*I don't think this is a very original story idea but I was given the challenge of creating a story using just the name 'Elyssah'. This is what my brain churned out:
The dead man roared through bloated lips and surged up out of the coffin.
Elyssah jumped up out of the grave and stood panting, slick with sweat next to the dead man's widow.
Great, she thought as the half-rotten horror lurched up towards her, another cranky corpse.
She had been promised two very large pouches of gold for her services and those coins were the only things stopping her from returning the thing to its eternal slumber and returning to the inn.
The woman behind her gagged at the stench of her recently deceased husband and tried very quickly to hide her disgust at the sight of him.
"Archie," she cooed, her dainty nose wrinkling almost imperceptibly. "Archie my love, it's me. It's Druscilla."
She reluctantly extended a slender hand towards the man in the grave. He stopped his roaring and blinked stupidly at the gloved appendage.
"Druscilla?" He slurred, spitting out several teeth and dry heaving in what would have been a very alarming way, had he been living.
His eyes began to cloud over and he reached for the graves-edge and tried to pull himself up onto the cemetery lawn. He snatched at the stooped figures hand but came away with the glove. His widow straightened up and reeled elegantly backwards with more speed that Elyssah had imagined she could possess.
"What's the matter with him?" The woman demanded, turning an accusing eye on the young necromancer.
Elyssah raised and eyebrow and smirked. "He's dead, stupid."
Druscilla's storm-grey eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing before she finally sputtered, "I beg your pardon, you wretch! How dare you speak to me like that? I will not tolerate any of your insolence and if you think you're going to get your grubby little hands on any of my money, why you aaaaarrrghhhhhh!" She screeched as her dead husband hoisted his torso up between them and grabbed at her ankle. She folded like a sheet of paper and landed awkwardly on her backside.
Elyssah rolled her eyes. Never work with children, animals or the dead, she thought, or bat**** crazy rich *** widows. She strolled over to the fallen woman and wrapped a strong arm around Archie's shoulders.
"Come on, Arch." She heaved and pulled backwards until the corpse let go of the ankle and spun to face her. His arm popped out of its socket with a wet plop and hung uselessly at his side.
Elyssah wretched but swallowed back the bile. It never did get less sickening. She took two steps backward and raised her bare arms. Her hands began to glow with a black flame and her eyes turned blank. The sigil on her forehead, a small oroborous which had been invisible until now, also began to glow. She turned her hands palm forward and halted Archie's charge; he stood mid-run, left leg raised comically and a savage inhuman fury on his face. His right eyeball had started to ooze down his cheek.
"I suggest you ask your questions now, Mrs Hatherington." She called through gritted teeth over Archie's shoulder.
"It's Ms Fothersby now." The widow hissed. She pulled herself to her stilletoed feet in as elegant a manner as she could muster in her ripped finery.
"I don't care if you're the bloody queen!" The necromancer shot back. "Get. On. With. It!"
Ms Fothersby smoothed back the tangled brown curls from her rather red face and cleared her throat.
"Archibald Theodore Hatherington!" She commanded. "Turn around and listen to me!"
His one remaining eye cleared and flickered up to meet Elyssah's blank gaze. She had to fight to keep him under her control.
He turned slowly and stared at his wife.
"There now, that's better." Druscilla's face relaxed and she pouted demurely. "Archie," she wheedled, "do you remember when we met? Remember that wonderful moonlit evening when you promised me the stars?"
Archie's expression softened and he smiled dreamily. "I do remember." He rasped. It was a wonder that he could talk at all, Elyssah knew. Six months dead and all that noise as he was reawakened should have rendered his vocal chords all but destroyed. Perhaps it was the power, she thought.
"You promised that we would always be together and that there was nothing more important or more valuable than our love."
The dead man nodded sadly. "That is still the truth." He told her.
Druscilla 's mood changed in a heartbeat and she grimaced. "Yes, well, that is all very fine but you are no longer here and I have been left destitute. Your debts had to be paid with the house, Archie, and I have nothing left. The staff have all left and the horses were sold. How am I supposed to live? I bore you no sons or daughters, for all the good they would do me." There was no bitterness in this last sentiment, only a matter-of-fact neutrality that seemed to catch Archie unawares. He flinched as if he had been slapped.
"My love," he began, "Druscilla, I-"
"I am not your love anymore." She spat. "You are dead, Archie, and I need to move on. Now, Alistair has promised me marriage-"
Now it was Archie's turn to interrupt her. "ALISTAIR!" He boomed. "ALISTAIR" He struggled against the invisible bonds that held him, pushing forwards desperately. He managed to lower his left leg and raise his right as he took a step towards Druscilla. Elyssah bit down on her tongue and used the pain to channel more energy into the bonds. The fire in her hands flared; a white hot flame replaced the black glow. She felt Archie squirm and push back with all his strength.
Druscilla's eyes grew large with momentary panic before she recovered her composure and smoothed down the front of her white blouse. "Archie, what did you expect me to do? Alistair is very dear to me and has been nothing but supportive. I simply couldn't face arranging your funeral." She sniffed and lifted her hand to her nose. In that brief moment, Elyssah thought her grief was real but then the older woman clasped her hands in front of her and tapped her foot in irritation.
"You liar."
The dead man's words were soft.
Druscilla's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"
"You couldn't wait to be rid of me. And that rat put me here." Elyssah had relaxed her powers so that he could twist and point down into the damp grave.
"Oh you always were full of outlandish ideas! Just like your father!"
The dead man lifted his bruised face and tilted his chin. This last comment seemed to have been the final insult.
"I know what you are here for, Druscilla." He said, his mouth twisting unpleasantly. "My mother's ruby will never be yours. Go back to Alistair and let me rest in peace. At least here I don't have to put up with your constant nagging. Please," he turned now to Elyssah, "let me go back to sleep. I don't know how you called me back to this," he gestured to his funeral suited torso, his one good eye tired and sad, "but please send me back."
Elyssah dropped her hands and nodded. The fire dulled and faded from her palms and the sigil on her forehead began to vanish. "You must go back down and return to your coffin." She said. "It will be over again quickly."
Archie shuffled over and gently lowered himself back down into the earth. Druscilla watched, cheeks reddening and her eyes blazing.
"The jewel is mine by law! What's yours is mine, remember, Archie?"
The corpse opened his mouth and let out a low gurgling laugh. He shook his head and climbed back into the the wooden box. The widow screamed at him, spun on her heel and stalked away into the darkness.
The necromancer stood over the grave and looked down into the dim hole.
"What are you getting from all of this?" He asked her from the gloom.
"A deep sense of satisfaction from helping a grieving widow in her hour of need." Elyssah grinned down at him. "Sorry, Arch. No hard feelings, eh?"
He shook his head. "She has no gold you know."
"I do now."
She lifted her hands.
"Wait." He fumbled beneath the velvet cushion supporting his head and pulled out a dark object the size of a large hens egg. It looked black in the meagre star light. Elyssah held out her left hand, palm up, and produced a small ball of white light. The jewel glinted and flashed a deep crimson in his swollen fingers. "She cannot be allowed to possess this. You must take it from this place; she will not stop looking for it."
Elyssah gazed down at the gem hungrily. There would be no gold for this evenings work and the ruby would be fine compensation, she thought.
"Sure." She said.
He looked relieved. "Take it far from that woman."
She nodded. Satisfied and relieved the dead man tossed the stone up out of the grave and slumped back into his coffin.
Elyssah caught it in one easy motion and pocketed it swiftly.
She extinguished the tiny light and turned her palms down toward the coffin.
"Good night Archie."
A deep rattling sigh left the dead mans lips and Elyssah dropped her arms to her sides. She looked down into the coffin for a few moments before walking back to retrieve the shovel. When she had finally filled in the grave and patted down the dirt, the sky was beginning to lighten and the stars were quickly fading out.
She picked up her bag and, without a second glance, walked off into the trees.
The black cat picked it's way through the tombstones and sniffed cautiously at the fresh grave dirt. It circled the stone three times, pushed itself up on its hind legs and rested its fore paws against the name that was engraved upon it. The cat rubbed its chin enthusiastically against the letters 'ARCHI' for several seconds before dropping back to the ground and slinking off into the cemetery.
