The bright golden sun bounced off of the buildings, making Scott glad he’d brought sunglasses. He stared at the Metatech HQ building three blocks down, shining in the sinking sun. Closing his eyes wasn’t an option though, as if he did the building would only be clearer behind his eyelids.

When they had arrived yesterday in the helicopter, they’d made their base in a nearby hotel and Cross had immediately thrown him in the shower. That wasn’t hyperbole either, she’d thrown him in and threatened to wash him herself unless he scrubbed clean and ate the meal she was ordering from room service. After he relented, feeling much more refreshed they’d gone out to reconnoiter the building. Crenshaw had gotten satellite photos and the security guards’ shift schedules. Cross escorted Scott to the building itself, which had been suspiciously disconcerting. For such a supposed magical hotbed, there was nothing unusual about it. Up until they had gotten close.

Donning baseball caps, Cross had guided him to the building undetected by the security cameras, and as soon as he’d examined the relief above the door he instantly saw what they had done.

“Everyone’s here. We’re ready to begin.” Cross said, poking her head in the door.

“Right, let’s do this.” Scott nodded. She waved in five men, all extremely fit with short or shaved hair, followed by Crenshaw.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice. As most of you know, I am Agent Crenshaw, and this is my partner Agent Cross. This is our special agent and consultant, Scott Havenbrook. Special Agent Havenbrook, these are Agents Hewett, Price, Williams, Loomis, and Macher.” he said, gesturing to each in turn.

“Hi there. Nice to meet’cha.” Scott said.

“Uh, Crenshaw? What the hell’s going on? He’s a kid.” Williams asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Rest assured, this child is more than equipped to help us. He will be debriefing us on the supernatural defenses of the Metatech building and joining us in the raid.” Crenshaw said, to eye rolols and subtle snorts of dismissal.

“Yeah right. Like that kid can help.” Price muttered with derision. Suddenly, the kid was in his face, grinning brightly.

“Hi there. I don’t wanna step on any toes, but I’m here now, so let’s start off on the right foot, at least. I’m Scott.” he said, offering a hand.

“Vinnie.” the agent said briskly, shaking his clammy hand. Scott grinned and pulled back, but Price was still shaking…he looked down to see a disembodied hand in his. As his eyes widened, Arnold Palmer climbed up his arm to rest on his shoulder, to the shouts and screams of the men. Cross rubbed her temples.

“All of you, stand down!” Crenshaw barked, seeing them reach for their weapons. Scott grinned wider.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly, gentlemen. My name is Scott, and I am a necromancer.” Arnold flipped Agent Price off and leapt back onto Scott’s shoulder. “The dead are mine to control and command. Now, if we’re through with my credentials, I believe detective Cross has a debriefing for us.” He nodded to the exasperated woman, and she sighed as she pulled up the presentation on the laptop for the stunned commandos.

“Don’t worry, the kid knows what to do. You’ll get used to working with ghosts and stuff soon enough. Now, our target is the Metatech Pharmaceutical company headquarters. Security is tight, as to be expected, but the primary focus is to look out for and apprehend intruders in small groups or lone agents, not a dedicated task force. While I imagine regular doors won’t prove to be too much of a problem, from the data we’ve been able to gather indicates steel security doors an inch thick.”

“So what is the objective?” Agent Hewett asked.

“The capture of all upper-level Metatech staff. Primary target is Desmond Delacroix, the company president. He’ll be the toughest to get to, as he has a private elevator to his office, and rarely leaves. Our other targets are Doctor Phillip Howards, head of R&D, Rohir Samagan, head of Security, and Johan Fausto, head of Shipping and Distribution.” Cross said, showing them recent photos of each. Howards was a taller, thin man with longer hair and appointed face, staring dully through a pair of glasses. Samagan was a large, dark-skinned and scarred man with wild brown dreadlocks and a sullen glare, while Fausto was a short man with nearly a buzzcut, average build with a standard button-down shirt and tie. “Unfortunately, with the time available we weren’t able to pull up much background information on them, and only what official public record has to say about Desmond Delacroix.” She clicked to his photo, showing the large, handsome man with long hair pulled back in a ponytail and goatee, waving to the cameras in an exquisitely tailored dark green suit. “Supposedly a self-made billionaire, he dropped out of college in 1981 and reappeared in 1984, founding Metawave Pharmaceuticals. Business boomed until 1993, when they absorbed several smaller medical companies to become Metatech. If you’ve taken aspirin in the last two decades, you have their product.” she said sourly.

“Whit, this guy was born in the sixties?” Agent Loomis asked. “He doesn’t look forty, let alone past fifty.”

“Either he gets a lot of work done, or it’s something our consultant will have to cover. Speaking of which, while normal security defenses aren’t much to worry about, that’s not all there is. Kid?” She nodded to Scott, and he stepped forward.

“Thanks. The building itself is simple, but the construction of it wasn’t. Above the door is a bas-relief of the Greek gods in Olympus, Zeus, Hera, Athena, Hephaestus, and so on. However,” he clicked the next image forward. “Each one is posed strangely. Notice anything?” They stared at the picture, gods feasting around a table among the clouds, the bearded Zeus in the center, an orb representing the sun above him. Every god was reveling, throwing their arms in the air or emphatically orating.

“Hmm, something does seem off…vaguely familiar…” Agent Hewett said.

“It should. Every arm seen here is one of the phases of the moon.” Scott said, clicking to a lunar chart superimposed in the relief. “The new moon being exempt, and Hades is missing from the picture. This carving is the overseer of magic in the building. Cross and I found sigils encased in cement on each corner of the building, designed to harvest the energy along the leylines, and from satellite photos there’s one on the roof to collect the moon’s influence. There are sigils pointed in on each ordinal direction as well, to help stabilize and prevent reality from ripping itself apart due to the stress placed on it. That means we have to be very, very careful in assaulting the place, otherwise the entire array could collapse in on itself and open up a building-size hole in the dimensions straight to hell. I mean that literally, daemons could start pouring out, and I doubt anyone wants that to happen anywhere, much less one of the most populated cities in the world.” An uncomfortable silence followed his warning.

“So how do we proceed then?” Agent Williams said.

“Glad you asked! Now, ordinarily an assault would go through the front door, but if you tried you’d set off every ward and alarm in the place, and the caster would have your location fixed in his mind, no cameras required. However, due to my flawless mastery of magic, I can open a small hole in the wards, giving us an undetected in. That will not last long, so we’ll have to move fast. Unfortunately, cameras mounted to my zombie birds couldn’t get clear shots of the inside. It’s not my specialty, but my guess is the inside’s warded and protected against scrying and surveillance. I’m sure there will be more traps and guards than the mundane ones, so our priorities are the east staircase and our targets are on the 55th, 63rd, and top floor, where bossman is. I’d like to go in from the back or roof, but I counted at least four stone gargoyles on the roof, and with the degree of magic emanating from the place I’d bet they can be animated, and I don’t have three weeks, a virgin and sixteen goats to break through the doors. So we’re headed in through the basement where the wards are weakest. The eastern stairwell is the least protected, so we head up to the offices from there. I have no doubt security will be there too, so we’ll have to move quick enough so they can’t get their bearings.” Scott explained.

“What kind of equipment are we getting? A strike this size requires heavy firepower.” Williams asked Crenshaw.

“Standard type B equipment is insufficient, so Washington has sent us type C equipment.” he said. The men’s eyes lit up and they began to chatter excitedly.

“That’s great, but there’s only five of us. Id that going to be enough of a force to do all this?” Hewett pointed out.

“No, it’s not. And Agent Cross will be staying behind to coordinate from the van. She’s the least used to tactical assaults like this among us.”

“I was a detective, not a leatherneck. The kid will be with you though.” she piped up. The men’s gazes turned to the teenager, the thinnest, sickliest one there, then back to her.

“You serious?” Macher said. “Even if he can do that magic crap, he’s still an untrained civilian. And he doesn’t look in, uh, the best of shape.” he said delicately.

“My thoughts exactly, gentlemen. However, we aren’t afforded the luxury of being choosy in this. Agent Crenshaw informs me there are thousands of Taboo users around the world, and this has to be the supplier. I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but I also have a bone to pick with them. Get it? Bone? ‘Cause I’m a…nevermind.” Scott coughed at seeing everyone’s stony expressions. “I am necessary to get through the defenses, plus I am bringing the remainder of the team.”

“Remainder?” Price asked, and Scott went over and opened up the closet and bathroom. Out came five zombies, all looking much bigger and out of proportion to a normal human. The agents shifted nervously, but as they made no moves, it was much easier to keep calm. The undead had glassy eyes and grey, stitched-together skin that barely covered them and, as Agent Hewett examined one closer, didn’t.

“These are my latest, greatest creations, zombified humans with the muscle fibers of four others grafted to their frames, reinforced with steel rods and Kevlar and ceramic plating instead of organs. They’re a tad on the unmaneuverable side, but their sheer power makes up for it by a wide margin.” Scott said, smirking. “I had to consolidate all of my zombies into these, but now I have the perfect bodyguards, literal meatshields that can fight rhinos and win. They will be dressed and kitted out same as you, and they will go in first. I’d rather not have to try and resurrect one of you in the middle of the mission. Any questions?” The agent looked at Cross, Crenshaw, the zombies, and each other.

“Ya know, I can’t speak for everyone,” Agent Williams said, getting up and poking one of the zombies. “But I’ve been around, put down a few ghosts and ghoulies, and never had an easy time of it. Most of the time I’ve had to resort to blowing entire buildings away when I encounter things that go bump in the night. But now we got ‘em on our side?” He grinned at the necromancer. “When do we start?”

“Glad to hear it. The operation begins at 20:00 hours, I expect you to be ready. Be careful, most of the workers leave, but there will be some on second and third shifts yet.” Crenshaw said, taking over. “I will be along as well, in a command position. Mr. Havenbrook will be commanding his…units, so he is to have a full guard at all times. We’re going in blind, and I’d rather have as few surprises as possible.”

“I’ll have additional zombies with me, I’ll need some of the equipment then.” Scott said, and the agent nodded.

“Very well. Agent Cross, Williams, if you would please help him prepare? As for the rest of you, get some rest, and I advise you to pray to whatever god you believe in. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

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The full moon was once again bright as it hung low over the city, the sun dropping with Scott’s mood as he stared out the van. The decrepit funk he’d been in had been…lessened, but not erased, by the presence of Riley and Connor. He’d unexpectedly had fun teaching them. It was a bright spot in the black hole his life had become. But now, as the prospect of another fight loomed over him, that grey dismal blanket covering him had given way to a burning feeling, like hot ash before a volcano is about to erupt. His skin prickled as they parked.

“Okay, I’ve cleared the operation with the police, we’re good to go.” Crenshaw said, putting on his helmet.

“You ready, kid?” Cross’s voice came from the communicator in his ear. He snapped his fingers and the zombies rose. He stood up too, shaking, though from nerves and fear or anticipation and anger he could not tell.

“Ready.” He licked his lips, adjusting his gear. He was dressed in a tactical assault uniform like the other agents and zombies, and though the armor was reassuring it was heavy and kept him balanced oddly.

“Let’s move!” The doors were flung open, and they dashed out, Williams and Loomis in front, securing the door as Scott approached flanked by his zombies.

“Ooo-kay.” He drew the chalk form his special thigh holster, expertly drawing a circle on the garage door surrounded by faintly glowing runes that made the agents next to it break out in goosebumps. “Just a little…hmmm.” He paused, then drew a wider circle around the first, then drew a chalk outline around the door. He’d only meant to open a hole, but now that he was here he saw the entire entranceway could be unsealed. Crenshaw heard him heave, watching him struggle as h lifted his arm to draw. “Essrap…e-essrap k-kawoouuun et lam-magos, est en doum v-vita…” he chanted quietly, sweating.

“Are you okay?” Agent Price asked.

“Oh, fine. J-Just opening up a barrier th-the size of a building is all.” he said, slowly making another marking and stumbling as the metaphysical forces twisted, flowing around the door instead of covering it. “Alright. God to go.” Price and Hewett cut the lock, and set the C4.

“Everyone clear!” They retreated away and a moment later the boom tore a gaping hole in the metal. “Go! Go! Go!” Crenshaw shouted. They stormed in, ordering frightened employees on the ground and shooting tires of delivery trucks.

“What is going on here!” a dark-skinned, dreadlocked man bellowed, striding out of an office up a cement ramp, leading to a staircase. Rohir was promptly tackled by two agents and a zombie.

“On the ground!”

“Don’t let him up!”

“Cuff him!” With the zombie holding tight and gunbarrels at his back, the head of security was quickly subdued and handcuffed to the ramp’s railing. “Target secure!”

“Leave him here for now, prime targets are ahead.” Crenshaw ordered. “Into the staircase. Williams, stay behind to guard him and get the civilians out of here, see what you can find out from the office. Move!” Agent Williams saluted and they moved on. Marching onto the stairs, their boots thudded relentlessly as they ascended. Scott, being the least athletic, was riding one of his zombies piggyback-style.

“The target floor is just ahead. Shipping office is on your left, R&D office is on the right.” Cross said, examining the blueprints and department locations.

“Roger.” Crenshaw said. “Havenbrook and three zombies with me on the left, two zombies and other agents on the right, you know your targets.”

“This’s too easy.” Price said, voicing the misgivings he felt, and the uneasy vibe they all felt.

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” Scott said, and after reaching the 55th floor they busted the door open, startling a secretary carrying a stack of papers. Guns were raised as they were sent flying, and the team rushed in.

“Advance and protect your unit.” Scott ordered the zombies, and they broke off, watching heads pop over cubicles and duck back down immediately.

“Remain calm! This is a raid! We are with the FBI! No one panic, we’re not here for everyone! Please quickly and calmly assemble an orderly line for evacuation!” Crenshaw shouted, running along the outer wall where the bigger offices were, for the heads of the departments. Speaking of which, Dr. Howards poked his head out the door, took one look at the approaching agents and ran off, pell-mell to a door at the end of the hall.

“There he is! Don’t let him get away!” Scott said, pointing. The zombies sprinted after him as fast as their enhanced legs could, but the doctor was simply too far away and slipped through.

“We are in pursuit of Dr. Howards! Arrest Fausto and rejoin us when you’re done!” Crenshaw said into his comm.

“Roger!” Loomis said, and they kicked down the door of Shipping and Distribution. Johan Fausto blinked owlishly at them, looking up from a stack of papers.

“Uh, hi?” he squeaked, glancing at them fearfully.

“Don’t move! You are under arrest!” Price bellowed, and Macher and Hewett grabbed an arm, Loomis moving in to cuff him and the zombies training their guns on him.

“W-What’s going on? What did I do?” Fausto said, bent forward so his arms were cuffed behind his back.

“Well get you a lawyer later. Loomis, stand guard and search for evidence. Williams, come in. Is our other target still secure?” Hewett asked over the comm.

“Sure is.” the agent said, glancing at the sullen man with his arms cuffed behind a railing through the plastic window. “I’m in the office now. There’s not much here, but there is a shipping schedule, and Taboo’s on it, plain as can be. Looks like they make three deliveries a day, two nationally and one truckload on planes for a buncha foreign countries.” While he was rummaging through the desk, he turned his back on Rohir. So he missed the man’s grin, revealing pointed, shark-like teeth.

“Fausto is captured, Crenshaw and the kid are in pursuit of the good doctor now.” Hewett said, when Cross cut in.

“If the other targets are secure, reinforce them now! The stairs Howards went through lead to the R&D lab, we have no idea what they’re cooking up in there!” she cried, looking over the schematics.

“Roger. Should I head up? He’s not going anywhere.” Williams asked.

“Stay at your post, I’ll send Loomis down with Fausto so you can escort them back to the van, then regroup with us.” Hewett said.

“Roger. I’ll-” There was a crash, a burst of static, and Williams’ comm went dead.

“Williams? Williams! Do you read me!?” Hewett barked.

“What do we do now?” Price asked.

“You can all die, for one.” Fausto piped up. He sat up quickly, and the zombies opened fire. Fausto sighed as the lead crumpled on his invisible shield. “That damn fool Samagan jumped the gun again. Like usual.” He cracked his neck. The zombies tried to tackle him, but even with all their strength they couldn’t break through the barrier to get him. “Do you mind? Seeaas.” He flicked his hand out, and the zombies were sliced in half, blood and armor flying everywhere. The other agents were backing away, guns pointed at him.

“What are you!” Loomis screamed. Fausto smiled evilly.

“A nightmare, come to claim you.” Wings unfurled as his skin darkened to a burnt red, threads and buttons strained and burst as muscle was revealed and his form swelled, though not growing taller. Sixteen dark horns punctured through the skin on his head, trailing down his back. A long, serpentine tongue flicked across two rows of razor-sharp teeth. The daemon stretched and cracked his neck. “Ooh. It’s good to work my body again.”

“Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh!” Bullets sprayed as Fausto sprang forward, clawing savagely at Loomis with the talons on his fingers. His body armor was of little use, tearing apart like balsa wood under the attack with a spray of gore.

“Die!” Hewett placed his assault rifle on Fausto’s head and placed a bullet directly into his flesh. The daemon grinned and put a finger on Hewett’s hip.

“No, you.” The bullet flew out of his finger, tearing through Hewett’s side. The agent gasped and collapsed, bleeding profusely. “You thought I’d be an easy mark, didn’t you?” Fausto said, cracking his knuckles. “Pathetic mortals. This is why you deserve subjugation, to prevent you from being this stupid! I’ll rip you to pieces with my bare hands!” He grabbed Agent Price and threw him through the wall into a cubicle. He groaned as plaster fell around him, struggling to get up. Fausto smirked and strode forward, when something grabbed his ankle. He looked down to see one of the men he’d sliced in half moan and crawl closer.

“What the-” The zombie grabbed him and started to climb up his body, trying to attack. “Get off!” He tried to pry the creature away from him, but its’ grip was far stronger than he’d expected. “You-”

“Here!” Agent Macher slammed the other zombie torso onto Fausto’s back, grappling and trying to rip the daemon’s head off. While he was distracted, the still living members of the team limped away, Macher helping Hewett.

“Crenshaw, come in. Do you read me, Crenshaw? Havenbrook?” he pleaded into the comm.

“Do luck, they’ve been dark the last three minutes.” Cross said worriedly. “Tell me what’s happening. I heard gunshots and screams.”

“We found a monster. Fausto was some kind of devil-looking thing. We lost Loomis when he attacked.” Price said, hurrying as fast as he could limp.

“William’s gone quiet too. We’re retreating for now.” Hewett gasped, then hung limp. “W-We’re n-no good if w-we die.”

“What…what about the kid? And Crenshaw?” Price said as they collapsed into the elevator.

“They knew the risks. We’ll come back after we drop him off and re-equip.” Macher said, pointing at Hewett.