"Unless you've made good sensible decisions your whole life and it's finally time you made some bad ones," Hilda said. "There's no one judging you here. There's no group of friends to live up to. No parents to meet their expectations. There's just you."

“I’m just discovering who I am,” I said solemnly. “I thought all this time I knew. I thought finding out my husband was gay was going to be the biggest shock of my life. I was wrong. Discovering I’m a witch and in charge of a cemetery in the middle of nowhere southern Oregon…It’s a little more than I expected to happen in my lifetime.”

This was the thing that now had to be my new normal.

Branson jumped in my jeep with Hilda and Anita. “Do we have to do this together?” I asked. “Maybe you can meet us back at the house?”

“It’s the job of The Hayes to walk the perimeter,” Branson said. “We spoke about it the other night together and decided for your first time it would be me.”

It didn't take us long to get down to the cemetery. I stepped out of the jeep, my water boots squishing in the mud. It wasn't something I was used to from Los Angeles. If it rained, traffic was slow, and everybody got jumpy. I used to run out and buy firewood if there was a small hint of rain in the air just so I could build a fire. But here, building a fire was going to be the new normal. And I couldn't wait. That was definitely a trade-up.

And right in line with my taste.

“We start off in the Celtic martyr section.” Branson motioned towards the path.

I rolled my eyes. “Of course, you do.”

“Your ancestors died not just protecting your land and your family,” Branson said. “They died protecting all of New Attica. It’s why we go to them first, out of respect.”

“Have you ever stopped to wonder why my mother didn’t have anything to do with this life?” I asked. “That’s what I’ve been asking myself the last few days. My mother wasn’t crazy. She was really sensible. She had a level head. She didn’t just decide one day to completely walk away from this life. But she or Aunt Emma should’ve told me more about it.”

“Maybe it wasn’t simple for her,” Hilda said. “I’ve heard stories about people walking away from the DGC and they have to sign a note of silence that’s punishable by death. It might’ve been simply something she did to save herself and, in the meantime, accidentally got you caught up in it the situation.”

“One thing I know is it’s unfair,” I grumbled.

I exchanged a look with Hilda and we both laughed. I could hear the whiny tones of my daughter when she was little telling me life wasn’t fair.

We stood in the clearing of the Celtic Martyrs, and I looked up at the three gravestones. “So, what happened? Let’s just pretend I don’t know anything.”

“They were overrun by zombies,” Branson said.

“No way. Did they get turned into zombies?” I asked.

“Word is two got bitten and the third killed them. She survived just long enough to seal the wards,” Branson explained.

“Who did they leave the house to?” I asked.

“They had a daughter,” Hilda said. “No one knows whose daughter she was, but they all raised her as if she were their own.”

“Where did the zombies come from?” I asked.

The others looked at me like I was slightly stupid.

“Dead people,” Branson said. “Corpses.”

I rolled my eyes. “I meant what animates them?”

“Dark magic,” Anita said.

Okay. We could logic our way out of this. “So, we use white magic to kill the zombies.” I reasoned.

“Monsters work really well, too,” Anita said.

“Monsters?” I asked.

Hilda nodded. “It’s not a bad option. They do eat the zombies, but they wreak havoc on the environment.”

“They’re also a lot indiscriminate about what they eat,” Branson pointed out.