Page 15 of Death and Do-Overs

Wendy frowned and scrubbed her hands over her face.

“That wasn’t reanimation though,” Imogen said. “It was more like commanding the already living undead, err, living kinda-dead? Either way, it’s different. But you have reanimatedsomething bigger than a mouse—Licorice the raven. You’ve never purposefully reanimated a person before though, right?”

“No,” Wendy said, her skin growing pale.

She was as uncomfortable with all of this attention on her magic as I was having everyone in my living room.

“A head isn’t an entire person,” Andrew said.

Everyone snapped their attention to him.

“It could be easier,” he said with a slight lift of his shoulder.

Wendy said, “I think I’m going to need silence or you guys maybe go outside.”

“We’ll be quiet.” Rose nudged Imogen.

“Oh yes. Quiet as a ghost…but not like the ghosts I’ve met. Like a ghost issupposedto be.”

Wendy looked between the two of them.

Rose mimed zipping her mouth shut. Imogen nodded and silently mouthedme too.

Wendy turned her attention back to Nie and took a breath. “You will live. I want that. I wish for it.I command it.”

The air in the room suddenly felt ten degrees colder, dry, and electrically charged the way my socks always did when they came out of the dryer. I shivered. The little hairs on my arms stood on end.

The environmental shift sparked around the room, leaving everyone silent. No one moved. I held my breath and stared unblinkingly into the box, waiting for proof of Wendy’s inevitable magical success.

A clammy sheen spread over my palms, but I refused to move a single finger or else I could miss Nie’s awakening.

Seconds dragged past.

My eyes burned from lack of blinking.

Roots of doubt began to creep through my certainty. Niehadto wake.

Any moment now she would?—

“Ahh!” Imogen jumped, twisted, and scrambled onto a chair.

The sudden sound snapped me out of the spell. Rose blinked twice, hard.

As far as I could tell, Imogen’s reaction had nothing to do with Nie. Nie’s head remained completely lifeless.

“What is it?” Wendy asked Imogen.

Imogen pointed, arm shaking, toward the window.

A fluffy white shape waited on the other side of the glass, slowly chewing a mouthful of grass strands. The sky lit up behind the sheep, lightning crackling across thick clouds.

Wendy let out a huff and shook her head. “I swear, Imogen.”

“You know sheep are my weakness,” she said.

A little grateful for the break from the tension, I wiped my hands on my pants and rolled my shoulders. “Imogen, meet Gen.”

“No thank you,” Imogen said. “I already met that sheep. I don’t need to see it again. Ever.”

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