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"I thought of bringing a jam jar, but it could break."
"A jam jar? What kind of witch are you?"
"A very practical one."
"What if the Baggie breaks?"
I reached into my pocket and pulled out another one. "Backup Baggie."
Savannah shook her head.
I pushed through the cedars. Three graves lay in the cup formed by the U. I didn't need to check the headstones to find Mott's. The fresh dirt had not yet been covered with sod. Perfect.
I took a small trowel from my coat pocket, bent over, and was blinded by a sudden glare of light. As I stumbled backward into Savannah, I dowsed my light ball. Yet the light was still there. Someone was shining a flashlight into our faces.
Savannah started an incantation, but I clapped my hand over her mouth before she could finish.
"See?" a woman's voice said. "It is her. I told you so."
The flashlight dropped and I found myself standing before four people, ranging in age from college-bound to mid-retirement.
"Wow," whispered the youngest, a woman with rings through her lower lip. "It's the witch from the newspapers."
"I'm not--" I cut off the denial. "What are you doing here?"
"Seems we should ask you the same thing," a twenty-something man in a ball cap said.
An older woman, the one who'd spoken first, shushed him. "She's here for the same reason we are."
"To find the treasure?" the man said.
She glared at him. "To communicate with the spirit world."
"Is it true you saw her rise from the dead?" the younger woman asked, pointing at Mott's grave "That is so cool. What was it like? Did she say anything?"
"Yeah," Savannah said. "She said, 'Bother me again and I'll rip your--' "
I prodded her to silence. "Do you people know what you're doing? It's called disturbing a grave site. A--uh--" I slipped my trowel behind my back. "A very serious offense."
"Nice try," the young man said. "My brother's a cop. We can't get in trouble unless we dig her up. We aren't stupid."
"No," Savannah said. "You're just hanging around a cemetery looking for buried treasure. Hey, wait, I think I found something. Nope, just another rotting corpse."
"Mind your tongue, child," the older woman said. "While I disagree with the concept of using the spirits for material gain, necromancers in the ancient world often did exactly that. They believed that the dead could see all--the past, the present, and the future--thus allowing them to locate hidden treasures."
The elderly man beside her made a noise.
"Quite right," she said. "Bob wishes me to clarify that the dead are believed to be able to find any treasure, not just that which they themselves may have buried."
"He said all that with a grunt?" Savannah asked.
"Mental telepathy, dear. Bob has moved beyond the realm of verbal communication."
/> "Maybe so, but he hasn't moved beyond the realm of human justice," I said, bending to pick up a saucer of dried mushrooms, which I doubted were shiitake. "Bet these help with the mental telepathy. Maybe you can explain this to the police."
"There's no need to threaten us, dear. We're no danger to you or anyone else. We simply want to communicate with poor Miss Mott. A spirit who has been raised once remains very close to the surface, as I'm sure you're aware. If we can contact her, perhaps she can relay a message from the other side."
"Or tell us where to find treasure," the young man said.
