Arisen Fury

Undead

Duncan

Sewing corpses back together is not as easy as it appears it would be. I study blood, not the body, so this isn't my expertise. I wish I could call in the one mortician that I know, but Storm doesn't like me very much. The feeling is mutual. That Shaman of a mortician would only get my way. He sees too much. He is knowledgeable about spirits, but the spirits are all gone from my corpses. I don't know what comes back in their place, but blood throws them into a frenzy.

Dr. Beadu and I created the serum for a sample of Rory's blood. We need more blood to mass-produce the FV7 serum in the future. For now, the small amount possessed works marvelously. The changes in it make the vampiric infernals compliant with following my orders. It's thanks to Finley's blood that has been made possible. The loyalty of dogs obeying their master's commands. It's perfect. Now to figure out how to not burn alive slowly in the sunlight. That is going to take more time to adjust and sewing together this corpse Razor sent me in going to take time.

That gangster has been providing himself resourceful in the department of providing corpses, but when in pieces, slows it all down. I decided I needed a mortician, one who does as he was told for the almighty dollar. Or perhaps someone with a Doctor Frankenstein complex. That might just be better. But where to find one...

"You place an ad online," Avery comments in his position in the kitchen.

"I was unaware I was speaking out loud again."

"You speak your inner thoughts more than you think. You mostly do it when you are stressed out about something. If it's something none of us can help you with, you can place an online ad stating the type of help you need, the hours they will work, and the pay. Don't forget to note if you can allow adjustments upon talking terms of employment. Just make your account and not the teams. Griffen just might decide to kill you this time for it."

"Griffen was rather furious with me about the autopsy table coming out of the team expenses when it was useless for anyone but me to use. It was me thing, not a team thing." Unless it's weaponry, a communication device, or Kevlar, he gets grumpy about it coming out of the team account. I guess a mortician would be only useful to me, unlike the nurse they hired. But unbeknownst to them, she is even more useful to me. FV7 key ingredient on tap.

"Let's not make the Demon Commander show his true colors around Rory just yet. Let her get settled first, yeah?"

"Have you told Finley this plan yet? None of us can get under Griffen's skin like Fin."

Avery grins at me. "You rhymed!"

"Don't tell anyone I just did that. I'll deny it," I proclaim.

Avery chuckles. Your secret is safe." I let out a sigh of relief at word too soon. "Provided you join us for dinner?" Any relief I felt has escaped me.

Even though I no longer feel comfortable dining with my friends, I have discovered that after tasting Rory's blood, I can stomach food much better. It makes me wonder if I consume more, perhaps something else will change about me.

"Okay. I will stay," I agree, and Kage smiles at me warmly. Our team has always possessed a brotherly comradery that I haven't been feeling a part of as of late. Since my transformation that regrew my arm, my emotions have been nonexistent. It's as though my humanity is gone, so now I go through the motions and mirror back what think they would want to see.

"I'm making Kage's favorite now that he is out of the hospital," Avery says cheerfully.

Avery and Kage used to be peculiarly close, but lately, all they seem to do is fight. With Kage dying rapidly, it might be too late for them to rekindle their relationship.

"What do you mean, Kage is rapidly dying?" Avery asks with shock and despair written upon his ethereal face.

"Oops. Was I speaking out loud again? I apologize. You weren't meant to know that," I say, acting contrite. Though it's not sincere. I do not have sympathy or empathy anymore. Perhaps I am a living corpse, after all.

"Yeah," he says hollowly, returning to his task.

Silence stretches as he cooks, and I place help-wanted ads for a seedy mortician on my smartphone.

Help Wanted:

A mortician willing to work the night shift only for extra money. Terms of employment will be discussed in person. Call or text Dr. Duncan Shaw Ph.D. after nightfall for details at xxx-xxx-xxxx.

"I'm texting the others that food will be ready in ten minutes once the bread loaves are done," he tells me listlessly.

"I need a smoke. Don't let the rolls," Avery says before walking out the back door.

I was on the tip of my tongue to tell him he doesn't smoke, but then I saw him with a liquor bottle in hand. I want him to drink large swills of hard alcohol. His phone is to his ear, while he rolls a joint on the table. Two more pulls before he lights up. He alternates the bottle with the handy roll, looking out at the cemetery behind our home.

I could rob graves for my experiments, but there is something poetic about making undead soldiers out of criminals. They couldn't follow society's laws, but they will follow mine. I will make an army, my army.

Finally, the sounds of sex have stopped from upstairs, and Griffen comes out of his office. He rushes to the oven, using mittens to pull out the bread. "Damn, the French bread loaves were almost overcooked. Where's Avery?" Griffen barks and I point outside.

He frowns, looking outside at Avery. "He was in a good mood when he started cooking. What could have happened?"

It was most certainly something I said, but I will not tell him that. "I'm not sure. I was placing some ads while he was cooking. When I was done, he told me to watch the bread and left."

Griffen's frown lines become more pronounced. "That doesn't sound like Avery. Usually, something triggers him just before he does that shit," Griffen expresses while scratching his beard.

I shrug, not uttering another word.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm glad you joined us. We've missed you, brother." Griffen claps me on the shoulder and squeezes me while I tell him the false statement of sharing his sentiment.