CH11: The Demon

Earthly Supporters: Michael Whitmer

When I lined the first rod up just behind his elbow, the necromancer shifted to get free of the point. I waited for him to stop, but he refused; every time I lined up the rod, he moved just enough to ruin my aim. As frustrating as that was, Cinder's trills of hypnosis were getting on my nerves. The sounds felt like chewing aluminum foil. Jim froze, clearly caught up in the hallucination while the necromancer thrashed.

"I'm sorry, I thought that would work." Cinder said.

"Do you think I wasn't ready for a phoenix race traitor? You purebloods and your pathetic subservience to the phoenixes won't end well. Eventually, they won't need you, and then you'll be food the same as all the others."

"How dare you I would never do that to him. We have a special bond." Cinder said.

The necromancer paused, and his eyes widened. "That's disgusting; you fucked a phoenix." The necromancer said.

"No, we haven't made love yet, but when we do, it will be magical." Cinder said.

"This better not be a fucking soul bond," I muttered.

"If your soul bonded with a phoenix, then you're lost already." The necromancer said.

"There is no soul to bond with," I said.

"You've sold your soul, to who? I sold mine, but clearly, you had a better bargain." The necromancer said.

"Souls don't exist, and you're stalling. Who would save a wretch like you?" I said.

"That would be me." A cold voice said as a being appeared and stepped out of the shadows.

"Wow, it looks like I nearly missed a party. Those are some interesting toys you have there. Did an angel give them to you? I can smell the stink of light on them from here." The voice said.

"No, they are made of unaffiliated light. I'm guessing you're his dark master." I said.

Cinder trilled a **** song, and the demon waved his hand. A wave of darkness erupted around the demon in the form of a harsh blast of telekinesis. I moved, grabbed Cinder, and skated out of the way of the blast. The stones cracked where Cinder had been, and the demon pushed his hand forward. Before the telekinetic **** could launch, I fired a qi beam into the demon's leg.

The mass of cloudy darkness buckled down to a knee, and he lost control of his telekinesis. "Don't sing unless you must. I want answers from this so-called demon." I said.

"Damn it, what did you do to me? My leg won't move." The demon said.

"What's your name, demon?" I asked.

"Frank Prescott," The demon said.

"What were all the good demon names taken. I don't mean to give you a hard time, but who wants to sell their nonexistent soul to Frank?" I asked.

The demon turned his head to my bond necromancer. "Ask a dumb question; you get a dumb answer. What's his name? He hasn't introduced himself?" I asked.

"You haven't introduced yourself either." Frank the demon said.

"Why should I? He probably won't remember his own name, much less mine after this, and I still haven't decided whether or not I should end you. But I am running an experiment, and for accounting reasons, I need his name." I said.

"Jacob Nimrod," the demon said.

"The latter half of that sounds like a demon's name. Are you sure you didn't give me his name for your own?" I asked.

"Very, demons can't lie." The demon said.

"Why lie when omission is so much easier?" Jacob Nimrod, the necromancer, said.

I took a new journal from my inventory and remembered I didn't have a pen. So I looked at the demon and then up at Cinder on my shoulder.

"No," Cinder said.

"Frank, do you have a pen." The demon grumbled but took one from his jacket and tossed it to me.

I wrote down the necromancer's name, so I wouldn't forget it, along with the number of control rods used, the applications on the rods, and how many units of darkness I planned to use. Units of qi were as arbitrary as arbitrary could be my standard unit was myself with 10 high-class spirit cores integrated. I had 11 now and neared the next realm. Time and experience were needed to reach the next level, so I was stuck making only incremental gains. At the moment, my cultivation was equivalent to 5 units. I planned to pump Jacob up with 0.1 units of dark qi.

Once that was done, I picked up a rod and lined it up with the necromancer's arm. "Frank, I'll do anything if you can save me. Instead of 4 sacrifices, I'll give you 8 no 20 every week." The drill began to spin, and the necromancer shook until I gripped his arm firmly. Then I pressed the drill forward.

No matter how much adrenaline pumped through Jacob's body, my hands remained steady. I poked the rod in an extra quarter-inch before dropping some phoenix tears inside. The man calmed down after a few minutes as the phoenix tears healed him up.

"He really is useful; there are other wizards who have sold me their souls. I could trade you one of them for him." Frank said.

"Do you have any Oncologists or bioengineers you would be willing to trade?" I asked.

"Those aren't the types who make deals with demons. If you want a pro poker player, the last mega million winners, or a world-renowned painter, I'm your demon." Frank said.

"I remember this from the tele. He's trying to cheat us; the last mega million was divided by nearly 3000 people. They each make 500 pounds a year." Cinder said.

"Some of them asked if anyone else sold their soul to win, but none asked how many people sold their soul to win," Frank said with a grin.

"I like you; how would you like to work for me?" I asked.

"No can do my boss holds the contract on my soul. Besides, I'm good at this; I'm what you might call a closer." Frank said.

"That's a shame a supernatural heavy hitter like a demon would have been helpful for the cause," I said.

"What is your cause?" Frank asked.

"I'm going to get humanity off this rock and out colonizing the cosmos ASAP," I said.

"I don't get it. Why would you want oncologists and bioengineers for that?" Frank asked.

That was true; the oncologists and bioengineers weren't needed to get humans to space directly. I needed to get the phoenixes off of human brains. Then I needed to steer wizard hate from the phoenixes to the batarians. From there, I could use a society unified through mutual hatred for those aliens to push for space travel. Really our next tertiary goal was mars for that sweet, sweet Prothean data cash.

"I have a feeling my experiment could cause a lot of abnormal mutations like cancer. So even with the control rods in place, there are dangers to my experiment." With that said, I pushed the next one in, and Jacob Nimrod, the necromancer, screamed.