Raising Old Questions
It’s so easy with Vincenza. No need to worry about filler words or a good posture; she doesn’t like me for those features.
Wait, why does she like me?
I dig a nail into my palm before I start pointlessly spiraling. She’s too painfully blunt in her praise for me to act confused and unvalued.
But, painfully blunt praise does sound so very appealing now.
Dry my hair. Lace up dress. And—Someone’s knocking downstairs. Quite annoying with the volume.
I head down to check it and find Lucia, waving at me through the glass.
“Who is it?” Vincenza appears behind me without warning. “Oh, her. Do you wish to talk with her before meeting with me? The extra time to set up won’t be wasted.”
“Set up? Uh… okay. I’ll talk with her. What are you setting up, though?”
“Be patient, Catarina,” she says warmly as she leaves.
I grumble and open the door. “Hey—Agh, fuck.”
Lucia springs to attack me in a hug. “Heeeey, Catie!”
“Did Mercurio die in the war? Vivian?”
“Sadly, there’s no war for them to die in as of late. But you are gonna get spoiled in all the details of my last night over waffles.”
“Oh… I just had pancakes earlier.”
“Then be happy for the variety.” She looks around. “...Can I go to your room?”
“Sure. Vincenza won’t mind.”
Once in there, I realize that I might’ve actually minded.
There’s absolutely no way that these ice cream topped waffles were made without any eggs or milk, and I don’t want to deal with debating myself over the rightness of their consumption.
It’s so much easier to pull out and not engage with the question.
“Not hungry?” Lucia asks.
Except that it leaves me without any way to justify—even to myself—why I’m abstaining.
“N-necromancy drains appetite away. I have to be careful with nutrients—you know.”
“That explains why you put so little olive oil on your salad when we went ghoul hunting.”
My lack of taste is probably the only reason I could have added as much as I did.
I force a smile. “So, why did you come here?”
“Right!” she barely says through a full mouth. “Hanna and her girlfriend, Owdocia, both agreed to take me in. You’re looking at a loyal and dedicated woman with two loving dykes for partners.”
I clap. “Your boyfriends won’t be mad?”
“I called them that for their own vanity. Fuck ’em.” She throws out her wrist. “But fucking them will seem so much more boring after meeting Owdocia. That bitch, Hanna, claimed a gynecologist’s heart during her year of medical training.”
“Oh. Are—are gynecologists actually uniquely good at sex?”
“Maybe her formal training didn’t make her good, but it’s a sign of her enthusiasm. And she’s enthusiastic.”
Lucia puts down her waffles to lecture me on the exact details of her night.
I take mental notes. Vincenza may not be medically trained, but she was trained by a veteran prostitute, and also decades of personal experience, so she’s already far ahead of me. I have an obligation to study and catch up for her.
Lucia puts a hand on her chest. “Ah, listen to me talk and make it about myself… when I’m so desperate to hear who you fucked at the festival, Catie.”
“I—Uh, w-wha—“ I choke on the sudden constriction of my every muscle.
“You just casually mentioned that you can do necromancy now? You’re not subtle, Catie. Come on, tell me who you fucked. Was it good? Were those those pancakes for her? Is that why you have two piles of clothes in the corner?”
Fuck me. I didn’t even think about—It didn’t occur to me! Why would I be thinking about how her clothes…
“I-I, yeah, fucked a necromancer.”
“Your face is nothing but red,” Lucia teases.
“Shut up. You had a threesome! This isn’t impressive.”
“I thought you were asexual, so it kind of is.”
“...What’s that?”
“Not what you are, apparently.”
“Stop—whatever you’re doing to me! It was a one night thing, and… I’m not talking about it.”
She devilishly smiles. “Alright. I won’t ask. You’re bringing her on a date to the bar tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“I saw the posters you hung around. You can’t tell me your new favorite necromancer won’t be waiting for tomorrow to get another taste of you.”
Great Ring, is she? Will tomorrow be a date with Vincenza? Will we fuck after?
But it can’t be a date in anyone’s eyes but ours. She has her lie prepared, a one-night stand made in desperation. It won’t be beautiful when she recounts it.
Lucia snaps. “Back to me, Catie. I want to be in on your drama.”
I swallow, considering what Vincenza would say. “No. Absolutely not.”
Vincenza smiles up at me from the couch. “Are you finally finished with Lucia?”
“I hope so.” I slither in, collapsing next to her. “I didn’t know I could feel the weight of my soul, but now it’s too heavy not to notice.”
She lifts my head just enough to start tying my hair. “Another consequence of necromancy. The warmth of the living will slowly become more and more repulsive to you. It’s still possible to overcome; Piero and his boyfriend are getting wed despite Piero not being a necromancer.”
The appeal of a parlour just for necromancers is finally ringing throughout my mind. It just needs more guests, more patrons.
“Why does Piero come here if he’s not a necromancer?” I ask.
“He just tries to give me company.”
“Mistress Vincenza, I swear that as your apprentice, I’ll invigorate this shop with more recurring guests than you have any desire for. If you, just… show me how.”
“It starts with you learning.” She drops her head beside mine and layers my cheek in kisses. “Are you ready to raise a corpse with me?”
“Yes!”
“So wiggly.” She gives a frayed chuckle. “Up now. I hid the skeleton behind the couch.”
I jump off her and around to check, and there it is. Nails and wires keep the loose bones together while a cute outfit choice keeps the aesthetics for our parlour.
“We might’ve had… enough intimacy for you to cast the spell on your own, but it will be easier in my lap.“ Vincenza drags the skeleton into the chalk circle, sits on one side, and beckons me.
For how much I’m apparently supposed to despise human warmth, I love hers. It feels like being wrapped in a hot blanket while stargazing.
She snuggles into my hair. “Like cinnamon…”
“It’s the soap Lucia recommended me for Hanna.”
“It works on me too then. That’s good. Are you ready to try and animate this corpse?”
“I am.”
She flicks her hand, causing every candle to light, before dropping it onto mine.
“Repeat ‘dikivda lakdet vetev. Xak vetev ve. Tirit lavdexi.’ The intention and state of mind required is something you have to learn, but it should be similar to when you cured your grave bite.
“ She adds, “there are reagents to this spell, technically, but most mass-market cadavers have those pre-integrated by the seller.”
Just like last time then. Focus on the warmth and texture of her hand, skeletal from decades spent with death. The skin is soft, though not without scars older than me.
I thought about her kiss too, but I don’t have to imagine it now. I can remember. Her weight against me, the Ring being shared between our lips.
I whisper gently, like I would with my mouth just before hers, letting forth a romantic confession, “dikivda lakdet vetev. Xak vetev ve. Tirit lavdexi.”
Strings raise and tie around the corners of my emotions. My every sense of place blinks, until my vision reduces to empty static.
When it comes back open, I see the corpse before me standing in obedience to my will.
Vincenza rubs her hand into my chest, pleased. “Amazing, Kate. I left a can on the counter. Test your animation’s dexterity and bring it to us.”
I struggle to make them walk, and the pile of bones topples right over.
“I can tell that you’re trying to control it directly—that will take a long time to figure out. A fragmentary shadow of a soul was placed into that cadaver, enough intelligence for basic commands. Command it, as I have done to you,” she orders.
“Yes, Vincenza.”
I pull together all of my mind to screech into that worthless thing’s ears. Great Ring, make it suffer until it obeys.
Fetch. Us. Our. Drink.
It’s so much more fun watching them be clever. Honestly, there’s even some pride. That’s my creation that’s handing a cherry seltzer to me.
Vincenza lays a finger on the can. “May I?”
“Fuck off. I’m thirsty,” I tease, downing half the drink.
“One impressive spell is no excuse to be bratty,” she hisses into my ears.
Her voice tastes like beating music. I feel like I’m falling backwards into her continuously, and yet, I’m not halfway close enough. “You should make me regret my behavior.”
“I will not indulge you while you’re lost in a daze to the Ring’s influence.”
I order my creation to go die in the corner, so that I can have room to spread myself across the ritual circle. “I’m more lucid than I’ve ever been! I can feel everything!”
Dips between the wood paneling indenting my skin. Random little rocks and dust digging into where my body is directly touching. Every last weird thing my hair’s picking up.
“Everything except you,” I whine.
“I’ve told you before, I’m no moralist.” She climbs over top of me, hands landing either side of my head. “I know how beautiful the slightest, most meaningless things are to you right now. It’s great for bonding, but you don’t want to be bound by me.”
“You can’t assert what I want. I want you. I want every part of you.” I reach up to touch her salt and pepper hair—I want to see it set loose. “It would take more words than I have the patience for to describe how beautiful you’ve always been.”
“Catarina, I’m sixty-two. It’ll turn sixty-three in under a season, and that number never gets smaller. Lifetimes separate us.”
“If you’re so worried about what separates us, then come closer.” I reach up to kiss her.
She pushes me back down—not letting her lips disconnect from mine.
The ground scatters, reverberating back and forth with the feeling of me landing in it. It pushes me against her, again and again. Every part of this world wants us to touch.
“What will we do if we don’t stop? Where’s the future in this?”