Page 17 of Grave Expectations

“Anyway, there are powers adjacent to necromancy that don’t quite fit our conventional understanding of it. Like your sister, for example,” Selma said.

“The rot.” Roz nodded sagely.

“Yeah, that,” Selma said evasively. “It’s possible you have some other niche of the craft. You’ve never been able to commune with the dead, much less see a spirit. But a little blood tethers the spirit of a cursed man? Well, that’s something. Blood magic is frowned upon, you know. The cost isn’t always immediately evident.”

“I thought it just didn’t make sense to use in necromancy,” Roz said.

“Oh, pish posh. That’s a lie someone made up, I’m sure. Blood magic is required for reanimation, and apparently tethering. I’d say you have the gift of reanimation, but the man has no corpse,” Selma said, nodding to the couch. “So this is something else.”

“Like what?” Roz asked.

“No idea,” Selma said, waving a hand.

Roz sighed and sunk into the couch. “The pages about blood magic have been torn out of this book,” she said, motioning to the book on the table. Selma leaned forward and, for the second time in Roz’s life, looked impressed.

“Did Martha let you take this from the museum?” she asked.

“Uhm…” Roz started.

“You stole it?” Selma gasped. Roz waited for the admonishment, for her to threaten to rat her out to the curator. Instead she cackled, clapping her hands together. “Splendid! I love it!”

Roz waited for her to settle before she spoke again. “Do you know where I can find more information about blood magic?”

“I can see if we’ve any old books, but my guess is they’re all burned or buried. Unless you want to dig up everyone’s graves, I think you’re better off experimenting. I can ask Franny, but you know how temperamental she is.”

“You talk to Franny?” Roz asked.

“Oh, all the time. It’s just a rumor that I’m no good at necromancy, I’m actually quite skilled.”

“How would I experiment?” Roz asked.

“Give the man your blood! It worked the first time, didn’t it? Maybe that’s all it takes. A little paper cut, perhaps,” Selma suggested.

Roz chewed her bottom lip. Selma sighed. “What is it?”

“It’s just…” Roz glanced from Alaric to her aunt. “Tethering sounds very…constrictive. If blood brought him to this side of the veil, at the expense of being tethered to me, would more blood make that permanent? Would I keep him from being able to cross? Would I trap him here?”

Selma tapped her chin. “A good theory. Would it be so terrible to be tethered to a hot man who can’t run away?”

Alaric snorted, Roz’s face burned.

“Be serious, Selma,” Roz implored.

“I am! What’s so great about the other side, anyway? Franny’s always asking about the latest gossip in town. I think the other side must be a bore,” Selma said.

“It’s lonely,” Roz said. “No one can see him but me, and no one has spoken to him in three hundred years.”

“I’ll look into tethering more. I’m sure Franny knows something; I need to ask her about your sister anyway. In the meantime, keep stealing from Martha. I’d love to see the look on her face when she realizes her books are gone.” Selma stood and chuckled, shaking her head.

“One last thing,” Roz said, standing to open the door for her aunt. “This…tethering. Does it influence behaviors or emotions? Like, I’m not altering who he is or who I am by being tethered?”

“Unlikely, or I think reanimation would have been ‘forgotten’ much earlier…if you catch my drift.”

Roz did.

“Thanks, Aunt Selma,” Roz said, hugging her great aunt.

“Next time, come to me first. Your mother means well, but she’s not a great witch.” She patted Roz on the shoulder before she left.