Amar offered them a rather generous amount to help out at the Serenity Hills Cemetery. A five-hour shift from eleven at night to four in the morning, every other night, would be more than enough to pay rent and other living expenses. The details, however, were not what Greg had been expecting them to be.
Rather than tending to the grounds or doing paperwork, as the former was handled by Amar’s cadre of raised skeletons, and the latter by Amar himself, Greg and Taz would be performing duties suitable for those familiar with the unmundane. Specifically, they would be checking in with lingering spirits, conversing with them, and determining if any were ready to move on from this mortal plane.
Unfortunately, unlike Amar, Greg and Taz did not already have a means by which they could perceive unseen souls. Fortunately, Amar had in his records a method to create an item that would serve that purpose. It involved a pair of thin-rimmed spectacles, a forest clearing, a full moon, and several fresh corpses. Much to Greg’s relief, animal corpses counted for that last requirement.
Amar offered Greg and Taz to accompany him out to an unnamed wood just outside of the city proper, and they decided to turn the experience into a brief camping trip. Greg found sleeping bags on craigslist, and Taz picked up the obligatory necessities for smores. Amar would be maintaining vigilance over the ritual, ensuring that everything went as planned.
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Not long after night fell, surrounded by the darkened forms of gently swaying trees, three odd souls sat around a campfire. Of the three, one did not partake of the traditional snack the other two enjoyed. Though he claimed to be untroubled, the demon and human did not miss the saddened look the undead undertaker briefly flashed.
The demon was content with the treat, but the roaring fire did not bring him comfort. It reminded him of home, which in turn reminded him of unpleasant memories, memories he had repeatedly shoved away, refusing to dwell on them.
The human, noticing the scowl his friend wore, tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, you ok?” Greg asked gently. If Greg had been more socially adept, he would have tried making a joke to lighten the mood. However, Greg knew his capabilities were limited in that department, and had decided on the more gentle approach.
Shaking his head, Taz responded, “I guess, well, I guess not.” He sighed. “Just thinking about home.”
Not knowing Taz’s circumstances, Amar asked him, “Do you miss it?”
Barking a laugh, Taz gave Amar a wan smile. “No, not a damned bit.” With that, the floodgates had been opened. Taz didn’t know why he felt compelled to pour his heart out, but something about their surroundings, the ambiance, the vibes as some might call it, it just felt right. “My parents pushed me to go to college when I didn’t want to, and then started… threatening me when they found out I had fucked off to go party. I don’t regret it; they were a bunch of assholes. I wanted to get away from them, and they had a plan, a path they wanted my life to take, which involved college.
“At first, I was their perfect student; going to classes, studying, extracurriculars. It was a few months later, when I went to my first college party, that I realized just how much my parents had fucked with me. A whole new world had opened up for me, a new way to live life.” Taz smirked. “So, I embraced it. Party all night, sleep through classes, if the hangover wasn’t too bad, repeat. It didn’t take long for them to find out.” His expression darkened. “I knew they were coming for me. My family does not take insubordination lightly, whether it be from their employees or their own family. I had to get away. And the only way I knew how was to get summoned.” Taz looked at Greg. “I don’t want to get into the specifics of what summoning is like from our side. Suffice to say, Greg- Greg and his friends called out, and I answered.”
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Taz sat back, staring up at the embers flying off into the night. He felt lighter, a weight off his shoulders.
Greg opened his mouth to offer kind words, then closed it. He didn’t know what the right thing to say in this situation was. What if he embarrassed himself, or angered Taz?
Taz could sense the hesitancy and self-doubt in Greg, and prodded him with a few words, “Hey, it’s alright. It’d take a lot to even come close to how bad my family was towards me.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
After a taking another chunk out of his smores, Greg began to speak. “Taz already knows about my situation,” he said towards Amar, “but the long and short of it is that my folks worked themselves to the bone to put me in college, and I went and dumped it all down the drain. I found some people willing to share their couch in exchange for some help, and that’s where I got introduced to the occult. Magic. All that stuff. All this stuff.
“I still haven’t told my parents, they think I’m concentrating on my studies. They’ll find out sooner than later, though, since they’re the ones paying the tuition. That gives me ‘till the end of the semester. A couple of months away, yeah, but it’s all too soon for me.” Greg brought his knees to his chin, poking the logs with the long metal skewer used to roast the marshmallows. “I still don’t know what I’m going to do about that. How I’m going to make it up to them. Because I will. Even without the degree, going there and flunking out, winding up in a not-cult, summoning a demon who’s now my roommate. I don’t think I’d be as motivated, as driven if I hadn’t gone to college at all. I’d be stuck at some dead-end job making minimum wage, just coasting through a miserable life. So yeah, I guess life bitch-slapped me back awake.”
Greg finished his impromptu sermon and felt a wave of relief wash over him. It took a moment to realize the urge to talk hadn’t been natural. It was more than just being swept up in the mood. Greg shivered.
“What the hell was that?”
Amar’s brows rose in surprise, a hint of excitement in his voice. “Oh! I know what this is. We just experienced a Tradition.”
Taz nodded in understanding.
Greg looked between the two in confusion. “A tradition? And how do I know the word is bolded even though it’s just speech?”
Amar explained. “A Tradition is what it sounds like. Repetition and significance gives meaning to a particular action or habit, empowering them. In this case, sharing stories is such a common occurrence when sitting around a campfire that it’s difficult to disassociate the two. So, when Taz shared his story, the Tradition kicked in, and you, Greg, felt compelled to share yours. The compulsion would have passed to me, but… well, actually, this might count as a story, so maybe it is still in effect! Of course, there’s no way to be certain, but it’s interesting nonetheless.”
Greg thought about it. It made sense when he considered how the occult functioned, in that all interactions were dictated by intention rather than logic. Bargaining with higher powers and exploiting quirks of reality, to name a few.
Amar continued, “From what I’ve observed here, this Tradition results in catharsis and deepening of bonds. Does that line up with what you both experienced?”
“Yeah, sounds about right,” Taz said. “Felt good to get that shit off my chest. Not sure I’m any closer with you weirdos though,” he joked. Greg followed with a nod and a ‘yeah.’
Over the dying embers of the fire, the trio bantered and spoke of lighter topics. Books, shows, minor magics. Taz could only confidently speak of the last one, seeing as how he had only watched a few hours’ worth of television over the past few days. While the demon and human both cocooned themselves in their sleeping bags, the undead put out the last of the embers and watched over the camp and ritual site.