#only found this cos I'm going through my writing files and moving everything to google docs after the scare my laptop gave me

[spectre-writes]

They pulled out of the driveway with a crunch of gravel and Delia spared her old home a last, cursory glance before it was left behind for good, like so many before. The landscape blurred into a rush of distant houses and carefully trimmed gardens. Given the direction they were traveling she suspected they were headed for the city.

“You know,” she remarked, tearing herself away from the window, “your knack for timing is superb.”

“Is it? Such a pity it doesn't run in the family. It's been almost a year you know, perhaps it's wistful thinking but I would have expected better than a single phone call from my dear sister.” She could see Christine's face reflected in the edge of the rear-view mirror. A delicate frown, but the faint upward twitch of her lips suggested her irritation wasn't enough to spur a real argument.

Delia waved her words away. “I've been busy. Are you aware a couple of thugs attempted to kill me not minutes ago?”

“Never a dull moment in your life it seems. No, I was not aware, though I knew something was up when you walked up to us dressed like that with your bag in tow. You only wear those rags if you know you're going to make a mess. I suppose it's safe to assume they're both dead?”

“Naturally,” she said. She stretched out on the backseat, ignoring the creak of fresh leather and finding a position that eased her aches and bruises. “It's good to see you again. I think it would save us a lot of time however if you cut to the chase because we both know this isn't a social call. What do you want?”

Christine's frown deepened. “I was getting to that part.”

“If it has anything to do with the family business-”

“Oh please, the family business functions quite well without you and it has done for years, however crippling that may be to your ego. This is my own agenda. I'm here to offer a... mutually beneficial venture.”

“Really?” Delia raised a skeptical brow. Christine was not, strictly speaking, one for 'ventures'. Her little sister had the enviable position of already having acquired everything she wanted out of life – a fortune and a perfect, happy family of her own. There was little more for her to gain and too much to lose, even her business arrangement with their old family only stretched so far as money laundering and social posturing these days. What circumstances could change that she didn't know.

“Hear me out.” Christine turned, peering over the back of the seat in an oddly girlish manner. “What if I told you that there was a gun...”

“I would ask you what other riveting plot points this story has.”

“Don't interrupt my dramatic pauses. Now, this gun... it uses necromancy.”

Delia snorted.

“I'm completely serious,” Christine insisted, “it uses necromancy as well as bullets. Those it kills it instantly brings back under the command of the wielder.”

“Utter garbage,” Delia said in exasperation, “necromancy just doesn't work that way. You can't raise spirits just by firing a gun, you have to reel them in... and tie them back to the body if you want that too. It takes time and precision. I suppose you could transfer command to the gun wielder with a good enough contract but that's hardly going to be quick either and  contracts are best reserved for specific situations, you have to narrow down the terms very tightly. A weapon like... like this mythical gun of yours, modern theory just wouldn't account for it.”

“I have no interest in what theory accounts for, what matters is that it's real. And it is. Well, the prototype anyway.”

Delia stared at her for a long, scornful moment.

“Honestly, do you think I would drive all the way out here just to lie to you about this?”

“We were raised to lie.”

“Yes, but apply some common sense to the matter. What could I possibly gain by lying to my darling sister? I know your natural instinct is to deny the possibility of anything your own knowledge refutes, but try to be open minded. Science experiences breakthroughs every decade, is it so strange the magic would follow the same pattern?”

“If... hypothetically, I was to believe you, what is your proposition?”

Christine smiled. She knew how to perfect a smile, to begin slowly and let it unfurl like a stretching cat. “I thought that would be obvious. I intend to procure it, and it's only natural I should bring a necromancer with me since it's a little out of my field. I thought you might appreciate the opportunity to... expand your research. I know you Delia, you're never happy without something to chase after. What do you say? Care for a little family adventure?”

“You're being very presumptuous,” she said, but she couldn't deny her own interest. If such a gun did exist... well, it was revolutionary. All her years of work, all her study, her research, experiments... and someone else discovered this? She was furious. Yet, if she pushed past the indignity of it there was a burning sense of excitement. If the gun were real, she would have it. Who else deserved it but her? Who else had earned the right? She would decipher its workings and put that knowledge to her own uses. It would give her a leg up on everyone else in the field. Still, some old caution urged her to ask, “One question, what do you want with the gun? It's very out of character for you.”

“Oh that's simple,” replied Christine, “ask yourself how this gun might fare in war.”

“Very well I would expect.”

“Exactly. You would not eliminate your enemies, you would add them to your own force. It has some cataclysmic potential, and I for one do not intend to let it loose. I enjoy living a relatively peaceful existence and I can guarantee that were this weapon on the market one country or another would feel confident enough to push the current unrest into actual conflict. I'm protecting my own interests, and those of my family. War is not what we desire.”

Delia measured her expression carefully but it did little good, it would only show what Christine wanted her to see - while she liked to consider herself an accomplished liar her sister had always been the better. However, unlike their other two siblings they had never been at odds. So, as Christine herself had said, what purpose could she possibly have for lying now? An interesting question.

“Alright. You'll have to give me the details but for the moment I'm in.”

Her sister beamed. “I knew you couldn't resist. We'll pick up some supplies on our way to the hotel since you seem to be traveling light, then I'll introduce you to some of the team.”

“There's a team?”

“Don't sound so disgusted, you didn't think we'd be doing this alone did you? I've hired some help, professional sorts to handle the work we're less familiar with. You'll have to wait until tomorrow for the last two to be here but it might be best to meet the others first.”

“Ah joy, socializing.”

“Make a game of it,” Christine said, “ just don't get too carried away. We'll be working with these people not trying to find a way to pin them down and turn them into a tool, they're quite happy with the money I'm offering.”

“I'm sure they are, you have a fortune to play with.”

“I'd have offered some to you but I figured you'd find it insulting.”

“Correct.”

“How was is you put it?” Christine coughed, and continued in a theatrical tonne. “'I will work with others, but I will not work for others'. Typical Delia.”

“You think anyone in our family is different?” she said. “We're all too accustomed to being at the top, getting what we want, not having to cater to others. A king will not scrub floors, and I'm certainly not taking time out of my day to get bossed around.”

“What you need is a little humility... but let's not get into that, I'm not here to lecture you on your faults.”

“No, you're here to coerce me into a heist. Some might say that makes you the bad one,” she remarked, with a faint hint of a smirk.

“Ha! Well, say what you like, you're the black sheep of the family... and that's saying something. Surely you admire the irony of your situation Delia? Leaving a life of crime... to start a life of crime.”

She turned to stare out the window. “You know it wasn't the crime I objected to.”

“No...” Christine said with a sigh, “but you're going to ruin this conversation if you go down that path. Here I am, finally catching up with my sister after almost a year, don't we have more to discuss?”

“I suppose... how are Myra and Ben?”

“They're well... Ben started school a few months back. Myra wants a pony. They've both asked when you're going to visit.”

“Probably want presents.”

“Of course they want presents, they're children. Kids have a very parasitic view on relatives, especially those they only see once in a blue moon. Anthony asked about you too, but I think he just wants to be prepared if you make an appearance. You... unsettle him.”

“Does he know my profession?” Delia asked, glancing up at her sister again.

Christine shook her head. “No, I never told him. He suspects something, but he isn't sure quite what dubious business you're in. He's currently rather taken by the idea that you're an assassin.”

She couldn't help but smile at that. “Oh? Well you may tell him that I am very flattered but that the people I exercise my skill on are normally already dead.”

“Perhaps not. It might strike you as peculiar, but I think he'd be much happier with the idea of an assassin in the house than a necromancer.”

“Some people are incurably dull.”

“Careful. That's my husband you're talking about.”

“How forgetful of me,” she said distantly.

She caught that faint twitch as Christine fought down the urge to roll her eyes. Christine had done it all the time as a child, but as an adult she seemed to believe in a more refined behavior, even in the presence of her siblings. She hadn't stuck her tongue out at anyone in years.

“What about you though?” Christine asked. “What have you been up to?”

Delia enacted a shrug. “Trouble, mostly. It's hard for an honest necromancer to get by in a world like this... or a dishonest one, for that matter. I can spare a few anecdotes but on one condition...”

“And what might that be?”

“Find me a decent cup of coffee,” Delia said after deliberation. “This afternoon has been trying.”