Collecting the bodies of the dead was more complicated than she thought it would be because around twelve hours after leaving them behind she finished her farm chores and went to claim them, only to find them all missing.

At first, she was pissed thinking Ink Pen returned to take them, but she wasn’t sure that could be the case. She remembered them being there and she’d specifically told him not to. Somehow, she didn’t think he would disobey a direct order. Not yet at least. He wasn’t very strong-willed.

So then she had to wonder where they went. Ant had the radio on all the time and while there was news of several escaped criminals, there was no indication of any being found dead or alive. A mass grave would make headlines, too.

As she started to leave the woods, a piece of paper caught her eye, stabbed through a branch, and a little bit off the trail.

“For god’s sake,” Donner said, irritated.

Her own handwriting with a brief explanation of the situation.

You see, what had happened was I found this note and I obviously had to do what I’d done so you’re going back in time to get the bodies, but there’s other stuff to do before that. First, you have to go to Halstone’s and ask about bodies. The rest is up to you. Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s possible to mess this up.

And Donner’s saying you better write your own note because if you take this one and use it, and then that happens again and again, it could deteriorate because it keeps being used and no one ever wrote it to begin with. Like the hole could get bigger or something and that would be bad.

“It would call Ink Pen,” she reasoned as she lit the paper on fire. “A dimensional rift would open up because it was paper that never existed.”

“It’s still-” he stopped. “You know what? Nevermind. Don’t think about it.”

“Well, it’s too late now. You shouldn’t have said anything!”

Back on the farm, in the house, and ripping a piece of paper from the back of one of Ant’s notebooks, she considered the whole thing as she wrote the note she’d read minutes ago.

“It seems like I went back in time before I thought to do it and that is a concept that seems impossible on its face, but it must not be since I’m doing it and the universe hasn’t been ripped apart. It must have been fine because we’re still alive. We don’t know enough math and science to understand.”

“Or Father Time is somehow keeping the universe together,” Donner grimly surmised. “If that paper were to keep being used it would begin to deteriorate. The hole would rip further as it was restuck on the branch and that might end the universes.”

“Do you think that’s part of his job description? I don’t know, I’d think that would fall to someone else. I mean, don’t ask me who, but someone else. That’s a lot.” She considered the problem. “The issue is that going back in time made me think to go back in time. And you just said the things I said you said in the note, but was that because you would have naturally or because the note said you would? Yeah,” she shook her head. “We shouldn’t think about it anymore.”

So they didn’t, though Donner was privately unnerved by the whole thing and hoped he would forget it ever happened in years to come.

The note was placed in her pocket so it could be delivered to its rightful place and time and then the work began.

“Halstone’s…” she muttered as she thought of the place Donner showed her on the projector in her dreams. “It hasn’t changed since you were last there, right?”

“Their pride is in remaining the same. Doubtless, there are spells to keep its image unchanging.”

“Okay,” she cracked her knuckles. “Here goes everything.”

Disappearing from the empty forest, Luna arrived on the doorstep of a red brick building exactly like the one she’d seen in dreamland. Of the few people around no one looked surprised by her appearance. A hag, she thought, hobbled down the narrow alleyway, and a man in a long cloak with a hood over his head sat on the stone road, his back against another building.

“Is he dead or sleeping?” she asked Donner.

“Probably not dead or his body would have been taken for use.”

“Unless no one’s noticed yet.”

“While a possibility, it’s unlikely.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “This is not the introduction to Society I would have chosen.”

“I mean it’s not really,” she reasoned. “I saw Arcane Arts first and you’ve shown me other places before.”

Halsone’s had a sign hung from a thin piece of iron that jutted from the side of the edifice. Established like a thousand years ago, she realized it said, and that was kind of unbelievable.

“No, it’s true,” Donner told her. “I told you it’s been in the same family for generations. It’s not as incredible when you realize that magic users often live a hundred years or more.”

“What?” That was a surprise. “Why do they live so much longer than normal people?”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Different types of cures, I suppose. The medical industry is fraught with fraud and money-making schemes. A pill does not cure you, it covers symptoms. When a child is given medication to stop a cough or bring down a fever, they are still sick. However, because they feel better, they will go out and do things their body should not be doing. The same goes for adults. Companies will make no money if you don’t need their products.”

“I guess that’s true,” she marveled. “What pieces of shit!”

“Your aunt has done all of you a great favor by getting out of the city and into the countryside. You haven’t particularly noticed, but she hasn’t brought medicine into the house in months. I assume she’s had some revelations on the subject.”

“That’s what all the essential oils are about?”

“I assume so and there’s been little store-bought prepared foods.”

“You mean it’s a big conspiracy? They’re all working together?”

“I have little interest in that sort of thinking as it does not affect myself, however, the fact remains that a few massive corporations own much of the world’s production and they are many of them related to one another by blood or marriage. It stands to reason that they put their interests above those of the unwashed masses.”

“Geeze, I didn’t realize the world was so complicated.”

“It isn’t complicated,” Donner said. “It makes perfect sense and most people are living in the same way, though on a much smaller scale. Looking out for number one, in other words. It is the way of the world at large and takes special effort to avoid.”

“I guess so. It’s hard to think about other people. They’re all doing dumb shit.” She thought of Ungle’s killer, of the person who must have given the order. She thought of the ladies at the Chinese buffet and all the food they sold. Was it good for the buyers? No. “As long as the customers don’t die too soon, the money keeps flowing. Like drug dealers.”

“Correct and this is true in all industries. The goal is to addict your target. Be it to the idea of being helpful, as in charity, or to having more and better, as in upgraded technology. There is a cost behind each, though most would consider charity to be morally superior. Your aunt’s laptop was made by forced labor. While she has made a better life for her family, she has no thought for the ones in factories. She may even donate to a charity on it.”

“And when someone sells crack on the street,” she interjected, “they know it’s bad for the person buying it, but it's the buyer making the final decision, I guess.”

“I hope you realize that the bodies you provide may be used for such things,” he told her. “You will have no say in what happens to them once they are sold. Potions can be used to do the body good or harm.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. You don’t buy the dead on the black market to find a cure for cancer.”

Inside the store, it was crowded with things. Shelving units to the ceiling and too close together, each full of wares and tagged with their prices. Some were labeled non-negotiable while others were open to haggling.

All was in dark wood and incense burned sickly sweet. She was tempted to take her time looking at things, but there would be a chance for that later. She needed to get rid of her stock first.

To the back of the shop she went and the woman behind the counter wasn’t interested in her at all. She was a gaunt, rangy thing. Dishwater hair and eyes slate. She looked as if she never saw daylight and Luna realized the windows were by the ceiling; small rectangles that let in filtered beams because they were obscured with wafer-thin black paper.

“Hey, lady,” she slapped her fist to the counter after pulling over a box to stand on. “What’s the going rate for a freshly dead body?”

“Human or animal?”

No questions about her identity then. She liked that. “Human. Male. Middle-aged. Depraved criminal.”

“How old is the body?”

“Less than an hour.”

"Magic user?"

"Nah."

She was taking down the information and then said, “I’ll speak with the manager.”

“Her mother,” Donner informed as the woman walked away. “Or grandmother, I’m not sure who exactly is in charge at the moment. Whoever is awake.”

“Wait, is this a matriarchy?”

“Yes. Not to say that men of the family aren’t involved, but they’re mostly the muscle.”

“It’s great she didn’t ask about me or anything. I thought I’d have to show identification or something.”

“As a matter of fact,” he paused. “That is a bit strange. Unless the item is in high demand right now, and it may be as the winter solstice is almost upon them, they normally require some kind of insurance, as you might say.”

“It’s good that this will be a busy time. Lots of people looking to make zombies, huh?” She turned to survey the shop. She recognized several items, though she guessed their purposes weren’t obvious. Other things she’d never seen before.

“Some do try to reanimate the dead, yes,” Donner explained. “But most will use various parts in potions and rituals.”

“Not at school?”

“No. There are too many watchful eyes and rich brats. Not even at Arcane will you find cadavers.”

The woman returned then and made an offer Luna would have accepted, as she had no idea what the currency standards were, had Donner not insisted she demand more.

“900 gold.” Was the initial offer.

Donner wanted, “1350.”

The lady said, “We have to make a profit, too.”

Math wasn’t Luna’s strongest suit and she didn’t know what the conversion rates were or how much gold was acceptable, so she told Donner to go halfway and he did. They wanted a good, fair price and not to be seen as pushovers, but it was possible to go overboard with the demands as well.

The result was 1080 gold per dead guy and it would be paid once she brought the goods. Also, she had to buy some kind of bigger on the inside magic pouch that was light and silent because no way could she carry all that money around a place like this.

It was set aside and waiting.

“Okay,” she clapped her hands. “Here come the bodies! It’ll take a couple of minutes I think.”

Time travel, while convenient, was not comfortable so she wanted to take as few trips as possible. Fortunately, once she left the bodies the previous night, she didn’t even turn around to look at them as she walked back to the farm, and the whole ordeal, while it felt like forever, didn’t take more than forty-five minutes. So all her dead were less than an hour in passing.

Once she stuck her note on the branch, she staked them like bricks and bound them with rope from nowhere, which Donner bitched about because it broke some kind of laws of physics or something, and they were all of them back in Halstone’s. The bodies were soon on their way to a cooling chamber full of ice, powered by artifacts.

So, that was definitely a good business move.

Killing evil nasty people was a potential side hustle, but it was too easy.