Excerpt: Chapter Three
Just spitting this here for nanoinflames stuff.
Philip remembered seeing a movie show once where there was a mad scientist who created a monster out of various body parts. It was pretty gruesome; Lilith had laughed her head off. The one scene that stuck with him, more so than the monster’s first appearance, was the scientist’s evil laboratory.
Now that he was standing inside a real laboratory, he had to say that movie show didn’t even come close to getting the heebie-jeebie factor right.
First of all, this particular scientist - Dr. Arthur Carfax, as he’d mumbled by way of introduction back at Westminster Hall - was very neat and tidy. His laboratory was conspicuously dust and cobweb free, and the lighting was harshly bright. It smelled strongly of chemicals, both the cleaning variety as well as the more science-y sort. There were three pristinely sterilized metal tables in the middle of the room, pristinely organized bookshelves on every wall, and one less than pristine desk shoved off in the far corner. But not even that little touch of chaos in an otherwise eerily structured space could prevent him from noticing the sour, underlying stench of death that permeated the room.
Philip was a necromancer. By fates profession, he dealt with death on a daily basis. That didn’t mean he enjoyed what he did. No matter how many times he raised something from the dead, he could never get accustomed to the foul, rotted stink that accompanied a ghoul. Lilith knew how much he hated that smell and would always make him feed her ghouls just to watch him gag.
There were other reasons besides her being a crazy bitch that he’d wanted her dead. He wasn’t going to deny some of it was a personal vengeance.
He winced as the rat he’d resurrected screeched particularly loudly. He didn’t blame the poor critter one bit; Dr. Carfax was currently in the middle of trying to dissect it.
“Remarkable,” the man mumbled to himself, so intent on the struggling rat that he didn’t notice as Philip wandered over to a shelf full of glass tubes. “Despite being in the putrefication stage, it retains an instinctual alertness. It shows absolutely no sign that the process - will you quit touching things?!”
He quickly took his hand away from the tube full of liquid he’d been about to pick up. “Do you have eyes in the back of your head or something?” he grumbled.
“No. You simply seem the prying sort.” Dr. Carfax tried once again to make an incision in the rodent’s side. It gave a sharp, rasping squeal and twisted free. It fell off the table with a heavy plop and half dragged, half clawed its way over to Philip’s feet. The doctor frowned after it. “It obviously suffers from some impaired judgment.”
Philip scowled back and bent down to pick up the animal, swallowing back the bile that lurched into his throat as its smell hit him like a ton of bricks. “No, I’d say its judgment’s pretty damn good,” he retorted. Hell, he’d even go as far as to say it was smarter than the average street rat. Who in their right mind would lie still while someone sliced them apart?
Philip remembered seeing a movie show once where there was a mad scientist who created a monster out of various body parts. It was pretty gruesome; Lilith had laughed her head off. The one scene that stuck with him, more so than the monster’s first appearance, was the scientist’s evil laboratory.
Now that he was standing inside a real laboratory, he had to say that movie show didn’t even come close to getting the heebie-jeebie factor right.
First of all, this particular scientist - Dr. Arthur Carfax, as he’d mumbled by way of introduction back at Westminster Hall - was very neat and tidy. His laboratory was conspicuously dust and cobweb free, and the lighting was harshly bright. It smelled strongly of chemicals, both the cleaning variety as well as the more science-y sort. There were three pristinely sterilized metal tables in the middle of the room, pristinely organized bookshelves on every wall, and one less than pristine desk shoved off in the far corner. But not even that little touch of chaos in an otherwise eerily structured space could prevent him from noticing the sour, underlying stench of death that permeated the room.
Philip was a necromancer. By fates profession, he dealt with death on a daily basis. That didn’t mean he enjoyed what he did. No matter how many times he raised something from the dead, he could never get accustomed to the foul, rotted stink that accompanied a ghoul. Lilith knew how much he hated that smell and would always make him feed her ghouls just to watch him gag.
There were other reasons besides her being a crazy bitch that he’d wanted her dead. He wasn’t going to deny some of it was a personal vengeance.
He winced as the rat he’d resurrected screeched particularly loudly. He didn’t blame the poor critter one bit; Dr. Carfax was currently in the middle of trying to dissect it.
“Remarkable,” the man mumbled to himself, so intent on the struggling rat that he didn’t notice as Philip wandered over to a shelf full of glass tubes. “Despite being in the putrefication stage, it retains an instinctual alertness. It shows absolutely no sign that the process - will you quit touching things?!”
He quickly took his hand away from the tube full of liquid he’d been about to pick up. “Do you have eyes in the back of your head or something?” he grumbled.
“No. You simply seem the prying sort.” Dr. Carfax tried once again to make an incision in the rodent’s side. It gave a sharp, rasping squeal and twisted free. It fell off the table with a heavy plop and half dragged, half clawed its way over to Philip’s feet. The doctor frowned after it. “It obviously suffers from some impaired judgment.”
Philip scowled back and bent down to pick up the animal, swallowing back the bile that lurched into his throat as its smell hit him like a ton of bricks. “No, I’d say its judgment’s pretty damn good,” he retorted. Hell, he’d even go as far as to say it was smarter than the average street rat. Who in their right mind would lie still while someone sliced them apart?