Love's Resurrection, A Deadly Game

oice sharp. "The viewing is over. He' s at th

has discrepancies. A ritual based on false data is a curse, not a blessing. I

table. I was bluffing, mostly. I had to see

least she needed someone who did what I do. And my grandmother had ensured I wa

discreet. No one can know the true reason you are there. You are a...

e," I said, standing up. "Le

old it had turned into architecture. A grim-faced man in a black suit, who Mrs. Dubois introduced as her husband, met us

I told you about, dear,"

as oil. "We' re so grateful you could come on

k with the cloying scent of lilies. But beneath it,

. And

was a faint, dark stain that someone had tried, and failed

t. He fell. Down the stairs. The car crash story

rrow so perfect it had to be fake. This wasn'

ore complicated than you described. The price just

tightened at the edg

tely more dangerous and difficult. I' m putting myself at great spiritual risk. You want the job done right, y

band a look, and he relu

or generations. We started as undertakers, preparing bodies in the old ways. We learned that death isn' t always a clea

tion and new-age nonsense. It was my standard speech to put clients

with false sincerity. "But for our safety, and yours, we' ll need t

forward, hand outstretched. It was a tes

t argument. "Fine. But I have

one. Not until I open the door myself. Second, no cameras, no listening devices. The energy must be

ast word han

n you' ve given me. The name, the birth date. If you' ve lied to me about any of it, the spirit I call might n

d. For a moment, I saw th

he said, the words clipped. "H

up my bag of tools. "T

ut my grandmother' s strange traditions and a lie of my

-