Page 58 of Witches of Dubious Origin
Ouch!So much for the warm fuzzies I’d felt a moment ago.
“But given the potential power of that grimoire, with spells dating back centuries, I believe there could be more than one person looking for it. And, of course, they’d need you, dead or alive, preferably dead if they’re a necromancer, to be able to use the grimoire, as it’s spelled to respond only to you.”
More than one? This did not reassure me. Shocking, I know.
A knock on the door startled me, while Olive didn’t look surprised at all. She probably had the hearing of a bat and knew they were there before they knocked.
Eloise entered, with Jasper right behind her. She took in the scene with wide eyes. “I think you’ve had a much more adventurous visit than we did.”
Jasper glanced from Moran to Shelly. “What do you need me to do?”
Was there anything more attractive than a man offering his services, especially for a chore such as this? No, there was not. Or maybe it was just Jasper, offering assistance in his deep British voice, with his dark hair swept back from his handsome face as his arresting pale eyes assessed the situation with the professional gaze of a person who worked in crisis management.
“Shelly, the interim director”—Olive gestured to the woman still unconscious on the floor—“needs to go to the infirmarywhere she will recover, believing this was all a really bad dream due to dehydration.”
“Right.” Jasper crouched down and, with a snap of his fingers, released the zip ties around her wrists. He scooped Shelly up with one arm around her back and the other beneath her knees. “Consider it done.”
With that, he departed like a superhero flying an injured person to the hospital.
“He’s quite dashing, don’t you think?” Eloise asked me.
I felt my face grow warm and hoped I hadn’t been staring after him, looking like a middle schooler with her first crush. Mortifying.
“He’s all right.” I shrugged and turned to Olive. “What do we do with Moran?”
“You’re the necromancer,” Olive said. “You have to break the hold the other necromancer has on him.”
“Oh, sure, no problem,” I said. “How do you suppose I do that?”
“If I knew, it would be done already.” Olive didn’t bother to keep the derision out of her tone.
“I might have a suggestion,” Eloise said. “Your grandmother Toni used to recite a spell when she ran into corpses that were in the thrall of another necromancer.”
Olive’s gaze sharpened. “Do you remember the phrase?”
Eloise scrunched up her nose. I wanted to tell her not to do that for fear that her nose might fall off. I kept my mouth shut, but it was a struggle.
“Not being a necromancer myself, I didn’t pay much attention, but I think it went something like Hmm-hm-hmm-hm sat on a wall. Hmm-hm-hmm-hm had a great fall.”
“Humpty Dumpty?” I asked. “Mamie recited the Humpty Dumpty rhyme to get rid of reanimated corpses that were not her own?”
Eloise paused, considering. “No, that can’t be right.”
Olive sat in a chair and propped her feet up on the desk, making herself at home while Eloise thought it through.
“Four score and seven…no, that’s not it either.” Eloise paced around the room. “To be or not to be. Nope.”
I wanted to help. I did. But given that I had nothing beyond a foundational knowledge about magic, spells, or necromancy, I needed to be quiet and listen and hope for the best.
“I know!” Eloise snapped her fingers, but the sound was muffled by her gloves. I didn’t think she should be taking such a risk with the remaining digits she had left. She spread her arms wide and in a deep voice, she said, “Regressus ad mortem corpus! You try it. You’re the necromancer. It should work for you.”
“Worth a shot.” Olive looked at me.
Was it? Was it really? What if I failed? Wisely, knowing there would be no sympathy from Olive, I did not express my self-doubt aloud.
“Regressus ad mortem corpus,” I mumbled, feeling incredibly awkward.
As one, we all glanced at Moran. He didn’t move, but his eyes flitted from side to side as if he was sayingno dicewith his eyeballs.
