“Certainly, did you have something specific in mind?” she handed him a leaflet.
Ghost remembered the original leaflet; it had been designed by someone who had felt the need to use every possible gizmo in their graphics programme, and felt that this would surely make up for the fact that it was completely useless at conveying any actual information. He opened it and glanced at it before putting it in a pocket. It seemed that they’d got a better designer this time. There weren’t too many names in listed, certainly nothing like the hundreds of store names there had been in the past. But right now wasn’t the time to split his concentration. A zombie brushed passed him, but carried on down the corridor.
It was darker than it should have been. Amber looked up and saw that the glass roof had a thick layer of snow covering it. She shivered and stepped out of the way of another aimless zombie.
“No, just curious. Thanks,” he replied.
“Well there are a number of excellent services available here. In fact if you’d like to advertise your own, we charge very reasonable rates,” Cindy smiled pleasantly at him.
It was at then that Ghost noticed that none of the zombies ever touched the information desk. Even though they seemed to move in a random Brownian motion, somehow they never quite seemed to bump into or even take an interest in it. However given that one had bumped into him, that rather unfortunately meant that whatever was protecting Cindy wasn’t protecting them.
“Good to know, thanks” he turned to face Amber then saw the look of concern on her face. He followed her gaze up to the gallery on the next floor.
A man dressed in black stood there, leaning nonchalantly against the railing. He was completely bald making it hard to judge his age, though Ghost felt he was probably younger than he looked, maybe only in his late 20s. Blood red whirls were tattooed across his face and he held an ornate staff that seemed to have been topped with the remains of some unfortunate animal. Zombies wandered around behind him, but like the desk, they didn’t touch him.
“Welcome to my humble kingdom,” he declared in an accent that sounded like someone thought a Russian accent should sound like.
Ghost instinctively started looking for the tell-tale bulges of concealed weapons. He could see various pouches and bone jewelry, but nothing that looked like an actual weapon.
“I am the Necromancer!”
There was a pause, evidently he was expecting a reaction.
Amber looked at him blankly.
Ghost however, remembered that word. “Master of the Undead? That kind of thing?”
The man smiled a rictus grin. Ghost quietly wondered if he practiced it in a mirror.
“Ah, excellent. So nice to meet learned folk. So have you come to join my,” he swept his hand “minions?”
“Why would we want to? How would we? Why?” Amber replied.
“Ah, I see not quite so eloquent after all. Nevermind. People who come here are tired of living. It is a rather complicated and stressful business after all, is it not? And so I cure them of their condition. Consider me a philanthropist, helping the needy,” the grin remained.
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