Page 41 of After Life
“It’s a T, I think,” he murmured. “Fuck me, this is bizarre.”
I nodded. “I admit that I’m not extremely familiar with folk magic of this specific area, but it doesn’t seem to fit the expected patterns of a developing magical system. It’s like a hodge podge of things, but there’s never any joining, like you’d see with a developing tradition. It’s not uncommon for communities to add in bits and pieces from cultures adjacent to theirs as people marry into the group or travelers bring in new ideas, new methods of doing things, but this”—I tapped the book distractedly— “it reads like they were throwing things at this Wrecker idea to see what stuck.”
Oscar smiled faintly. “Isn’t that how traditions happen though? In real life, outside of the textbooks I mean. Gran likes to use these ornaments, Mum prefers that food, Dad hates fruitcake, so Brother moves out and invites the family over for a holiday with Gran’s ornaments, Mum’s lasagna, and Dad’s lemon meringue pie, Brother’s kids carry that tradition on to their families later. Nothing in the common local tradition about it but it’s theirs, thrown together from a mix of likes, dislikes, finding what works...”
I sighed, tilting my head in acknowledgment. “In a sense, yes, but—”
“But,” he said, leaning in to kiss me again. “Sounds like the people of Broken Palm came up with their own way of doing things.”
“There’s something off about it, though,” I complained.
“I think,” Oscar murmured, taking the book from my hands and setting it to one side, “you’re focusing too much on the mundane.”
“So, if I just clap my hands and believe, it’ll make sense?”
He kissed the tip of my nose. “To badly paraphrase the Bard, there are more things on heaven and earth... than dreamt of in your philosophies.”
“I don’t think Shakespeare meant necromancy.”
Oscar drew back. “No, but I think that’s what we’re looking at here.”
My stomach gave a slow, oily sort of lurch. “When I spoke with Tomlinson last, he mentioned that Sandra was let go from her contract at the university. One of the reasons was she had become obsessed with necromancy and was using university resources to dabble.”
Oscar let out a long, slow sigh. “And you’re just now telling me this? Julian, it’s important, in the future, for you to tell me, the medium who talks to dead people if necromancy could even be remotely involved in a situation, alright?”
I nodded. “So... Have you ever dealt with this sort of thing?”
He shook his head, expression solemn. “I’ve been accused of it, but mediums don’t raise the dead. We just speak with the ones who are already here. I’ve never met anyone who could truly raise them. I—” He frowned. “I think I need to call Heinrich.”
He snorted. “We’ll just get a rambling story about some ghost he allegedly encountered while at Clyde’s this evening. I think maybe...” He frowned at his phone. “Hm. Lisa?”
“What about her?” I asked narrowing my eyes. “Isn’t she filming in California, anyway?”
Oscar smiled faintly, tapping his phone against his palm. “Yeah, Alcatraz. And I thought you liked Lisa?”
“I don’t hate her,” I admitted, and Oscar laughed. “What?”
“You like her. She’s the absolute opposite of us and entirely legitimate and you like her.”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “When she brings me that really good coffee.”
“Arse.”
“Oh, yes please...” Oscar laughed as I went in for a kiss, unable to stop myself from smiling against his mouth. “Upstairs?” I suggested. “Further to walk but less likely to be interrupted.”
Oscar nodded, and took my hand, leading me up to our room.
Sometime later during our tumble in the sheets, the power flickered, and someone stomped up the stairs. “Just the ghost,” Oscar muttered against my neck. “He won’t bother us.”
Chapter 9 – Oscar
Julian snored like a man possessed.
I was certain people could hear him over the sound of the storm.
The wind had picked up, then the rain, so loud that I worried the roof would fall in. Julian assured me it was nothing compared to what would come with the actual hurricane, effectively ensuring I wouldn’t get to sleep any time soon.
When not fearing for my safety, my thoughts fixed on the sigil we’d found.
