Page 29 of They Were Broom-Mates

“My mother used to tell me about a zombie she encountered while traveling abroad once. Well… not a zombie like the one we saw in the graveyard. This one was a fully functional humanoid being. His wife had been a necromancer, and after he passed away, she’d brought him back. He had always experienced profound levels of guilt about his wife tilting the scales of fate in his favor, so when he got his second chance, he went back to school. Used it to become a doctor and help as many people as he could.”

“Did he lose his powers when he came back?” Hestia asked, tilting her head to the side in curiosity.

Delia shook his head. “He never had any powers to begin with. He was just an ordinary human.”

“That’s quite lucky then,” Regina commented. “Having a powerful sorceress as a wife like that.”

Delia shrugged. “It depends on who you ask, I suppose. She didn’t just bring him back; she made him immortal, and in doing that, well… she didn’t survive.”

Amelie’s hand flew up to her mouth. “Oh, my gods.”

Shrugging once again, Delia continued. “Necromancy isn’t practiced by many people and that’s partially because it’s a bloodline trait, but also because even if you are predisposed to it, it can be very dangerous. There are people in the community who would be content to see it die out completely. Including the necromancer’s husband who I was talking about earlier.”

“Why would he want that?” Hestia asked. “Especially if he’s been able to help so many people since.”

“Well.” Delia continued. “When my mother asked him about it, he told her that as much of a blessing as it’s been, it was also a curse. Undeath isn’t like your run-of-the-mill standard immortality; there’s a price. One that you have to pay every single day of the rest of your… well… unlife, really.

He spoke of a gnawing hunger that took hold of him right after he was reborn. He was confused, disoriented; his wife was dead, and he didn’t know what was going on, so he stumbled out into the street and into an unsuspecting person.”

Delia shuddered, glancing paranoidly out the window. “He killed and ate her. Then once he came back to his senses and realized what he’d done…”

“That must have been horrible,” Regina whispered, reaching out for Hestia and Amelie’s hands.

With a nod, Delia took a deep breath. “Anyway, he told my mother that hunger never really went away. He was able to satiate himself on other corpses and cadavers, but it never dampened it more than when he’d fed from that poor woman.

Later, when he did studies on his own flesh, he discovered that due to his body’s inability to repair itself, it needed proteins and DNA from outside sources. The cadavers were enough to keep him going, but they didn’t repair him the way live tissue had.”

“So, what you’re saying is…” Amelie started, intertwining her fingers with the death witch’s and following her gaze to the window where now several other zombies were wandering around the grounds aimlessly.

“That those zombies out there, with no soul to anchor them to right and wrong, are effectively just indiscriminate killing machines, and with each kill, they’ll get stronger.”

“Oh good.” Hestia’s voice was high-pitched and for a moment Amelie thought that she might start to panic again, but then the redhead reached across the table and took Delia’s free hand in hers. “So we just have to deal with them before they eat any of us.”

Surprised at the touch but tightening her own grip on Hestia’s hand, Delia smiled softly. “That’s the plan.”

Amelie nodded, letting the group sit for a moment, just basking in each other’s presence and magic before breaking the silence.

“And the communication link to the Council isn’t working?” Amelie turned her attention back to Regina, who nodded solemnly.

“I’m sure they’ll send someone eventually when they can’t get ahold of us, but until then we are on our own.”

“Okay.” Amelie took a deep breath and squeezed both her hands in a way that she hoped was reassuring but could have just as easily been interpreted as nervous. “So, what do we do?”

Amelie gathered ingredients in the pantry as the other three did their preparations. Delia had given her a list of ingredients necessary for the ritual they were going to try, and Amelie knew the pantry would have them, but to say she was nervous was the understatement of the century.

Preparing food was a ritual in its own right, each meal a magical product that could be used to change the course of someone’s day. But she was completely unfamiliar with the art of ritual casting. When Delia had shown her the circle that needed to be drawn, Amelie had almost shut down completely. It was so incredibly complicated, with intricate symbols at each cardinal direction and swirling lines and runes running through the center.

“We can prepare most of the runes ahead of time; the real trick is going to be setting it up without being seen and completing the spell with all the zombies inside.” Delia had said, hand nervously running over her face.

Picking up her jar of basil, Amelie chewed her lip nervously as she placed it in the basket of her other herbs.

Basil for banishment, protection, and purification, cinnamon for protection and success, mugwort for protection and banishment, and rosemary for warding.

Talented witches who were practiced in the art of ritual casting could make tangible barriers out of rosemary and perform entire exorcisms with mugwort and bay leaf alone. Still, Amelie had only ever used bay leaf in stews and didn’t have the abjuration aptitude required to form true barriers.

When the pantry door opened this time, Amelie turned to see Delia, standing awkwardly in the doorway, five circular rocks in her hands.

“You ready?” Delia asked despite looking like everything but.