I’ve been thinking about our recent battle against a crazy anti-zombie wannabe necromancer. Normally taking on a bunch of zombies isn’t a big deal to me. I’m pretty strong for a zombie myself. But I had a scare during that battle when Desmond lost consciousness. CherryPop tells me that it was touch and go with him for a while there. I wouldn’t know. When Desmond loses consciousness, so do I. I don’t mean the kind of consciousness you lose when you go to bed for the night. I mean, near death-type consciousness. It’s different.

In a sense I belong to Desmond. In the old days, I would call him Master and would be his slave. Necromancers have evolved, fortunately. But the connection that binds a true zombie like me to his or her necromancer can be severed at any time. Like during a crucial battle with a bunch of zombies in which my young charge and everyone she loves is at stake.

It’s not very handy. It makes me feel vulnerable. Like I can’t do the job I was Raised to do - protect CherryPop. I gave up a lot to keep her safe. To know that it might all be pointless if, while I’m protecting her, I can just drop like a bag of bricks if my necromancer dies too? It’s harsh. And it’s been bothering me.

CherryPop is irritated with me pestering her to update her blog so I got fed up and had her set me up on it. I’ll be posting during her lulls. It’s important to keep up interest in Zombie rights and frankly, I’m more of a technonerd than she is. Cherry’s all about action. Get out there and do it, not sit at a desk and talk about doing it.

Oh she’ll still post if I have to tie her to the desk to do it. But there actually is a lot going on right now. There’s the whole ghost thing over at Arthur’s. No progress there and Eleanor’s getting antsy. Then Des came to me the other day and told me he’s starting to get worried about the dead. Now, Des is a laidback kind of guy. For him to be worried about something usually means it’s time to duck and cover. he and Cherry are out right now at LesMortes trying out some rituals with Charlotte to try and get one or two bodies to talk to them and find out what’s stirring them up.

Why am I not with them? I never go with CherryPop when she’s working with Des. For some reason known only to Yoda, the dead don’t like me. Ironic? Yes it is. Actually they don’t much cotton to True Zombies in general, not just me. It’s my theory that they’re jealous once they discover they have to go back into the ground when Des is finished.

So I’m killing time until they finish up, and I’ll meet them later and take over CherryPop watch (She hates it when I call it that.) I just checked her blog and noticed she’s been a little slacker. We will have words about that later on.

Which is pretty much a ‘duh’ statement I know. I am the queen of the obvious sometimes. Liam seems to be the only one who reads this thing and he’s been on my case to post more often. So… Hi Liam!!

Things have been pretty quiet lately which is nice. I’ve been helping Dad quite a lot and he’s been really busy lately which is good and it’s bad. Good because the extra money will keep mom in spellbooks and henbane and bad because an abundance of raisings tends to mean there is turbulence in the supernatural world. Or the Shadow world as I call it.

Typically, Dad raises maybe one or two temp zombies a month depending on demand. The rest of the time he fixes stuff (he’s pretty damn handy, let me tell you) and works on refining his rituals. He’s been writing what he calls the definitive book on necromancy for about 20 years now Someday it will be complete. But lately, Dad’s been called to 3-4 raisings a week. Some have been requests from the police wanting to question a murder victim or something but others have come from families who say their departed loved ones are wreaking a bit of havoc on them and they want Dad to raise them and ask them to cut it out.

In other words, the dead are getting restless and we’re not sure why. But we’re monitoring the sitch and I’ll talk about whatever findings we umm, find. Words. Sometimes they are hard.

Til then, I’m hitting the sack. G’night Liam

I’ll get back to my ghost story soon, but I was asked recently about the bounty on my head. I’ve been wanted dead or alive since the day I was born. I can’t remember if I ever explained that little tidbit here and I’m too bone-tired tonight to look back and check.

Basically, my family is powerful. Extremely powerful on both sides, as it has been for generations going back as far as who the hell knows. Mom is descended from a long, long line of witches. Her family survived everything from the publishing of Malleus maleficarum to the Salem Witch trials. There’s an ancient, beautifully bound set of books that mom keeps tucked away that she tells me is the entire history of our family. Apparently, I’m not allowed to read it until I get married which I think is odd but I do not question.

Anyway, my father’s family history is as long and powerful as mom’s. The son of a son of a son etc.  In all the time, all that history, however, no necromancer ever married a witch. There used to be law against it. I don’t mean a legal law, but a law in the Shadow world (magical world) was just as binding. For ages it was written that to intermingle among different strains of otherwordly powers was forbidden. I guess they felt that n family should have access to so much power - power does traditionally corrupt and all that.

But my parents defied that law when they fell in love. Both families did everything they could to keep Charlotte Masters and Desmond McGee apart. It was very Romeo and Juliet, so I’m told But true love prevailed and all that mushy stuff and they married in secret - and the world didn’t end. So they were left in peace. Until they had me, that is.

When I was born I became a hot ticket on the black market. My blood was wanted for powerful rituals or the hair from my head was required to complete some spell of power and riches. It depended on the witch or wizard’s needs. They could kill me as a sacrifice or keep me in chains somewhere and use parts of me for their black magics.

As I’ve grown up, it’s been quite the battle to keep me safe and alive. And to this day I’ve still got that bounty on me. It’s why I never go anywhere without Liam. I used to resent that, but there have been too many close calls. I got over it and have come to depend on him. I practice with mom and dad to hone my own skills and maybe someday I won’t have to live with this Damoclesian crap.