by S. E. Babin
This morning’s session was going to be brutal, I could already tell. The man I had to raise was a seventy something father of four named Martin Klink. His first wife and mother of his children, had been deceased for ten years. In his loneliness, Martin decided to use the local escort service to find himself a companion. His children could see the coming train wreck from a mile away, yet warnings to their father resulted in disapproval and eventual disinheritance. Or so his new wife said. I was here today to get the final truth about the will and whether or not Mr. Klink wanted his kids excluded. Grandkids too. According to his children, less than two days after his death, Mrs. Klink swooped down like a harpy and began throwing wads of dough at everything and everyone except for his kids.
The new Mrs. Clink had a body built by Mattel. All odd proportions that only made sense on Barbie’s, but made men everywhere drool. I still couldn’t fathom how the woman didn’t topple over when she stood up. She was so top heavy her pink, lacy shirt constrained against its bonds. They were so large, you could barely tell she had a waist and as she walked, it was like they came to life, swaying back and forth even through the fabric of what had to be a custom fit bra.
Martin Klink had died of a heart attack, and if it had anything to do with those boobs, I could say I was not surprised. I felt like hyperventilating when those things swung too close to me.
But that was not the only thing about Mrs. Klink that was larger than life. She spoke in a hard to understand whisper and lisped certain words because her lips were so overpumped she couldn’t pronounce half of what she was saying correctly. To make it worse, she also affected what had to be a fake British accent so everything that had the letters “ar” came out as “ah” which mean every time she said Martin, it was drawled out as Maaahhhtin, which made his adult children close their eyes for a moment and take a deep breath.
If it wasn’t so sad, it would be comical.
Mrs. Klink had hair the color of newly fallen snow which, according to the records the kids had given me, cost as much as a car payment each month to maintain. This in addition to her eyelash inserts, her gel nails, pedicures, Botox, lip injections, and doctor’s appointments to ensure her implants were still stable.
I chewed on the side of my lip. The kids were asking for their father to be raised so they could be sure once and for all that he meant to leave his estate to the woman their father had married. They were asking for nothing other than the truth.
When I referred to her as their stepmom, one of the children hissed at me like they were feral, so I’d taken to calling her merely Mrs. Klink. Even that name got their eyes to twitching. She was blowing through their father’s estate with the speed of a Cat 5 hurricane, thus the reason for this short notice raising.
The judge began to speak, reciting the facts of the case, and all the pertinent details while I studied the remains of Mr. Klink. He was surprisingly well preserved for someone who had died over six months ago. It would make the raising easier. I had my notepad, my recorder, and my bag full of necessary materials. Once the judge finished speaking, everyone would pile out so I could work. It was in my contract that no one could watch me perform the spell that brought the dead back to life.
It wasn’t exactly a spell, but it was the easiest way to explain what I did.
Once both parties were sworn in, the judge ordered everyone to clear the room. She stood, the scent of cat litter wafting about her, and brushed past me. My nose wrinkled at the smell, but I merely acknowledged her with a nod. Once the door shut behind me, I let out a deep breath and got to work.
Raising the dead had once required everything from me. It had exhausted my magic, caused me to have migraines, and depleted my energy for the rest of the day.
It was different now. Years of honed study resulted in near perfect focus. I could do several raisings in a day now, though my limit was about five. After that, the feel of the grave became too much and I felt the darkness start to pull me under.
I removed the sheet covering the rest of Mr. Klink’s body, carefully avoiding looking at the parts I never wanted to see on a senior citizen. I studied him from head to toe, noting any areas that were decomposing too quickly. Once I finished with that, I studied the picture his kids had given me. For me, necromancy was a combination of science and magic and, yet, sometimes it felt strangely like plastic surgery. Mrs. Klink’s enormous appendages danced in my thoughts and I quickly shut the images down.
I did not want Mr. Klink to wake up from the dead with giant boobs.
I pulled out several white candles from my bag and set them around the table he rested on, one about every 6-8 inches or so. After that I pulled out my sage wand, lit it, and blew out the flame, Sweet, herbal smoke filtered through the room. I let it sink into my lungs, and I exhaled, purified from the inside. I waved the wand around my body paying careful attention to the areas where an angry spirit could slip in and possess me. His family and friends were safe, but I was not. Even though I controlled the dead, mistakes could be made. So in addition to wearing an anti-possession charm one of the Comey sisters had made for me, I ensured I saged before every ritual. Terrifying as the Comey’s were, they knew how to handle powerful magic. I fingered the obsidian teardrop resting against my chest as I walked around the room, clockwise, ensuring the purifying smoke of the sage made it into all the nooks and crannies of the room. Last, I allowed the smoke to whip and curl around Mr. Klink’s body for a moment before I stubbed out the sage wand.
“All right, Mr. Klink,” I murmured, “let’s see if you’re more intelligent in death than you were in life.”
I double checked to make sure the door was locked and quickly shed my clothing. I slid a white gown over my head and slipped into a pair of silver sandals. It was easier to come dressed in the gown beforehand, but I found people took me less seriously dressed in this than when I showed up in business casual.
I walked over to the table and stood directly behind the top of the man’s head. I closed my eyes and began to steady my breathing. With every few beats of my heart I inhaled. Every few beats, I exhaled, until my brain had slipped into the alpha state of consciousness. With barely a thought, all of the candles surrounding Mr. Klink came to life. The light danced through the shadows of the darkened room as I began to chant.
Some magicians made up really elaborate chants as they performed magic. Some were lyrical, some were beautiful. Mine were silly. Just plain silly. And I never used the same one. I was always that girl who would change the song lyrics around to something ridiculous. Right now with the popularity of Despacito, I couldn’t help but scream, “THIS BURRITO!” It was even funnier when I had stopped at the local Taco Bell and could point to it while singing.
I opened my eyes, inhaled the scent of burning sage, and recited:
“Mr. Klink,
You big, dumb, dink,
Awake and answer questions.
Your ridiculous wife,
Is causing strife,
So get up and see what you paid for.”
As raising chants went, I had to admit it wasn’t my best, but it made me snort, so I went with it. This was another reason family members weren’t welcome during the raisings. I was usually respectful, but I tended to put a personal spin on my chants, catered to each client.
The sheet rustled. I stepped back and gave Mr. Klink a moment. Next time I would ask the courts to make sure the bodies were clothed. You wouldn’t believe how awkward it could be to try to be professional when the man you were speaking with was both dead and naked.
“The hell?” Mr. Klink muttered as he sat up.
I stepped into his line of sight. “Hello, my name is Helen Reaper. I’ve been appointed by the Midnight Cove court systems to seek the truth concerning your last will and testament.”
Watery blue eyes stared at me. His brow crinkled. “The hell?” he muttered again. Mr. Klink looked around the room, then down at himself. With a squawk, he scrambled to make sure he was covered. “Where am I?”
“You’re in the judge’s office,” I said. I held up a hand when he started to climb off the table. “You will stay where you are. This is a temporary raising. Once the questions have been answered and confirmed to be truthful, I will send you back to your final resting place.”
Mr. Klink froze in place. The dead could not disobey the necromancer’s commands. He frowned at me. “I’m dead?” His tone was confused. “The last thing I remember…” He abruptly trailed off.
It was the boobs that killed him. Had to be.
“Yes, Mr. Klink, you are deceased. Are you ready to see your family?”
He made a dismissive gesture. “The best thing about dying that I don’t remember is not seeing them again.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across my mouth. “Mrs. Klink is here to see you as well.”
His frown deepened. “That gold digging trollop?”
The door abruptly opened and the family poured in. I gave them a look of displeasure. My contract also stated they would wait for me to call them in. I mentally added another two hundred dollars to their bill.
Mrs. Klink trotted in on her too high heels and flung her arms out. “Pookie!” she yelled. Or kind of did. It was hard to tell with that mangled British accent and ridiculous whisper lisp.
“Don’t!” I yelled, but it was too late. Yet another reason why families weren’t supposed to come in before I was ready. There were things I needed to brief them on.
Mrs. Klink ran right into the invisible barrier separating her from her pookie, and it was like something out of a horror movie. Her boobs were the first thing to hit the shield. They smooshed against the barrier and splayed wide causing Mr. Klink to get the gags and his children to burst into uproarious laughter. I stood there in horror watching as she was flung away from her husband and slammed into a bookshelf on the back wall where she promptly slid down to the floor. The look of confusion on her face was absolutely priceless.
“Mrs. Klink, you are not permitted to interact physically in any way with your spouse. This is for both your protection and his.” I held my hand out to help her up.
She sputtered and smacked my hand away. “You should have told me that!”
“The judge went over all of the instructions before you stepped outside the room. The most important instruction being not to enter before I gave you permission.”
“Well,” she hiss whispered before she stood back up and tried to recover some of her dignity.
“I can honestly say I never want to see that again,” said Mr. Klink.
I reached for my notebook and pen and tried to stifle my massive sigh of annoyance. “Now then,” I said, “shall we get started?”
What felt like two days worth of questioning turned out to be only a couple of hours. By the end, the room had devolved into screaming, shouting, and tears. Some of them mine. I was so frustrated with everyone that I finally yelled at everyone to shut up.
The judge looked at me like I was insane.
“My contract is clearly outlined, Judge Sinclair. The courts hired me to do a job, and I cannot do it if everyone is interfering. While I do understand how emotion can get in the way, we are here for simple yes or no answers. I haven’t been able to gather a single response either way from Mr. Klink because of the total chaos of this family.”
Said family huffed and puffed and Mrs. Klink muttered something under her breath. Funny how I thought the kids were the decent ones here. Turned out all of them were nuts.
“I respectfully request the family be escorted out of the room and the testimony be witnessed by you.”
Judge Sinclair frowned but finally nodded acceptance. “Fine.” She made a shooing motion, but as soon as the family started to grumble, she threatened to kick them all out of the courtroom.
Once they had finally shuffled out, I let out a deep sigh and shut my eyes at the blissful quiet.
“Ms. Reaper?” Judge Sinclair asked quietly.
“Yes. Sorry.” I stood up straighter, feeling drained at the sheer amount of power I had to expend to keep the bindings held.
“Do you see what I had to deal with?” he grumped. “It was like that all the time. The bickering, fighting. Ain’t a one of them loved me. They just wanted what I had.”
Normally I would say something to disagree and remind the deceased that emotions were running high, but in this particular case, I didn’t doubt his account.
“Mr. Klink, is there another will besides the one dated January 17, 2016?”
“2016?” he echoed. “Course there is! I stashed one with my mistress two weeks before I died.”
Judge Sinclair let out a very unjudgelike snort.
I blinked. “Excuse me? Your...mistress has the most recent copy of your will?”
“Damn right she does,” he said. “You didn’t think I’d leave those fools anything would ya? The only thing that woman was good for was a quick roll in the hay, but those fun bags she’s sporting ain’t so fun when they keep getting in the way. Damn near put my eye out a time or two.”
Judge Sinclair was purple and was wheezing like she was having an asthma attack. Even I was struggling not to laugh.
“And don’t get me started on my daughter. That cow ain’t been appreciative of nothing since she discovered you could autoplay the next episode on Netflix. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an honest day’s work from her. She thinks those looks are going to take it all the way home for her, but when you hit thirty, that’s when the men start looking for twenty.” He wheezed out a laugh. “And my son? The only work he’s done with his hands was in his bathroom with a tissue and a bottle of lotion.”
I lost it.
Judge Sinclair couldn’t keep it together either. We were laughing so hard tears streamed down our faces and when I was finally able to recover my composure, Mr. Klink was staring at us expectantly. “Tell River I love her,” he told us. “And tell my kids the only thing I left them is that old horse in the barn who humps anything that moves.”
“River is your mistress?”
He nodded. “I met her the day after I married ol’ fun bags out there.” His gaze softened. “Isn’t that funny? I used to think about what would have happened if I’d just met her the day before. I expect she would have either whipped those kids of mine into shape or chased them out of the house with a shotgun. My other wife, you see, wasn’t much of a disciplinarian. But River? If she had balls, they’d be made of steel and gunpowder.”
I grinned. “River sounds like a lovely woman,” I said. “Would you mind providing her address so I can get a copy of that will?”
I didn’t need her address. River wasn’t a common name around here, and I knew exactly who he was talking about. And he was right. I could totally see her chasing someone around with a shotgun.
We didn’t have a lot of human families here in Midnight Cove. The ones who did live here weren’t always too normal. The Klink family being one of them. I didn’t know Mr. Klink very well, but I could see why River, our resident crone, would take up with him. He was pretty funny and could see right through his family.
I wrote down the address he rattled off, had him lie back on the table, and asked Judge Sinclair to briefly exit the room.
“Thank you for answering our questions today.”
He harrumphed. “Didn’t seem like I had much of a choice.” His gaze met mine. “This power you have. Seems like a tough one.”
I nodded, touched at his response. Most people saw my power as something to be used and not as the burden it could be.
“Well, you watch out for those people who only want you to do something for them. I should know how to spot them. I raised some of them.”
“Thank you, Mr. Klink. It was nice to meet you. I look forward to speaking to River.”
He grinned then. “She’s a real firecracker. Not only in life, but also in the sack.” He gave me a lusty wink.
I rolled my eyes and raised my hands to begin unbinding his life cords. “I’ll remember that,” I said.
/> His cackling laugh lasted long after he was gone.
4
I had to call Hank to let him know I was running behind. Judge Sinclair didn’t want to reschedule for another day. I couldn’t blame her. The faster we got this over with, the better. She held the family there while I made the drive over to River’s house.
I didn’t elaborate much to Hank and he didn’t ask. He had no problem keeping Margo longer, so I thanked him again and hung up. I confirmed he would still be at my house at 6, and he volunteered to keep Margo until then and drive her back over with him.
I thanked him profusely, something I seemed to be doing a lot lately, and hung up just as I pulled into River’s driveway.
I’d met the crone a few times, mostly at the local bookshop where I spent a lot of my time. I knew she was a powerful witch. I also knew she had a shop where she made gorgeous hand-tooled leather handbags I lusted after. I could never seem to grab the one I wanted, though. She sold them faster than I could snatch them up. So it was no chore for me to go to her house, especially if she had some of her newer work on display.
I got out of the car and the scent of jasmine hit me square in the face. Like most witches, River’s home had a plethora of plants surrounding it. Her home was painted a pretty, vivid purple with white posts surrounding the wraparound porch. Jasmine and Clematis wrapped up the posts and scrambled across the top of the roof. Right at the front of her gate, two large rosemary plants grew which made me smile when I remembered the conversation I had with Pepper.
I knocked on the door and it clicked open. I stifled a smile and pushed through. “River?” I called.
Her husky voice greeted me. “Come to the back, dear. I know why you’re here!”
Incense smoke filtered through the house and I walked through a cloud of what smelled like patchouli. Her house was full of plants, crystals and books. It made me feel relaxed and calm.
