The Rite of Returning

Obligatory Fine Print:

This story takes place in the World of Aldaria. It is a work of adult erotic fiction containing explicit sexual content and mature themes. All characters participating in sexual activity are consenting adults, 18 years of age or older, regardless of species, magical nature, or supernatural longevity.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, undead, demonic, imaginary, fictional, or suspiciously bard-shaped, is strictly a figment of your imagination.

Probably.

We like a little plot with our porn. It may take a little while to get to the good stuff, but we hope you enjoy the adventure along the way as much as you enjoy what comes after. Happy reading!

"Necromancy is a much-maligned profession, largely thanks to unscrupulous practitioners, unfortunate results, and the occasional idiot who has absolutely no idea what they're doing." --Marla al-Vutha, On the Ethical Practice of Necromancy

A gentle breeze stirred the trees, and I watched in amazement as the colorful leaves drifted lazily to the ground all around Magnes and me as we enjoyed a snack and let the horses rest. Their hooves made crunchy, swooshing sounds as they searched for grass underneath the blanket of leaves.

Magnes Magnessun, my traveling companion, boyfriend, and frequent pain in the ass, sat on a log and pulled an apple from his pocket. He carefully polished its yellow surface with his cloak before holding it out to me.

I shook my head.

With a shrug, he took a bite.

"I've never seen trees with such colors."

I picked up a star-shaped leaf. It was splattered with red, orange, and gold, its serrated edges dark brown and beginning to curl. "Have you ever been to the Crater?"

"No, the closest I've been is when we met in the Argent Basin," he said, chewing thoughtfully.

"There is nothing like this in the Ulkarian Empire." I waved the leaf at him. "I've only ever read about it in Pell's book. It's as amazing as he described, though."

"You didn't have Fall?" he asked, surprised.

I shook my head, then quoted Professor Pell. 'The Ulkarian Empire, a land that had undergone volcanic change and is largely jagged rocks and barren soil....' I trailed off and let the leaf slip from my fingers and drift to the ground.

I shrugged.

"You have to get closer to Sarkozan to even see forests and open plains. And even then the forests are mostly pines and cedars."

"Huh," Magnes said, tossing the core away. "It's pretty, for sure. Good cuddling weather. But I much prefer summer."

"Why?" I asked. "Summer is gross."

"You're not looking at it right." He laughed as he gathered his things.

"It's too hot to breathe, you're always sweaty, and it just sucks all your energy. I really can't see another way to look at it."

He laughed again. "Yeah, but less clothing, more skin."

Spud lifted his ancient head from the leaves at the sound of Magnes's laugh. His milky eyes found my companion immediately, and he growled, a dry, rattling sound that choked off in his throat to a cough.

I scooped the tiny dog into my arms and held him close.

I was convinced Magnes was the only person in all of Aldaria that Spud truly hated.

"It's okay, baby," I soothed. "Mommy won't let the bad man hurt you."

I hid a laugh at the look Magnes shot me. His mouth opened in protest, but before he could say anything, I ran a glowing hand over Spud's back and let a small preservation spell seep into his frail body.

"Marla alVutha," Magnes playfully chastised, "I don't know why you don't just let that thing die already."

It wasn't the first time I'd heard him say that, and it most likely wouldn't be the last. I knew he wasn't being cruel. He just wasn't a pet person, and that was fine. Neither was I until Grandpa Spud came along.

"Tell you what," I said. "I'll let Spud die the day you lose interest in elven barmaids."

I secured Spud in the carrier slung over my shoulder as Magnes led my grey gelding over to me.

I scowled at the horse.

It was old, no doubt about that. Its front knees buckled inward, and one back leg seemed to drag half a beat behind the others with every step.

The miserable thing was an anatomical disaster!

It snorted, that long snort they do, where they spray snot everywhere. Apparently, it was as impressed with me as I was with it.

Eighty fucking gold.

I'd paid eighty gold for the miserable beast, nearly twice what he was worth, because for some reason, the sight of me approaching a stable was enough to make every horse trader in Aldaria start planning his retirement.

Magnes sighed. "I don't get it."

"Get what?" I asked, swinging into the saddle.

"You stood up to Vutha, a black dragon. You imprisoned Aldarian, a world-destroying demon. And you're afraid of horses."

"I'm not afraid of them," I said, gathering the reins. "I just don't fucking like them."

He rolled his eyes.

"They're gross," I said.

Magnes shot me a look as he mounted his tall black stallion, Talisman. I felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy. Talisman was a nice-looking horse. He did everything Magnes asked him to do, didn't bite, didn't try to kick when you tightened the saddle, and, boy, did Magnes make riding him look easy. He even had this weird, super-fast walk that barely bounced Magnes in the saddle.

I was suddenly even more irritated by the bone-jarring movements of my defective grey nightmare.

"And they stink!" I insisted. "It takes forever to get the smell off, not to mention all those damned little white hairs."

"So why are we going to Millbrook again?" he asked as we turned onto the road.

"I got a job." I smiled.

"Great!" Magnes exclaimed. "So what's the job? A retrieval?"

"Even better." I beamed. "I'm going to conduct the Rite of Returning."

"The what?"

"The Rite of Returning." He still looked clueless. "It's a necromancer thing."

"A necromancer thing, huh?" He said skeptically. "You're not going to start reanimating peoples grandmas, are you?"

I shot him a look that would curdle milk and said, "No!"

Then I thought about it for a second and added, "Well... for a while. Maybe. Kind of."

His expression went from skeptical to horrified.

"As ghosts!" I informed him. "It's a ritual to allow the spirits of the dead a chance to mingle with their still-living relatives."

His expression still didn't change.

"To see how they're doing and be remembered by them."

"So?" he replied. "They're dead. We remember them every Samhain."

I frowned at his simplification. Then I remembered necromancy wasn't his profession and attempted to enlighten him on the subject.

"Okay, Mageboy," I said with irritation. "I'll use little words to try and explain to you what it is."

"Returning Night isn't about returning the dead to life. It's about returning them to memory. Like your ancestor there." I made a small wave toward the spirit guide beside Magnes.

He looked in the direction I was waving.

"There's nobody there."

Slightly offended on his behalf, I turned to the spirit drifting wispily beside him. "Did you hear that, Mazagran? He doesn't think you exist."

"Wait, what?" His expression turned to surprise. "How do you know that name? I never told you his name. That was my great-grandfather's name. Okay, if you know so much, what's his last name?"

The spirit told me.

"Oakenstaff," I replied confidently. "His full name was Mazagran Oakenstaff."

He looked at me in stunned silence.

"Oh," I added, just to put the icing on the cake, "and Gran-Gran Cail says hi."

Magnes rode in silence for a moment, taking in what I'd said. Then, hesitantly, he said, "Hi, Gran-Gran."

"We invite the dead to walk among the living for one night," I continued to explain. "We leave offerings, speak their names, and welcome them home. At night's end, we formally release them to return to the realm of the dead."

I paused, suddenly saddened. "But when the last person who remembers them dies, when no one remains to speak their names..." I lowered my eyes. "There is no one left to call them home."

I looked up and back over at Magnes, who was looking dejected at my words, so I decided to cheer him up as I knew I could.

"Besides, the final part of the ritual involves sex," I said with mischievous little grin and a waggle of my eyebrows.

Magnes rode in silence for a few moments in silence before glancing over at me.

"So we're inviting dead people to dinner?"

"No."

"Drinks?"

"No."

"Cards?"

"Magnes."

"I am merely trying to understand the itinerary."

I gave him a look and kept riding.

A few moments passed before he tried again.

"How much are you getting paid?"

I fidgeted with the reins. "A hundred gold."

Magnes looked ahead toward Millbrook, its rooftops just beginning to appear through the trees.

"That doesn't seem like enough."

"It's my first official job as a True Necromancer." I rolled my eyes.

"Still doesn't seem like enough."

"Enough for what?" I asked getting irritated.

"To maintain your hedonistic boyfriend's lifestyle." He brightened immediately.

I should have known better than to encourage him.

Within moments, he was singing some ridiculous tavern song at the top of his lungs:

"The miller grinds his flour fine,

the farmer sows his seed,

but when the tavern candles dim,

they tend a different need."

"Seriously?" I asked.

Magnes only sang louder.

Of course he knew that one.

* * *

The late-afternoon sun warmed our backs as the road crested a low hill and Millbrook came into view. The little town nestled in the valley below, surrounded by freshly harvested fields and brilliant autumn forest.

As we drew closer, the hair on the back of my neck prickled, and a shiver ran through me.

Magnes and I stopped our horses.

Something was wrong.

Returning Night was tomorrow. There should have been people everywhere, decorating homes, preparing offerings, gathering the last of the harvest.

Instead the road ahead was empty.

The gelding sighed and lowered its head. I jerked at the reins and kicked it hard.

I hated when horses did that shit. I always felt like I was going to fall right over their neck.

The miserable beast ignored me and kept working at something I couldn't see, bobbing his head back and forth. After a few seconds, he lifted his head high and flipped his upper lip.

Why is the stupid animal making that face now?

Magnes reached over, took hold of the gelding's reins, and pulled him a few steps aside. Naturally, the damned horse obeyed him.

A large chunk of pumpkin lay in the road.

Beyond it lay another, then another, followed by a trail of seeds and stringy pulp splattered across the road and leading toward a field just beyond it.

The place looked like the aftermath of a massacre.

Hundreds of pumpkins lay smashed across the ground. Broken rinds and tangled heaps of seeds littered the earth among uprooted vines. The destruction spilled out of the field and onto the road, forming a trail of pumpkin remains that led directly toward town.

"That can't be good," Magnes said.

Ahead of us, an abandoned wagon sat crooked across the main road.

Magnes frowned as he surveyed the carnage.

"Definitely... not good."

"Where is everyone?" I asked.

"Still glad you took the job?"

I stared toward Millbrook.

"Ask me after I get paid."

We continued into town.

Millbrook looked deserted.

Someone had begun decorating for Returning Night, but whatever preparations had been underway appeared to have stopped suddenly. Garlands hung half-finished from doorways. Bundles of autumn flowers sat abandoned beside steps, and carved lanterns waited unlit along the street.

Whatever had happened here, it had happened fast.

Several houses had their doors boarded shut. Broken planks, overturned crates, and other debris littered the otherwise deserted street.

As we passed one of the houses, the door opened a crack and someone peered out at us.

"Hello there," Magnes called.

The door slammed shut.

A moment later, I heard the scrape of something heavy being dragged across the floor and shoved against it.

"How rude," Magnes said. "This is not a very friendly little town."

"Something's obviously got them scared," I replied.

We reached the tavern and found the door locked, though I could hear voices coming from inside.

"Who locks a tavern at this time of day?" Magnes asked, pounding on the door.

A small sliding panel opened at eye level, and an older man peered out at us.

"Who are you?" he asked gruffly. "What do you want?"

"My name is Marla al-Vutha. I'm looking for Mayor Pindle," I said.

"Oh, yeah?" He narrowed his eyes. "And what do you want with him?"

"He hired me to perform the Rite of Returning."

His eyes widened.

"Oh, no. Not another one!"

"What do you mean, another one?" Magnes asked.

The panel slammed shut.

I looked at Magnes. "What was that all about?"

"I don't..."

The door suddenly cracked open, and a short, fat, balding man poked his head outside. He glanced nervously up and down the street before opening it a little farther.

"Hurry up," he whispered. "Before they come back."

Magnes made a show of looking both ways along the deserted street.

"Who's they?"

The man ignored the question and frantically beckoned us inside.

"Come in! Quickly! Hurry!"

I pushed the door open farther, and we slipped inside. The man leaned out for one last nervous look up and down the street before slamming the door shut and dropping a heavy wooden crossbar into place.

"Expecting a siege?" Magnes asked jokingly.

Then we noticed the common room, and he went quiet real fast.

People huddled everywhere. So many had crowded into the tavern that it looked as though half the town had taken refuge there. Some wore bandages. Others had fresh cuts and bruises.

I looked back at the short man.

"Mayor Pindle, I assume?"

"Yes, yes. Sorry." He started across the common room, and we followed.

"You asked who they were," he said to Magnes. "The monsters."

"Monsters?" I asked.

"Yes. Three nights ago, we hired a necromancer who said he was from Brotherton. He took the hundred gold we offered for his services and went to work. Not long afterward, he left town rather abruptly. Didn't say much on his way out, either. Just 'sorry,' and then he was gone."

"From Brotherton?"

I knew most of the people in my trade by reputation, especially necromancers from Rilmara and those who worked around Thanatos and Brotherton.

"What was his name?"

"Mortimer Vell," the mayor said. "He seemed legitimate enough at the time."

Mortimer Vell.

I knew the name.

Third-rate hedge necromancer. Limited theoretical training. Questionable corpse preparation. Excessive reliance on theatrics. And, unless the rumors were wrong, an unfortunate habit of using ritual diagrams he barely understood.

I frowned at the mayor.

"Mortimer Vell is a discount corpsewright."

"But he took our money. Said it was the going rate."

My irritation faded.

The poor bastard had been taken.

"Sorry, Mr. Mayor, but Vell is a bargain-bin reanimator at best."

His face fell.

"So, because of Vell, we can't pay you the hundred gold we promised. He took it."

I didn't like where this was going.

"But," he added with a sheepish smile, "everyone in the village contributed what they could. We managed to scrape together twenty-five gold if you'll fix what he did."

I stared at him.

Twenty-five gold.

A seventy-five-percent cut from the original fee, and now I had to clean up another necromancer's mess?

Oh, this job was getting better by the minute.

I stared at the mayor for several long seconds.

Absolutely not.

Fuck these people.

I turned on him.

"Listen here, you kip-pinching little shit. You should have done your research before you hired the cheapest half-assed necromancer you could find. It's not my fault he fucked this up."

I jabbed a finger at him.

"You hired him. You trusted him. You let him make this mess. And now you expect me to come in, clean it all up, and do it for twenty-five percent of the original price?"

I folded my arms tightly across my chest and glared at him.

"No. Absolutely fucking not. I am a necromancer, not the town custodian for your bad decisions."

I stepped closer.

"You wanted cheap necromancy. You got cheap necromancy. Now you have expensive consequences."

I let that sink in.

"And if you think I'm taking a seventy-five-percent cut because you were too fucking cheap to hire someone competent the first time, then you're even stupider than the man you hired."

A firm tap landed on my shoulder.

Behind me came a deep, deliberate ahem.

I whirled around, fully prepared to give whoever had interrupted me a piece of my mind.

The words died in my throat.

I knew those eyes.

Dark green. Almost impossibly so.

I had looked into them before.

My patron god stood behind me.

The Lord of the Underworld himself.

Hades.

Oh, fuck.

Hades regarded me for a moment.

"Marla."

That was enough to make me shut up.

"I understand why you're angry. You were promised a hundred gold, and you have every right to be disappointed."

His eyes held mine.

"But this is not about the money anymore."

I frowned.

"Vell tore spirits out of the afterworlds against their will. Some were taken from their homes. Some from people they had found again. None of them asked to come back."

That took some of the heat out of me.

"They're trapped here because of what he did," Hades continued. "And they need someone to put it right."

I already knew where this was going.

"You're my Chosen, Marla. This is your responsibility."

I sighed. "I know."

"I know you know."

He gave my shoulder a firm squeeze.

"So fix it."

I looked up at him. "For twenty-five gold?"

His eyebrow rose.

"The dead come first."

"Right."

"You return them where they belong. You repair whatever Vell damaged. You make this right."

I nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"As for Mortimer Vell..." His expression hardened. "Leave him to me. Crimes against the dead are my concern."

A chill ran through me.

Then he looked at me again, softer this time.

"Do your job, Marla."

"I will."

"And then you can complain about the money."

With that, he was gone.

"So I guess we're doing this, Magnes," I said.

"Why? The idiots are trying to stiff you."

I took a deep breath and looked around the tavern. People spoke quietly among themselves, watching us over their drinks. Some cast angry glances our way. Others looked at us pleadingly.

They were afraid.

"I don't have a choice," I said. "But I'm not doing it for them."

Magnes gave me a questioning look.

"I'm doing it for the dead."

His expression changed. After a moment, he gave me a small nod.

Pindle returned to the table.

"So tell us exactly what happened," I said. "And don't just say monsters. Somebody had to get a look at something."

"Well, we were surprised when Vell left so quickly."

I glared at him.

"He said necromancers were in high demand this time of year and that he needed to move on to the next town. Said he'd be back in three days to conclude the rite and close the veil."

"And that didn't seem strange to you?" Magnes asked.

"At the time, no," Pindle said innocently. "Far be it from me to understand you magic folk."

I stared at him.

Three days.

That idiot had left the veil open for three fucking days.

"That was when Elmer got bit," Pindle continued.

"Bit by what?" Magnes asked.

"The zucchini. Are you not paying attention, boy?"

Magnes blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"The zucchini bit him."

I stared at Pindle.

"Did you just say that the zucchini bit him?"

He looked at me as though I were the idiot.

"That's what I just said."

"You know..." Magnes leaned closer to me. "We could just fireball the place. It would save us a whole lot of trouble. I'm sure we can find another town."

"No, Magnes," I said, never taking my eyes off the mayor.

I drew a slow breath.

"So, did the zucchini attack all of them?"

"Well, no," Pindle said.

I let the breath out, relieved.

"Not all of them, at least. Otis there..." He pointed across the tavern. "He lost a finger to an acorn squash. And Lester had a big chunk torn out of his thigh by a butternut."

I closed my eyes.

Of course he did.

"Marla, hear me out..." Magnes began. "Fireball."

"What? No tomato or cabbage attacks?" I asked, ignoring Magnes.

"No. Don't be ridiculous," he said matter-of-factly. "Only the squash. The night after Vell left, Otis heard something digging around in his garden. He thought maybe his cow had gotten out, so he went to investigate. The vines wrapped around his legs and pulled him to the ground. He shouted for his brother, but by the time Elmer got there, it was too late."

Pindle shook his head solemnly.

"Acorn squash bit his finger clean off."

As ridiculous as it sounded, there had to be a reason for it.

Then it clicked.

"Guardians."

Magnes looked at me.

"Vell must have animated the squash as guardians," I said. "Something to protect the returning dead."

Magnes slowly shook his head. I could tell he still wasn't taking any of this very seriously.

I couldn't exactly blame him.

We were talking about homicidal vegetables.

I turned back to Pindle.

"Where's the cemetery?"

* * *

By the time we reached the outskirts of the cemetery, night had settled over Millbrook. The sky above us was a deep, moonlit black, and long shadows stretched between the trees and headstones.

"Couldn't we at least have eaten first?" Magnes whined as we walked toward the edge of town.

"No," I said. "I need to see what's going on."

The cemetery came into view.

I stopped.

A wave of fear and confusion hit me so hard it nearly stole my breath.

I could see them.

Dozens of spirits crowded along the cemetery fence, clawing desperately at the barrier as if trying to escape.

"Oh, no."

Magnes stopped beside me. "What?"

I barely heard him.

Hades was sadly correct. The dead were trapped.

"Marla." Magnes tapped my arm.

I turned and followed his gaze toward the low stone fence.

Thick, heavy vines had grown in a tangled mass around it. The ones nearest the gate began to shake.

Something moved beneath the leaves.

A massive pumpkin slowly emerged from the tangle.

It hopped.

I swear to Hades, the damned thing actually hopped out of the vines.

"What the..." Magnes began as the pumpkin spun to face us. "Now that's not something you see every day. Animated vege..."

The pumpkin's rind twisted and split. Two jagged slits tore open where its eyes should have been, glowing with a sickly orange light. Beneath them, the flesh split again into a wide, crooked mouth lined with sharp, uneven teeth.

Thick vines uncoiled beneath the thing, twisting together into something like legs as it rocked eagerly from side to side with what looked like maniacal delight.

Behind it, the vines began to rustle.

Then another pumpkin emerged.

And another.

Spud shifted inside the carrier at my side and gave one of his dry, rattling growls.

"Yeah, I know," I muttered. "Mommy doesn't like them either."

To our left, a long yellow squash dragged itself from beneath the leaves on a tangle of writhing vines, its tiny mouth filled with far too many teeth.

"What are they?" Magnes asked.

"Guardians," I replied. "I think."

I studied them more closely.

"But I've never heard of guardians like these before. They look..." I hesitated. "Well, wrong."

"So," Magnes said slowly, raising one hand as orange-yellow energy gathered between his fingers, "you want me to use my fireball?"

"Not yet."

More vines began to shake.

Within moments, dozens of the things were scattered throughout the field, writhing and twisting among the leaves.

"How many of these fucking things are there?"

"Too many!" Magnes shouted.

Then his voice jumped an octave.

"Oh, shit! A little help here?"

I spun toward him.

One of the damned things had wrapped its vines around his leg and was already snaking them up his torso.

A grayish-green, warty pumpkin had latched onto his calf.

Magnes cried out as its teeth sank into him and blood spurted down his boot.

What the fuck!

Without thinking, I kicked the homicidal squash as hard as I could.

It sailed through the air and hit the ground with a wet splat, bursting into pulp, seeds, and stringy guts.

"There." I looked at Magnes, rather pleased with myself. "You okay?"

"Thanks, Marla."

He raised a thumb in acknowledgment.

I was about to return the gesture when another vine whipped around my ankle.

The first hopping pumpkin dragged itself toward me, its crooked mouth snapping as it pulled me closer.

"Fulmino Ignem!" Magnes shouted.

A blast of fire struck the pumpkin, engulfing it in flames.

For one brief moment, the air smelled surprisingly good.

My stomach rumbled.

We hadn't eaten since early afternoon.

Damn it.

Magnes had been right.

We should have eaten first.

Magnes whipped around at the sound of rustling behind us.

"Uh, Marla..." he said, backing away.

I glanced over my shoulder.

Pumpkins, acorn squash, and zucchini dragged themselves toward us, thick vines twisting beneath them as they crawled across the ground.

More leaves rustled beside the cemetery wall.

"Behind you!" I shouted as three more pumpkins pulled themselves free of the vines.

Magnes spun around.

"Finally!"

He thrust both hands toward the advancing squashlings.

"Creo Ignem!" he shouted.

A swelling ball of orange-yellow fire burst from his hand, streaked past me, and exploded in the midst of the squashlings with a deep, fiery blast. Pumpkins burst apart, and chunks of rind flew in every direction.

I watched the devastating effects of the fireball for a moment, then looked at Magnes.

"Okay, that was pretty good," I admitted.

Magnes flashed me that cocky, self-satisfied grin of his. "Pretty good?"

Something rustled behind him.

His grin vanished.

More squashlings dragged themselves from the vines.

"Oh, fuck me."

"Later," I said.

He shot me a look.

The squashlings surged toward us.

I raised a hand to them and shouted, "Fulmino Auram!"

Lightning struck the first pumpkin square in its gaping mouth and ripped through the creatures behind it. Three exploded instantly. A fourth flipped onto its back, its vine legs curling and twitching as smoke poured from its split rind.

I looked toward the cemetery.

Vines writhed along the entire length of the wall. Pumpkins and squash tore themselves free everywhere I looked.

Hades' beard!

They were surrounding us, and we couldn't kill them fast enough.

"RUN!" I shouted.

* * *

As we ran through the cemetery gates, I felt the temperature plummet the instant we crossed the barrier holding the spirits inside. An unnatural cold washed through me, sinking deep into my bones.

I looked over at Magnes, but he didn't seem to notice. He was too busy watching the animated vegetables gathering behind us.

One of the spirits hurried toward me, wringing her hands in anguish.

"Help us," she wailed. "I was with my husband in our part of Paradise. We were together, and then suddenly we were ripped from our home and brought here..."

Another spirit pushed past her and grabbed my arm.

"Help me! I'm confused. I don't know where I am!"

"I'm trying to help you," I said, ignoring the painful cold of his touch.

More spirits were coming.

I wanted to help them, but the growing crowd pressing in around me wasn't making things easy.

Another forced his way between the others.

"What's going on?" he shouted. "I want to go back to my family!"

"Wait!" I raised my hands as they closed in. "I can help you."

The nearest spirit seized my arm.

"Help us!"

His icy fingers sank through my flesh.

Pain shot through me as they began drawing away my life essence.

"No!" I shrieked.

More hands reached for me.

Cold fingers passed through clothing and flesh, each touch taking a little more of my strength. I tried to pull away, but there were too many of them. My legs weakened beneath me as they drained me faster than I could fight them off.

"Please!"

"Help us!"

"Let us out!"

"I'm trying!" I shouted. "I can't help you if you kill me!"

But they weren't listening. They were too frightened, too confused, too desperate to make themselves heard.

"Marla!"

Magnes shouted his voice barely reached me through the cacophony of pleading spirits.

"Don't hurt them!" I shouted. "It's not their...!"

Magnes shouted, "Fulmino Vim!"

A brilliant beam of swirling colors erupted from his outstretched hand and tore through the spirits surrounding me.

I screamed as it struck.

Heat burned across my skin at the same instant bitter cold cut through me. Electricity crackled through my muscles, something acidic seared my flesh, and a violent pulse of sound rattled my bones from the inside.

The spirits recoiled with me, their ghostly forms flashing in a dozen colors as the blast ripped through the swarm and scattered them.

Magnes! Gods damn it!

Something heavy suddenly wrapped around my shoulders and face.

What the fuck?

Fabric?

It wound itself around me, pinning my arms against my sides, then yanked me backward so hard my feet left the ground.

I shot out of the ghostly swarm and landed hard several yards away.

"Ow!"

The fabric immediately released me, and I realized what had pulled me free.

Cape.

Magnes's enchanted cape swept back to him and settled around his shoulders as he stood nearby, one hand still extended toward me.

"You fucking blasted me!" I shouted, seething.

"You're welcome!"

"You could have warned me!"

"You were busy!"

"Well..." I sputtered. "It fucking hurt!"

Magnes winced. "Sorry, but I was trying to help. I really didn't like watching you become a banquet for several dozen hungry ghosts."

The spirits were already closing in again.

"Speaking of which," he added, "I think we should go."

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

I pushed myself up off the ground.

I was done being nice.

I turned toward the approaching dead and closed my eyes for a moment as cold necromantic power gathered inside me.

"Enough!" I shouted. "REGO MORTIS!"

A wave of deep purple energy burst from me and rolled across the cemetery like a shockwave. It swept low over the grass and tombstones like a visible pressure wave, rattling loose dirt and dead leaves in its wake. When it struck the spirits, their forms convulsed and recoiled as if an invisible wall had slammed into them.

I blocked out their cries of fear and anguish as they recoiled and retreated deeper into the cemetery.

"What happened back there?" Magnes asked.

"Too many, too fast," I panted.

"Are you okay?"

He handed me his canteen. I gladly accepted it and took a long drink.

"What did you do to them?"

"Rebuked them," I said solemnly. "It won't last long."

"Why didn't you turn them?"

"It's not their fault." I handed the canteen back. "Vell trapped them. They're scared."

"They attacked you."

"Look around."

Stone altars meant to hold offerings of food and flowers had been overturned and broken. Graves had been disturbed, headstones toppled, and thick squash vines choked the burial plots. The vines radiated outward from the center of the cemetery, tearing through everything in their path and even ripping decaying coffins from the earth.

I looked back at Magnes.

"Vell didn't just botch a spell," I said angrily. "He trapped the dead here. Tore apart their graves. Scattered their remains. Then fucked off with the money."

I gestured at the devastation around us.

"Can you blame them?"

Magnes surveyed the destruction.

"No," he admitted. "Not really."

I turned toward the center of the cemetery.

The scattered tendrils near the outer wall had grown into thick ropes of vegetation that wound between the graves and crossed over one another until entire patches of earth disappeared beneath them.

"Whatever Vell did," I said, "it started in there."

I started forward.

"Come on."

We picked our way deeper into the cemetery.

The spirits kept their distance now, but they had not gone far. They drifted between the graves, watching us. I could still feel them at the edge of my awareness. Fear. Anger. Desperation.

The farther we went, the worse the damage became. Vines as thick as my wrist twisted around headstones and crawled over broken crypts. Roots had torn through the earth, leaving graves split open beneath them. Bones and entire skeletons had been dragged from their resting places and carried along with the spreading vines. The smell of damp soil and decay hung heavy in the cooling air.

The vines twitched and jerked whenever we got too close, and we did our best to avoid them. Before long, that became pointless. The nearer we came to the center of the cemetery, the more thickly the tangled mass covered the ground.

When we topped a small rise, we stopped.

The earth ahead was carpeted in vines except for a small clearing at its center. There, suspended from a wooden pole, hung a scarecrow.

We picked our way closer.

The damned thing was enormous, several feet taller than either of us. It wore filthy, ragged clothes stuffed so heavily with straw that its body looked almost human beneath them. A battered hat shadowed its burlap sack of a face. One arm hung loose at its side.

The other held a scythe.

"A scarecrow?" Magnes asked.

"The harvest guardian," I said. "It's supposed to keep evil spirits away while the harvest is brought in and protect the returning spirits until the rite is concluded and they're sent back to their realm."

The bloated bodies of farm animals littered the ground around it. Cows, sheep, chickens, even a large dog lay where they had fallen. Thick vines emerged from the base of the scarecrow's pole and spread outward through the cemetery like roots.

"Magnes," I said as something rustled behind us. "I don't think Vell made those squash guardians."

Magnes turned.

A large, bright orange pumpkin dragged itself from between two graves. An acorn squash emerged beside it, then a zucchini, followed by several more as they began closing in around us.

"Then who the hell made them?" he asked.

I looked back at the scarecrow.

Its head was no longer hanging forward.

A red glow kindled in its eye sockets.

It was looking at me.

I tipped my chin toward the scarecrow and said, "He did."

The scarecrow moved.

Just a twitch at first.

Then its hand tightened around the scythe.

With a crack of old wood, it tore itself free from the pole and dropped heavily to the ground.

The vines beneath our feet writhed.

The scarecrow stalked toward me.

Three bursts of arcane energy slammed into its chest.

"Hey, straw-dick! Over here!" Magnes shouted.

The scarecrow turned its glowing eyes toward him. It raised its scythe and shook it menacingly, but never changed course.

Instead, the squashlings moved in.

Vines whipped around our feet, trying to snare our ankles as the creatures lunged forward, snapping at anything they could reach.

I dodged a thick tendril as a skull broke loose from the vines and rolled past my feet.

I looked down at it.

Then at the bones scattered among the graves.

Skeletons.

Lots of skeletons.

I smiled.

"Oh, you stupid fucking thing."

Magnes glanced at me. "What?"

I scooped up the skull.

"Keep him off me!"

Another volley of arcane blasts hammered into the scarecrow's chest, setting patches of straw smoldering with blue flame.

"Hey! Over here, you brainless, ball-less bag of straw!" Magnes shouted, darting across the clearing. "Come on! I'm talking to you, you moth-eaten, bird-shit-smeared excuse for a man-shaped pile of farm trash!"

This time, the scarecrow turned toward him.

Magnes grinned.

"There you go, straw-dick. I knew you could hear me."

The scarecrow turned after him, raising its scythe as it came.

Magnes immediately put more distance between them.

Then one of the vines whipped around his ankle and yanked him off his feet.

"Marla? Any time now!" he shouted.

He tore himself free just as the scythe swept toward him.

The blade buried itself in the earth where his head had been a heartbeat earlier.

I cradled the skull between my hands.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Cold necromantic energy surged through me.

"Bones forgotten, graves defiled,

Rise in wrath, death's own child.

Hand to hand and bone to bone,

Rise again and guard your own."

Purple necromantic energy spilled from my hands and raced through the cemetery.

For one heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then something rattled behind me.

A femur rolled across the ground.

A skull turned.

All around us, the dead began putting themselves back together.

Bones scraped across the earth. Ribs snapped into place. Fingers crawled through the dirt toward waiting hands as scattered skeletons rose from the wreckage of their graves.

I pointed toward the squashlings.

The skeletons turned as one.

"Attack!" I hissed.

They surged forward.

Gotcha, bitch.

I turned my attention back to the scarecrow as electricity began to crackle around my hands.

Then the ground shifted beneath my feet.

Vines erupted through the soil, coiling around my legs and waist and cinching tight.

"What the..."

I twisted against them, but they only tightened.

"I can't move!"

"Shit!" Magnes swore.

More vines burst from the ground around us.

They twisted together with unnatural speed, climbing over one another until a thick wall of vegetation surrounded us and sealed us in.

"Burn the motherfucker!" I screamed as the vines pinned my arms against my sides.

"Creo Ignem!" Magnes shouted.

Searing heat and light exploded in front of me. I squeezed my eyes shut against the blast.

The heat vanished.

Almost immediately, I heard the rustle and snap of new growth.

"Oh, come on!" Magnes swore.

I didn't need to open my eyes to know it hadn't worked.

Then, somewhere beyond the barrier, a horse screamed.

Magnes and I both turned.

"Talisman!"

Several squashlings had dragged our horses toward the cemetery. Their vines were wrapped around the animals' legs and necks, tendrils tangled through stirrups and reins as they pulled them closer.

The black stallion reared, hauling several squashlings off the ground with him as he struck wildly at them.

"Talisman!" Magnes shouted again.

He hurled another blast of fire into the barrier.

Vines burst apart, opening a gap.

Magnes lunged toward it.

The scarecrow stepped into his path.

Its scythe swept through the air.

Magnes stumbled backward just in time to keep his head attached.

"Fuck!"

Outside the barrier, Talisman went berserk.

The stallion bucked wildly and reared again. His front hooves came down on one of the squashlings and burst it open beneath him. He kicked another hard enough to send it flying.

Vines snapped as he fought against them.

Then something gave way.

Talisman tore free.

"Go!" Magnes shouted.

The stallion whirled and bolted toward the road.

For one brief moment, relief washed over Magnes's face.

The gray gelding wasn't doing nearly as well.

The old horse fought desperately, but he wasn't Talisman. Every time he tore one leg free, another vine caught him. His eyes rolled in terror as the wall of vegetation parted.

The squashlings dragged him through.

Straight toward the scarecrow.

I swear the fucking thing smiled as they brought their master its prize.

It raised the scythe.

"No!" I shrieked. "Let him go!"

The gelding screamed.

The scythe fell.

His cry stopped.

The scarecrow raised the bloody blade as the horse collapsed. Fresh blood ran down the edge and dripped from the handle.

Then I saw something rise from the gelding's body.

His life force.

It streamed toward the scarecrow and sank into its ragged form.

Before my eyes, the burns covering its body began to disappear. Torn fabric knitted itself together. Blackened straw became whole again. Even the gaping hole blasted through its chest began to close.

It had been feeding.

The dead animals scattered around the cemetery suddenly made sense.

The cows.

The sheep.

The chickens.

The dog.

It had been feeding on their life force.

No wonder the dead were losing their minds.

How many souls had this fucking thing devoured?

"Neco Corpus!" I hissed.

Purple energy flashed from my fingertips as I seized the vines binding me. They blackened and withered with a sharp sizzle, curling away as I tore myself free.

Fuck this shit.

"Magnes."

"Yeah?"

Electricity crackled between my fingers.

"Together."

He grinned.

"Fulmino Vim!"

A brilliant rainbow of energy leapt from Magnes's hands and tore across the clearing.

Fire, frost, lightning, acid, and screaming sonic force twisted together into the same blinding stream before slamming into the scarecrow with explosive force.

At the same instant, I reached for everything I had left.

Every remaining shred of magic.

Every spell I could sacrifice.

Every fucking ounce of anger in me.

Lightning crawled over my arms, so bright I could see the bones beneath my skin.

"Eat this, you fucking haystack!" I shouted. "Fulmino Auram!"

I let it fly.

Our spells struck the scarecrow at the same instant.

For one impossible heartbeat, it simply stood there.

Rainbow light blazed through its body while lightning wrapped around it in brilliant white-violet arcs.

Then it exploded.

The blast tore the scarecrow apart from the inside. Burning straw, shattered wood, scraps of filthy cloth, and chunks of blackened pumpkin flew in every direction.

I threw an arm over my face.

Burning straw rained down around us.

The vines went mad.

They thrashed across the cemetery, clawing at the earth and lashing headstones, graves, and one another. The vines around my legs tightened once, violently, then released.

All around us, the squashlings fighting the skeletons convulsed.

Pumpkins bounced and snapped at empty air. Zucchini twisted against the ground. Acorn squash rolled wildly through the graves while their vines whipped and flailed.

Then...

Everything stopped.

The vines fell still.

The squashlings collapsed where they stood.

Silence settled over the cemetery.

I reached into the carrier and felt Spud squirm beneath my hand.

Still alive.

Of course he was.

Grandpa Spud would probably outlive us all.

What remained of the scarecrow's burlap head landed near my feet with a whump.

I stared down at it.

Anger welled up inside me.

I stomped on it.

Hard.

Repeatedly.

"Eighty fucking gold, you asshole! That horse cost me eighty..." stomp "... fucking..." stomp "... gold!"

I stomped it one more time for good measure.

"I thought you said you hated that horse."

I kicked what was left of the head into the vines.

"Eighty gold, Magnes. I paid eighty fucking gold to hate that thing."

Magnes dropped heavily onto a toppled headstone.

"I think you may have gotten ripped off."

"Really? You think?"

Neither of us spoke for several seconds.

"Marla?"

"Give me a minute."

Every muscle in my body hurt. My hands trembled from the magic I'd poured into that last spell, and the places where the spirits had touched me still burned with cold.

My stomach rumbled.

A moment later, Magnes's stomach answered.

"Okay," I said. "You were right."

"Wait, what?" He stared at me in complete shock. "You're admitting I was right about something? Call a bard! This is a historic moment. What was I right about?"

"We should have eaten first."

He laughed, then slowly sobered as he looked around the cemetery.

"So... we won?"

I followed his gaze.

The scarecrow was gone. The squashlings lay motionless among the graves, and the vines were already beginning to shrivel.

But the spirits remained.

Dozens of them stood silently among the graves, watching me.

I sighed.

"We killed the monster."

Magnes glanced at me.

"There's a difference?"

"Unfortunately."

I pushed myself back to my feet.

"Now I have to fix what Vell did."

I looked toward the skeletons I'd raised.

"Please find your graves." I glanced at the dead vines and broken stones scattered among them. "As best you can."

The skeletons began picking their way through the cemetery, returning to the approximate places where they had been buried.

I waited until the last of them had settled.

"Thank you."

I released my hold.

All around the cemetery, bones collapsed with a soft clatter against the earth.

The spirits remained.

They watched silently as Magnes and I spent the rest of the night cleaning up Vell's mess.

We returned what bones we could to their graves and dragged away the dead vines.

I cleansed the cemetery and repaired the damage Vell had done to the boundary, with Magnes lending me his magic whenever mine began to falter.

It was nearly dawn before the last tear in the veil finally closed.

One by one, the spirits faded away.

The cold lifted.

For the first time since we arrived, the cemetery was quiet.

Truly quiet.

I sank down beside Magnes.

"Are we done now?" he asked.

"Until tonight."

He groaned.

"After a bath and a nap?"

"Yep. And food. Don't forget food."

Magnes's eyes lit up at that. "Definitely food."

* * *

We watched the last of the townsfolk disappear through the cemetery gates.

Magnes looked around at the spirits still lingering among the graves.

"That was actually very touching," he said, his voice softer than I expected.

"Thank you." I beamed. "I'm so happy my first official Rite was this one."

He looked at me. Confusion crossed his face, slowly replacing his smile.

"Your first?"

"Yes."

He stared at me for several seconds.

"You've never done this before?" he asked at last.

"No, not officially." I shrugged.

I stepped closer to him, snaked an arm around his waist, and guided us toward the center of the cemetery.

He looked over his shoulder at the retreating townsfolk. "Wait. Never?"

"I read about it recently when we were in Munthrex's library," I said.

"You read about it?"

He stopped and turned to face me, forcing me to stop with him.

"Yeah," I said, irritated. "Look, it's no different than you reading about a spell in a book before you try it out."

"It is very different."

"How's that?" I asked.

"My spells don't involve opening the boundary between the living and the dead!" He gestured at the graves around us.

"Yeah," I replied sarcastically. "Some of them explode."

I crossed my arms over my chest daring him to say something contrary. He couldn't because he knew it was true.

"That's not the point. How do you know you did it right?"

I was really starting to get irritated.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Mageboy, I'm not Vell," I said.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer.

"Yeah, there's no way I could mistake you for a "Mortimer"."

He laughed and leaned in to kiss me.

"C'mon," He grinned and said excitedly. "let's go back to the tavern so we can work off all this energy from the ritual."

"Can't," I replied. "We have a Rite to conclude."

His grin faded as soon as he saw I was serious.

"There's more?" He glanced toward the circle where the scarecrow had once stood.

We'd cleaned up most of the debris, but a few dead vines and the remains of various squash still littered the ground.

"One final part," I said coyly as I held up a finger.

He sighed. "What do we have to do now?"

"The Rite begins by acknowledging death," I said.

I slid my hands up his chest. "We remember those who came before us, speak their names, and honor the lives they lived, right?"

He nodded in slow understanding.

"But it doesn't end with death," I said taking his hand in mine. "It ends with an affirmation of life."

His eyes dropped to my hand then back up at me.

"What kind of affirmation?"

I smiled a toothy, impish smile and said, "The kind you were just suggesting we go back to the tavern for."

"You mean..." he began. "You want me to fuck you right here? On the ground?"

His eyes widened.

I laughed. "Oh, hell no. Over there. See? It's nice and comfortable."

The townsfolk had cleared the remaining debris from the heart of the cemetery and, in its place, laid piles of blankets, quilts, and pillows. Trays of sweet desserts and savory food, bottles of wine, and even a steaming kettle of tea sat just inside the ring of lit candles. Burning incense filled the circle with fragrant smoke.

Magnes looked around cautiously.

"We're not gonna wake anything else up, are we?" he asked, lowering his voice as we stepped into the circle.

"No. We're gonna put them back to sleep." I slid my arms out of my robe and let it fall to the ground.

"You're sure?" he asked skeptically, but his eyes were fixed on my fingers as I undid the buttons of my bodice and let it fall open.

"Shut up, Mageboy," I said huskily as I grabbed his shirt, pulled him close, and kissed him.

He definitely understood the assignment. He wrapped his arms around me, and I felt like I was floating. The townsfolk, the Rite, the squashlings, the scarecrow, all of it fell away until we were the only two people who existed.

He broke the kiss all too soon. Holding my face in both hands, he looked at me in the moonlight and gave me that lazy smile that made my heart melt every time. When he spoke again, the teasing was gone.

"I don't think I'll ever understand you clerics, and I don't think I'll ever understand why you feel so attached to the dead. But I've never seen you look as beautiful or as confident as you did tonight."

He brushed his thumbs across my cheeks.

"Fucking bards." I grinned. "You always know what to say to get into a girl's skirts. And, Im not a cleric. Necromancer, remember?"

Jokes I knew how to handle. Sincere compliments still left me completely unprepared.

I never knew what to do with kind words when they were meant for me. Somewhere along the way, I'd learned it was safer to laugh them off, twist them into something less serious, or throw a sharp barb back before they had a chance to settle somewhere vulnerable.

I looked into his eyes, hoping he understood all the things I didn't know how to say.

He leaned in and kissed away any need for words before working his way to my ear.

I giggled as his breath tickled me, then sighed and melted into him.

He trailed soft, teasing kisses down my neck and across my shoulders. I shivered in the crisp air as his fingers lightly traced the familiar lines of the brand on my chest. A stylized MaV.

My initials, but the M was not for Marla. It was for Marvolknerex.

He grew still.

I knew that look without seeing his face. I'd seen it enough times to understand what the brand made him think of.

I caught his hand and brought his fingers to my lips.

"Vutha's gone," I said, kissing each fingertip gently until I felt the tension leave him.

"He can never hurt anyone again."

His hands were in my hair, gripping my head and pulling my face to his. His mouth crushed against mine, and I met his kiss with a hunger that caught me off guard with its intensity.

My hands found the buttons of his shirt, and suddenly I couldn't get them undone fast enough.

He unclasped his cape and tossed it aside. It caught itself in midair and folded neatly over a nearby headstone.

I hooked a leg around his ankle and gave him a little shove. His balance held for a second before he toppled backward onto the pile of blankets.

The surprise melted from his face as I let my skirts fall to the ground. I had deliberately left my smallclothes behind while preparing for the Rite.

His smile widened as his hands went to the laces of his pants.

I turned away, glanced back at him over my shoulder, and gave a saucy wiggle of my hips before bending to unbuckle my boots. I had only gotten the first strap undone when I felt his hands on my thighs, and then his mouth was on my...

Oh, Hades!

A shiver ran through me.

He gripped me tightly as he went down on me, his face burrowed between my legs.

He kissed me before brushing the thick curls aside. Using the flat of his tongue, he took long, slow, deliberate strokes from my throbbing little spot to my rear, teasing it gently before starting over.

His tongue felt incredible. Within seconds, he had me arching my back and pressing eagerly against his face. A shiver ran through me, and I had to move my feet a little farther apart to keep my balance.

Pressing deeply with his tongue, he circled the little button teasingly before sliding up. The stubble on his chin rubbed me deliciously as he lapped at my wet folds, probing deep.

His mouth found my hard pearl, and he flicked his tongue against it, causing my hips to buck involuntarily and electrifying every nerve in my body.

Encouraged, he began sucking on the little nub. The sound of his slurping and sucking echoed in the cool, dark cemetery.

"Oh, fuck, Magnes... yes!" I exclaimed as I began to grind my sex back against his mouth as hard as I could.

Pleasure washed over me, and I could not contain the occasional animal grunts that came from my throat unbidden as I rode wave after wave.

I don't know who taught this man these skills, but holy smokes!

I enjoyed every sensation his mouth and tongue were giving me, but I reluctantly stepped away. My knees were shaking like a gelatinous cube, but we had a Rite to conclude.

He looked at me questioningly, his eyes half closed, his face glistening in the moonlight.

I tried hard not to laugh. He looked like he had spent the past hour smoking Sweet Leaf. He hadn't even gotten his pants off yet, but his excitement was plain as day.

"Pants, Mageboy," I finally managed, taking a steadying breath.

His eyes stayed locked on me as he pulled his pants off the rest of the way. I tried not to watch as I began drawing the magic into me, but my gaze kept drifting back to him.

I could feel his gaze roaming over my naked body, and suddenly I felt like I was on display. I wanted more than anything to just lie down with him. He looked so sexy lying there, his body exposed to the cool night air.

I brushed it off and put those thoughts on the back burner for now. I took slow, deep breaths, drew the magic into me, and lifted my voice to the spirits gathered among the graves.

"Beloved dead, honored ancestors, I ask you to join us once more before you return to the realm of Hades. You have been remembered. Your names have been spoken. Your lives have been honored."

I took another slow, deep breath.

"Now, before we close the boundary between your world and ours, bear witness to the living. As death follows life, so life follows death. Tonight, we celebrate that which continues."

"Wait, what?" Magnes asked with slight alarm as he slowly sat up. "Witness?"

I felt like I was absolutely vibrating, my skin on fire, as the magic coalesced within me. I held it there, the current racing through me until I felt almost lightheaded.

"Marla," he pushed. "What did you mean by witness?"

I dropped to my knees, straddling him and pushing him back onto the scented blankets. The sweet smell of herbs and incense enveloped us. I took a deep breath of the intoxicating scent before leaning in and kissing him, gently licking my juices from his face and shuddering at the raw lust of the way I tasted on his mouth.

"Marla." He tried to interrupt, but I kissed him harder instead. He resisted for only a moment before his tongue met mine. He groaned softly into the kiss as the magic spilled from my body into his.

Necromantic energy slowly engulfed us, turning the world beyond into a hazy purple distortion, as though I were looking at it through smeared glass.

He lifted his hips to meet mine, his shaft pressing against me as he moved. Tremors of excitement swept through me, crashing against the magic I continued to draw in and contain. The urge to have him deep inside of me was overwhelming.

But the bastard kept teasing me. Every time I tried to position myself, he would move slightly, just enough to be frustrating, yet keeping enough contact to drive me insane.

"Please," I begged, kissing him again.

I placed my hands on his chest and pushed back, sitting up. With a few more teasing thrusts, he slipped inside me. I shuddered at the feeling of being filled with his hardness and joined as one.

We stayed that way for what felt like an eternity. My body trembled and tensed as I gripped his waist with my thighs. For one glorious moment, I was pretty sure I had left the mortal plane altogether.

Then he placed his hands on my hips. His touch grounded me slightly, reminding me why we were here. He guided me, slowly at first, until I found his rhythm, every movement drawing magic from the very air around us.

A hunger gripped me, causing the candles to flicker, then burn brighter, a beckoning light to the beloved dead, who moved closer, drawn by the energy of life being created between us. Their cold presence surrounded us, mingling with the heat and magic until I could barely tell where one ended and another began.

I looked down at Magnes. The rush of magic and sexual energy rose with each thrust, threatening to spill over. His eyes were closed, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he concentrated on maintaining control. He knew enough about ritual magic to understand that mutual release was important.

"Remembered..." I panted, riding him harder.

Magnes followed my movement, and the rhythm between us quickened.

"Remembered..." I said again as the feeling began to overwhelm me.

I heard him echo me beneath his breath.

"Remembered."

The magic swelled around us with each repetition. The candles burned brilliantly now, like torches illuminating the circle, while the beloved dead pressed close, waiting.

Magnes' thrusting became erratic and desperate as I raised my arms above my head, fighting to hold the gathered magic together.

"For Hades," I gasped. "For the beloved dead."

The magic strained against my rapidly faltering will.

"Remembered..." I gasped. "And... RELEASED!"

The words tore from me as we mutually peaked, and everything released from me at once.

The magic of our shared passion burst from me in a wave that extinguished the candles and plunging our circle into darkness. Spent and gasping, I collapsed onto Magnes's chest.

I listened to his heart pounding beneath my ear, using the steady rhythm to ground the lingering energy.

Our breathing was just beginning to return to normal when the sound of clapping filled the circle.

Magnes froze.

Another pair of hands joined in.

Then another.

Within seconds, the cemetery erupted in cheers and applause.

Magnes sat up so fast he knocked me to the ground as he looked around, bewildered.

"Marla?"

I looked past him.

Dozens of translucent figures stood among the graves, watching us. Some were applauding.

"Hmm?" I stretched.

"I think they watched."

I lay there for a moment, catching my breath, a warm, thoroughly satisfied smile lingering on my face.

Around us, the spirits began to fade.

One by one, they disappeared into the thinning veil, laughing, cheering, and waving as the boundary carried them home.

"They watched the whole thing?"

I considered lying.

Briefly. To spare his feelings.

"Probably."

"Marla!" he blurted, looking thoroughly mortified.

I laughed as I reached for my clothes.

"What?"

He sat up quickly and grabbed for the nearest piece of clothing he could find.

"They were watching us?!"

I pulled my shirt on and glanced toward the remaining spirits. Several were still grinning.

"Ugh." I said. "I thought bards wanted to give everyone a good show?"

"Look at it this way," I managed, my shoulders already starting to shake with another laugh. "You gave them a memorable send-off."

Magnes stared at me, completely mortified.

The last of the spirits were Mazagran Oakenstaff and his wife, Gran-Gran Cail, who, with broad grins and one final round of applause, slowly faded into the veil together.

Just before Mazagran faded into nothingness, he gave Magnes an enthusiastic thumbs-up and a mischievous wink.

Magnes reddened, closed his eyes and dropped back into the blankets and quilts, one arm covering his face.

"Oh, gods!"

I looked down at him, still pleasantly dazed and thoroughly satisfied, and bit back another laugh.

Poor bastard. He looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

A slow, wicked smile spread across my face.

"Look on the bright side, Mageboy. Your great-grandparents looked very proud."

The End