Chapter 4 - Administrative Lich

Quitting is always hard for the Lich. There’s something about the last dregs of the soul that are particularly irresistible. It’s that sweet morsel of congealed nectar at the bottom of the skull, where all the syrup has thickened. That’s the prize bit. The Lich needs to scrape the sharp end of its tongue over that rind of bone to get to it, but when that final piece breaks loose and slips down its throat…

Ahhhh, bliss.

The patient raises one arm feebly as his final memory—the doe-eyed puppy on Christmas with the pink bow tie—goes slurping down the Lich’s icy maw. The patient fights to hold onto this last piece of nostalgia. His simpering lips plead with the Lich.

But there’s no stopping the meal once it’s started. The Lich is nothing is not a ravenous creature. And gluttony, after all, is sacred in the House of God.

The patient whimpers. The Lich’s teeth clamp tighter over his mouth, sucking down the last vestiges of saccharine soul. A filling meal, this one. The man’s memories are brimming with decadence and guilt— beautiful tenderized guilt—that serves as lip-smacking ambrosia on the Lich’s palate.

That final memory of the puppy at Christmas rips free with a sinewy snap. Then it’s done. The Lich tilts back its head and swallows, while the patient’s unmoving corpse-eyes stare blindly at the ceiling. There’s nothing left inside him.

The Lich straightens its creaking spine and wipes its teeth with the sleeve of its tattered robe. It floats to the door, leaving behind the molted husk of a human.

Outside the prison door, the hospital is humming with the rhythmic song of suffering. The beating, the chopping—all the familiar sounds of a house of healing. The Lich’s gangly, skeletal body drifts with euphoric indifference through this citadel of medicine, ignoring the bedlam of its rowdy patients and the furor of its many doctors.

The Lich keeps its silence. It’s best if no words are spoken to employees. The demon knows the chilling effect of its voice on underlings—the calamitous ruin visited upon unguarded minds by the mere whispering of its thoughts. Though secretly pleased by their deference, the Lich knows better than to abuse morale in the workplace. That singular pleasure is reserved for annual reviews.

With its belly full, the Lich ascends the lightning-lit stairs to the topmost floor of the hospital. There it traverses a long hallway to a single red door, where two words are etched on a plaque.

Administrative Lich

The demon enters its sanctuary and sucks in the smell of rat droppings, insects and formaldehyde. Home, it thinks, channeling the memories of its eaten victims. But it is not home in the human sense, is it? This drafty stone room, with its shattered windows, howling wind, and fluttering charts, offers little comfort. It’s a cold and inhospitable place to lord over the House of God—and that suits the Lich just fine.

Home is where the heart is, the demon thinks, echoing a memory digested from yesterday.

The Lich’s gaze falls upon a scrap of paper pinned by a dagger to the wooden desk. The creature frowns. Its bony fingers grasp the missive, and it reads the wandering hieroglyphic letters.

The Commission is coming. This is bad news. Terrible news. There’s no hiding this from the staff.

The Lich’s mind wanders through the hospital, making rapid note of every shortcoming. Patients left unstrapped on their gurneys. Undercrowded rooms. An obese orderly batting eyes at a nurse. The Pests tunneling beneath the crypt.

Unacceptable. The Commission will crucify them all. Something must be done at once. 

And who's going to do it?

Sighing, the Lich concentrates and casts its mind out through the House of God, projecting its voice to all who served in the charnel house.

ATTENTION IN THE HOUSE OF GOD…

THE HOSPITAL COMMISSION IS COMING.

THIS IS A WARNING TO ALL OF YOU.  BE ON YOUR BEST BEHAVIOR -- OR I WILL BE PAYING YOU A VISIT SOON.

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Read on - Chapter 5