Abigail: Chapter 03

(There may be some typos and grammar errors in this story, it'll be gone over again in a little bit.) 

“10-23 dispatch.” a male voice filtered through the buzzing in her head. Abigail couldn't quite get her eyes to open, but she was slowly becoming aware of her surrounding once more. She was on her stomach, half of her body laying in something sticky and cold. Beneath her she could just barely make out a puddle of something thick and foul smelling. There was pressure on her calf and pain. She heard static and realized it wasn't from her head at all, but from a police radio nearby. Strong hand clamped down on her calf; confusion and fear made her thrash and attempt to crawl away. Where was her umbrella? A gruff voice ordered, “Hold still, or you're going to start bleeding again and I just got it to stop.”

A hand curled around her ankle and held her leg straight. The gruff voice spoke again though it wasn't to her, “10-71, Dispatch, will meet at front of building.”

“Who-” Abigail started to ask but was largely ignored by what must have been a police offer. She felt something being tied around her half and fastened tight. Then she was being hauled up off of the ground.

“Can you walk, ma'am?” The officer asked. He was dressed in the local sheriff's office uniform. Black pants, black shirt, with some sort of vest underneath it. She could tell he was a part of their paranormal specialized unit, however, because his uniform had just barely visible runes and geometric designs woven into it with special silver thread. She squinted past the uniform and up at the man. He wasn't much older than she was, mid-twenties at the most she guessed. He might be handsome if he weren't busy frowning at her. Dark blue eyes, sandy hair, clean-shaven. He looked like the image of an All American White Knight. One sandy eyebrow arched at her and he repeated himself, “Ma'am? Can you walk?”

Abigail shook herself out of her daze and tested her leg; pain shot through her but she made herself keep going. She licked her lower lip and tasted blood and ichor there. She thought she might throw up once more, but managed to keep it down with a hand pressed to her stomach. The rusty, dull quality of her voice frightened her when she said, “Yes, but not too fast...”

“Your magical signature is all over this-” He said, reaching down to pick up the umbrella. He gestured toward the body of the dog-thing. Its mouth was open and she could see the metal inside where the umbrella had been thrust in and subsequently removed at some point. Her stomach rolled, but he didn't give her nausea a chance to take her attention. He grabbed her arm and continued as he propelled her from the classroom. His voice was full of disapproval, “While it is clear that you have talent as a Necro, ma'am, both by the way you took out the creature and your aura... Judging by the way you took out the creature you are not trained in the combat uses of your gifts. My guess is that you have minor training in warning against the unquiet. Without combat training you had no business taking on this creature.”

Abigail's face burned, she knew that blood was rushing up in shame. He was absolutely correct with his assessment of her training and skill set. She never took combat training of her gift, though many members of her family and friends had encouraged her to. She didn't want a combat life. She wanted a nice, quiet life. A life where her worth wasn't determined by the amount of magical “oomph” she had, but how skilled she was as a person. That was the reason she worked at a school in an administrative capacity. It was quiet, it was safe, and best of all she was judged on how well she filed papers and made spreadsheets. Not by how many unquiet she managed to put down in a night before the sun came up.

The man continued on as he turned her down a hallway and toward the administrative offices of the school, “Not only could you have gotten hurt-- which you did –but you could have gotten your coworkers hurt as well. Did you stop to think that person the creature may not have been undead? That perhaps it just looked like it? You had no idea how it would react to your magic, did you? You should have waited for the authorities to arrive.”

Abigail's temper burst at that. He was wrong there. If there was anything she was completely sure of in life: it was the undead. She jerked on her arm, wrenching from his grip so she could step ahead of him and round on him. Her anger causing her to forget she was dealing with a man of unknown magical prowess, a member of the Paranormal Department of the Sheriff's Office. A man who was likely trained in the nullification of all magical beings. That meant her. She didn't care. She had had enough of being lectured. The creature would have killed someone if it hadn't been for her. She would not be lectured! She jabbed a finger a this chest and snarled at him, “With all due respect, officer. That creature was within three seconds of breaking through the door and getting at that teacher! The woman I saved? That's Jordan Malley! She's a friend of mine and if I hadn't gone after the creature it would have killed her! She has no talents. No way to defend herself against the magical! And you know what, sir? Yeah! I did know it was undead. I knew how it would react to my magic. I knew. Don't you dare tell me I didn't just because I'm not combat trained. I knew!”

The officer just looked down at her, then down at the finger planted on his chest. One roughly calloused and scarred hand lifted, fingers curling with startling gentleness around her wrist, and pushed her hand back to her. His tone was soft, but full of warning, “I would advise you, ma'am, not to touch me again. I am combat trained, and I do not need you awake at this particular moment in time. If you continue to act in the manner you are I will be well within my rights to render you nulled, until such time as you are treated for your wounds and released by the paramedics.”

Abigail shuddered and glared at him; baring her teeth in a feral sneer. She knew she wasn't being particularly nice, nor civilized, but she couldn't help it. The core of her was terrified he would make good on his thread and nullify her. She took a step away from him, and once more he curled his fingers on her arm just above the elbow. Still there was a surprising amount of gentleness to it. His fingers didn't press in any harder than they had to, and he didn't drag her. He simply lead her with a firm, but careful hand. She got the impression that the care was just as much for her as for him. He was a capable of reading magical signatures, but she had a sense that he was also capable of another type of talent as well. He was probably a kinetic of some sort. She certainly hoped it wasn't pyrokinetic. Their tempers were rather notoriously bad, and when they decided someone had wronged them? Their fires had a way of destroying more than just their victim's bodies.

He pushed the door to the administrative offices open and propelled her through. She was met by the side of a man in a black suit, it was also thread with runes and geometric designs, sitting in one of the wheeling chairs talking with Sarah. The teacher turned and leapt to her feet, rushing over. “Abbie!”

She found herself enfolded in Sarah's arms before she could so much as say 'hello'. She felt squeezed a little too tightly, and awkwardly lifted a hand to pat the teacher on the back. She carefully pulled away from her friend and said, “I'm alright, Sarah. But can you let me breathe now, please?”

The other woman looked sheepish and stepped back, flicking her gaze between the man in the combat uniform and Abigail. She ran her hands nervously through her hair and said, “I'm sorry. I was just so worried for you and for Jordan! They helped Jordan out earlier. She's in shock from fear, they're saying. The creature, um, apparently was able to do something to her through the door. What was that thing?”

“That's what we're trying to find out, ma'am? If you could ….” The man in the suit, a detective Abigail assumed, said while gesturing to the chair across from him once more. “Please? Just a few more questions, and Darin the ambulance should be arriving now if you want to take the hero outside. I can smell the blood.”

Abigail wrapped her arms around herself, the quiet words from the detective were utterly disquieting. She turned her gaze to him and really looked at him this time. She saw a flash of something primal in his eyes, something dark and full of fury before it was gone. She shivered and let her arm be taken once more as the blonde officer led her out of the offices, and then out into the muggy aftermath of the storm. True to the detective's words the ambulance pulled up just as they stepped out the doors. Abigail swallowed and closed her eyes, preparing for the discomfort she knew was coming. Despite a necromancer's immunity to the things an undead carried, they were disinfected after every interaction with the undead.

Necromancers could be carriers.