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"Dr. Drumm, there's a body."

Shelly looked up from the papers on her desk to look at the man in front of her. Steve Johnson was a nondescript guy who worked at the coroner's office. He'd been in one of her seminar's six months ago when she was a visiting instructor speaking to various city medical employees about the human body. He also happened to have a large magickal gash on his soul, courtesy of some manner of black magic that had been thrust upon him in his youth. Shelly didn't know what, precisely, but he had recognized immediately what she was. Since then any suspicious dead body he came across at the morgue ended up in a visit to her office.

She really wished he'd learn to call.

"Fine. I'll be down to the morgue in twenty..."

"She's not in the morgue." He cut her off and it was then that Shelly noticed the fear in his voice. "This is the address. Please don't ask me how I know."

A card was passed. Shelly drew her eyes over it and nodded, dismissing Mr. Johnson. She needed no more from him. The darkness that pulled at the corners of reality told her that he'd already risked much just to do this.

Ten minutes later, Shelly Drumm made the scene, kneeling beside the body discarded like so much trash.

If she wasn't a necromancer, the stench of a Bad Death would have thrown her to the ground. This, without a doubt, was a Very Bad Situation.