Page 14 of The Witch & the Wolf

Holly almost forgot herself and dropped the rope there and then, but she held it together when Arlo showed no signs of fear or signs of losing control of the skeleton. Once it was fully up, he gently commanded the skeleton to clamber out of the bucket.

“That’s the whole body,” he said. “Easier than sending a team to scoop it out. I have the soul with it, but the soul doesn’t seem very willing to communicate with me.”

The skeleton stood there, glaring balefully at Arlo through the winking blue sockets. “Do you know who killed you, soul?” he asked.

No response from the skeleton.

“How did you die? Were you dead before you went in the well, or were you pushed into the well?”

Again, no response from the skeleton.

“I don’t…”

“Usually,” Holly said, “you’re more likely to make a connection if you know the name or any details about the victim.”

“Ah, true.” Arlo wiped away the sweat gathering on his upper lip. “I didn’t exactly have much time to do the research here, given that I thought this would be a nice little afternoon for us to spend together. Can’t quite say I expected this.” He sighed. “What’s your name, soul?”

Now, the skeleton creaked to attention. “Charles Suntooth.”

Suntooth. Was that a…?

“Charles Suntooth?” Arlo sputtered. “No way.” He paused before gathering himself, not wanting to waste the magic churning through the soul. “Charles Suntooth – I’m here to help. I want to find out who killed you. Do you know? Can you tell me anything?”

Holly nodded in silent approval. Souls were stubborn things. This type of approach was better. The Suntooth soul reacted to the questioning more favorably.

“I appear to be…” the skeleton lifted its hand, examining the bones and the blue glow. “I was not found. They did not look.” The voice sounded soft, mournful.

“They did,” Arlo hurried. “I know some of the people of your clan. You went missing around fifteen years ago. But you… were a student at Archon. Why are you in a well near Dreadmor Academy?”

The spirit continued to examine its hand as if in a trance. It eventually responded with, “I was visiting a friend. Someone I cared about a lot. We were visiting the village.” the soul paused. “My friend. Where is she? I want to see her. I want…”

Arlo hissed as the spirit took a jerking, forceful step forward. He fought against it until, with a frustrated grunt, the last of his magic drained, and the light from the bones faded into nothing. The skeleton had enough time to set itself lethargically on the ground before collapsing into loose bits. Arlo hunched over it, panting. “I couldn’t – I’m not strong enough…”

“Arlo, hey, no.” Holly reached out to him as he had reached out to her. “You did an amazing job, Arlo.” She shivered. “But what the hell have we just stumbled onto here?”

He took a few deep breaths before those penetrating, yellow eyes fixated on her. “I have no idea. But I know his disappearance was a big deal. Search parties were arranged, but they couldn’t find him. Obviously, he wasn’t where he said he would be. They also didn’t know if he was… seeing anyone.”

Arlo trembled under her touch from magical exhaustion, and she helped guide him away from the body. When someone was suffering the effects of magical exhaustion, it expressed itself like physical exhaustion. The person’s energy slumped, and rest was needed. Arlo allowed Holly to guide him without complaint. She settled him on the grass on a raised section and dug into her pocket for her cell phone. She didn’t have any of her teacher’s numbers, but she did have a number for Dreadmor reception. They would undoubtedly be interested to hear about the fate of an Archon student found dead fifteen years ago in their territory.

Reception sent two teachers – one a dragon shifter that could carry the other. Arlo and Holly watched as a shape blotted the sky above, descending toward them with a flap of huge green bat wings. The dragon teacher landed, and Z’Hana slipped off his back.

“By the spirits,” Z’Hana muttered, staring at the skeleton laid out. “We’re going to keep this one away from the local sheriff’s department. We’ll have to contact Archon Academy about the missing student, who, in turn, will contact the family. And we’ll need to call the necromancer back again…” she rubbed her face, clearly tired. “Best you two don’t speak too much of it.”

She examined Arlo, who still sat slumped and exhausted before she took out a black bag and carefully placed the bones into it.

Holly wasn’t sure about keeping quiet. It seemed… evasive. Dishonest. However, she also understood that they did not want to scare the locals. There were a couple of people gawking from beyond the field, noticing the huge dragon that had flown in. As for the couple Holly and Arlo had encountered – they might be spreading rumors about the weird medium and necromancer themselves. There was no real way to control this.

But for now, until the family was informed, Dreadmor Academy had yet another secret in its long list of potential secrets.

Z’Hana offered to give them a lift – and Holly accepted for Arlo because she didn’t see him being able to walk back in his current state. They all clambered onto the back of the dragon teacher, Professor Umber, and hung for dear life as the professor flew them the short distance to Dreadmor.

From the air, Dreadmor looked even more impressive, its turrets piercing the mist as if attempting to claim the sky. The gardens near the gates appeared like green squares on a gameboard, and they could pick out the swamp and woods nearby. Students crawled the ground like ants.

The professor landed on a higher tower balcony that seemed designed for people like him, as it had plenty of room to accommodate his wing spread and for him to clatter forward. They all slipped off – Arlo and Holly together and Z’Hana with her bag of bones.

The dragon professor finally melted back into his human form, brushing himself down. He examined the bag distastefully.

“I remember when that Suntooth lad went missing,” he said in a distinctive southern British accent. “We’ll have to be careful they don’t end up pinning the boy’s death on us.”

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