified until it shattered and became a blight of shadows and is currently in the process of consuming the human inhabitants of your town.

" Batiste wasn't making judgments; he was just stating the facts, but everyone in the room seemed to take his words personally.

"Can we stop it?" Master DuCane asked, needing to focus on the practical and not what should have been done. There was no time to wallow in regret.

"It will require the work of a necromancer, an old practitioner from an ancient sect; unfortunately, that sect has nearly died out. I do believe that there is one remaining, although he may have already passed." Batiste sounded grave, and he rarely sounded anything but arrogant.

"How do I make contact with him?" Master DuCane kept to the point, as his only concern was a solution. The attacks must stop, and details would be attended to later.

"His name is Atticus Nasir, and if he is still alive, he is the last surviving member of the Cultus Mortis, the oldest order of necromancers. I will contact him, but there is no guarantee that he is alive or that he will agree to come." Batiste squared his shoulders and looked Louis in the eyes.

"He has lived in isolation for a long time, and the last time I spoke with him, he was not pleasant, but that could have had more to do with me than him.

" Batiste could not help his sarcastic nature, but he kept it to a minimum, having gone head-to-head with Louis before, and it was not a happy memory.

"Let me just say that he is not easy to deal with and not a pleasant man to be around, but again, that might just be me. "

"I care not about his moods; I care that he exists and that he can kill what afflicts my people." The Master demanded.

"He can. I'll speak to him, and I will return." With that, Batiste promptly disappeared.

“What plan do we follow if Batiste fails?” Silas asked.

"Nothing can kill the blight except a necromancer," Valarian spoke up. "The lesser orders would be able to slow it down, but it would still devour the town. Atticus Nasir is still alive; I would know if a sorcerer as powerful as a member of the Cultus Mortis died."

"If he fails, then I will find this Atticus Nasir, and I will drag him back here by the throat." Master Louis DuCane made it a solemn pledge.