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“I have risen thee from the chains of death, thou whom once was dead. You belong to me and shall obey my will, until I release thee and back to the ground thou shalt go,” Anna told the man who was once a ghost, reciting his proper rights. The man locked his glassy eyes on her and growled, and then bursting into a crouching stance on top of the alter with inhuman quickness, murder was written on his pasty, pale features.

“You,” It spat out in a hiss.

“In the flesh,” Anna said with a smirk, waving a hand down the length of her body. The man-ghost let out a gargling cry and charged at her, only to be flung backwards, onto the center of the alter.

“It's no use,” said Ruth, still sitting on the ground. She was unable to break the circle she was a part of, or else the ghost could leave it. “You are locked inside that alter and cannot leave it. You must do as the young Necromancer commands,” she told him pointedly.

“Well, then,” he growled, and Anna thought she could detect a southern accent in his voice. “Your wish is my command,” he said grudgingly as he bent from the waist in a deep, mocking bow.

“Good,” Anna said sternly, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “What were you called before you died, your name?”

“I was known as John Passel,” he lolled lazily.

“Okay, John, who is Demitri?” She asked, knowing that he was forced to answer her.

“Demitri is my master, and will one day be yours,” he said lightly, but his words were laced with an ominous tone. A sardonic grin formed on his lips, giving him an evil and sinister look about him. Not that a living corpse didn't already have those attributes.

“Where is Demitri?”

“I don't know.”

Anna sighed. “What is Demitri planning to do?”

John's face scrunched up in pain, and a look of defiance glinted in his glassy eyes. He was trying to fight against her control, she realized. At last though, he gave in, submitting to the power. His shoulders slumped and his chin fell to his chest. “He plans to acquire the Liber de quo Mortum,” he said quietly.

A collective, soft gasp sounded throughout the room, but Anna felt confused, not knowing what that was, what he was talking about. She thought about the words Liber de quo Mortum and realized it was latin. She worked through the translation silently in her head, finding herself once again grateful for the years of studying the language, and came to the conclusion that the words roughly meant Book of the Dead.

Anna shot Ruth a look over her shoulder and saw that she looked ghastly pale in the candle light, and her eyes were wide in horror. “Anna, why don't you let me ask a couple questions,” Ruth suggested, staying seated on the ground.

Anna bobbed her head in agreement, stepping to the side so she wasn't standing in between the dead man and Ruth. “What does this Demitri want with the book?” She asked in a tight voice.

“I don't have to answer to you,” the man said mulishly with a sneer.

“What does Demitri want with the book?” Anna asked impatiently, her voice decorated with anger.

The man glared at her. “He plans to raise an army of the dead, but he needs the book to do that,” John said with venom in his voice. A cold hand gripped Anna's heart. Raise an army of the dead?

The room became so silent that Anna couldn't even hear a breath uttered, and she assumed that everyone, like herself, felt like they couldn't breathe. “How-” her voice came out in an unpleasant croak. She cleared her throat before talking again. “How many does he plan to raise?”

The man raised an eyebrow, but it wasn't him that answered the question. “If he gets the book,” Ruth began, her voice shaky, but then paused. Anna turned around and saw that her mentor looked more afraid then she'd ever seen her before. “There wouldn't be a limit as to how many he could raise; he would raise thousands,” she finished at last in a whisper.

“This Demitri must plan on attacking the institute in order to get the book,” a necromancer who aided in making up the circle said with bewilderment in his voice. Anna thought that his name was Daniel. “But he will need a small army to do that,” he mused aloud, almost to himself. Suddenly he looked up at the ghost-man, meeting his gaze dead on. “How many dead can Demitri raise and control at once right now?” He asked.

“I don't have to answer - ”

“Answer the question!” Anna snapped.

“Eighty.”

Again, the room was stunned into silence. “He can't be doing this alone, he has to be getting help from other necromancers,” a woman-Necro piped up hesitantly, disturbed by the thought.

Ruth nodded slowly. “Yes,” she agreed, looking up at Anna. “Ask him who's helping Demitri,” she advised. Anna repeated the question, the unspoken command that he must answer rang clearly in her words.

“I don't know the names of those who aided him,” the man-ghost said with a sigh. He paused and shook his head. “Nor did I see them,” he continued, shrugging a shoulder.

“But someone was helping him?” Anna pressed.

“I believe so,” answered the man.

“Okay, so we know that this Demitri guy needs the Liber de quo Mortum so he can raise an army of the dead and essentially rule the world,” Anna recapitulated, pacing back and forth. The man standing on the alter watched her movements, his eyes shifted slowly from side-to-side, following her. “We know that he is capable of raising and controlling eighty dead at one time,” she continued, “and he may or may not have help.”

“There's only one piece of important information that we're missing,” Jack said deliberately. She stilled her pacing and crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest, wanting this whole thing to be over. Jack held the attention of everyone in the room, all of the Necromancers eyes were trained on him. He let out a sigh, leaning forward. “When will Demitri strike?”

The ghost-man cracked a toothy grin, laughing. He responded to Jack's question with glee, and the answer was given without the need of a command from his raiser. “Right now.”