Introducing Lester Broussard: The Good Necromancer. A fast-paced urban fantasy series about a necromancer who uses his powers for good.
I previously published this series under the pen name M.L. McKnight, but I've pulled it under the Michael La Ronn pen name.
Check out the first two chapters below. And if you're interested, you can buy Shadow Deal (Book 1) now at your favorite retailer.
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BOOK DESCRIPTION:
Seven years ago, I swore I would never talk to dead people again.
All I wanted was a new life with no spirits, no black magic, and no demons.
But it's like they say in the movies: once you get out, you get pulled back in…by the giant scorpion demon who murdered your family.Word on the street is that he wants to hang my head on a necklace.
Sheeeeet…
So here I am, back in the game. You know, making deals with grim reapers, casting dark spells, binding souls to dead bodies. Typical necromancer stuff.
But I’m using my powers for good this time. When I’m done, this scorpion demon is going to wish he’d been taken out by an exterminator.
Shadow Deal is a riveting fast-paced urban fantasy series featuring Lester Broussard that will keep you spellbound. Scroll up to buy your copy today!
CHAPTER 1
I hate traveling to the spirit world. It's foggy and the air has a sulfuric smell to it. Wailing phantoms circle the sky. Hordes of demons crawl over the shifting landscape like roaches. Not my idea of fun on a Friday night.
I shivered, flipped up the collar on my beige gabardine, and faced a topsy-turvy landscape of mist, rock, and grass. Legless spirits wandered across the grass here and there, like kites in a lazy breeze. Their cores shone with golden light. A rash of sparkling phantoms clustered in the orange sky, dozens of ghoulish faces twisting and contorting upon themselves in pain.
Not much had changed in the seven years since I’d last been here. Back then, I was foolish enough to think I could understand this place. Tame it and harness its power. I didn't understand yet what fear truly was.
I had a wife. A teenage son and daughter. A family. Necromancy took them all from me. When you practice the dark arts, that’s what happens: you lose the people that matter most, and you don’t realize how much you’ve screwed up until there’s a giant hole in your heart that nothing and nobody can fix.
Yes, I'm a necromancer. Well, ex-necromancer. I don't like to talk about it. I had left the dark arts behind me, swore I'd never practice them again. Now I was here in the spirit world, battered, and with only one prayer left. I said I'd never visit this place again as long as I lived. And I’d meant it.
Never say never, I guess.
I stood on a rocky outcrop, looking down over an endless chasm of stars where a gray river of souls flowed down like a mighty waterfall. I could see their faces in the rush—pained, anxious, languid as sin. They brushed against one another as they poured over the rock.
Somewhere far below, something laughed a chilling, bone-shaking laugh that wasn't human. The souls moaned in response, sending a wave of fear through me. The ground rumbled, nearly bringing me to my knees.
“Lester Broussard!” the voice shouted. “You will die and join these souls!”
Damn…I didn’t expect to run into trouble this soon.
The ground rumbled again and something clawed itself up the rock. Whatever it was, I didn't want to stick around to find out.
I was back to the place I said I’d never return to because I needed help.
Now I had another problem. It knew me by name and it wanted my blood.
“Keep standing there and you'll be breakfast,” Cecilia said next to me. She had been quiet since I arrived, waiting to speak at the right time. CeCe’s voice had a dull edge that only the dead have. She wrinkled her lips in concern as the ground shook.
“I don't want to be here another minute, let alone forever,” I said. “I asked you for help. Now I need it times two.”
CeCe hurried ahead, a streak of red and blue in her red shirtdress and jeans. Marble spikes jutted out of the dress at the shoulders, speckled with glittering diamonds. Her blonde hair was almost platinum in the ethereal light. She had a smooth, flowing motion in death, the kind that only a few are fortunate enough to develop. She was just as beautiful as I remembered and then some, except she was as pale as plaster. I didn't want to think of my old friend’s face as cadaverous, but it was hollowed out, making the contours of her skull more prominent.
I jogged after her on stiff knees, gritting my teeth.
“How hurt are you?” she asked.
I dug my hands into my pockets. The cuts on my palms pulsed like stars.
“I'm all right,” I said, grimacing.
A deep, sadistic laugh boomed across the realm.
“How far do we have to go?” I asked. “Can we make it?”
CeCe waved a hand. A dirt path wove itself into the tall grass, snaking off into the mist.
“Shouldn't be too long,” she said. “Aside from whatever’s chasing us, your bigger problem is making sure we don't run into Halgeron. He won't be happy to see you.”
“I’ll take the risk,” I said as a phantom screamed down from the sky and exploded in a dazzle of fire.
I didn't want to think about the Lich King learning that I'd returned to the spirit world after all this time. I lost a bet and still owed him. I'd have even bigger problems if he showed up. I pushed Halgeron’s desiccated skeletal face out of my mind.
We continued up the path as fast as we could without running. My side burned with pain and I winced, clutching it.
CeCe hooked her arm under mine and I leaned against her. She smelled like wildflowers and rain mixed with rot.
“I miss the old days,” CeCe said, glancing skyward where a phantom turned into a blue and white aurora. “I've missed you, Lester.”
I sensed a vibration coming from her, from her soul. Pure energy, pure power hidden behind all her grace.
“I missed you too,” I said. “…in a platonic way.”
“My emotions have grown stronger in death, but no, I didn't mean it that way.”
Maybe there had been something between us when she was among the living. But I was married then and tried to ignore it.
“You're not going to ask me to join you here, are you?” I asked. “Beg me to come back to the craft?”
The ground sloped upward and I groaned. This hill would not be kind to my knees. A strong tremor ripped across the grass, almost knocking us off our feet.
“Lester Broussard!” the voice screamed again. “Lester Broussard! Let me flay your soul, Lester Broussard!”
“What happened all those years ago was that you pissed off the wrong demon,” CeCe said, as if we weren’t being chased. How she could maintain her poise throughout all of this baffled me. “It was just a bad first experience. Aside from some wicked asshole demons, the spirit world really isn't that bad.”
“You say that as we’re getting chased by a wicked asshole demon,” I said.
CeCe pulled me closer as I stumbled over a rock.
“I know you’re in mourning,” CeCe said. “Over your family. But I want you to know that they don't hold you responsible. Your wife, Amira, and your son, Marcus, told me—”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. Just hearing their names made me want to curl up into a ball on the rocks. I stopped and scowled at her. “Don't say their names. Don't you dare. I don't have the heart to summon them. You know that.”
“You've tried to forget your family, then,” CeCe said. “I see.”
“Listen,” I snapped, “I can't just summon my dead family, CeCe. And tell them—what? That I'm sorry I got them killed?”
I glanced behind us. A giant scorpion tail appeared over the edge of the rock, followed by huge claws that staked themselves into the ground, pulling a huge brown mass upward. Like two-stories-tall huge. My stomach dropped.
“You've walled your spirit off so much that they can't reach you,” CeCe said. “No one can. It's not healthy to isolate your soul this way, Lester.”
“It's not healthy to get mauled by a big scorpion thing, either,” I said, pointing to the monster behind us. “Hurry up before I get dead and can’t argue with you anymore.”
A piercing scream sounded in the mist. Whatever the thing was, it was on our level now.
I groaned again, trying to run, and CeCe fell quiet as she pulled me up the hill.
My knees screamed as we climbed. When you've had multiple knee injuries, you tend to hate hills and stairs. I pushed through the pain.
A blackened, broken city lay in the distance. It jutted in and out of the mist like a nightmare. Jagged skyscrapers tore at the sky.
It was my home: St. Louis, Missouri.
Well, a demented version of it.
This St. Louis was born of the fear and loathing in the souls of the dead, a spiritual manifestation of all the unfinished business they left behind in our world, a parallel existence that intersected with our own.
We stood underneath the Gateway Arch. It was scorched and missing its exterior here and there, exposing its innards of latticed steel. The top center was missing, like something had taken a giant bite out of it. Creeped me the hell out.
“What would it take to get you back into the craft?” CeCe asked.
“Nothing,” I said firmly. “This is just temporary.”
CeCe folded her arms. “So you're telling me that there's nothing that could compel you to take up your true calling? Nothing on Earth, in the spirit world, or in the planes?”
“You said it, not me,” I said.
“This is what you were meant to be,” CeCe said.
“Not anymore.”
“So you didn't love it?”
I remembered CeCe when she was alive, the time we spent learning spells in my garage and conjuring the dead in graveyards. We were something. That was in the years before everything went to hell for me. And yes, I did love the time we spent together, sick and twisted as it was.
“CeCe, I don't mean to be rude,” I said, pointing to the mist behind us, “but—”
“I've had a lot of time to think about that day,” CeCe said. “The day when—”
She stopped, choosing her words carefully. Her blue eyes were like Pacific waves. “You know.”
“The day my son died,” I said, refusing to think about the worst day of my life. “Yeah, the hell I do know. But, CeCe, now isn't the time—”
“You shouldn't blame yourself,” CeCe said. Her eyes burned with passion as she took me by the shoulders. “It wasn't your fault. Death changes your perspective. I see the entire situation differently now that I’m on the other side. That's all I'm saying.”
“You made your point,” I said, understanding her scheme. Sneaky, she was. “All right, all right, I'll think about talking to my family, okay? Will you stop stalling and help me out already?”
A clever smile crept across her face. “This looks like a good spot.”
The monster screamed, the sound multiplying itself several times over.
Rumble. Scream.
Rumble, rumble.
CeCe waved a hand, and blue light rippled from her fingers, washing over the rotten grass, peeling it up and rolling it back like carpet.
I shielded my eyes for a moment. When the light faded, a gray pool swirled before us. Smoke billowed off the cloudy surface.
CeCe waved her hand again and a metal dock forged itself out of the mist and led down to the surface of the water.
“That was impressive,” I said.
She seemed to brim with pride, but her smile faded.
Part of me felt guilty for not wanting to celebrate her new powers, but I focused on the surface of the pool where small blisters bubbled as we approached.
A few dozen souls moved in the monochrome depths, gold and gray human apparitions brushing against each other. Their movement made bubbles in the water that popped on the surface.
“This your current harvest?” I asked.
CeCe smiled. “They're fresh too. They haven't been tamed yet.”
“Jesus,” I said. “You make them sound like animals.”
“You know what I meant,” CeCe said.
“Well, I never thought I'd be doing this again.”
Our pursuer was closer now. I could see the scorpion tail bobbing and human hands moving underneath it with swords for nails. The hand-swords scratched against the grass, carrying the beast forward.
A regular person would have had a heart attack on the spot upon seeing this thing. I don’t know what it says about me that I didn’t.
CeCe tapped me on the shoulder. “Let's find you a good soul so we can create your servant,” she said.
CHAPTER 2
In supernatural terms, CeCe is what we call a lich. A lich is an immortal warden of the dead, and a necromancer of the highest degree. They control the dead and prepare them to either ascend to the next plane or shatter from existence. Everything that happens in the spirit world happens under the watch of the liches. They're smart, organized, and vengeful—not the kind of supernatural beings you want to cross. If you steal from them, they’ll steal from you, only twice as bad. And if you delay their retribution by running away, they'll place a doom and a curse on your soul, wait patiently for you to die, and harvest you into the worst kind of undead servitude.
When a necromancer of extraordinary ability dies, they can become a lich if they so choose, but only with the permission of the Lich King, who is tough to please. Trust me, I would know.
As I looked down at the souls in the cloudy lake that CeCe created, I couldn't help but wonder what other marvels she could fashion out of the vibrations in the air. Liches got their power from cosmic vibrations, which meant that they could do more than I ever could magically.
CeCe leaned over my shoulder as I studied the water.
“Show me that you still have it,” she whispered, her mouth nearly against my earlobe.
The ground shook, reminding me of the monster. It was still coming for me, but somehow time slowed down and I focused only on the lake. Its stillness. The souls swirling inside.
I pushed my hands out, wiggled my fingers, and concentrated on the surface, willing my intent into it.
I rolled the sleeves of my gabardine back and dipped my hand in the lake, expecting to feel cold water. Only, the lake wasn't water. It was a kind of white, supernatural gossamer that parted at my touch, like a curtain. The threads brushed against the cuts on my palms and tingled like a salve.
“You have some viable choices,” CeCe whispered. “But hurry, Lester.”
I imagined invisible lines sprouting from my hands and hooking into each of the souls, pulling them into a long lineup that hovered just below me.
I willed the first soul out of the lake and squinted as it shone golden. It had a human shape, but the legs were cut off and I couldn't see its face due to the golden light emanating from its core.
I dragged the soul to me and reached into its shining core.
The area flashed with light. In an instant, I connected with the soul and knew everything about her.
Her feelings of doubt and loneliness overwhelmed me. She spoke without speaking.
Why must you control me when I have done nothing to you? I have done nothing to you.
Normally, a soul link like this shouldn't have overpowered me. I should have remained in control. But I had been out of the craft so long that I struggled against her spiritual energy.
I pushed her aside and brought the next soul before me.
This one was a man. He spoke without speaking, gentle and insistent.
I am not done traveling this world yet. There is much to see.
I sensed longing. Desire. Whatever he left in the physical world, he didn't want to go back for it. His soul was airy and lacked the physical-emotional heaviness that one needed to bind him to a corpse.
I pushed him aside, pulling another man before me.
“Lester,” CeCe whispered.
I ignored her.
This man was quiet. He didn't speak. His light was dimmer than the others, the mark of a soul who had sinned.
Sin is subtle. You'd think that it would stain one’s soul, discolor it for everyone on the planes to see. But sin is simpler than that. It's a simple mark, a nag in the corner of one’s soul, a dimmer switch that prevents the soul from reaching its full potential. In this world, all sins are equal, and it doesn't matter if you have one or one hundred—your soul will be dim and carry a shadow behind it all the same.
I inhaled, took in the man’s aura.
Unassuming. Calm.
I waited, but he didn't speak.
I exhaled.
“Awfully lonely in here, don't you think?” I asked. Calmness and respect were the best way to approach the dead.
It’s given me time to think, he said.
I waited for him to say more.
“There's not much to say when you're atoning and healing,” I said. “Been doing a lot of that myself, to tell you the truth. But I would like to ask you something, if you wouldn't mind.”
“Lester,” CeCe whispered.
The ground shook. I heard stomping and screaming—but when I was practicing the craft, nothing else mattered except me and the soul.
“I'm in need of help,” I said. “I don't know who you are or what you've done, but I've read your light, and you seem like the man for the job. If you want it, that is.”
The soul pulsed.
I’m at the lady’s mercy, he said.
“CeCe’s a friend of mine,” I said. “She is willing to loan you to me. I have a job for you and will treat you well. I promise I will not use you for evil. I need you for protection. But I need you to say yes right now.”
“Lester, now!” CeCe cried.
The soul’s light brightened a little.
My decision is…
Something slammed into me at twenty miles an hour. My connection with the soul severed and I was in the air, sailing over the grass before I knew what hit me.
I crashed to the ground. Every bruise in my body radiated with pain.
A sinister laugh tore across the plane.
I rolled to my feet but slipped and fell face-first into the wet grass. Groaning, I staggered to my knees, but even they couldn't hold me. They erupted in fire and I fell down again.
I dug my palms into the grass and pushed myself up into a crawl, wincing as the blades scratched against my cuts. I was dizzy as hell.
The Arch, the rotting grass, and the shadowed St. Louis in the distance rolled by in a blur.
CeCe.
She was lying in the grass a few yards away, struggling to stand.
Mist clouded the area, thicker than before. The giant scorpion tail flashed in the mist, striking at CeCe.
I shouted her name and reached out, even though I knew it was useless.
My world rocked with a giant whumpf.
CeCe screamed.
Rapid footsteps charged in my direction.
I cursed, tried to run, but there was no time for me to react—a jagged set of pincers pinned my arms to my sides, seized me, and lifted me up—higher and higher until my legs dangled.
A pair of green, ghostly eyes glimmered at me through the mist. Both eyes were asymmetrical, one of them bigger than the other. Below them, five more pairs of green eyes blinked at me like lights on a runway.
Something growled.
I tried to wiggle free from the pincers. Something ripped my flesh and I yelled.
Blood spilled over the serrated brown edges of the pincers. My blood.
Way to go, Lester. I had just spilled blood on a demon. It could use my blood to create a death spell even if I got away.
That’s what I call bad luck.
“Who are you?” I asked.
A brown mandible chomped at me through the mist, full of jagged edges and bristly hairs. It opened to speak, but instead of words, the mouth contorted into an ear-splitting scream.
It dropped me. I put my hands to my ears and curled into a ball.
A flash of steel shimmered. A rose-gold blade cut through the mist, downward into the scorpion tail.
CeCe.
Eight silver swords danced upward. The mist shifted and I glimpsed CeCe backflipping to avoid several swords as they swiped at her.
“Lester, the lake!” she cried as the mist covered her. “The lake!”
The dizziness wore off and I threw myself into action, my knees roaring as I ran down a hill back toward the lake.
That damn demon had knocked me far.
Swords whistled and clanged against each other. Every impact grated against my ears.
The demonic voice yelled again.
“Lester Broussard!” it cried. “You will not escape me!”
The ground cracked, sending fissures from my location all the way to the lake.
The rocks beneath my feet split. The earth groaned and everything went sideways as I struggled to regain my balance. A spray of dirt clouded my vision. I shielded my face, looked down, and saw the ground fissuring between my legs.
I leaped into the air just as the ground parted underneath me like the Red Sea.
I reached out and grabbed a dull edge of earth, slamming against a wall of dirt that broke into thick clods. My eyes followed the clods down into the endless chasm of stars.
I pulled myself over the edge, the dirt stinging my palms. I stumbled toward the lake, but
the ground split again. I didn't jump, and the lake moved further away.
“Keep going, Lester!” CeCe cried. She had two swords now, twirling and gathering mist around her. Bubbles of gray light danced up from the soil, flittering around her like fireflies. Then the mist swallowed her again.
I looked around. The monster was gone.
And then I saw it coming for me, jumping over the fissures in the earth.
I took a few steps back and tore into a run. I jumped, my gabardine trailing behind me like a cape.
Made it.
The ground cracked and split again.
I jumped.
Made it.
It had been a long time since I’d jumped like this. Not since hurdles in high school, and that was almost thirty years ago. Running and jumping in a raincoat with bad knees and an aching body isn’t exactly glorious, and it sure as hell doesn’t look heroic.
“Choose your death,” the voice said. “Jump to your demise or let me end you myself.”
“I ain't no punk,” I said.
The beast was catching up. And still, I couldn't see the damn thing.
The ground broke again.
The lake was only one jump away now. The beast was only one jump away from me.
I jumped.
It jumped.
We landed together. The beast’s eight sword-bearing legs landed with the grace of a dog at a ballet recital. It crashed, its swords swinging as they cut across the dirt. I caught a glimpse of a long brown body curved like a football.
I burst toward the dock as the creature regained its balance, screamed, and skittered after me with renewed vigor.
My boots thudded against the metal pier, and in an instant, I reached into the lake’s thin film, beckoning the soul to come forward.
I needed that soul. I needed to reestablish contact and then—
The beast grabbed me by the calves, holding me in place at arm’s length from the lake. I reached but came up short.
Foul breath like rotting corpses and sewer gas invaded my nostrils and I shook my head in disgust.
“You don't recognize me after all these years, Lester?” the voice said.
It blew away the mist, confirming my worst nightmares. A giant scorpion with two pairs of brown pincers grinned at me. Its tail arced behind it as if it had a mind of its own. I nearly fainted when I saw human heads hanging from hooks on the scorpion’s tail, their eyes clouded with blood and their tongues lolling from their mouths. Among the heads swung an empty hook—the one meant for me.
The scorpion gnashed its mandible, extended its jaws, and a fiery demon head with curved horns grew outward from the depths of its maw.
The demon’s fiery eyes burned like volcanoes as it laughed, revealing a curved mouth full of moldy fangs.
“Do I look familiar now, human?”
I tried to break free, but the demon tightened its grip.
“I am your lord, Visgaroth, and I have returned to finish what I started seven years ago,” it said.
I shook my head in disbelief. I was staring at the demon who ruined my life.
The demon laughed as the scorpion tail hurtled toward me.
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If you want to keep reading, grab your copy of Shadow Deal. Thanks!
