Necromancers at the Museum

My prizes secure, I moved toward my planned exit through the prehistoric exhibit. I just hoped I could get the last two hundred feet without running into anyone else, especially no one else like me. And of course, as soon as the thought crossed my mind I would cross paths with someone carrying the same intentions as me. The first thing that caught my eyes was the giant Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton in the middle of the room, white bones almost glowing in the dark. Immediately after, my eyes picked up the man in the black cloak standing in front of the skeleton.

"You here for the T-rex too?" he asked, gesturing with his staff (of course he would have a staff) at the giant skeleton behind him.

"Easy there, buddy," I said with my empty hands raised, "I already got what I came for. The dinosaur is all yours. I ain't into all that bestiality stuff." As I spoke, I tried to circle around him to the broken window behind him.

The cloaked man raised his staff, an ugly branch of wood just a couple inches shorter than him, gnarled on one end. "Sounds like you've grabbed something more valuable. Mind telling me and my friends what you've got?" Four glowing green eyes appeared in the darkness behind him. Large claws clinked on the tile floor, steadily getting louder. Two spectral sabertoothed tigers emerged, their prehistoric bones wrapped in glowing green ectoplasm. They walked rigidly straight-forward, finally settling on opposite sides of the necromancer. Both cats opened their mouths to bare their fangs and let out a low, rumbling growl.

"Nothing as impressive as that," I said, letting out a whistle, "though I am surprised you didn't try for the T-rex yourself."

"It'll take too much power, more than I've got right now." He motioned to the two cats at his feet. "But I'm sure I can do just as much with a pack of these, once I get my hands on more bones."

I started to move again to the window as he spoke. It took just two steps for the cats to notice me, their heads turning ever so slightly. "Well good luck to you then. I'm sure you don't want to be wasting time with me then, when you've got places to be. Especially before the police start beefing up security at more museums."

"You're right, but before I go I would like to see what a fellow necromancer like yourself picked up. Perhaps something I may want to acquire one day." The growl of the tigers got a little louder and I knew that there was no scenario that didn't end with one of us dead.

Slowly, I pulled open my coat to reveal a sheathed short gladius sword belted on my left and a black obsidian tecpatl dagger tucked into the right-side of my belt.

The necromancer's staff lowered and the ghostly eyes of the tigers dimmed slightly. "I'm sorry, are you just a thief, or perhaps some sort of junk collector?" he said with a smile that bordered on laughter.

I smiled back, releasing my coat but moving my right hand slowly behind my back. With my left I pointed at the two beasts. "You're holding them too tightly," I said as I gripped the hunting knife tucked behind my back.

He jerked his head back in confusion, his face contorting. "What the hell did you just say to me?" he said, slamming his staff and cracking the tile beneath it. The eyes of the two cats lit up again and the glow of their ectoplasm skin bathed the room in an eerie green.

And that gave me the one second I needed. I reached out mentally to the ancient weapons, connecting with them and the spirits of their former wielders. I drew their spirits into me, feeling them overlay onto my mine and filling my body with power. As I bolted forward I took notice of the ghostly green glow now coming off my skin, reflecting back at me off the tile floor.

No one knows if it's because the human spirit is actually stronger than an animal's spirit, or if necromancers are just able to draw more power from humans because we, too, are human. Either way, it's why most necromancers manipulate human spirits and bodies: the power we get from a human is just stronger than an animal. Plus the weapons I'd taken weren't just replicas. These were real tools of death used many times over and over by a single owner, thus attaching not only a sliver of each of its victim's souls to the weapon but also a shadow of their former owner. The dozens of human souls cut down by the gladius and the hundreds sacrificed by the tecpatl boosted my speed and strength to supernatural limits as I streaked forward, enough that I felt confident I could take down two sabertoothed tigers. That is definitely a point in my favor.

Except that the other guy was wielding the spirits of two fucking sabertoothed tigers! Age is another factor in the strength of a spirit and how much power a necromancer could draw upon: the older the spirit, the stronger the construct tends to be. And both of his were at least a million years old. Point to him.

Still, I sprinted forward, secure in my one last advantage: I wasn't afraid to kill. There's a little voice in all human beings that tell us taking another human life is wrong. It makes us slow and hesitant when faced with the choice or opportunity. It's why soldiers train so hard to make sure the actions they need to take are second-nature so that little voice doesn't have a chance to interrupt what needs to be done.

Looking into the other necromancer's eyes as I got closer, I could see the uncertainty on his face, the hesitation causing him to seize up. To be honest, I would have too. But I wasn't alone. Marcellus fought in battles and campaigns against a variety of enemies his entire military career. His training pushed my (our?) body forward, right passed the two ancient spectral cats and right up to the other man. The Aztec priest (even with him in my body, I couldn't pronounce his name correctly) sacrificed hundreds upon his alter in service to his gods. He'd seen death up close, and been the dealer of it every single time. We didn't hesitate. The knife plunged between the ribs and up into the heart of the other necromancer, all before his cats even gained their feet. With my shoulder, I shoved hard and drove him to the ground. I planted myself on top of him, then twisted the knife. He let out a scream and his will holding the cats together vanished, the bones clattering loudly on the floor.

"You were holding them too tightly," we said, our three voices amplified into a kind of disjointed chorus. "Too much control and they don't act like the predators they are. I could tell when I first saw them. What kind of cat walks so rigidly, and in a straight line? You had then moving more like a human would than a cat. If you loosened the reins a little, they would've reacted quicker and gotten me before I'd gotten you." We shrugged and pulled the knife out. "Oh well, something to remember when you join the great beyond." Then we slashed the knife across his throat.

"We should've used my sword. It would've been a more honorable death," said the soldier.

"We could've at least cut out his heart as an offering to our gods," said the priest.

I pushed their thoughts from my mind and their souls from my body back into their respective weapons. The power coursing through me faded as did the green glow my body had taken. "Your sword hasn't seen combat for centuries, I'm not sure if it's even sharp or even still usable. As for ripping out his heart, no offense to your gods and religion, but that's gross."

I wiped the blood on the necromancer's cloak before sheathing the knife behind my back. I picked up a fang from the cat skeletons and held it up to my face. Curiosity struck and I poured power into the fang. I felt the spirit of the sabertoothed tiger begin to envelop me. I dropped onto all fours. My sight might've diminished slightly, but my sense of smell and hearing revealed a whole new world to me. I felt myself let out a roar as my consciousness started to fade. I jerked my mind out, shoving the tiger spirit back into the fang and dropping it onto the floor. My heart raced even faster than it had been just moments ago facing off against the other necromancer. I focused on taking deep breaths, my eyes closed. Another minute and the spirit of the ancient cat would've consumed me. Slowly, I stooped over and picked up the fang, holding it between two fingers. The feeling though, all that strength and coiled power, the opening up of all my senses, it was exhilarating! I shook with excitement at the idea of trying it again once I had more power. I plucked the tooth from the other sabertoothed tiger, just in case that cat might feel a bit different.

Then I turned to look at the enormous Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton, shivering at the idea of all that strength and power and ferocity in my hands. I wanted it. Taking the dead necromancer's staff and throwing it like a javelin (thanks Marcellus) I knocked the head of the T-rex to the ground. I grabbed a tooth, and then took several more, just in case. Prizes secure, I climbed out the broken window and into the night. Now all I needed was more power to fully enjoy my new toys.

This story is a prime example of why I never finish anything. First off, got the prompt from Reddit Writing Promps: When necromancy turned out to be viable, the world rushed to defend its graveyards and cemeteries ... they forgot that museums are also full of dead bodies - and not just of humans." Of course, the main thing everyone would resurrect would be the T-Rex statue. Luckily, when I first found this prompt, I was just finishing up "Dead Beat" by Jim Butcher. A Dresden files novel, this one involves Wizard/Private Investigator Harry Dresden going up against necromancers, so obviously I got a lot of my ideas from that. But back to what I was saying earlier, in my original draft, the main character was looking for an ancient weapon when he encounters the other necromancer. In my original, the hunting knife has the spirit of a serial killer in it. Then I got to thinking, "Well how did he get into the museum?" and then he started battling zombies and ghosts summoned by two other necromancers before getting to the third one (because why wouldn't there be three?). Then I realized it was going off the rails and I was thinking too much about something that is essentially just for fun and practice. How I manage to get anything written is surprising to me too.