《Making a Living: A Necromancer's Journal》


 Relish It

    Dear Diary,


    I can call you that now that I''ve graduated and Professor Sulak isn''t shaming me for being juvenile and quaint while keeping records and field notes. The thing is, it feels weird to just write without acknowledgment. But I don''t have to explain myself now. I''ve graduated and, for better or worse, I no longer have anyone to hold me accountable but myself.


    That''s the thing, isn''t it?


    I won''t lie...thing''s aren''t particularly great.


    I completely bombed my interview with Crane Renovations. There are other necromantic firms in New England but none that are close. Crane has essentially monopolized the area and I had to go and blow it with my inability to shut my mouth.


    Thing is, the guy interviewing me, his name was fucking Pickle! What kind of necromancer has a name like that? Yea, I get it, it''s a surname but I''d be changing it. Well he kept calling me Mizz Vitally even though I corrected him a few times that it''s just Vee-tal-eh and asked him to just call me Bernadette or Bernie. Well, he wouldn''t.


    He seemed impressed by my transcript and Frater O.F.''s recommendation letter. I think I even saw his eyebrows go up when we went over my resurrection of Lady Delia Arnault. But then we discussed the prospect of archival work and I said I wasn''t a fan. He was surprised and, like an idiot, I asked if he liked the idea of mouldering away in a basement rather than working in the field. He was pissed. Turns out he''s head of archives. Of course he is. Well I got nervous and when I get nervous I get stupid and I said I was sure he was a big dill...


    Anyways. I didn''t get the job.


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    I went to Lyre to get shit faced and perhaps come up with an epiphany at the bottom of a bottle.


    Worst idea ever. Stewart was there with Nico and Lark all bragging about getting in at Crane. Stewart Dwight got in! How the hell did that idiot get in but not me? I bet he works in archives. I bet he doesn''t make stupid pickle jokes in interviews. Still...the dude is rumored to crack open a cold one at the morgue...well I won''t write more on that or I''ll throw up and I''ve done enough of that with this morning''s hangover.


    I also ran into Kate...


    I haven''t spoken to Kate Beghana since Level 4 Grave History. I hate her. How can someone that pretty and rich also be smart? Not just pretty. The prettiest girl in Latimer University. And on the Dean''s List! She makes everything look easy. And there she was, at Lyre with her hair up like a ballerina''s and somehow able to make the school t-shirt with its dopey black goat mascot look chic as hell.


    "Hey Gloomy!" She always calls me Gloomy and for some reason, in the moment, I can''t think well enough to be properly mad about it. I just ordered my root beer highball and hoped she''d go party with the other super popular wizard majors.


    Instead she asked me why I wasn''t toasting and boasting with the other necromancers. I would rather toast them with a Molotov cocktail.


    I don''t know why but I told her about the interview. She laughed at the dill joke, damn her. It sounded like a genuine laugh too.


    "So what are you going to do?"


    Hell if I know. What am I going to do?


    Kate''s friends called her over and I thought the conversation was done. I was half way into my fourth highball when Kate came over, breathless and breathtaking.


    "You should freelance!" She said it so loud, half the bar looked at us. She laughed it off and repeated herself. She launched into some story about a cousin that started freelancing transfiguration work and is doing well. They got started by putting an ad online.


    I didn''t know what to say so I just nodded. She smiled and wrapped me in a hug. "You''re brilliant. Go for it!"


    And she was gone. Damn her. And damn this hangover. I probably didn''t even hear her right in the noisy bar and even if I did I am probably remembering it wrong. But my shirt from last night still smells like her - Nag champa incense and lilacs.


    I''ll forever associate that smell with pity and interview failure.

 Buried in Debt

    Dear Diary,


    Well I did it. And it wasn''t because Kate said I should. I would have eventually decided to freelance on my own. What other choice do I have?


    I put an ad on Craigslist and printed off a flyer to pin up at a couple of the local places with ad boards. Vitale Vivification. Not particularly clever sounding and horrible for folks who stutter. At least making the flyers online was pretty simple and the Vitruvian man vector was free.


    I can''t believe I''ve been studying necromancy for six years and didn''t once think to take a business and marketing class. I just assumed I would get in one of the firms.


    Well, you know what they say about assume...yes, I''m an ass.


    At least taking the flyers out helped motivate me to run some errands. I''ve been so busy with finales, I haven''t done much else. I put up a flyer here at the apartment buildings when I picked up mail (mostly junk and bills). My nosy neighbor, Coral, scoffed at it. She''s one of them anti-magic Luddites who thinks that all those born with powers should learn to suppress it along with sexual urges and caffeine addiction.


    Caffeine on the brain, I put a flyer up at The Grind. I splurged on a Cannoli Latte and over-tipped after some Karen in front of me spent far too long asking why she couldn''t get a little design on her coffee if she didn''t want milk in it. Some days I wish I hadn''t taken the Medean Oath to Do No Harm on the living. Some of these people could use some death and resurrection to learn how to live properly. I also picked up a bag of coffee. I''ll have to make my own here at home until I get some extra funds.


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    I returned my overdue library books and put a flyer up there. There were so many, I don''t know if anyone ever cleans that board up or not. I have to admit, I was tempted to remove the ones for MLMs selling questionable essential oils.


    Lastly, I put up a flyer at the senior center. Some nurse said it was tasteless so I can only hope she left it up.


    I guess I''ll have to get over my anxiety about answering the phone for unknown numbers. At least I updated my voicemail. I think I had me asking "What do you want?" on there since high school.


    Now it has me with the fakest retail voice I''ve ever heard saying: "Hello, you''ve reached Bernadette Vitale of Vitale Vivification. I can''t come to the phone right now so leave your name and number and I''ll return your call so I can return your dead loved one."


    I won''t lie. It took me four times to say that without fucking it up.


    I really hope this gig works. I just got my first bill from Latimer''s Student Loans Office. The cherry on the cake, rent is due too. Is buried in debt one of those deaths that we can''t revivify? I''ll have to check Elpel''s Book of Necromantic Law.


    At least my phone bill is paid up. Its the only way my folks can keep tabs on me, even if I don''t answer. I can only hope that my new voicemail will be able to relay how bad my interview with Crane went without my having to actually tell them. Not that they care so much about Crane but they will use it and anything else they can think of to try and add to their argument that necromancy isn''t a respectable vocation for a Vitale, especially not their Vitale child. Yea, definitely not taking their calls until this freelance thing pays off...it has to pay off...right?

 Many a true word is Broken in jest

    Dear Diary,


    Craigslist ad worked. Some detective who claims his last name is Cooper and has obviously seen Twin Peaks one too many times, asked me to revive something time-sensitive. I''m meeting him at The Grind for some "damn good coffee" on his dime. While I''m not thrilled about working with a cop, my bills don''t really care where the cash comes from.


    ...


    A broken promise! Does this guy think I''m a hedge witch? I nearly walked out when he told me. The only thing that kept me there was the fact that The Grind makes a better latte than I can at home and I wasn''t about to waste it.


    I pointed out to Detective Cooper, if that''s really his name, that I am a Necromancer. Perhaps he missed that on my ad despite his advanced detecting skills. I deal with the dead, not with broken vows and shit.


    That''s when he explained that this broken promise was related to the dead. Turns out when he was a kid he swore on his dead grandfather that he wouldn''t ever hurt his friend''s brother. Unfortunately for him, said brother fell in with the local crime syndicate and Detective Cooper whacked him in a recent raid. Bro is alive but ever since then, Detective here has been haunted by his grandfather''s poltergeist.


    I shouldn''t have but I had to ask him why he didn''t go to the Law Mages or call up Crane to deal with this. Turns out he didn''t want the force to know he had connections to criminals. As for Crane, well, I''m not the only one on a budget and even my highest rates are low balling Crane - probably the only thing that will draw in business for me in this city.


    I told him I would have to check my notes and that I would be charging extra. He agreed and I was blessed by him adding a pastry and a second latte to my meal. At least he didn''t call his coffee, "black as midnight on a moonless night." I don''t know if I could have kept a straight face. So now I''m having to hunt down my Level 2 Charms studies notes. I can''t bitch about it too much. Money is money.


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    ...


    Thankfully that was simple even if it did take all night and I''m exhausted. The only thing keeping me writing at the moment was Professor Sulak beating the practice into me to keep records immediately from day one.


    I called the Detective and told him to meet me at his grandfather''s grave at midnight. Melodramatic timing is so old fashioned but tradition is tradition. He had to bring something that his grandfather gave him when he was alive. I didn''t bother telling him it would be destroyed. I needed the item to have a strong bond and didn''t want him quibbling and bringing something less emotionally valuable because he knew it would be obliterated. Perhaps it was a bad idea because he brought tin soldiers and they were hell to smash.


    Thankfully, gramps'' grave was local. Turns out Detective really is named Cooper.


    Grandpa Gerald Cooper attacked once I started but the protective circle did the work. Simple juniper salt and holy day ashes. At least it was cheap. When I couldn''t snap the tin soldiers I had the Detective give me his gun (once he took the bullets out) and used it to hammer the damn things. Once the last one was smashed, gramps calmed down.


    We cleaned up. I told the Detective not to name any of his offspring after the old man and he should be fine. He gave me a generous tip but I think he regretted having that ready for me as he pouted over the stupid tin toys and the scratches on his revolver. He''ll get over it.


    ...


    I slept for a few hours but bad dreams kept me from getting any real rest. I blame the ritual. Dealing with dead family always strikes a nerve. Crane Renovations include therapy in their medical insurance...


    Dad visited my sleep. (Not really. This was just my subconscious. He wouldn''t bother with dream walking until I avoid at least five or so phone calls.) Disappointed in me as ever. Bernie the Black Sheep. Like it''s my fault I died and came back ghost bothered and decided to make a profession out of it rather than follow him in the Law Magic field. Ugh!


    I grabbed take out from the 24/7 place. There''s peas and carrots in my pork fried rice so that counts as a balanced breakfast, right? My fortune cookie says:


    The best times of your life have not yet been lived.


    Well I sure hope so because I think that ritual was probably the biggest thrill I''ve had since I blew up my still in Level 5 alchemy. (That was an accident no matter what Randall Bannerman said.) I really need to get out more.

 Roses are Red, Dead Boys are Blue...(Pt. 1/2)

    Dear Diary,


    The last person I expected to be on the line when I answered "Vitale Vivification, I''m Bernadette, how can I help you today?" was Kate Beghana. Yet, there she was...calling me...to go have drinks.


    I was so shocked I said yes. Idiot move, I know.


    We met up at Lyre at 7:30. She was wearing a sun dress and her dark skin was glowing like she''d been tanning somewhere exotic. I''m so pale I think I glow in the dark at this point. She went to the bathroom so when the bartender asked, I ordered her usual gin and tonic along with my usual root beer highball. When Kate asked me how I knew what she drank I couldn''t speak. I felt like was choking on my own tongue and stared stupidly at the napkin in front of me.


    Thankfully the bartender was the annoying kind and, since Lyre was quiet right then, he asked if we went to Latimer. It was an easy assumption since Lyre is popular among magic students.


    Kate explained that we were recent graduates. She then gave him the cold shoulder and asked me how freelance necromancy was treating me. She''d seen my flyer at The Grind.


    The bartender didn''t take the hint and asked if I was a necromancer. Real brain trust, this one.


    "Bernie graduated top of her class," Kate said. I was ready to dig a hole in the floor and join Lady Delia Arnault in her grave.


    Bartender then asked if my rates were better than Crane Renovations. I took to drinking deeply by that point and could only nod as the alcohol burned my throat.


    "I have a job, if you want it. I''ll..." He looked around for a moment then leaned towards me. I could smell his cologne a mile away and when he leaned in it felt like a cloud of synthetic pheromones washed over me. Did I mention I felt like digging my own grave at that point for relief?


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    The bartender offered to cover my tab for a month if I could handle a job for him related to his grandmother. Kate was ecstatic and before I could even ask what kind of job it was told him to make it two months, in writing. I gaped at her like a puffer fish while they worked out the deal.


    After it was all said and done, Kate gave a half-hearted apology for charging ahead without checking on me. She said she was glad to see me doing well and wanted to have drinks again "real soon." I agreed, set up a meeting time with the bartender tomorrow to figure out what his deal was with his grandma, and went home to crash.


    ...


    Bartender''s name is Kyle. Of course it is. And Kyle''s problem, Diary? He was supposed to be house sitting for his grandmother, who, btw, is very much alive! (She''s vacationing in Florida.) Thing is, part of the house sitting gig was to care for her beloved garden.


    Grandma is back in a week and said garden looks like a good setting for a zombie apocalypse film. Not a green leaf in sight. I don''t know what the lady was known for growing but I doubt it was sticks, rocks, and dirt.


    Kyle wanted me to revive the whole damn garden that he hadn''t even noticed much until a day or two ago when grams called and asked about it.


    Thankfully it wasn''t a technically difficult spell and didn''t require a dead loved one or midnight. It did, however, require blood and bone. We got some pigs blood from the butcher who asked if we were going to pull a Carrie and to make sure that it didn''t get back to him if we did. The bone meal we got from the garden center at the local super store. I mixed it in a plastic tote with a stick I broke off one of the dead bushes. Then I slashed Kyle''s hand to mix his sacrificial blood in.


    Kyle fainted at the sight of his own blood. It was a blessing. At least I didn''t have to deal with his babble. Dude had the nerve to ask me if Kate was single...I should have went old school and sacrificed all of his blood and resurrected him afterward. That tended to be messy and required me moving his body around. I don''t have an assistant to help me and he was bigger than me so...I''m just glad he fainted.


    Anyways, I did the Locus Revificarum rite and things happened about as you would expect. Big bursts of green, flowers bloomed, yadda yadda. Kyle will be pruning the next few days to get some order out of the place otherwise Grandma is coming home to a jungle.


    Two months of free drinks in my future, I went home and prayed for a decent client.

 ...Gnomes are Needy, Rent is Past Due (Pt. 2/2)

    Dear Diary,


    I''m not really sure how to explain so I will start at the beginning.


    I took a nap when I got back from Kyle''s grandmother''s garden. No I didn''t take a shower and yes I still smell and will be showering soon and no I don''t care what Professor Sulak would say about that right now. I was tired. I AM tired.


    Did I get a proper nap? No. Instead, about an hour or so in, I was woken by an incessant tapping at my window. Now, I know I live in a basement apartment and I''m used to the various stray cats pawing but this was no cat. It was a high pitch clanging of something hard hitting the window like glass on glass.


    I went and looked and there, at the window facing the street, was a small garden gnome. It''s not even a proper gnome really. It''s more a white ceramic beard and green pointed hat and that''s it. There it was, a gnomey head, tapping on my window with the tip of his hat.


    Carefully, I tapped back and it stopped and just sat there, motionless and expecting. After a while, I grabbed my bag of banishing and protection salts, and went outside to check it out.


    Coral, my obnoxious neighbor glared at me but I did my best to ignore her as I asked the gnome what it wanted. It didn''t say anything and after an experimental tap, I realized it wasn''t a fae-gnome. It was ceramic. An animated ceramic garden gnome.


    I went back inside, grabbed my pendulum (the one made from a hangman''s finger bones and a saint''s rosary), and went back out.


    Divination with a pendulum is pretty crass compared to the elaborate rituals and workings done by the Divination majors but it is handy for anyone worth their magical salt. Helps clarify things when an entity shows up that can''t or won''t talk.


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    The key to pendulum divination is asking only yes or no questions. Limiting, yes, but straightforward and no nonsense which is more than I can say for Kyle.


    Speaking of which, that is where the gnome came from. Kyle''s grandmother''s garden. I knew from my studies that there was always a risk of things following you home after a ritual but I expected a ghost or the resurrected to show up. Not garden ornaments!


    After figuring out that it was not possessed but rather a magically animated object, I brought the gnome inside. Partly to get out from under the scornful watch of Coral. Partly because I kind of felt bad for the little guy. He apparently tip tapped all the way down from High Street and I guessed the couple of knicks along his beard were from that journey.


    Inside, I clarified a few things with the pendulum and it took a good hour of back and forth before I got that the gnome only wanted attention. Apparently he''d been neglected, just like the garden, and decided to pack his proverbial bags and head my way.


    I told him I''m not a gardener. Kind of the opposite really considering I took several courses in how to respectfully exhume things from the earth rather than plant them. The gnome rattle-tat-tatted on my table until I asked him to calm down.


    After I made some coffee, I set back in with the pendulum. He wanted to stay, the little idiot. I relented. What is the alternative? Return him to Kyle? The bartender was likely to crush him before he could return him to his grandmother''s garden.


    I put the gnome in the window so he could at least see the weedy little patch between the apartment building and the sidewalk. I guess I''ll have to get him a plant to guard...great. Rent is past due and I''m budgeting for an unwelcome guest. This freelance gig is not paying off very well.


    ...


    I bought an aloe plant. The lady at the store said they were useful and hard to kill. I guess we will put that to the test...She said I will need to get it a new pot since it''s outgrowing the one I bought it in. Another expense to add to the list. At least gnome-boy is happy.


    I decided to name him Nevermore...because the tapping.

 Love Bytes and Frost Bite

    Dear Diary,


    I came back from getting some groceries to a message on my voicemail. I can never hear my cellphone ring in the store. That canned music they air over the speakers is loud trash.


    The message was from Rose de la Couer. I recognized the name as the author of those atrocious romance novels everyone is babbling about. A trilogy was made into a soft core porn at the box offices. I remember the film club at the Latimer having a loud feud about it that spilled out into the mess hall regularly last spring.


    The woman wants me to revive a deleted file. Child''s play. You''d think her publishing company would cover that. I hope her royalty checks pay well. I plan to charge extra for nonsense.


    ...


    De la Couer was over the moon when I called back. After two minutes too long in her fake French accent she dropped it and suddenly I got an earful of Boston. Turns out the file was for a side project under a pen name. She was very hush hush over it and in her anxiety about the file, was more than happy to pay extra.


    I sent her the symbol for the file that she had only to scan. Five minutes after hanging up, I got a notification of payment and a text that it worked. Of course it worked. Most students at Latimer learned that sigil their first year after their first charms essay goes missing.


    ...


    I need to ask that astrologist, Avi, that hangs out and prognosticates at Lyre what planet alignment is making people particularly stupid this week.


    I was barely done paying rent with de la Couer''s payment when I got another call.


    First I was annoyed by the sound of some woman asking me to hold for Monsieur Hoffman. The nerve of someone calling then telling me to hold. I almost hung up.


    Hoffman finally answered and thankfully didn''t waste time. He needed to hire me to enliven an actor for his play. He''s a director and seemed only a little put off when I didn''t recognize any of his hits. (I looked him up after and it turns out he does avant garde stuff that the critics hate but people with too much money are happy to pay for.)


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    I gave him my rates and asked how long the actor had been deceased. Thing is, a lot of these folks think raising the dead is a wham-bam-thank-you-ma''am situation and the dead are back to their old self. However, the longer they''ve been dead, the...ickier...it gets.


    That''s when Hoffman explained that this person had never been alive. In fact, it wasn''t a person at all!


    Dude wants a SNOWMAN for his play! A walking, talking, singing, dancing, top hat wearing snowman! In JULY!


    I hate this city. People die every day. People pay to have those dead brought back every day. They pay Crane Renovations anyways. But me? No. I get gardens, broken promises, lost files, and now snowmen.


    Only the knowledge that my school loans were still waiting payment kept me from telling the pompous director to go fuck himself.


    I explained that this sort of thing involves big magic. That I would require help to put life into something that never had it in the first place. He then informed me that money was no object and that he was only calling me because his former magical aids were unable to see his vision. I bet they weren''t. Or just got tired of his bullshit.


    I checked the astrology calendar. Hoffman needed his snowman in a week so it didn''t give me much time to calculate alignments but I figured that Wednesday was the least likely to be a catastrophe.


    Thankfully I listened in my Level 2 Invokation and Pact Course.


    ...


    Nothing really prepares you for dealing with the Fae. Yea I invoked one in school, but each time is different and this time was...intense seems like a very small word.


    The invokation was relatively simple. The hardest part was getting snow in July but a Hawaiian Ice shop down the street from the theater was happy to make some extra cash. We just had to get the A/C in the theater up pretty high so it wouldn''t melt. I, of course, forgot to wear layers under my robes.


    The Snow Queen is terrifying. The stories by those wizards Grim (or was it Anderson...who cares) did not do her justice. I don''t know if she was as beautiful as she was written. Mostly she looked like a very tall pillar of snowy wind.


    The director made the pact with the Snow Queen. It was all said in hushed tones and I didn''t ask. It''s none of my business what the Fae want or what that idiot is willing to exchange for his snowman. Once it was done, the snow formed into a five foot round boy that the director told his assistant to costume. Two coal eyes, a carrot nose, top hat, and scarf completed the look.


    The snowman did not say Happy Birthday.


    I collected my check and cashed it immediately, just in case, before coming back home.


    I do not want to do that again. I think my ears are frost bit.

 Cheap as Dirt Resurrection Potion

    Dear Diary,


    I made myself get out of the house today. The aloe plant really does need a new pot and since the snowman deal paid this month''s bills, I figured I''d run out of excuses. Not that Nevermore is pestering me. He seems content with a pat on the head whenever I pass the window.


    I stopped in at June''s shop to restock on protection salts and was in for a shock. Crane Renovations not only bought that product company Umbra, but is putting out their new line of necromantic supplies. This wouldn''t be a big deal if it wasn''t for the price tag. Their revivification salve is $199! It fits in the palm of my hand! Of course they don''t disclose what''s in it. I bet it gives you a rash.


    Fact is, old and cheap works just fine for me.


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    Resurrection Mud


    1 handful of waybread (plantago major, picked on a Wednesday, preferably a dark moon but I''ve not found that it makes a difference, dried and ground)


    1 handful of witch beard (usnea, storm blown rather than picked, ground fresh is fine, collected on a Friday if able)


    Graveyard dirt


    Incense ashes from a holy day (every day is a holiday somewhere, right?)


    Spring water (though some swear by water from a holy well. Galveston says to use storm water collected on a Thursday but he was raising dead warriors for battle.)


    Necromancer spit (I keep a small bottle in my ingredients cupboard. I need to refresh that soon.)


    Steep herbs in spring water for at least one hour. Mix with the rest of the ingredients until you have enough mud to cover the whole body.


    ...


    Kate called and asked if we could go for drinks Friday. I assume its because she knows I get mine for free now. I said yes. It will motivate me to do some laundry.

 Having a Meltdown

    Dear Diary,


    I had to cancel drinks with Kate. Jose, the maintenance guy came and got me about an hour before I was to head out and said there was someone on the lawn looking for me. He seemed pretty shook so I grabbed my protection salts before following.


    I don''t think I''ve ever seen Jose so bothered. He didn''t even flinch when he had to unclog my toilet when I stupidly flushed my failed fish resurrection project. The goo I had the fish in became stickier when in contact with the building''s old pipes...The fish was alive when he pulled it and the gob of now brown sludge out of my toilet.


    There, at the entrance to the apartment complex, was Frosty. The snowman didn''t have his scarf or his carrot nose. He did have 2 branch-like arms that were too perfect to be from trees and as I got closer I realized they were wire and clay. He fidgeted with them as Jose pushed me forward.


    I wasn''t really sure what to do so I just asked what he wanted. Impolite, maybe, but it wasn''t like I was comfortable inviting him in. Besides, standing near him was like standing next to a blasting air conditioner. I was shivering while Jose sweated behind me in the summer sun.


    The snowman told me he didn''t want to be alive anymore. This statement is a little unnerving in general but even worse when it''s coming from a throat that makes words by vibrating and running ice against itself. It was jarring and caused shivers down my already quaking spine.


    Kill me, please. I''ll be hearing those words in my dreams.


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    I told Jose that I had this situation under control and thankfully he got my meaning and left us alone. I won''t lie, I was a little afraid. The last thing I needed was the Snow Queen breathing down my neck for destroying her creation. But he looked so miserable even if he couldn''t make any actual expressions with his coal eyes.


    Hoping to get out of it, I told him I don''t work for free. I figured Hoffman wasn''t paying Frosty and this was a good way to end the conversation and send the thing packing. I was wrong. I was so wrong.


    The snowman nodded and reached with his spindly hands into his central sphere and pulled out a chunk of snow. He then offered it to me.


    I thought I was going to be sick. The creature was offering me his own flesh, as sparkly and white and cold as snow from a Hallmark movie. Part of himself was a high price to pay for death.


    I relented. Damn Frosty and damn me and damn Hoffman for getting me into this.


    I called Kate and told her I had to cancel, that a client came up last minute. She squealed happily and went on about how great it was that I was doing so well freelancing. "Crane Renovations is going to regret not hiring a catch like you, Bernie!"


    A catch. I certainly felt caught, as snowman and I went down the road to the campus. While I''m not technically a student anymore, I don''t really see a problem with me using one of the empty ritual spaces...so long as I don''t get caught. Besides, what was I going to do? Murder a snowman on my apartment lawn? Coral would just love that!


    I ended the snowman''s misery with a basic banishment and destruction circle. The kind we use to obliterate objects with minor curses and the like. It was quick. I hope it was painless.


    When he was gone, the ball of snow he left me was still intact and cold. Back here, I used the pendulum to make sure that none of his spirit, or essence, or whatever it was that made him animated and conscious was attached to it. Then I stuffed it in a jar. I might try to sell never-melting snow on ebay later.


    ...


    My fortune cookie says:


    "Success is being at peace with yourself."

 Murder jokes arent Funny...Unless Properly Executed

    Dear Diary,


    Detective Cooper is back. Turns out Hoffman is missing. The only leads they have are a frozen apartment, a missing snowman, and me. This is the last thing I need in my life. So when Cooper says he can make all that go away, at least the part that points to me, if I do him a favor, I agreed perhaps a little too quickly.


    I mean, there''s nothing illegal about obliterating an animated object I created in ritual. I could get out of that but it would mean Law Mages at my door and that would certainly get back to my dad. I just can''t deal with that right now.


    The favor is related to the first actual dead body I''ve dealt with since graduating so, in a way, I''m kind of glad. Resurrecting a fresh corpse is worlds easier after all the drama the snowman brought my way.


    I''m meeting Cooper at Hopkins Cemetery - yea, the one connected to Hopkins Penitentiary where the magic wielding criminals spend their time. He said I''ll have a pass waiting for me at the gate. I''m already charging my protection amulets. Cemeteries are full of uneasy ghosts anyways. I can only imagine how angry the dead are when they''ve died by execution or rotting away in a jail cell.


    ...


    Diary...I know it''s been a couple of days. I only just got back home. I''m not really sure what to say. Everything is a jumble in my head. "Post-ritual traumatic reaction" the Law Mages'' shrink says. I''ll try and write it linear but...I''m probably messing it up.


    I met Cooper at the Hopkins gate at 6pm on Thursday. I brought a basic necromancy kit but the guards confiscated it. Cooper assured me that what tools I needed would be made available to me inside.


    They let me keep my amulets once they made sure that they wouldn''t interfere with the ritual markings that cover the place. A Law Mage named Andrews guided us into the cemetery lot. It''s huge, I remember that. Andrews didn''t need a map. Neither did Cooper. They brought me to the newer section where there was a fresh grave dug. We went to one nearby that was small and newly filled in. The headstone had concealment and protection sigils on it. I assumed the caskets have similar.


    Cooper then explained the situation. The grave we were standing over was the one for ex-Frater Z of Ordo Ocularum. I recalled his case a few years back. He was charged with a shopping list of magical crimes that led to the experimentation on, torture of, and death of several of his brotherhood.


    He was recently executed and buried. That should have been the end of it. However, the day of his death, Cooper and the other detectives who solved the case were sent a message. Something to do with Z''s work continued.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Cooper and Andrews wouldn''t allow me to know more and admitted that they didn''t know much else themselves. That was why I was there. They needed Z to tell them who his accomplice is.


    I think I asked why they didn''t get a Law Mage specializing in necromancy to cover this. I''m pretty sure I asked why they didn''t go to Crane. In the end, what it came down to is tight budget, politicians not wanting it out that we''re resurrecting a murderer of Z''s fame, and that Cooper felt we had some sort of connection.


    Whatever the reason, I told Andrews to get my tools and started chalking out the ritual circle over Z''s grave.


    Resurrecting a soul for interrogation is a lot easier than reviving a body. I didn''t need to animate the body itself and that meant it could stay tidily in the ground. Bringing his spirit forward was a blend of summoning, necromantic reach, and compulsion magic. The hardest part was making sure I got the right spirit (proximity to the body helped with that) and making sure that the area was contained (thanks to iron and salt).


    Z''s spirit seemed more than happy to come through. I remember he was handsome, not at all the monster I expected. I might have known this if I kept up with the news but oh well. He arrived in a tailored suit and his hair quaffed perfectly. Even winked at me. Rather than flirtatious, the whole thing felt gross.


    Cooper did the talking and I just held space for them. My head is a little fuzzy on the details but I think that is less to do with post-ritual trauma and more to do with whatever spells the Law Mages cast when I signed a nondisclosure agreement that I wouldn''t go to some journalist about all of this. I''m amazed I can even write it but that is probably thanks to the wards on you, Diary.


    I remember Z saying, "Come on, Coop. We used to have so much fun!"


    "The only fun I had was at your funeral," Cooper said. I remember this because it was actually kind of funny to me at the moment.


    Things got heated though. Andrews tried to push me behind her and that caused me to break concentration. That was probably why things went hairy. Z was able to break the containment circle, just for a moment, and lay hands on Cooper. Cooper went down. I shoved Andrews off of me and reconnected the containment circle. Z only smiled.


    He said something...something about appreciating my power. He told me to tell Cooper he looked forward to seeing him again soon.


    I didn''t have time to respond. The containment circle felt hot. So hot I knew I was burning in it. I heard screams and then collapsed.


    I woke a day later in the Hopkins infirmary. No burns but also my magic is still so faint I can feel it like the weakest ember under a mound of ashes. The nurse said I''ll be fine in a few days.


    Cooper is ok, I''m told. He and Andrews are in trouble. Turns out they weren''t technically allowed to bring me in or resurrect Z. I''ve been forgiven considering I''m a civilian and didn''t know the details. Cooper told them that I wasn''t to blame and that my involvement was his doing entirely. I don''t know if he wants a thank you for it but I don''t plan on giving it to him.


    I was interrogated about what went down. Only after I gave my side of the story three times did anyone tell me what happened.


    Z''s spirit is loose. We don''t know how bad that is right now but I can only guess its a problem. Especially since it looks like he has an accomplice out there.


    I''m so tired, Diary.


    Dad keeps calling. I''ll have to answer it sooner or later. I''m sure he knows by now what happened. I''m not up for being yelled at.


    I ordered in delivery. Fortune cookie says: The best exercise for the heart is to reach down and help someone up.

 A Drink to Raise Your Spirits

    Dear Diary,


    I have decided to lay out some Life Insurance.


    I know, I rolled my eyes in Sulak''s class about putting together a revivify kit in Intro to Necromancy. Thing is, this whole deal with Z freaked me out.


    So the kit is almost done. I need to run over to June''s to get a few things.


    ...


    I ran into Kate at Junes. She was buying candles. She said I looked like death warmed over and asked if I was ok. I agreed to grabbing lunch with her at the Panera at the other end of the outlet mall. I couldn''t tell her the whole truth. The nondisclosure makes things particularly uncomfortable. I did get across that I did some necromancy for an idiot cop and it burned me out pretty bad.


    She asked if that was why I was buying stuff at Junes, to recover. I said that I was brushing up my Revivify Kit for just in case purposes but that I didn''t feel like I was going to die just then.


    We discussed the kit a little. Most wealthy wizards have them set up and I assumed that the Beghana have them too - being one of the prominent families in the area. Turns out I assumed wrong...of course. Kate tugged her tank top down to show the DNR tattoo on her breastbone. Do Not Resurrect.


    I''m still a little shocked. I mean, we discussed the anti-resurrectionists in Ethics class. Most of them were folks who questioned if the actual soul or spirit of a person returned to the body or if it was just the body itself animated. Others said the risk was too high for something else returning and animating the body - which admittedly did happen from time to time.


    I didn''t think I''d ever met someone who was a DNR before. Kate shrugged it off and said she just didn''t like the idea of coming back wrong or anyone fiddling with her body. She then assured me that she''s an organ donor and that she''s cool with other people doing what they wanted as if I was judging her.


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    I wasn''t judging. I''m not judging. I just feel...weird about it. Thankfully we dropped it.


    I came home after that but I barely shut the door and flopped down on the couch when there was a knock. Kate was on the other side of it grinned. Without a word she shoved a cloth bundle into my hand, told me to feel better, and took off.


    The bundle was a t-shirt wrapped around a canister of tea from June''s. The tea was a blend of tulsi, clary sage, and bergamot for wellness and mood boost. The shirt was black and in green across the chest had the Saturnian sickle symbol used by most Necromancers to identify their trade. I never wear it as I think its a little overdone and very Blue Oyster Cult. Above that it says "Advanced Recycling."


    I laughed. It almost hurt to do it since I don''t think I''ve properly laughed in forever but yes, Diary, I laughed.


    I put on the shirt and made a cup of tea and it''s probably a placebo effect but I do feel better.


    Here is a copy of the Revivify Kit instructions. I put another copy with the kit near the door. There''s no missing the damn thing.


    To Resurrect me, Bernadette Maloria Vitale


    Prepare my body with my symbol.


    Set the sacred space with the eight point star of physicality.


    Also prepare for yourself a pentacle of protection using banishing salts (juniper salt) and iron filings (check potions cupboard for labeled jar).


    Prepare the Resurrection Mud - ingredients and preparation detailed on page 2. You can find a vial of my spit and other ingredients in the potions cupboard.


    Supply an offering. Blood of a relative is best. Blood of someone who gives a damn about me is next best and so on. If you must use a blood substitute, do NOT use blood orange. I am allergic to citrus and will not thank you for the hives.


    Include my journal in the sacred space.


    Please have a hot bath and some Chinese take out ready for me. I prefer steamed dumplings over egg rolls.


    Invoke Kronos. "Consumed by Thee, all forms that hourly die. By Thee restored their former place supply."


    Help yourself to some coffee or tea while you wait. Resurrection can take up to an hour for cognitive and vocal return and up to three hours for body mobility.

 It Was a Hit

    Dear Diary,


    It''s been a week. Thankfully I have a new job because bills definitely do not care that I¡¯ve been experiencing magical burn out. I¡¯ve been resting and doing the rejuvenation and restoration practices¡­honestly I feel like I¡¯ve spent the whole week back in first year Energy Work 101. I kind of feel bad for thinking those classes were useless at the time. Maybe I¡¯ll send Professor Wallen a card or something this Yule.


    Taking this time to rest has at least made Nevermore happy. I¡¯ve dusted his area and actually remembered to water the plant. It''s grown a lot and the area is sunnier than it really should be considering it''s such a tiny window. I can only assume this is the gnome¡¯s doing and will just be grateful.


    I meet with the new client tonight, downtown at a restaurant called Gallo¡¯s. Thankfully they¡¯re buying. I¡¯m not saying things are tight but my food budget hasn¡¯t been roomy enough for anything exciting. Since that job for Cooper wasn¡¯t exactly legal, I didn¡¯t get paid.


    ¡­


    Well¡­what can I say. Gallo¡¯s makes some really good tiramisu. The pasta was good too but I can¡¯t pronounce it much less spell it. I know that there were truffles in it because I never had truffles before and didn¡¯t know what the flavor was.


    Anyways.


    Mr. Gallo, the head of the family, is more than a restaurant owner, apparently. I never watched mobster movies so I dunno if they¡¯re spot on or not but now I wish I had for maybe a little heads up. I felt like an idiot trying to figure out the play on words and reading between the lines. Mr. Gallo said it was refreshing.


    He needs me to resurrect an old man who died recently. Apparently he was the head honcho of the family who died of a heart attack a few days ago and left the family in a bit of an uproar. Mr. Gallo wants his dad back up and running just long enough to make it clear who the boss is then the man can go back to his peaceful rest.


    The pay is good but they want it off the record, so they came to me rather than Crane who is all about the paperwork. I guess I can understand that, especially if you know that a man named Pickle would be overseeing it being filed away in archives.


    I tried to explain to Gallo that I¡¯m not exactly in tip top shape. My palms were sweating so hard and I¡¯m sure my face was flushed¡­or as flushed as it gets anyways. I kept wondering if they knew my dad was a Law Mage or if they cared. Dad would definitely flip out if he knew where I was today.


    Finally, I told them I kind of fucked up a job for the cops the other day but that I couldn¡¯t share what it was about, only that it burned me pretty bad.


    Mr. Gallo turned to one of his men, a dude with more neck than humans really ought to have, and said ¡°haven¡¯t we all been burned by the cops at some point?¡±


    The guy said it was a good sign and we all laughed¡­well, they laughed. I tried to make it look like I was laughing but mostly I was trying not to throw up. I heard that smiling prevents vomiting, I don¡¯t know if it''s true.


    I told them I would need to get some supplies since I wasn¡¯t feeling my best. They gave me a day and made it clear that I wasn¡¯t to talk to anyone about the job. I assured them I kept clients and jobs confidential and headed out. Gallo had me driven back home in one of his cars. Again, I don¡¯t think I had much of an option.


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    I have most of what I need for the working, thankfully. However, I will need to run to June¡¯s for a battery. I don¡¯t have it in me to channel that much energy, even if its just a short run resurrection spell for one freshly dead.


    When I got back to the apartment, I had a letter taped to my door. It was from Mom and Dad. Get Well Soon. I doubt they delivered it by hand but it was definitely a message. We are close and you need to respond.


    I texted mom to thank her and she asked how I was feeling. I assured her I was fine but as soon as I hit send she told me that Dad heard about what happened and that she knew something bad would happen to me in ¡°that city.¡± The same old arguments cropped up. I¡¯m too exhausted to write them all out. I promised to come visit for the holidays this year since I didn¡¯t have extra credit work as an excuse now that I¡¯m graduated. Honestly, I¡¯d been hoping that I would be too busy with work but now I¡¯ll just have to suck it up and go.


    Right now, I just want to sleep. All those carbs from dinner I guess.


    Dear Diary,


    Well, Gallo Senior is up and running¡­well¡­he¡¯s up. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s run for a decade or more by the looks of him.


    I should back track.


    This morning¡­well, yesterday morning seeing as its after midnight¡­I went to Junes when the shop opened. The battery cost the rest of my funds so I really needed this job to work out. Damn things really do cost too much. I need to make some when I feel better but hell, who has the energy to pour their wellbeing into a few crystals or candles on a high holy day anymore? I had to get a candle version. The rechargeable crystals were double and I didn¡¯t have the funds for that.


    Gallo¡¯s guys met me at the restaurant and drove me uptown. The house was nice. Like¡­really nice. I was afraid to touch anything and I¡¯m pretty sure if I had to tell the layout of the rooms I was marched through, I¡¯d get someone lost.


    They brought me to a big bedroom where Mr. Gallo waited and the corpse was laid out.


    Gallo did right by the corpse at least. He was still icy from preservation but not frozen. I told his men that they will want to get a warming blanket and went through the full ritual and aftercare guidance. I¡¯m surprised I remember it all but then again Professor Sulak had been a stickler for that sort of thing.


    Doing the resurrection ritual with a battery isn¡¯t too different than doing it traditionally. The difference is that you are directing the energy through the battery rather than yourself. I know some like to draw the energy from the battery into themselves and then do the ritual like normal but my energy body is still super raw. I think any energy I draw on right now my energy body would just eat and lay me out for additional rest rather than direct into the ritual.


    It took a few hours. Gallo Senior wasn¡¯t too keen on returning to his body. When he did he was a bit pissy. I kept at it until he was able to respond to basic questions with eye blinking then wrapped it up with the short term anchors. Thankfully I didn¡¯t have to do any major soul binding and grounding since Mr. Gallo assured me that he would be dispatching his father in a few days.


    I got my stuff cleaned up and rested while the old man regained his senses. As soon as he was able to speak, he looked at his son and¡­well, I¡¯ll just say it I guess. ¡°Murdered. I was murdered.¡±


    I¡¯ve never been ushered out of a room so fast in my life. The guys practically carried me out of there after a word from Mr. Gallo.


    I waited in some other room for him and when he came out he handed me a huge wad of cash and told me the extra was to keep my mouth shut. Before I could assure him that I would never tell anyone anything, he let me know that I would be making a visit to dear old dad on the other side if I ever told anyone. I just nodded and took the ride home.


    I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m glad for the money and to finally be doing the work I spent years of training on or if I prefer snowmen and gardens. School definitely didn¡¯t prepare me for mobster hits in ethics class.

 Resurrectile Dysfunction

    Dear Diary,


    You know, when I was a kid and I was sick, my mom said the days after a fever were the most dangerous. The patient always thinks they¡¯re better and overestimates their abilities. Because of this, they tend to overdo it and end up back on bedrest, sicker than before sometimes.


    I guess the same applies to energy body injuries.


    With the money from Gallo, I was able to take a breather and really focus on my recovery. I can¡¯t really invest in a lot of spell batteries, not even mob money can pay for the number of those I would need.


    I will say I felt better about the money once I paid up for the next month of bills and had a fridge full of food. I did, however, check Elpel¡¯s book on Necromantic Law. There''s nothing in there that explicitly states that working with the mob is illegal¡­I doubt Dad would see that as a solid argument if it ever got back to him who I just did a job for. Lets just hope it was a one-off and never comes up.


    I was starting to feel better but I couldn¡¯t really be sure about my abilities until I try things out. In school we had farm animals and bodies that had been donated to science and magical arts. I doubted that the school would let me audit just to stretch much less in such short notice. Besides, I don¡¯t really want to add to my school debt.


    I went on the hunt for dead things - which is probably when I should acknowledge that I¡¯m hardly having a normal one.


    I found a dead mouse by the apartment dumpsters. It didn¡¯t look too old or injured so I hoped it be the more horrifically painful experience for it. It didn¡¯t work though. As soon as I started channeling energy and trying to form the link, my whole body began to ache and flickers of nerve pain ran through my limbs. I had to back down. I buried the mouse outside the window - Coral can complain to me on a day I¡¯m not feeling like I stuck my tailbone in a light socket.


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    Two days later, I saw the nearby boutique tossing out dead potted plants. I waited until the clerk was back inside before I went after them. No one warned me how much dumpster diving necromancy would entail. Then again, I bet no one at Crane had to do this nonsense. They probably had practice labs at the ready. Hell, their employees probably never had to deal with magical burn out for that matter. I shouldn¡¯t dwell on it but it''s hard not to be cranky.


    The first attempt went about like the mouse, only less painful. Nevermore oversaw it all and tapped the ceramic pot of his aloe when he was getting anxious. I told him to back off unless he had some tips. That was when a niggling little feeling seemed to tug at the back of my mind. My skin felt so raw and dry and I began to think about how good it would feel to slather on some ointment.


    My mind wandered to my Resurrection Poultice. I wasn¡¯t dead or anything, obviously...but I wasn¡¯t exactly linked up with my energy body right now. That was one of the symptoms of magical burn out - the energy body being out of sync with the physical one and therefore unable to channel magic. That''s the theory anyways. Healers knew more about it but I can''t exactly afford one without help from mom and dad. I really can''t do that right now.


    I eyed Nevermore, then went to the supplies cupboard. After about an hour of mixing, I slathered on some of the poultice - mostly my hands, feet, and chakra points. Almost immediately, I felt a lot better. I let it sit for a bit and, of course, there was a knock at the door. Because, why not?


    I didn¡¯t have much of an option. I could ignore it, I guess, but no one ever knocks on my door. I answered with muddy poultice showing on my chest, neck, forehead, and hands. I also got a few footprints across the floor.


    The knock came from the landlady. She looked slightly alarmed and I tried not to imagine what I looked like. She just wanted to let me know that maintenance needed to come through and do some work on the heating and air this weekend. I told her that was fine and waved her off. I¡¯m sure she and Coral have lots to talk about.


    The second attempt wasn¡¯t painful but also produced no results. I ran through the restoration ritual and necromantic preparations Sulak insisted we used when just starting out. Third time''s a charm. The plants shook off their dead leaves and put out new leaf buds.


    Thrilled, I got them some water and then crowded the bunch in the window with the aloe. Nevermore almost seemed to beam with pride as I patted his pointe ceramic hat.


    Now I need to shower. Sorry for getting a lil poultice on you, diary.

 Double Dead Dare

    Dear Diary,


    I¡¯m not really sure how to write this as so much happened so fast.


    I¡¯ve been doing my restoration practices and am feeling¡­eh¡­70% back to normal.


    I even answered Dad¡¯s call the other day. He wanted to let me know that he disapproved of my aiding Cooper who apparently has had some shady dealings in the past. I wasn¡¯t surprised but there was no point in telling Dad I didn¡¯t know - he¡¯d just say that I would know if I took up Law Magic like I should have. Besides, Cooper was hardly my biggest issue - he was practically gleaming next to working for Gallo. Not that I ever, ever want Dad to know about that.


    It was awkward and mostly silent on my part. After a long sigh that I¡¯m sure was supposed to make me feel bad but mostly made me want to end the call soon, Dad made sure I was coming home for the holidays and asked if I was feeling ok. He sounded tired. I wanted to ask him if he was working on the Z case but figured that would be pushing it.


    Anyways, yesterday, Kate reached out to see how I was doing. I figured I needed to thank her for the shirt and tee and offered to go out for drinks with her. I still have a paid tab after all.


    I shouldn¡¯t do things like that - ask people out for drinks. I¡¯m not good at it. I mean, sure she said yes and seemed genuinely interested in hanging out with me for some reason, but it went bad so fast. I don¡¯t know why I didn¡¯t expect it.


    We¡¯d already had a couple drinks. Kate was bemoaning her internship with her dad¡¯s magic firm which seems to mostly consist of going to luncheons, dinner parties, and other social events to network. It sounds horrible and I¡¯m glad I don¡¯t have to do things like that. I¡¯m pretty sure I said as much which made Kate laugh. Apparently the fact that someone who works with dead bodies finding something supposedly as normal as socializing horrible is funny. I suppose I see the humor in it but honestly, it comes down to the fact the dead don¡¯t expect much. The living however are landmines of expectations that I¡¯ve never been able to guess at.


    If that had been all, it would have been a decent night. However, a group of guys stepped up to pay their tab and saw us.


    Stewart, Nico, and Lark.


    I don¡¯t know if Stewart or Nico spotted us first but I heard them tell Lark and point to us pretty openly. I should have followed my instinct to leave then.


    Gavin Lark stepped between us and the door and said something about finding it strange to see me there. Kate pointed out that Lyre is where most Latimer students and graduates hang out. I don¡¯t know if she was being purposefully oblivious to Lark¡¯s tone but she called for two more drinks, making it clear we weren¡¯t going anywhere. I wonder if she learned this from socializing for her dad¡¯s firm.


    Lark said something about being surprised to see Kate hanging out with a freak like me (hell, I wonder about this too, dude so its hardly an insult) and that he figured that I was too stuck up for slumming it with the rest of the Latimer students. Stewart piped up. ¡°She¡¯s not so high and mighty now, though. Couldn¡¯t even get into Crane.¡±


    Lark laughed but it was a harsh barking sound. ¡°I guess being teacher¡¯s pet only gets you so far.¡±


    I think I laughed a little then. The idea of any student being Professor Sulak¡¯s teacher¡¯s pet was just absurd. The head of the necromancy department was practically heartless. Then again, Lark would probably slap that label on anyone making better grades than him.


    I think my laughter caught him off guard but before I could point out my analysis, Kate spoke again. ¡°You¡¯re just still sore that Bernie turned you down first year.¡±


    I don¡¯t know who was more confused or shocked, me or the guys. As much as I racked my brain (though the alcohol wasn¡¯t helping) I couldn¡¯t recall this. I almost said she was drunk but she went on.


    ¡°At the end of spring term. I didn¡¯t mean to spy on the two of you in the labs hall,¡± she said to me apologetically. ¡°I needed to get past but I saw the tension between the two of you and decided to wait. Lark was saying something about being sad you two wouldn¡¯t be in charms class together because you tested out. You said something about not wanting to sit through a class when you didn¡¯t have to and that you were pretty sure the office was still open if he wanted to try testing out as well. Lark then said he wasn¡¯t clever like you were, which is true, but then asked you to go out with him. You said you had a meeting with some professor on the other side of campus from the offices but that you could walk out of the labs together if he wanted. That you would be rooting for him to test out and if he hurried he could get there in time. I didn¡¯t see your face but I saw Lark¡¯s when you left and he hung back. I¡¯m pretty sure he was crying.¡±


    I think I wrote that right. Its all a little fuzzy now.


    Puzzle pieces clicked together as Kate explained and Lark¡¯s face turned as red as a beet. I mumbled something about not realizing he was asking me OUT out, not like, romantically. Then again, even if I had¡­I wouldn¡¯t have wanted to. The idea of dating any of these guys never appealed to me. Perhaps it was for the best.


    Things might have been fine after that but for Nico and Stewart. They started laughing¡­hard. Like drunk, doubled over, couldn¡¯t breathe laughing. This only made Lark redder until he kind of exploded.


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    I didn¡¯t really understand what all he was saying until the end. ¡°I challenge you, Vitale, to a rite of honor!¡±


    Magic duels are ridiculous and prove nothing unless you¡¯re both battle mages seeing who can handle the pressure. Besides, I have nothing to prove here. Hadn¡¯t Lark won? He got the job at Crane along with Nico and Stewart. He was obviously doing well¡­and likely hadn¡¯t spent weeks recovering from magical burn out, dealing with shady cops and even shadier mobsters. I bet he doesn¡¯t have a pet gnome or a growing plant hoard. I was about to tell him to leave me alone when Kate stood up.


    ¡°Tonight! I will be Bernie¡¯s second. Yours?¡±


    Lark took a moment to look between Nico and Stewart and chose the latter.


    I stared at Kate, trying my best to form the words to ask her what the hell she was doing as she and Lark sorted out the time, place, and ritual focus.


    ¡°Necromancy of course. Whoever can bring up the oldest dead is the victor.¡±


    The guys left and Kate sat down grinning for some damn reason. ¡°Drink up. We¡¯re gonna have an exciting night!¡±


    After, we went to my place to get my gear. Kate was enamored with my plants and gnome. She asked if he had a name and then squealed when he started tapping on the aloe pot with his hat. I told her he was Nevermore and explained how he got there after the garden situation. I asked Kate why she kept volunteering me for shit and she looked genuinely apologetic.


    ¡°I just can¡¯t stand how those guys treat you. You¡¯re the smartest, most talented person I know.¡±


    I pointed out she was valedictorian. She laughed at that and said something about knowing how to pass tests wasn¡¯t the kind of smart she meant.


    By the time we got to Latimer Tombs, I was resolved to see this through. Outside the gate, Kate took my hand in hers and said some words of encouragement I didn¡¯t quite get because I was too focused on how warm and soft her hand was. It made me feel warm all over and I think it''s mostly because of the alcohol.


    Before we went in, I was thinking about Lark¡¯s challenge. It wasn¡¯t just a necromancy rite. He said it was the one who brought forth the oldest. This was hard to do of course but the thing is, how would we know the oldest inhabitant? The tombs were notorious for walls of bones without name or date.


    I asked Kate if she knew any location charms. She took off a necklace that had been tucked in her shirt and handed it to me, explaining it was an heirloom from her mom. A pendulum charmed specifically with finding spells.


    It was pretty but nothing particularly gorgeous about it - a plain gold chain and teardrop pendant without carving or gemstone. However, once it hung in my hand it thrummed with power. Whoever set this charm up knew what they were doing.


    We went in. The guys were already there, set up around a sarcophagus in the back. I recognized it as that of Jean-Paul Dumais - the oldest marked grave in the tomb. Pretty easy. I guess he figured since he arrived first and called dibs he won¡­if he could actually pull it off.


    I ignored him and focused on the pendulum. It swayed and tugged me past the boys and to a wall of skulls. Each one is nameless other than the engravings on their heads. The one the pendulum tugged to still had its jaw at least but otherwise didn¡¯t look any different than the others.


    I gave Kate her necklace back and picked up the skull. It came away from the wall relatively easily and none of the others fell so, at least there¡¯s that. I half expected an avalanche of bones.


    Lark looked worried but Stewart snorted something about no one being able to rejuvenate a skull without its body. Nico was giggling but at this point I suspect he¡¯s on something though I don¡¯t know enough about drugs to guess what.


    I ignored them and got to work. From the sound of Lark hushing Nico, he was working too.


    The problem with bringing back something without all of its parts, and something that had been dead so long, is that it''s hard to anchor the spirit to the body. You have to force a square peg through a round hole kind of at that point and just hope the spirit won¡¯t fight you too much.


    My nerves ached from the force considering I¡¯d only just recovered and then only practiced with plants. This was stupid. Probably more stupid than working for criminals. I might have given up but Kate was looking at me all wide eyed and confident, I kept going even as I acknowledged the stupidity of it.


    It took hours. When I was done I was covered in cold sweat and Kate and Stewart both had coughs and runny noses from hanging out in the tombs. Nico looked like he passed out some time ago and was curled up at the base of a nearby sarcophagus. Lark looked just as worn out as I was. Dumais knocked around and moaned in his sarcophagus.


    He did well. It''s no easy feat to bring back someone that long dead. No idea what he was saying as I don¡¯t speak French fluently but from what Stewart was saying and translating to Lark, it didn¡¯t sound like the dead guy was happy.


    My skull clattered to life as well, speaking first Latin then Old High German. It took a minute to sort things through but he was asking for wine. I tried my best to explain to him that we didn¡¯t have any and he didn¡¯t have a body anyways or a tongue or a nose. He clattered along the floor, angry and still demanding wine.


    I finally gave up and said I would get him some wine if he would tell me what year he died. It took some figuring but Kate and I finally pinpointed it to the reign of Frederick the Wise in the late 1400¡¯s. He¡¯d been carried over by a necromancer along with some other skulls in hopes of gaining their knowledge. That explained why it had been relatively easy to anchor him - someone else had already marked that path for me. Well, most of the dead here at Latimer likely had some student or teacher bringing them back at some point. It would likely be difficult to find a head or body here not tampered with.


    I won the rite by about 300 years, give or take. Lark conceded. I told him he did well bringing back Dumais but mostly we were both exhausted. Stewart put Dumais back to rest and I cleaned up my stuff. The skull, who called himself Foldger, clattered on.


    Kate and I took him back to Lyre and ordered a bowl and bottle of their cheapest wine. We soaked the skull in it and he sighed and waxed poetic about fine wine. I didn¡¯t bother telling him it was the cheap stuff. He seemed happy.


    I carried him home, bowl and all. Kate slogged along with me, both of us exhausted but Kate all grins over my win. I tossed Foldger on the table and was in the process of thanking Kate for letting me use her necklace when she was suddenly very, very close to me. She said something but I couldn¡¯t make it out over my heart hammering in my head. Then, she kissed me.


    I don¡¯t know if I kissed her back. I was so thrown off by everything happening, I just stood there. When she stepped back, I said thank you like a complete idiot. She smiled and left.


    I am never drinking again.

 Foldger鈥檚 in Your Cup

    Dear Diary,


    Foldger won¡¯t go back. He¡¯s determined to stick around and demands more wine. I am too tired to argue with him. The best part of waking up is NOT a skull reeking of wine and making me translate archaic languages.


    However, he does say he has some pointers on necromancy and I don¡¯t know when I¡¯ll have an opportunity to learn from someone that old. Besides¡­translating and dealing with a clattering skull is a lot easier than sorting out how I feel every time I think about Kate.


    Foldger chattered about wine and ancient techniques for raising dead armies while I cleaned up and got dressed. Oh and I got a job. A kid¡¯s pet. Sad, yea. Easy, yea. Pays for shit, yea. Still, less stressful than what I¡¯ve been doing.


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    I put Foldger on the table under the window. Maybe he and Nevermore can keep each other company. Maybe Nevermore will be a quieting influence.


    The kid lived uptown and was offering his allowance to bring back his pet hamster. I told him to keep his allowance but his dad came in and told me to take it. That junior here was learning responsibility. I kept my mouth shut, pocketed the bag of change and crumpled bills, and brought back Whiskers. It went better than the mouse the other day. However, whether it was because he died and came back or perhaps Junior was a little too enthusiastic when he picked the hamster up, either way it ended in the kid getting bit hard enough to draw blood.


    I left to grab some lunch and tried not to think about certain Stephen King novels.


    My fortune cookie says: when you get something for nothing, you just haven¡¯t been billed for it yet.

 Committed

    Dear Diary,


    It happened again. I should be grateful I haven¡¯t seen one in so long, considering my work. The shielding techniques were working really well. I can only assume that my burn out caused my shields to drop and one particularly determined ghost slipped through.


    At least its not like after the accident when I was seeing them all the time. Pulling the whole ¡°I see dead people¡± in a home full of mages is about as fun as a root canal. So many appointments and tests until we found the right combination of shielding and warding that didn¡¯t cut me off from my own magic. Frustrating.


    I¡¯ll have to set up an appointment soon if I don¡¯t want to deal with more of them. Dreading that phone call. I don¡¯t think I can afford it without mom and dad¡¯s help. Besides, Doctor Fong will of course talk to mom - doctor, patient confidentiality doesn¡¯t seem to work around her.


    Thats a problem for future Bernie. Right now I have to deal with Delilah.


    I ran into her at the library. Apparently she was trying to find anyone who could help her out. The recent dead are always in a panic and she was no different.


    I stood there as she yammered on, looking like a complete idiot to people passing by as I talked to the air. That''s the worst part about seeing ghosts. It''s not how creepy they are, especially when they are still stuck in their recent dead form and especially when their death was gruesome. It''s being that crazy person talking to themselves about morbid shit while people cross the street to avoid you. The dead don¡¯t seem to care about this sort of thing though.


    Delilah died two days ago in a traffic accident on her way to meet her boyfriend. I got to hear her go on and on about their great love and threatened to banish her if she didn¡¯t get to the point. Anyways, she wants to be brought back. I pointed out that can be pretty jarring for the family and that I don¡¯t work for free. She promised to pay me once the deed was done. I shouldn¡¯t agree but the last thing I need is her drawing in more ghosts before I can shield again.


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    Delilah led me to the funeral home where her body is being prepped. It was one of the nicer ones so she at least is related to money. Hopefully I¡¯ll actually get paid.


    I went in and talked to the director, explaining the situation. He looked put off but agreed to take me down to see the body once I produced my card. Necromancy doesn¡¯t require licensure yet but having a certification card comes in handy when dealing with authorities around the dead - especially morticians who likely deal with amateurs wanted to fiddle with bodies all the time.


    Speaking of morticians, I knew this one. Eric Jensen. He was a necromantic drop out. I had first year classes with him. He was kind of put off by my being there. Turns out he didn¡¯t have much magical talent but still had a calling to help the dead and those who¡¯d lost someone. I didn¡¯t really care to be honest. I didn¡¯t get into this work necessarily to help people. It was just something that came naturally to me and didn¡¯t usually require too much socialization - however, I will need to rethink that considering all the issues I¡¯ve been having.


    Delilah¡¯s body wasn¡¯t embalmed yet and still in decent shape despite the break in her neck, hip, and a few cracked ribs. I confirmed with the mortician that they could have a medical mage over as soon as the soul was attached to do the healing.


    I also asked about the family and said boyfriend at Delilah¡¯s insistence. The family had been by for paperwork but Eric didn¡¯t know about any boyfriend.


    The director called in a medic mage and Eric helped me set up Delilah¡¯s body for resurrection. Thankfully, funeral homes have a lot of the same tools I use and so I didn¡¯t need to schedule, go get my things, and so on.


    With Delilah there bothering me, it was easy to attach her back to her corpse. It was faster than with Gallo senior because of the enthusiasm. Eric and I had to make sure she stayed perfectly still until the medic arrived. It was hard because she was in pain but that was remedied quickly with a morphine drip and hot blanket.


    I left my information for Delilah and her family, and headed home. I had better get paid. I really need to get that shield fixed.

 What鈥檚 a Mobster鈥檚 Favorite Game?... (Pt 1)

    Dear Diary,


    Sorry for tearing pages out. I spilled tea on it and figured it was best just to just start over rather than hope that I can read through the blur later on.


    No wonder I¡¯ve spilled tea¡­I¡¯ve been a little nervous.


    Apparently the job I did for Gallo was maybe a little too good. I got home from laundry yesterday and there was a couple black cars parked outside my building. When I approached, two men in suits stepped out and asked if I was Miss Vitale. I asked who they were and one, large guy with a shiny bald head, said they were friends of Mr. Gallo who would like for me to attend a party at his place tonight.


    Coral was looking out the window at them and me with wide, terrified eyes. One of the men asked if I had any issues with my nosey neighbor, and some other comments made it clear she¡¯d been outside when they pulled up and there¡¯d been words exchanged. I¡¯ll no doubt hear from her later on when she¡¯s recovered from the shock.


    It didn¡¯t work to tell them I didn¡¯t have anything appropriate to wear to a party. ¡°Mr. Gallo says, come as you are.¡± I was wearing black leggings and my Advanced Recycling shirt, mismatched socks, and converses. Hardly party wear¡­did I mention I was doing laundry? Don¡¯t judge me, diary.


    I asked if they would mind if I dropped off my laundry and if I needed my bag. They didn¡¯t seem to like the idea but one offered to take the load from me and escort me to my apartment in such a way that it was pretty clear I didn¡¯t have an option. I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m sharing all these details¡­it''s not like the police or Cooper will be reading this if I go missing¡­Maybe dad. Dad, if you read this, I dunno. Don¡¯t be too mad at me when you resurrect me? That¡¯s assuming you find a body to resurrect.


    Gallo¡¯s house is outside of town. I wasn¡¯t keeping track of directions. Mostly I was trying to not feel sick as I hung onto my necromancer kit and hoped that Mr. Gallo didn¡¯t think I was part of the family or anything. I¡¯m a freelance necromancer. I¡¯m not a mobster¡­or gangster¡­or whatever it''s called.


    Maybe it would have been better if I¡¯d failed to resurrect Gallo Senior? Maybe he would have killed me if I failed¡­I would have been embarrassed to death anyways to perhaps its all the same.


    I did ask what the party was for. One of the guys, who I learned was called Johnny, said it was Mr. and Mrs. Gallo¡¯s anniversary.


    I remember saying that was nice and thinking, surely no one needs a necromancer at an anniversary party. Who in their right mind is dying then?


    I then panicked, what if its Mrs. Gallo? What a hell of a time to die?


    It wasn¡¯t.


    Mrs. Gallo was greeting guests when Johnny and the other guy led me in through a side door. Johnny pointed her out - a large lady in a gold dress and a really nice laugh.


    I didn¡¯t meet her. Instead I was put in a corner near another door and told to wait there. ¡°Just stand there and look pretty,¡± Johnny said with a wink. I didn¡¯t really understand what that meant. I was in leggings and converse among people in cocktail dresses!


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    Thankfully, I didn¡¯t recognize anyone for the most part. One tall black man looked familiar but I couldn¡¯t place him. He was standing beside Mrs. Gallo and a lot of people seemed to give him a wide berth otherwise which made him easy to watch while I waited.


    Johnny came up and got me. We went downstairs to a basement that had three doors leading off of it. I heard cries through one of the doors and froze. Johnny saw that I had fallen behind and came back and got me. ¡°Mr. Gallo is waiting.¡± When I didn¡¯t move he asked if I¡¯d eaten. Horrified at the idea of eating I shook my head.


    ¡°Good, you won¡¯t puke.¡±


    He practically dragged me to the door where someone was definitely crying and moaning in pain on the other side. He knocked and it opened on a room lit by a single bare bulb. Mr. Gallo was there in a nice tux, sipping some brown alcohol on ice. The other men were in various dress states - some had suits like Johnny but had taken off their jackets and rolled up their sleeves while another had only pants and an undershirt and another was shirtless and covered in blood.


    I noticed all this because it was better than looking in the middle of the room which was where the crying was coming from. A man tied to the chair under the swaying lightbulb. I didn¡¯t dare look at him too long.


    Mr. Gallo greeted me with a hug and told me to come in as if I¡¯d just entered a nice little get together. I clutched by bag and tried not to think about my Medean Oath to not harm the living.


    ¡°Luca, my boy, this is my dear friend Miss Vitale. She is a necromancer. Do you know what that is?¡± Mr. Gallo asked the man in the middle of the room. I don¡¯t know if he answered. Mr. Gallo went on. His words are still ringing in my head diary. I¡¯ll be having nightmares about them.


    ¡°She is my insurance. You see, you might think you can get out of this whole mess by dying, Luca. That death will release you from pain and fear and anything else I can dream up for you. But you would be wrong. Miss Vitale here is my guarantee that you will tell me what I need to hear or she will do her job as many times as needed. Understand?¡±


    No, diary, I didn¡¯t think it was a good time to explain that the more you bring someone back and they die the more likely the connections between body and spirit can be frayed to the point of it no longer working. That this was especially the case when it comes to spirits that do not want to come back at all. I don¡¯t think it was a good time to discuss the fine print.


    Luca sobbed and started mumbling. I don¡¯t know what he said. I caught some apologies and pleading and then a name repeated over and over - Paul. Paulie. Paul.


    That seemed to work for Mr. Gallo who grinned, patted the man on the head and gestured to Johnny who ushered me out of the room. We were on the steps when I heard the gunshot. Upstairs, I was told to wait in the corner again. I slumped into a chair.


    I don¡¯t know how long I sat there before Kate found me.


    She asked me if I was ok and that was when I puked.


    Theres no point feeling embarrassed about it. No one seemed to even see me besides Kate, Johnny, and a waiter who went to get some staff to come clean up. Kate followed me to the car where she told Johnny something about us being friends and asked if I was alright. Johnny said something about being a great help to Mr. Gallo but not feeling well so he was taking me home.


    That was when I realized who the black man was with Mrs. Gallo - it was Edward Beghana. Kate¡¯s father.


    I don¡¯t know if I need to think about anything more than that. We left Kate outside and Johnny gave me a roll of bills when we got back to my place.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to tell you not to tell anyone what you saw tonight,¡± Johnny said in a friendly way. ¡°Not even that pretty thing that was worried about you.¡±


    I nodded and put the money in my bag and tried to find my keys. My hands were shaking. Johnny took my back and fished out my keys and got me into the apartment. ¡°Don''t¡¯ worry about it, kid. I puked my first time too.¡± I don¡¯t want it to be my first time though. I want it to be the last time. I want it to never have happened.


    I passed out on the couch. It''s now four in the morning and too late or too early for take out so I¡¯m munching on crackers and trying to figure out what the hell to do.

 ...Whack a Mole (pt. 2)

    Dear Diary,


    Kate came over and brought lunch. I hadn¡¯t slept or changed or showered. I did run and brush my teeth and put some deodorant on while she arranged food on the coffee table. When I came back in she was talking to Foldger and complimenting Nevermore on his plants that are now growing so big they¡¯re taking over the window.


    I picked at my food while she asked if I was ok. I did my best to make it clear I didn¡¯t want to talk about it. Then I asked if her dad was friends with Gallo. I couldn¡¯t seem to fit this into my head even after Kate said that her dad worked for Mr. Gallo. The Beghana family is old magic and old money. What are they doing with gangsters who kill people in their basements?


    I couldn¡¯t ask that directly so I asked how her dad started working for Gallo. She shrugged and said she didn¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know if it was a lie. My Dad would know. He¡¯s good at reading people and sorting truth from fiction when in the room with someone - its part of his law mage magic. Its part of why I don¡¯t want to go home for the holidays.


    Kate asked how long I¡¯d been working for Gallo and I said not long. It was an awkward conversation full of unspoken ¡°I can¡¯t tell you so please don¡¯t ask me.¡±


    I stared at the food that on any other occasion I would have gobbled up. Kate reached over and held my hand. We just sat like that for a long time until her phone rang. She answered it and after a moment hung up and told me she had to get back to work.


    I wanted to ask what work. Why was she at that party? Does this mean Gallo has her doing something horrible too? I didn¡¯t ask any of it. I just walked her to my door and hugged her tight. She kissed my cheek and left.


    I don¡¯t know how I feel about all of this, diary. I¡¯m so tired¡­more than physically. I¡¯m pretty sure that if I died my ghost would look tired.


    Speaking of, Gallo¡¯s money is enough to cover the shielding I need. I¡¯ll get that scheduled once I feel like talking to anyone. Right now, I could sleep for a week.


    ¡­


    I only got to sleep for an hour before my phone rang. It was Johnny. He got my number from Gallo and said he figured I¡¯d like a heads up before they pulled up to get me.


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    I asked if I couldn¡¯t just stay home. I think my exhaustion made me braver than I actually am. He laughed and said no. That we were having dinner with the boss. ¡°Just dinner,¡± he assured me. Unspoken was that there wouldn¡¯t be bodies.


    I got dressed. I should have showered but I didn¡¯t have time. If Gallo took issue with my greasy hair, he would have to give me a bigger heads up.


    We met at the restaurant and I actually was able to nibble at the pasta brought to the table. Gallo thanked me for showing up at his party and told me next time he would make sure I had enough time to dress and meet everyone. I didn¡¯t tell him I didn¡¯t want a next time. I am not that brave even this tired.


    He also thanked me for the situation with his father. That I was a big help last night in handling the person who caused all of this mess to begin with. It took longer than it should have for me to put together that he was referencing how Gallo Senior said he¡¯d been murdered. Luca must have been the one who did it. It didn¡¯t make me feel any better.


    I did finally find my voice and told Gallo that it was probably best I didn¡¯t know anything at all. ¡°My dad¡¯s a Law Mage.¡±


    Gallo laughed at that and said he knew. ¡°I always check out my employees, even freelance ones. I know your dad very well, Miss Vitale.¡±


    He was smiling like the cat who caught the canary and I didn¡¯t dare ask how they knew each other. I don¡¯t want to know.


    Mr. Gallo said he would like to put me on retainer to make sure that when he called, I would be available to him. The way he said it wasn¡¯t a request. I nodded and Gallo gestured to a small man with glasses and a drab suit who was working away on a smartphone.


    ¡°If you have any issues at all, you let me know, of course,¡± Mr. Gallo said. I assume he meant legal ones and just kept nodding like the best impression of a bobble head until dinner was over and Johnny brought me back home.


    On the ride Johnny asked me about Kate. ¡°She your friend? Girlfriend?¡±


    I shook my head and told him we went to school together. I guess we¡¯re friends. Do friends kiss each other? Don¡¯t you have to know if someone is your girlfriend? Do I want Kate as a girlfriend?


    All of that seems pretty silly when you are working for criminals.


    I don¡¯t know if I said anything else because we were pulling onto my street and I saw another ghost. I kept this information to myself and hopefully Johnny didn¡¯t pick up on any additional weirdness from me as I rushed into the apartment and put a ward on my door to prevent the ghost of a murderer from coming in.


    I need to get that shield and also call up Cooper to let him know that I spotted Frater Z¡¯s spirit on my block.