Den of Iniquity

  Copyright

  Den of Iniquity

  the Accidental Necromancer, Book 2

  A story of the Zombieverse

  By JG Jerome

  Edited by Heather Jerome

  Cover by Albert Chauw

  Copyright © June 21, 2020

  J.G. Jerome

  All Rights Reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Created with Vellum

  “Love is at the root of everything. Love or the lack of it.” - Fred Rogers.

  Foreword

  This is an adult fantasy for mature folks that comes out of my twisted mind. They are my dreams, daydreams, and fantasies transcribed onto paper.

  As such, this story includes descriptions of genitalia, descriptions of sexual activities, mixing of US and UK idioms, panamorous relationships, harem relationships, romance, bro-mance, BFFs, cursing, bathroom fondling, co-ed showers, off-beat humor, eating food while naked or partially naked, drinking, BDSM, unusual interpretations of supernatural conventions, erotic rope arts, martial arts, prostitution, going to the bathroom, the IT industry, domestic violence, cooking, construction, women trash-talking each other, and many other things that might possibly offend someone in our judgemental society.

  I also write in a first person, slice-of-life style.

  If you are offended or disgruntled by any of those things, then kindly close the book, tell Amazon you made a mistake, get your refund, and go forth to enjoy life elsewhere. I wish you the best.

  If you’re not dissuaded, then one more word before we begin.

  This is the continuation of the story of William James and his ladies as they come to terms with being a family together and learning what is happening in the unseen world. There is an appendix that summarizes the events of the first book in the series, Ghost Story. Ghost Story set the stage for the rest of the series, so I definitely recommend you read Ghost Story before you read Den of Iniquity.

  1

  Building bonds

  (Ten days after Labor Day - Tomlinson Residence, Prescott, Arizona)

  We are all sitting in the living room of Dan and Maria’s house. Rebecca made dinner, and now I’m sitting in an armchair counting myself lucky I turned down a third helping of the pot roast she made. I should have stopped after the first.

  Marissa’s parents are visiting Maria’s sister in Austin, so we are all house-sitting for another four days.

  Rebecca walks in and hands me a glass of wine. She says “I’m so glad Bernadette delayed by a week. We would have missed this opportunity to be alone together this weekend. Our family is so new that any time we have alone together is a good thing.”

  I nod and smile at her as I take the offered wine glass. “It is lovely to spend quiet, relaxing time with you all.”

  Rebecca says, “It’s too bad Audrey couldn’t come up to join us. Having a little extra time together before running down to the Den of Iniquity would have been a good thing.”

  “Den of iniquity, huh?” I grin up at her as she leans over for a kiss. I release her lips. “I’m not sure why Bernadette delayed a week, but it has been nice to have free run of Maria’s and Dan’s home. I’m so itchy to move into our house I can hardly stand it.”

  Rebecca sits on my lap carefully. “Me too, husband. Our own home with all of us together - it’s more than I ever dreamed of. Has Bernadette still not given you any indication of what she needs you to help with?”

  I shake my head gently. “It’s not that easy. She doesn’t want to talk about the crafts or her world on an unsecured phone line. I don’t blame her. I’m pretty certain the NSA records everything said on open communication channels.”

  Rebecca clarifies, “NSA? That’s the government surveillance agency?”

  I nod. “That’s right. The ‘National Security Agency.’ If the Church is as rabid about demons and necromancers as Audrey said, I’m sure the Vatican has some kind of relationship with the NSA to get alerts about anything they are interested in. That’s the same reason I didn’t give her specifics on the phone of what I needed for your and Josie’s identity papers. All I know is that when she called she said ‘Shryl needs to go home.’ I’m guessing maybe that’s the demon Vanessa is hosting.”

  Rebecca asks, “Shryl?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Vanessa’s aura is red, just like Bernadette’s. They don’t look the same, but Vanessa is such a sensual woman I doubt she could be anything other than a succubus. I’ll need to have Audrey school me. So I’m guessing Shryl is the succubus Vanessa is hosting.”

  Josie sticks her head out of the pass-through from the kitchen. “Mom? Can you come here for a minute? I want to make sure we packaged the leftovers properly. You know how lost I am in here.”

  Rebecca presses her tongue into my willing mouth before she gracefully slides off my lap. Rebecca’s sway as she walks away is an open invitation. My formerly spectral lover is starting to get some curves, and I must say I’m very impressed. She’s turned from a shy girl into a confident, flirtatious woman rapidly. Her insistence on taking care of all of us has earned her the nickname of ‘Mom’ from Josie and Marissa. Despite her early protests, I think she’s growing into it. I look forward to finding out how she deals with children.

  Rebecca stops at the door to the kitchen and looks seductively at me over her shoulder. My cock immediately twitches and fills. She disappears into the kitchen with a smile knowing exactly the effect she has on me.

  To distract myself, I check emails on my phone. One gets my attention immediately. It’s from my brother-in-law, Roger Banks.

  Hello Will,

  I thought I should give you an update on Allison’s condition. I feel terrible that I keep putting you off when you call, but Allie just doesn’t have the energy.

  Allie had the third chemo infusion last week. She’s even more weak than the last time and the nerve damage has gotten to the point that she can barely manage to sit up in bed. It’s drained the strength from her limbs, and it hurts her to walk. When she has enough energy to talk, she says she’s convinced the chemo is killing her faster than the cancer is. I’m inclined to agree with her.

  Allie is going to quit chemo. She says she would rather die from the cancer than the chemo. She acknowledges she will likely die within six months of stopping the treatment, but she has had enough. I want her to beat this, but watching her suffer is tearing me apart. I am going to support her decision, but I probably will be one of those miserable fucks who dies of a broken heart after his spouse dies.

  I thought you would like to know. If you can call before 11 a.m., your chances of Allie having enough energy to talk are better than in the afternoon. She really does want to talk to you. Honestly, if you can get a couple of days of vacation to visit, Allie and I would both love to see you again. The house is a wreck, but I’ll clean out the guest room. I think it would be better to visit now rather than closer to the end. Her current state is bad enough, I don’t think you want to remember Allie as she will be at the end.

  We miss you, brother. Hoping to hear from you soon. Allie sends her love.

  Love,

  Roger (and Allie)

  I hold the phone in my lap as I think about Allie’s first battle with cancer.

  All three ladies join me in the living room as I contemplate my sister’s fate.

  “I just received an email from Roger,” I tell them.

  “Your brother-in-law?�
� Rebecca asks.

  “Yes,” I confirm her memory. The ladies all sit, but they are all tensely sitting forward on their seats.

  I share what’s going on. “My sister, Allison, nearly died from her first bout of cancer. That was about three years ago when she discovered she had lymphoma. That first time they caught it at what they considered ‘stage 2.’ The cancer she contracted is one of the ten or so non-Hodgkin's varieties of lymphoma, and apparently it’s one of the worse ones. After eighteen months of intensive chemo, dietary, and radiation treatments they claimed they ‘cured’ her.” I appropriately leverage air quotes. “Unfortunately the ‘cure’ was only remission. They didn’t get it all, they just got all they could find.”

  I release a heavy sigh. “They found it again about four months ago as the cancer hit ‘stage 4.’

  Allie has had three of the nine chemo treatments planned. Her hair fell out after the first treatment, and it drained all of her energy. She has never rebounded. After the second treatment, nerve damage became apparent. She just had her third treatment last week, and Roger is saying the nerve damage leaves her muscles so weak and painful she can barely sit up in bed. He said she’s going to quit chemo.”

  Rebecca exclaims, “I should hope. The cure sounds worse than the disease. I can’t believe that healing crafts have degenerated to the point where the best answer is filling someone’s body with toxic chemicals. Apparently the current philosophy is ‘let’s poison you to kill a symptom and hope you survive!’ How did humanity get to this point?”

  I nod sadly, “I hear you, Baby. I’ve often wondered about that. Based on what Roger says in the email, it’s just too much for her to bear. How did your craft treat them?”

  She gives an ironic shrug. “We did some types better than others, but I can’t claim we did it particularly well. We treated them as weakness in the body’s ability to fight disease. We cut and cauterized the ones on the skin. Ones just under the surface of the skin like Marissa’s were one of the few reasons we would cut open a body. In all cases we gave cleansing tonics and tonics to strengthen the body's ability to fight disease and ease pain. In many cases we just helped them managed the symptoms.”

  “Yeah. I’ve read that cancer is essentially a result of a compromised immune response. Since it was on the internet, I took it with a rather large grain of salt, but it rings true regardless. The cells themselves are abnormal or mutated, and most of them grow fast to survive. Regardless, Allie is going to quit taking chemo, and she will probably be dead within six months.”

  Marissa sets her glass aside and crawls in my lap. She murmurs, “Thank you for saving me, Will.”

  I grimace. “I’m afraid it’s just in remission like Allie’s ‘cure.’ If we’re apart for more than a couple of weeks, will it come back?” She looks at me intensely as she considers that. I tell her, “Stand up and face me, my love.”

  Marissa dismounts my lap slowly and stands. She opens the sash of the floral, mid-thigh, silk robe she is wearing to drop it to the floor before assuming a pose right off the runway - on knee slightly bent and nearly empty of weight, arms relaxed at her sides. I focus to look at her with my recently-acquired second sight. I know where to look because I’ve felt the lump before. I immediately see a small dark spot of entropic, or ‘death,’ energy at the site of the lump. It’s much smaller than when I first felt it, but I’m horrified to see there are two more in the left breast and one in the right.

  I frown, and Marissa says, “Oh shit. That doesn’t look good.”

  I draw the death energy away from the original site. That reveals a small nodule that is burning hot with growth, or ‘life,’ energy more brightly than the rest of Marissa’s body. Even though I extracted the death energy, I can see the nodule encased in a thin layer of it that slowly grows out of the burning nodule.

  I look my beautiful gym rat in the eyes. “Honey, you have four nodules. Making love to you probably just drains them. I mean to kill them. May I experiment?”

  Marissa quietly responds, “O-ka-a-ay.”

  I start by holding my hand out in front of me to focus past the beautiful nude body of my lover. I’m tempted to touch the site of the lump, but I think I need to figure out how to draw it to me without touching it because my sister's chest is saturated with masses. I doubt either Allie or Roger would be particularly enthusiastic about me touching Allie’s chest.

  I explain to Josie as I go. “Josie, these are skills you should have too. Here’s what I’m doing. I am focusing on the mass of the lump and drawing the life energy out of it - all of it. That is leaving a small nodule of death energy marking where the tumor was. The corona of death energy from the nodule doesn’t seem to be spreading, so I think that is good enough for now. I am now pulling out the remnants of the death energy from that nodule. It may take several treatments to be certain.”

  Josie acknowledges my comments. “I see it, Will.”

  I plan to follow the same procedure on the two smaller ones inside of Marissa’s left breast. “These smaller ones are harder to capture because of how tiny they are. Plus they are surrounded by healthy, firm breast tissue. I am pulling out the death energy, and...that reveals a shiny pinpoint of bright, burning life. These would be easier to suck out if they were bigger.”

  Josie says, “We could try feeding them more life energy to make them grow, then kill them.”

  I shrug, “True, but I’m reticent to do that to people I care about. Lets try capturing the death energy and directing it inward towards the burning center.” I put my words to action. “Okay, that seems to have worked. Do you want to try the other one, Josie?”

  “Sure. Are you okay with that, Marissa?” Josie asks.

  “Sure, sweetie. Happy to be your practice dummy,” Marissa responds with a sardonic grin.

  As a result, Josie and I seem to have destroyed the rapidly growing, tiny nodules.

  “Josie, do you see the mass inside her right breast? It’s at the bottom of her breast, inside, close to the ribcage.”

  Josie confirms she’s acquired the target. “I see it, Will. It’s also going to be hard to capture. I will follow the same procedure as the last two, but I am going to pull most of the life energy out of it first. Is it my imagination, or is it actually bigger than the lump in the left breast?”

  I nod, “I think you’re right, Josie.” I watch Josie work. “It looks like you’ve gotten it all.” I turn to Rebecca, who is watching with fascination. “Were you able to see what we were doing?”

  “Yes, husband. It was fascinating,” Rebecca answers. “I could see the different textures of energy - bright, normal, and dark.”

  “Rebecca, can you create a tonic for Marissa that strengthens her immune system?”

  Rebecca nods. “Of course, Will. Healing herbs in a tea or tonic. It will generally enhance her overall health.”

  Marissa says, “Cancer tumors generally absorb sugar at a faster rate than the rest of the tissues in the body - that’s how PET scans work. Maybe I should do a low carb diet, too - at least avoid sugars.”

  I nod my agreement. “Yeah, those ‘energy bars’ you eat at the gym are full of sugar and carbs. You’d probably be better off eating some nuts for fast fuel.”

  “Maybe,” Marissa responds. “Most of the ones I eat have lots of nuts and nut butters in them, but you’re right - there is some basic sugar.” She turns to Rebecca. “Mom, maybe you and I can talk about what foods to eat to make me stronger, too.”

  “Certainly, sweetie. Mrs. Leuvenfeld always taught me that food is medicine,” my lithe little witch says.

  Marissa says, “Well, I think that can wait until tomorrow. I’m already dressed for bed. Would one of you join me and fuck me silly?”

  Josie, Rebecca, and I all stand up quickly and raise our hands.

  Marissa folds her hands at the top of her cleavage. “All this love for me? Well...okay.” She picks up her robe and wine glass. She kisses my lips gently. “Please shut off the lights, love.” She winks at
me and leads the other ladies out to the guest house.

  The next morning, I get up early before the ladies and gently slide out from under Rebecca. She’s taken to sleeping on top of me to make room for Marissa and Josie beside me. It took some getting used to, but I’m getting to the point I find it comforting. I used to sleep better alone, but now I have a hard time sleeping if I’m not covered by my ladies.

  I take care of fluid management and pull on some workout togs - shorts and t-shirt. Then I grab a fresh glass of water before sitting in the small living room to call Allie and Roger.

  “Hello Roger. Will here. How’s our girl today?”

  “Allie is doing okay so far today, Will. I’m taking her a cup of bouillon. Hold on while I head back to the bedroom.”

  I hear Roger walking through the house and setting a cup down.

  “Here you go, Love. I also have your brother on the phone.”

  I hear a weak, “Oh! Will!”

  “I have you on speaker, Will. Allie’s here.”

  “Hello, Will. How are you?” Her voice is barely louder than a whisper.

  I respond, “Worried about you, Sissi! I miss you. I need to give you a big hug and make you better!”

  (Weak laughter and coughing) “Oh! That’s exactly what I need! Those doctors should have prescribed that!”

  “I understand from Roger’s email that you are telling the doctor’s to fuck off. Good for you, Sissi!”

  “I just can’t take it any longer, Will. The chemo is killing me. The cancer is actually killing me slower. I’ll take my chances with the cancer.”

  “Hey, Sissi. Would it be okay if I came out to visit? I’d really like to see you before you get worse. I have something this weekend in Phoenix, but I could fly out Sunday morning. I’ll bring my girlfriend along and work while you nap. Is that okay?”