To Die For (boyboy)

Rule 2: Run

It usually took a moment for the dead to adjust to coming back to life. But the boy had literally been cursing for ten of the sixty minutes that he was going to be back. Though this nauseated Nia to no end, Sebastian was quite amused and a little turned on.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Daniel screamed at the top of his lungs. Nia and Sebastian always made quick work of the getting rid of grounds keepers buy slipping them bribes if Nia showing her badge didn’t work effectively. Sebastian had learned quickly that everyone had a price. “I was…and then I was…and…”

“For the love of God shut the hell up.” Nia said. She usually always snapped first. She didn’t really care who it was, she had even cussed out an elderly lady one night and slept like a baby afterwards. “Pull him up Seb, I wanna talk to him.”

Like a dutiful slave Sebastian stubbed his cigarette into the ground and crushed his foot over it. Sebastian hated nick names with a passion but Nia didn’t care and would kick his ass if he got smart with her. Reaching down he was met with bright green eyes and the white blond curls. Putting out his hand he waited until a shaking smaller one was put into his. With a strong arm he hoisted the man, who was way lighter then he thought, out of the six foot grave.

The first thing he noticed was how short the man was. He couldn’t be more than five-ten or five-eleven. His hand was cold of course, but it wasn’t unsettling. Fact Number 2: When a corpse is revived, it doesn’t deteriorate like in the movies the organs are revived to keep the corps at a reasonable temperature and allow it to have motion and brain activity.

The second thing was that the man was delicate. He had probably spent more time reading books or cooking than any other physical activity.

He seemed almost dainty with lean muscels that weren't to over powering, though with the way he cursed Sebastian knew this wasn’t the case.

Nia nudged him out of the way, getting her pen and paper ready. “Okay, how did you die?”

Nia was nothing if not blunt and straight to the point. The man looked at her like she was crazy, and really he wasn’t far off. He checked his watch, forty five minutes. God he needed another cigarette for all this raising the dead shit.

“If you’ll excuse me, Nia you have forty-five minutes,” Sebastian stated, walking in the other direction toward the edge of the grave yard. Pulling out the pack of Menthols he sighed and lit one. Necromancers were immune to human diseases like cancer though there had once been a rumor of one who caught syphilis. Nicotine was like God’s gift to the nerves, and in this line of business he had some fucked up nerves. After his writing career had flopped he had gotten a job as a part time telemarketer. For some reason the death threats had never really registered with him, they paid enough to cover the rent and any food he needed to buy.

Graves only reminded him of death. His mom was the mortal one of the relationship; she had died one faithful night when she had been at the wrong store at the wrong time. She had used her phone to try to call the cops on a robbery and had been shot.

His dad, unable to function, had disappeared on his eighteenth birthday. Sebastian had searched high and low for the man with no avail. He had moved to New York to pursue a new life, but so far it was just as dreary and depressing as his old one.

Before his father left he had left him a list of rules, guidelines for living a successful life as a Necromancer. Sebastian couldn’t help but the think that the rules would be more effective if they came from the source. Bringing the cigarette to his lips he took a long deep drag and exhaled. He didn’t know what he was waiting for but it flet like all he ever did was wait. He knew he had these powers for some reason, but for the life of him he just couldn’t guess it. He was hopeless.