David Collins has remembered the forbidden name that was locked in his
dead father's memories: the name of the necromancer. Now returned, he
and his acolytes seek the death of all life. A fragile truce unites
the secret circle and The Company against this common enemy, one
feared even by the Elder Gods of dread Venus.

THE NECROMANCER SAGA # 1
"THE RED IN THE DARK"
[8F-220] [PW-64]

-------------- SECRET CIRCLE --------------------

MAILE AKAKA, age 20. Aeromancer.
Once the top field agent of The Company, she orchestrated her own
abduction and memory wipe to defect to the circle. She now serves as
its leader.

AZABETH "BETH" COLLINS, age 37. Oneiromancer.
The circle's co-leader, recently awaken from a long slumber.

JUNE LASH, age 47. Ailuromancer.
Maile's spymaster, commanding dozens of feline agents around the globe.

DAVID COLLINS, age 31. Mnemonomancer.
Husband to Beth, brother to Claire Belden, unlikely wielder of the
ancient blade Thirteen.

SARAH AVERY, age 25. Evocamancer.
An engineering genius, she refuses to use her demon-summoning magic.

TREVOR JEFFRIES. Robot.
A sophisticated robot built by The Company to infiltrate the circle.
Retooled by Sarah, and equipped with sonic weaponry.

--------------- THE COMPANY ---------------------

CLAIRE BELDEN, age 31. Metamancer.
Missing, presumed to have defected, pursuing her own agenda with the
help of Trinity Tran.

TRINITY TRAN, age 35. Haematomancer.
Once a fugitive, working for The Company in return for their
protection; now, the head of the dominant faction within The Company.
Pregnant with David Collins's child.

SAMSON DRAKE, age 28. Sciomancer.
Company assassin; formerly Maile's lover.

PINKY MURDER, age 23. Apparamancer.
Company teleporter. Both she and Samson were swallowed by a demonic
mass five months ago, and have been presumed dead...

-------------------------------------------------

You've always been a runner.

You don't stand up. You don't fight. Scared little baby. You just
crumple up into a ball and then you run away. Aren't you ever going to
stop running?

"No," says Pinky in a burst that smells of jasmine.

()

It didn't always smell like jasmine. She chose that.

Altered the scent of her magic. Bent it to her will. They think
she's weak, but she's stronger than they know. They think running is a
sign of cowardice, but really it's because she's smart. She knows her
limits and she chooses her battles.

Does she fight fewer battles on average? A lot fewer? Sure. But
they're her battles. The ones she chose. Just like she chose the
jasmine.

Just like she chose her name.

()

"Pinky Murder," Adam said three years ago.

She nodded solemnly.

"The 'Pinky' I get, sort of." He reached for her dyed hair and
touched it carefully with his fingertips, as if he was afraid it would
fall off. "But the last name."

"Murder," she said, insistent. Then, tentatively: "It's a cool name."

"It is a cool name," agreed Adam. "But it's a little goofy?"

A shrug. "I'm a little goofy."

"That's true. Pinky Murder."

"Pinky Murder."

"It fits."

"I know. That's why I chose it."

()

She chose her name like she chose herself. On the day she dissolved
the first dose of estradiol under her tongue, she cried the biggest,
stupidest, happiest big stupid happy tears. Bigger and stupider than
that night in twenty-thirteen when she finally accepted it. Christmas
Eve.

And Christmas morning, when she started to gather herself back up,
there was this sense of relief. Because this was it. This was the
answer. "I'll never have to go through this again. There will never be
another huge galvanic shift that upends my whole flipping world."

"Lmao," says the magic now pulsing in her veins. "Lmao."

()

Kissed by Venus. You ran from that, too. When they came for you,
didn't you run? They had to chase you. Adam had to chase you.

Adam was one of the lucky ones who got his magic before the lullaby
was broken. He was already well-established within The Company when
one morning in August thousands of people woke up with eldritch energy
all up in their business. Pinky's teleportation magic, magic that
wasn't limited only to three-dimensional space but could be used to
traverse other non-Euclidean realms, made her an extremely valuable
target for acquisition.

But the whole thing was bad vibes. Got worse when they made it
clear they wouldn't take no for an answer. Samson was dispatched to
either bring her in, or to kill her. He terrified her. (He still does.
She can hear him now, feel him now, running toward the wet shapeless
voices that she's running from.)

But Adam was also chasing her. And Adam had one advantage over
Samson: he knew her. Knew how she thought. Knew how she ran. Knew how
to find her before Samson did.

And then he told her what the recruitment team hadn't. About the
elder gods of Venus, about the global apocalypse The Company was
plotting for and working toward.

"And these are the people you work for?" said Pinky. "These are the
people you want me to work for? What, you think you're gonna win me
over with the 401k and the health care plan?"

"I mean, it's actually really good health care," said Adam. "Pinky,
just like you, I wasn't given a choice. A lot of people weren't.
People who are trapped and want out. People working against The
Company from the inside."

Pinky raised an eyebrow.

"We can help them. You can help them."

()

Help them. Ha. That seems so far away now. She can't even help
herself. Hell, she's not even sure if she's still alive. She has no
sense of physicality, zero awareness of her body. And if there is one
thing being trans is good for, it's always being intensely aware of
your meatsuit at all times.

But that proved to be an advantage. Almost immediately, she felt
its lack, knew something was wrong. The shock snapped her
consciousness back into place. Samson's by contrast spent much longer
languidly spooled out, floaty and fuzzy, seeping into the shadows.

And the shadows seeped back. Seeped into Pinky, too, and part of
her knows that she will never quite be rid of it, will never quite be
clean. Bits of Samson's consciousness seeped into bits of Pinky's, a
violation at which she could sense he took keen, sharp pleasure.

She felt sorry for him at first. Felt sorry for the dude who
straight-up murdered his own brother literal minutes before the grabby
swirly oozy things grabbed, swirled, and oozed them into this vast and
cramped nothingness. For all his faults, she wasn't gonna leave him in
some bleak eldritch hell.

So when she started running, she was careful to drag him along with
her. Or as much of him as she could. Hard to tell where he or she
ended or began, not having bodies, or where the shadows started or
stopped, not having light. She can't smell the jasmine, but she can
feel it somehow; the magic gives it shape.

It doesn't feel so much like she's moving from one point to
another, but like the points are bending. In the same way that this
place, whatever it is, is being pulled and pushed by her will. The
things that live here don't much like that, but neither are they
willing to let her go.

This becomes doubly true when Samson starts pulling toward the
shadows. Or rather, when something in the shadows starts reaching for
him. Something new and terrifying. Something with red teeth.

Samson runs toward it, and he almost takes Pinky with him. It takes
days (or weeks? or months?) for Pinky to pull herself free of Samson.
It's violent and bloodless, leaving little bits of Pinky in Samson and
little bits of Samson in Pinky. (You'll never be clean.)

()

And then she feels Adam in the darkness. At first it breaks her heart:
oh no, not him too. But then the feeling becomes more distinct. It's
less that he's in here with her, and more like he's at the other side
of it. Like it's a blanket between them, and she could touch him
through the fabric. She reaches out for him, armless and handless, and
this time she can smell the jasmine.

She can see him, fire arcing from his fingertips into one of
several robed figures. As the robe and the man inside it burst into
flames, another slashes toward Adam with a curved knife. He falls
inches short. Before he can make another attempt, the robed man's body
is hurled through the air by a gust of wind and hail. Pinky recognizes
Maile Akaka before she snaps back into the darkness like a rubber
band.

Akaka was with the circle last Pinky knew. She wonders if this
means that The Company succeeded in abducting her, or if it means that
Adam defected. She tries reaching for Adam again, but the feeling is
slippery and distant.

()

But she can feel Maile Akaka. Maile feels different than Adam.
Sharper. Less subtle, less gentle, less nuanced. Like raw garlic;
Pinky can taste her from a mile away. So maybe if she reaches for
Akaka, she'll find Adam too.