Page 12 of Any More Questions for the Corpse?

“Yes, very much so.” Kosh’s bluntness forced Mal to let out a little chuckle. “What is it about your powers that bothers you so much?”

“I guess I don’t see how I can use them and not be evil? Does that make sense?”

“I’m not sure exactly what you mean.”

“Like, the power is evil, so surely that would make me evil by using it? Right?”

“While I disagree,” Kosh said, “let’s try something. What do you call someone who goes around stabbing people all day?”

“A serial killer?” Mal said, confused.

“A surgeon,” Kosh said. “You walked right into that one.”

“Ah, yeah, kind of.”

“If you describe the day-to-day of what surgeons do as ‘cutting flesh’ you’d be technically correct, but you make them sound like monsters. But that’s not reality, is it? The reality is they save lives.”

“Yeah, but after a while don’t surgeons start to see people differently? Think of them as something other than people?”

“Maybe, but not necessarily. I think that’s down to the individual.”

“That’s fine for surgeons,” Mal said, “but what’s the reality when the day-to-day of what you’re doing is defiling corpses?”

“I’d say disturbing corpses; you’re not really touching them,” Kosh said. “But I get your point. Well, I guess then it’s in how you use it. I’d agree with you if you were just messing around in a graveyard willy-nilly. But you’re not. Necromancy has many uses that could benefit society: helping solve crimes for one, historical research for two. Helping ghosts move on is a common one. Medical research. I bet many doctors wish they knew what patients felt in their last few hours or days so as to better understand what they died of. I mean, mediums pretend to do what we do and they bring peace to countless loved ones. If you opened up the same service, at least you wouldn’t be scamming people.”

“You could solve inheritance disputes,” Mal said, surprising himself.

“Exactly,” Kosh said. “I’m not saying it’s very savory, or that if you do it enough you won’t become jaded. But it has its uses.” Mal actually found himself agreeing with Kosh. He still felt the same hatred for his powers, but he couldn’t argue with his logic. Maybe Mal could find a way to use them for good, like Kosh did. An ethical necromancer; Mal liked the sound of that. “Also, not to gross you out,” Kosh added, “but what do you think surgeons and doctors practice on first?”

“Oh god,” Mal said, as the realization sunk in.

“That’s much closer to defiling than what we do. Just something to think about.”

“I’d rather not, to be honest.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you on that one,” Kosh said, smiling at what they clearly both thought felt like some kind of breakthrough. “Well then, this feels like a good point to stop for today. I’ll go away and start drawing up some actual lesson plans, and you’d better get ready for your assignment.”

“Oh crap,” Mal said, realizing the time.

“Exactly,” Kosh said. “I can warp you back upstairs if you’d like?”

“I think I’ll use my legs,” Mal said, as the pair shared a chuckle.

Mal thanked Kosh for the lesson and the tea, and made an escape from the Order’s headquarters. It took Mal five minutes to navigate the strange corridors and passageways that ran through the headquarters before he finally found the grand foyer he’d been greeted in a few days ago. He waved and nodded to people as he passed; all seemed to remember him, while he had little to no recollection of them whatsoever. He hadn’t found the time to go back over the footage of his induction.

When he’d made his way out and found himself in a portal station queue, he began to peruse the files he’d been given for his assignment. He’d saved the information to his hard drive and burned the real thing, safe in the knowledge that no snooping detectives would find it.

There was very little information on the nest, just a location, a time his “shift” started, and a few photos of people Mal assumed were vampires, as they’d been labeled vampires in the file. They looked normal enough. They were photographed out in the sun, which perplexed Mal. He didn’t know all that much about vampires if he was honest. There was plenty of non-magical folklore about them, and even more non-magical fiction, all completely useless as far as he could tell. It seemed to Mal that vampirism was just like any other transformation, something a great soul demanded for you to use their magic. Except this one was permanent and illegal. Why the government had made this one illegal he couldn’t say. There were plenty of dangerous transformations. Werewolves, for example—they were legal and they lost control of themselves once a month. The government seemed perfectly fine with issuing them a license and ensuring they had a “safe room” for a few nights a month; all you needed was a note from your GP. Maybe the blood drinking? Maybe the eternal life? He knew that was what the Order had against them. Maybe the Order had some sway over the government all those years back when the law was passed. Mal didn’t like the thought of that, though he wouldn’t have been at all surprised. Maybe he needed to do some digging into the history of the Order and figure out what he’d gotten himself into. Maybe he should have done some goddamn research into vampires before he set off to go stalk them. These were all nice thoughts but, as of now, he had no time. He made for the location in the file and hoped that his assignment would go as smoothly as the interview had. If only life was so kind, ey?

6A Nest of Fangs

Mal crept through the dark. He had stalked his way from the outskirts of Dunwich up to an old, seemingly abandoned manor house. He’d dressed in his sneakiest outfit: his usual jeans, a black T-shirt, and a dark overcoat. He was as obvious as a missing word in a … Of course, Mal didn’t think this. Mal assumed that because no one had confronted him, he was hidden. He had followed the instructions in his dossier and found the massive estate with relative ease. Mal didn’t know how big an acre was but he was sure this estate had lots of them.

He’d hopped a bushy, fence-y thing and made his way along the grounds, keeping close to a forested boundary. He found it odd that a lot of the land seemed to be tilled, as if vampires needed vegetables. After twenty minutes of tedious skulking, he’d found himself close to the manor. It was an imposing structure, made of a beige limestone. It had more windows than Mal thought necessary and looked at least three or four stories high. It was a great, ornate slab of a building, with lots of strange protrusions at its edges and top. The grounds were dark except for a single light that pulsed near the grand entrance, but Mal could see no light from within. He stayed low and kept his distance, remaining in a wooded alcove about fifty meters from the entrance. He had no idea what he was supposed to be doing, or what he was meant to be looking for. All the file had said was “watch the nest.” So watch the nest he did. It looked more like an empty building to him, but the photos from the file definitely matched. He was in the right place; now he just had to sit and wait. He thought about climbing a tree to get a better vantage point, but he was barely subtle at walking; shaking a dirty great big tree in his attempt to climb it was bound to draw attention.

He waited, and waited, and waited, and waited. Eventually, twenty minutes passed and Mal thought it might be nice if something interesting were to happen. But nothing did. He waited another twenty minutes and then another, each feeling like it lasted forever. He’d been crouching for so long his knees started to hurt, so he decided getting a bit muddy was worth it and sat down among the foliage. As he did, something finally happened. A man, or a woman, Mal couldn’t tell from this distance, strolled up to the front door. Mal was so grateful he wanted to yell his thanks to said person, but that would have given away his position. He peered forward, desperate to see what happened when you knocked on a manor that showed no signs of life.

The door opened from within. Music and laughter poured out into the silence of the night. Mal was shocked. Through the tiny silhouette of the door streamed bright lights. He looked at the windows and could see nothing, no light, no life. But through the door, festivities were in full flow. The person entered and the door slammed shut, leaving Mal with the silence and the dark once more. Mal could barely believe it; he strained his ears, but couldn’t conjure even a glimpse of the sounds from before. It suddenly dawned on him that he was very much not alone out on this estate and that he had no clue whatsoever as to who or what he was stalking. What if the folklore was true? Incredibly fast, impossibly strong, bloodthirsty monsters. All dancing, delighting, and building up an appetite. He knew he wasn’t subtle, and they might even be able to see in the dark. They’d probably already spotted him and were getting ready to ambush him any second. He was already dead, he just didn’t know it. Mal felt his breath quicken, and his body began to shake with adrenaline. He was going to have to run and pray that no one had seen him. This was going to be it, his only chance of survival. He tried to calm his breath and …