Cackles and Cauldrons

by Sarina Dorie

The coffin wasn’t fancy. It was plain wood like something I imagined would have been used a hundred years ago, not a fancy casket, but the wood had held up. Vega directed me to stand on a dirt ledge she’d made at the foot of the coffin so I wouldn’t be in the way as she opened the lid. She dug her boots into the dirt, standing straddled across the long shape as she yanked the lid open.

  A wave of putrid air blasted into me, something in between road kill, a septic tank, and the sickly-sweet stench of old blood. This wasn’t like Galswintha the Wise’s mummified remains that smelled like apples.

  Vega inhaled deeply and stepped into the coffin. “Nice. They didn’t use embalming fluid. I don’t have to deal with any synthetic chemicals.”

  I tried to cover my nose with my sleeve. Brogan’s face was mottled with mold and an insect crawled out of his nose. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and my stomach churned. I fell into Vega. Retching on the man I intended to resurrect hadn’t been in my plans for the evening, but my stomach rebelled. I vomited my curry dinner.

  When I opened my eyes, I realized Vega’s hands were before me holding a glass bowl. Upon closer examination, I realized it wasn’t a bowl, but some kind of magical shield.

  I took in a deep breath, and I retched again. When I finally had no more left in me, Vega levitated the magical container out of the grave and away. I heard it splatter somewhere outside, probably on someone else’s grave.

  Vega was no longer wearing gloves. She brought her hands to cup Brogan’s face and began to chant. Flickering lights drifted like snowflakes onto Vega. I gazed upward to find the sky glowing intensely, filled with more celestial bodies than I knew were there. The air shimmered around us, tasting of winter and starlight. I would have called her chant a lullaby from the way she crooned. She stroked his face and smoothed his hair back as she would have done to a lover. The mold left his skin. Chunks of missing flesh healed, leaving a mess of black lines that reminded me of spiderwebs.

  This magic tasted like Celestor magic with some kind of healing Amni Plandai herbs mingling in the air. The aroma of Vega’s spell drowned out the corpse’s stench. Or maybe it was the healing of necrotized flesh that made the air smell less barf-worthy. Vega ran her hands up and down his body, lifting an occasional limb and massaging his muscles. Droplets of moisture gathered from the earth and soaked into him, hydrating his skin and making his face less hollow.

  It was amazing to watch her at work. As any intelligent person would do, I stayed out of her way.

  Brogan almost looked like himself except for the black hatchings over his face. Those had happened when he’d been drained. Slowly, those faded as well.

  “Not bad,” Vega said, admiring her handiwork. “He’s cute. A little too short for me, but I can see how Khaba might have fallen for him.”

  Between his red hair, the pointed ears, and the kilt Brogan had been buried in, he reminded me of a Highland elf that might have been on the cover of a fantasy novel. Not a romance novel with men tearing their shirts off. His charm was quiet and unassuming.

  Vega kicked her foot into the wall of dirt and launched herself upward, twisting in the air, and landing to face me with the grace of a cat. “Are you ready to show me how you make the dead come to life?”

  I sucked in a breath, nervous again. What if it didn’t work? It hadn’t worked with Rudy. If it was about unfinished business, I didn’t know if Brogan had unfinished business.

  Vega prompted, “Tell me every step that you do.”

  “I guess the first thing I do is think about how scary this is and tell myself I can do it.”

  “Hmm. That might be a way of centering yourself. What do you do with your affinity? Think of sexy thoughts about the dead? I can do that.” She smiled.

  I could see how she would assume that since she knew enough about my affinity to understand how important touch and pleasure was for me, but I’d never thought about that before.

  “No. I don’t do anything with my affinity. I think it’s passive magic, like how my affinity affects others. I don’t try to make you stronger or other people. It just does it.” I crouched at Brogan’s feet, eyeing the exposed areas of skin as I determined the best place to touch. “Do you ever notice how you make other people’s magic increase?”

  Her lips turned down into a frown. “No, I don’t have that ability.”

  Maybe she wouldn’t have the natural talent for necromancy either.

  “The next thing I do is touch the dead person.” I placed my hand over Brogan’s hand. “I think it took a few seconds with Sebastian Reade.” With Rudy it hadn’t worked at all.

  Brogan opened his eyes and gasped. He immediately sat up. He looked from me to Vega looming over the grave. His movements were smooth and natural, not like the jerky movements of someone with rigor mortis. Vega had done a good job.

  “Hi,” I said.

  His eyes raked over the coffin and the walls of dirt rising up around us. “Why am I in a grave, lass?” He had a slight accent that might have been Scottish.

  “Why would someone usually be in a grave?” Vega asked. Her tone was surprisingly gentle, like a teacher leading a student toward the correct answer.

  “Oh,” he said. An adorable grin spread across his face, his eyes hopeful. “April Fool’s?”

  “No,” Vega said.

  “I know.” His smile was teasing. “Someone buried me alive. You’re here to rescue me.”

  Vega’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

  “I fainted dead away?” The dimples in his cheeks gave him a baby face even though he must have been in his thirties. He laughed at his own joke.

  Vega snorted. I giggled. I could see why Brogan got along with Khaba with his quirky humor.

  “My name is Clarissa Lawrence,” I said. “I work with Khaba. He’s one of my friends. This is Vega Bloodmire, another teacher at Womby’s.”

  Brogan nodded. “I know who you are, lass. I’ve seen you in Lachlan Falls with Khaba. You’re necromancers, then? I hope you aren’t planning to use my body to some evil end. Khaba would be so disappointed in you.”

  “You aren’t like most dead people I know.” Vega frowned.

  His eyebrows rose expectantly. “You know loads of dead people, then?”

  Vega didn’t answer. She stared off into the night.

  Brogan tried to pull his hand from mine.

  I held on tight. “I have to keep touching you, or the magic will stop.”

  “This necromancy is a kind of healing magic?” he asked.

  “Can we hurry this along?” Vega snapped her fingers at her wand. The stick of wood leapt from the pile of dirt she’d stuck it in and landed in her outstretched hand. Her eyes scanned the shadows, her stance defensive.

  “So here’s the thing,” I said. “We need your help resolving something. I don’t want to bring up a subject that might disturb you, but we need to know what happened to you. Can you tell us who murdered you?”

  His expression turned wary. “I want to speak with Khaba.”

  “Great. Are you willing to tell him who murdered you? Who was it?” I asked.

  His lips pressed into a line. For some reason, he didn’t want to tell me. This didn’t sit well. What if he thought it was Thatch or Gertrude?

  “We need to leave.” There was an edge to Vega’s voice. “Now.”

  She held out one hand to Brogan, but her gaze was fixed in the opposite direction. She sent out a yellow spell that lit her face as though it were made of sunlight.

  “Are we about to get caught grave robbing?” I asked. As if getting in trouble for necromancy wasn’t bad enough.

  Brogan grasped Vega’s hand. He didn’t release me as he vaulted out of the grave, flinging me out with him. I momentarily let go as I flew over a mound of dirt and I slipped in a slick puddle. I toppled into a headstone. Glowing eyes watched me from the shadows. A pale hand caked with dirt stretched out toward me.

  I jerked back.

  “Clarissa!
” Vega yelled. Brogan slumped in her arms.

  I dove toward her and grasped his hand. He twitched to life and stumbled back from Vega. She whirled.

  I could see why she’d suggested we hurry. The graveyard was full of shifting shadows. Glowing eyes watched us from behind headstones.

  Vega cast a spell from her wand, a circle of light surrounding us. Spindly creatures with pale gray skin shrank back, hiding their faces from the light. Even while hiding their faces, they clawed closer.

  I had worried about getting caught.

  Getting killed and then eaten by ghouls was far worse.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The Love Life of Boys and Ghouls

  Vega swore, all the while lashing out with more spells that did little to stop the creatures. I would have felt better if she had saved her breath for a useful spell. For some reason, Miss Perfect’s magic wasn’t working.

  “Are those ghouls?” Brogan asked.

  “Yes. They’re attracted to your dead body,” Vega said.

  Brogan spoke quickly. “Use a McMorris’ Scent Glamour and project it away from us.”

  They were so close I could smell the death on them, a putrid stench similar to when we’d exhumed Brogan’s grave. Vega lassoed us in orange light. It felt like the magic raked against my skin before she yanked it away and pitched it toward a barren tree with spidery limbs on the other side of the graveyard. Creatures lifted their faces, tongues flickering from side to side outside their mouths as though they were scenting the air like snakes.

  I held my breath, waiting to see how they reacted. The ghouls scampered off toward the spell.

  With shaking hands, Vega fumbled in her pockets until she found a perfume bottle. She spritzed the dirt and the air around us, though she didn’t actually spray us. It was rare I saw Vega this nervous.

  “That isn’t going to keep them away,” Brogan said.

  “Why didn’t you just transport us back to the school?” I asked.

  Vega removed her coat. “Magic doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”

  Brogan nudged me. “Unless you’re an Amni Plandai.” He chuckled, stopping when she gave him a dirty look.

  Vega shoved her coat at me, followed by her hat and scarf.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. It was freakin’ cold.

  “If I’m going to transport the three of us, I need more starlight.” She continued to strip. “If you want to live, you’ll keep your eyes on the shadows, not on me.”

  I’d seen Vega absorb starlight before. I kept watch of the tree, uncertain I was able to see anything in the darkness.

  Brogan whispered, “How long has it been since I died?”

  “Almost two years.” I shifted the bundle of clothes around in my arms the best I could while holding his hand.

  Brogan stooped to pick up the hat I’d dropped. “That long? How is Khaba holding up? Does he . . . have a new boyfriend?”

  “No. He took your death pretty hard.” I considered whether Khaba would want him to know what had happened. “After you died, I accidentally released Khaba from his enslavement to the lamp. I didn’t realize I was doing something bad.”

  “Oh boy,” he said.

  “He became evil and exploded and destroyed part of the school and places in Lachlan Falls. Then we didn’t see him for a while. He has his magic under control again now, but he said he went off the deep end because he’d bottled up his emotions, and that magical release was the icing on the cake.”

  Brogan shifted his handhold on me, careful not to break away. “This isn’t permanent, is it? I’m not going to be able to stay alive and be with him, will I?”

  My throat tightened. “No. I wish I knew how to do that for you, but I don’t know that kind of magic.”

  “Have you considered what this might do to him?” Brogan asked. “Bringing me back only to take me away again?”

  Did he think Khaba would become evil again? I hoped not.

  Brogan flinched, tugging me back. He called over his shoulder. “I don’t want to rush you, lass, but they’re coming back.”

  I couldn’t see anything, but apparently he could.

  Vega shouted from behind us. “I need another minute.”

  “You don’t have another minute.” He kept backing up, taking me with him.

  I saw the glowing eyes now that they were closer. They were only feet away.

  I stumbled into something, which happened to be Vega. I was pretty sure I dropped some of her clothes.

  Vega turned to face us, glowing like a star. She was naked and beautiful, long and lean like a model. She grabbed Brogan’s hand and my arm. As she spoke, smoke swirled out of her mouth.

  From the luminous ambience of her skin, she cast enough light for me to see the ghouls nearing.

  Dark mist spiraled around us. My vision twisted, and I could see through Vega. The air was sucked from my lungs. A bloody hand reached for me but went through me.

  My world spun, and vertigo washed over me. As my body untwisted and I realized I was solid again, I teetered into Vega. She shoved me away. I would have vomited, but I’d already emptied the contents of my stomach earlier. Brogan blinked, unfazed by the experience.

  Vega leaned against a tree, her eyes closed. She breathed heavily.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Vega lifted her chin. “Of course I’m fine. I’m a Merlin-class Celestor.”

  “Sounds about right.” Brogan winked at me.

  We stood next to the path that led from Lachlan Falls to the school. I could see the graveyard in the distance. We weren’t that far.

  “Um. . . . Why aren’t we at the school?” I asked.

  “The wards. I can’t get through them. I transported us outside of the school property.” She pushed herself from the tree and grabbed her clothes.

  Hurriedly, she dressed. She was missing her blouse, trousers, and one glove.

  “It’s okay. At least I held on to your coat. All the cool kids only wear one glove anyway. You can be like Michael Jackson.”

  Brogan snickered. She smacked me on the head with it. I doubted she even knew who Michael Jackson was.

  Every once in a while she sniffed at the air and gazed behind us. I caught a whiff of it too. I had the shortest legs, but it turned out I was the fastest walker.

  She leaned toward me at one point and inhaled. “Why do you smell worse than a sasquatch?”

  “I do not!” If anyone smelled bad it was her. She smelled like the graveyard.

  Brogan pointed to the side of my coat and jeans. “I think you might have fallen into a puddle of something in the graveyard.”

  Now that he mentioned it, I saw the stain down the side of my clothes. I lifted up my sleeve and inhaled. “Uh! That smells like puke.”

  My puke from earlier I assumed.

  Vega frowned. “Which you smeared onto my coat.”

  I suspected she was still low on magic or else she would have at least cleaned herself.

  Brogan grinned. “You know what they say. . . . Friends who share their puke, also share their love.”

  Vega snorted. “I’ve never heard of that one.” She kept on walking.

  Brogan was silent, brooding. For all his humor and joking, I knew he had something serious weighing down on him. He wore a burden around his heart.

  My mind went back to what Brogan had said about Khaba before the ghouls had returned. Was I going to make things worse by teasing Khaba with someone he loved, only to take him away again? The idea of him exploding and destroying the school was bad enough. I would probably lose my job for the necromancy too.

  The idea of Khaba becoming evil because he’d had his heart broken all over again was my worst worry. If that happened, I would probably lose my friend for good this time.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Djinn Roulette

  Twenty minutes later we were back at the school in the admin wing. I knocked on the door of Khaba’s r
oom. Vega waited with Brogan in the shadows a few steps down the hall. He’d agreed he didn’t want to startle Khaba, which meant he’d had to wait with her. I wasn’t touching him, so he wasn’t animated at the moment. I would have preferred Vega to knock and for me to stay with Brogan, but that meant she might get blamed for being my accomplice. She’d made it quite clear she was not going to take the blame for that.

  Khaba didn’t answer the door. Maybe he wasn’t in. I pounded again. “Khaba, I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

  The door finally opened.

  Khaba wore pink pajamas with martinis on them. “At this hour it better be important. And I don’t want to hear another word from you about Felix Thatch.”

  I spoke quickly, my words coming out in a bumble rather than the slow calm I had rehearsed in my head. “I did something that you’ll probably say is bad. I realize I’ll get in trouble for it, and you’ll probably have to fire me, but I need you to listen.”

  He rubbed his face with his hands. “Please tell me you didn’t break Thatch out of prison.”

  “No! Why do people keep thinking I would do something that stupid?”

  He gave me a pointed look.

  “I have a witness who can attest to Thatch’s innocence. Thatch didn’t kill Brogan. He told me so himself.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Who told you so? Thatch? Derrick?”

  I swallowed. “Brogan.”

  He shook his head. “Do you know why séances are forbidden? You don’t know what kind of spirit might be pretending to be the person you think you’re contacting. It’s an unreliable method.” He sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”

  “It’s Clarissa,” Vega said.

  Khaba frowned. “Is Miss Bloodmire part of this as well?” He squinted into the shadows.

  “No.” Vega’s voice sounded strained as she held Brogan up. “I am here being a responsible staff member, ensuring Clarissa turns herself in for her misdeeds. I imagine you’ll see what a responsible department head I would be when this doesn’t work out.”

  Khaba raised his hand as if to light the sconces that we had purposefully snuffed. I grabbed his hand. “Don’t. Just wait.” I didn’t want him to see Brogan dead.