Ghosts! Ace’s mind whirred with implications of it. The cold drafts, Half-Smile’s strange behavior, the general reputation of this House. The rumors were true after all.

Ghosts.

She paced in her room, her bed sprawled with open textbooks of Necromancy and other closely related studies. A specific page was open before her with an ultramarine splatter of illustrations spanning the entire coffee-colored spread. Ghost ectoplasm, said the caption. If there were ghosts at the house, surely she would have found traces of ectoplasm? Unless she needed a specific tool to see it?

Thus her mind had whirred the entire night, and she flipped pages.

An early sunrise parted the clouds in the sky. Ace was lost in the Necromancy textbooks when someone rapped on the door. Incessantly.

Thought this place was feared enough to be left alone, she thought as she addressed the visitor.

Visitors.

A group of people in construction uniforms stood there. Humans, clad in netted neon jackets and helmets. A man at the front held up his toolbox for Ace to see the MagiTech logo in gleaming silver embedded on it.

“Insulation, Miss?” He said.

“Err – yes, come in,” Ace stepped aside and they poured in neatly like a line of ants. She glanced upstairs where Half-Smile usually spent his time, hoping he would stay there for the duration.

“We’ll be getting to work,” said the man. “Should be done in a few hours. Big place.”

“Superb,” said Ace. “Err – would you be needing anything? A drink or –”

Another visitor stepped over the landing. The woman grabbed Ace’s arms, her familiar red face pulpy from crying. Shane’s mother.

“I need your services,” she shouted. “Now! You must come to the arcade now!”

The construction people halted their work to stare at Ace. She smiled at them amiably before ushering Shane’s mother back out the door.

“I don’t understand,” Ace told her in low tones when they were outside. “Again?”

“He was murdered. Assassinated. Why are you just standing here? You need to bring him back. Now!” She pulled on Ace’s arm roughly.

“I’ll pay whatever you want, godammit,” she shouted again, making Ace worry about the rest of the neighbours hearing. “Bring your things, already!”

Ace pulled her hand back. She felt a tinge of guilt at this action, seeing the other woman’s hurt face. “Listen,” Ace said, more gently. “Listen to me. I can’t get involved if your son is in some other kind of trouble to get tangled up in murder. It’s not about money. And besides that – my Bone Tablet is running out of power. I don’t think it –”

“Just try, dammit! He’s my son. He’s a child! You would let a child die, even though you have the power to bring him back?”

“That’s not – you don’t – there are Laws to follow when dealing with the dead –”

“Shane has never been a troublesome child. All he does is play video games and be the best kind of son a mother could ask for. His dead body is lying in my house right now. Somebody wants him dead. And I’m not sitting around waiting for them to get their way.”

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Ace didn’t reply. This was way beyond her job description. The Necromancer’s code strictly advised against dealing with all the emotions tied with the death of a loved one. We Resurrect, not grant Immortality. We deal with Death, not Grief. We remind others of the Inevitability of Death. We abide by all the Laws of Necromancy.

Since moving into this neighbourhood, Ace had broken the code multiple times. Somewhere among the books on her bed, the code was written there in dark olive green ink, in a neat little box, above the caption which said: Necromancer’s live and die by the Code.

Unfortunately, the books never taught Ace how to say no to someone without guilt gnawing at her.

Shane’s mother seemed to have figured this out. She was looking at Ace with large pleading eyes. A single tear dribbled down her cheek. Her thin fingers were wringed around each other.

“Let me get my supplies,” Ace said. Her throat felt dry. She never disobeyed the rules before.

We abide by all the laws of Necromancy. A voice in her mind chanted the code against her will. Her hands worked on their own, separate will, gathering her supplies, and buttoning the satchel closed. She took one last look at the textbooks sprawled in her room, falling deeper into guilt.

Shane was lying in the same dim room as before. Ace worked on autopilot. She could carry out the task with her eyes closed if she wanted.

The Bone Tablet had shrunken to an embarrassing size; smaller than a smart phone, as thin as a piece of paper. Ace was tempted to reject the job again, but Shane’s mother bared over her from the entrance with ever-red distressed eyes. Ace wrote the name down.

The powers that bridged the gap between life and death followed suit. Energy thrummed in the small room, a layer beneath the spectrum of visible light. And then Shane sucked in a breath.

He sat up in a panic, feeling his body where his wound was quickly healing. “I was dead,” he said, gulping down large breaths, “again.”

Ace wasn’t paying attention to him. The Bone Tablet shivered, sighed, and disintegrated in her hands. A smudge of ash remained, dirtying her skin.

“I’m sorry,” said Shane quietly. “Do you need a new one?”

“It doesn’t matter. You know the drill, Shane,” Ace told him. “The Elixir of Cordyceps. Two–”

“Two teaspoons per day.”

“Yes,” and to his mother, Ace said: “Now. This is the second time he’s been resurrected. He’s going to have some habitual changes. Different interests and behaviour than he did before. It’s inconsequential for now, little things like drinking tea instead of the coffee lover he was. But any resurrection further will be worse. Eventually, he might not return as the same Shane you knew. He might not return as your son. So I advise you to fix whatever problem is going on. Because I will not resurrect him again.”

She nodded in acknowledgement.

“Good,” said Ace. “Now, I will take my leave.”

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Shane is in danger,” the mother went on.

“I can’t do anything about that.”

“No, but you can. You – you could provide a sanctuary for us. Just for a few days.”

“What? I’m not a bodyguard.”

“Listen. Shane was murdered. Twice. I’m terrified out of my mind here –”

“Mom,” said Shane. He stepped towards Ace and looked at her. She could still smell the Stench of Death on him, the pheromones he exuded from his skin, and the swirling dark grey clouds in his eyes. His senses were still settling down, like an old machine with a new part, so he had observable difficulty in forming a sentence. But whatever he wanted to say was important enough for him to try.

“Ace,” he started. “She’s gonna come back.”

“She?”

“The woman who killed me. I don’t remember her …. face. It’s a blur. But I know I’ve never seen her before in my life. I’ve … I’ve done nothing wrong. To anybody. I’m innocent. And I’m terrified of dying again. Forever.”

Ace looked away to the floor. She hated guilt, and she hated that she felt it so intensely. She certainly wasn’t going to be paid enough for this either. Her eyes ran around the room, thinking of anything to say. Go to the police station. Or I’m only a necromancer, and I’ve done my job here. Or maybe this is just how you die according to fate. Accept it. But she couldn’t voice out any of these to his face. She couldn’t –

There on the floor, a few paces away from the newly spilled blood, something shimmered in the light. Silver. Ace narrowed her gaze at the object. A shining grey leaf. There was no mistake. She had seen such a leaf on a dress before. What was that doing here?

She walked towards it to examine it properly, not touching it. Two mushroom stalks now accompanied the scene, one surrounded by dried blood, and the other in a puddle of fresh blood.

Shane was watching her patiently. Finally, she returned his gaze and nodded to him. “You can stay at my House for the night. Both of you. But first – listen to me. Carefully.”