A Grave Error
Closing her eyes, she knelt beside the grave. The ghost placed an icy hand on her shoulder. She could feel the chill seep through her skin and into her bones.
His lips whispered by her ear. “Well, hello again, little necromancer…” The words hissed as a serpent’s breath.
She hated this part and she hated him.
Instinctively, her senses tried to push him away, but he just laughed his hollow laugh and wriggled his fingers against her warm flesh like he was playing a piano. “Tut tut. You know you can’t get rid of me, love. Best just to get on with it.”
She grit her teeth and tried to concentrate, raising the enchanted athame. He coughed. Her eyes shot open before a scowl could deepen across her face.
“Can’t you just go away?” she ground out through tight teeth.
He laughed again. “What kind of spirit guide leaves his young necromancer to fend for herself?” He stepped in front of her and gave her an appreciative look up. The bile in Jessica’s stomach flipped and churned. “That’s a pretty sexy outfit, you’ve got there for raising the dead.”
She painted a dulled disgust across her face. It was black jeans and a t-shirt. How could black jeans and a t-shirt count as sexy?
“I’m dead, not repressed, love.” He smiled his greasy smile, eyes searching out her curves.
“You’re a pervert. Let me get on with my job.”
She closed her eyes and centred herself again. She gripped the athame tighter in her hands. Normally the small daggers were considered witch territory, but this one was a dark blade. It had been specifically enchanted to contact the dead. Of course, it only worked for direct calls in graveyards. Jessica hated graveyards, but it was a necessity for some calls.
The ghost cleared his transparent throat.
Jess squeezed an eye open. He was checking out her chest again. Great. Only she could get a spirit guide who liked ogling the living. Why couldn’t he stick to his own kind?
“I’m not into creatures without a pulse.”
“Ouch!” he mocked, jumping backwards. “Jeez, love. You’ve got to learn not to kick a guy when he’s down. Give me a break.”
“I’ll give you a break when you stop interrupting my shower in a morning. Now will you please let me get on with it?”
He made a motion of zipping and locking his lips, then gave her a big grin.
He was good looking for a ghost, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. He irritated her too much when she was supposed to be doing important things. And he was dead. That alone was a complication.
She closed her eyes, raising the athame again. Words fell like smoke from her lips as she brought the athame down into the soil. The blade crackled and sparked as it ripped the fabric between this world and the afterlife.
Something had gone wrong.
Jess opened her eyes. The athame dropped from her hands.
“I don’t think it worked, love,” he quipped with the greasy grin.
She blinked. “You’re not…”
The grin slipped from his face. He looked behind him to see what she was staring at before he realised. For the first time in a century, he could feel the wind.
[Continues in Kiss of Death…]
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