Norman stared at the first spell in the old notebook. It was his first attempt at magic so long ago. He wasn’t all that surprised when he didn’t get any feeling that the spell did anything. The spell was called mass revive undead in the game he played.

“I may have been a bit too optimistic during those early days.”

He flipped to the next page and the next, finding nothing that called to him.

Norman had to flip through ten pages of spells and notes before he found one that made him feel like it might work. But even that was a guess on his part, it wasn’t as strong of a reaction as he got when he made his potion.

The note Norman had written on the page said soul communion. Norman didn’t recall where he had pulled this specific spell from. Although, from his experience, the spell description probably wasn’t accurate to what it would do. It was a place to start though.

He went over the notes on the page, trying to determine what was needed and what was superfluous by using that tickling sensation in the back of his mind. It was harder than it sounded seeing as the feeling was so muted.

The notes he had written listed it as a blood ritual. One that required a mandala drawn in the blood of the being you were trying to commune with but that felt wrong to Norman.

“Maybe it’s not a blood ritual at all or at least not completely,” he mumbled.

Norman decided to try something. He went to the attic and dug around in some boxes that he had packed up after his parents had skipped out on him. They were covered in a thick layer of dust that made him sneeze as he dug through them. In the third one, he found what he was looking for.

The box of crayons was missing a few of the colors and others were broken or worn down from use. It didn’t matter for what Norman wanted to try. He peeled the paper backing off the crayons and tossed them into a bowl. Then he set that bowl over a pot of water that was heating on the stove.

While the crayons were heating up and melting, Norman rolled a thin tube out of wax paper a little wider than his pinky. He folded the end and taped it so the wax couldn’t drip out the bottom. His experience with rolling things for smoking paid dividends here.

Norman checked the wax and it was almost ready. He gave it a quick stir to ensure all the bits were melting and then sprinkled in a generous helping of the magic powder.

The ugly brown mixture sparkled with blue light as the powder sunk into the wax and was dispersed evenly as he continued mixing the substance.

After everything was thoroughly melted and incorporated, Norman removed it from the heat and brought it over to the table. He grabbed an oven mitt and held the wax tube upright along with a small funnel made from the same wax paper. Norman slowly poured the hot wax into the tube, careful not to spill it.

He cursed softly when one spot on the tube started to leak wax. He couldn’t stop to seal it up now so he hoped it would harden quickly and plug the hole.

The last of the wax went into the tube and Norman set the bowl aside. There was still a thin layer of dried wax stuck inside the bowl but Norman didn’t care enough to scrape it out. It could always be remelted later.

The leak did plug itself up eventually as the substance hardened pretty quickly once off the heat.

When Norman finally unwrapped the tube, he was left with a finger-width of ugly brown wax that was about eight inches long.

Norman decided to cut it into four pieces and stuck three of them in his cubby for safety.

He cleared the table of the spilled wax and made an area on the wooden surface that he could draw on.

As Norman began to draw the mandala on the table, it felt right. It took him considerable time to draw the design. The design wasn’t super intricate just time-consuming. Norman wanted to make sure the lines were drawn correctly so nothing could go wrong.

Once complete, Norman stood back and examined the geometric pattern. It was ugly as hell, being drawn in brown wax but Norman could see the occasional glint of blue light reflected from within the design.

“This just might work.” Norman quickly looked back at the spell page to see what was needed next. Norman's eyebrows creased in frustration. The spell originally called for the entire design to be drawn in the blood of the target with which you wished to commune with. By using the wax, Norman fixed that issue, but he still needed a way to target the right soul.

The spell didn’t say if something other than blood could be substituted for this requirement so Norman would stick with blood for now. The only problem is he didn’t have any or he didn’t anymore.

He wished he would have thought of this before cleaning up his entire kitchen after the events with Mr. Sin.

Then Norman remembered the towel. The one he used to originally soak up the blood. He had to dig through the trash to find it but he did eventually manage to retrieve the filthy thing. The only problem was the blood was dried on.

Norman hoped this would work. He scrapped some of the dried blood off into a small bowl and added a tiny bit of water. Then he mixed it up.

It didn’t really look like blood anymore, instead, it just looked like red water. Norman shrugged. If it didn’t work, at least he would know for the future.

He dipped a spoon in the mixture and dripped it in the center of the mandala.

As soon as the blood touched the inner lines of the design, it seemed to be sucked inside and the design started to glow an ethereal white from the inside out.

Once the glow had encompassed the entire design, there was a bright flash like a camera flash going off.

As the light cleared, floating above the design was a confused-looking man with hazy and indistinct edges. He was also completely see-through.

“Holy shit! It actually worked.”

Norman’s excited outburst got the ghost's attention. “Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck am I?”

Norman pulled himself straight and puffed out his chest. “I’m Norman and I- “

“I’m dead, aren’t I? You killed me didn’t you?”

“Wait, what? No.”

“Liar!” The ghost of the man lunged at Norman.

Norman let out a girlish scream and tried to run but the ghostly hands wrapped around his throat.

“You will join me in death.”

The ghost’s attack caused no physical pain, being you know, incorporeal and all that. Still, it freaked Norman the hell out. Plus there was a ghastly cold seeping through his skin where the ghost was trying to choke him.

“Gah, get off me you demented poltergheist!” Norman yelled and thrashed. He tried to swipe the ghost away with his hands. Only for his hands to pass through the apparition with no noticeable effect other than leaving him feeling chilled as if he had been dunked in ice water.

As Norman struggled, he spotted the mandala still glowing on the table. Thinking quickly, he swiped his hand through the design, smearing the carefully laid lines.

The glow immediately dissipated.

“Nooooo!” the ghost of the man wailed as his form was sucked back into the fading light of the mandala.

Norman stood there for a moment, catching his breath and rubbing at his neck. A glance at a nearby mirror showed he had red marks on his neck in the shape of fingers from the cold.

With a sigh, he picked up his pen and jotted down a note on a piece of loose paper.

The spell works with the magic wax. The ghost seemed confused and angry, lashing out. I don’t know if the ghost would be capable of killing but it did have an aura of cold so it probably could, given enough time. Disrupting the design of the ritual banished the ghost. Recommend finding a way to protect self before trying to summon it again.

Norman needed a drink after this fiasco so he went over to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He twisted the top off and slumped into the kitchen chair while he mulled over his thoughts.

Perhaps he should have tried this spell on someone that didn’t die a violent death. Then again, there was no guarantee that those ghosts would be any happier to be dead or brought back from the dead.

Despite the risk, Norman would probably try and summon this guy again after he prepared a bit more first. Norman was curious to find out what the man had, that the ground beef-faced woman wanted so badly.

He certainly didn’t want whatever item this was for himself, especially since that nutty woman was willing to kill for it. But… perhaps Mr. Sin might like to know what it was or even where it was.

It certainly didn’t seem like the woman had been able to get its location out of John before his untimely death. That made Norman suspect that it was still hidden somewhere. And something worth hiding was something worth money, power, or both.

With that in mind, Norman finished his beer and wiped away the wax on the table. He redrew the mandala and prepared a few other things. Norman knew it wasn’t ideal to summon the same angry ghost for a second time but he took some precautions this time around, although he looked ridiculous.

Norman had covered every inch of exposed skin with blankets and sweatshirts. He was sweating already but it should help. He also had a wet towel he soaked in hot water around his neck.

While he didn’t expect it to last long, it should reduce the chill long enough for him to try and talk the specter down, assuming it could be reasoned with.

With a bit of trepidation, Norman activated the spell again. The mandala glowed it's ghostly white once more and the ghost appeared for a second time.

It flinched back when it saw Norman.

“You again. Why do you keep tormenting me? Leave me in peace.”

Norman blinked in confusion. The ghost no longer seemed upset or angry, but more annoyed.

“Um… sorry. I think we had a bit of a misunderstanding last time. I wasn’t the one that killed you.”

The ghost rolled its eyes. “Yeah, I eventually figured that out. Sorry about trying to choke you by the way. You have no idea how disorienting it is to be dead, then whatever this is,” he gestured to himself.

“Wait, how long has it been since we last interacted?” Norman had a hunch but wanted to see if the ghost could confirm it.

The ghost shrugged and floated into a nearby kitchen chair where he leaned back and threw his feet up on the table. It was a bit surreal for Norman since he knew the ghost wasn't actually sitting in the chair.

“I don’t think time exists wherever I go after this. It wasn’t until after you summoned me the first time that I felt any passage of time. I only remembered dying, then you being here. When you broke, whatever this is,” the ghost waved toward the spell, “I was sent somewhere else. Wherever that place is, time does exist but it's just as desolate and cold, and going by the fact that nothing in this room has changed, time runs a lot faster there since I had a long time to think.”

“Oh, shit… uh sorry about that.”

“Eh, not your fault,” the ghost replied with a shrug, “I was trying to kill you after all. So, I assume you brought me back for a reason other than having me apologize?”

Norman was surprised by how accommodating the specter was.

“Oh, right,” Norman had the decency to look embarrassed, not that the ghost could see as he was still covered in blankets and towels.

“So, your boss, Thomas Sin, brought you to me after they found your body. And well, I had a spell that allowed me to um… watch the last few minutes of your life.”

“Ah…well, that was awful nice of my old boss. So you got to see Gail cut me up and put two bullets in my skull,” the ghost made a finger gun and mimed pulling the trigger twice with his thumb as it was pressed against his temple.

“Uh yeah. Who is she anyway?”

“She’s a witch.”

“Yeah, she definitely seemed like one,” Norman chuckled.

“No, like she’s an actual witch. The magical kind.” The ghost made spooky fingers at Norman when he said that.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Anyway, Kid, as nice as it is to sit here and chat, this is rather draining for me so can we cut to the chase? I assume you want to know what Gail was after?”

Norman nodded, although, he wasn’t sure the ghost could see the gesture with him being so covered up. “Yeah, it seemed like she wanted whatever that was pretty bad.”

“I would recommend you steer well clear of the witch and what she wants but I doubt you would heed my advice. Anyway, it was a who, not a what. She wanted the elf we captured.”

Norman glanced at the bag of blue powder with a sinking suspicion. The ghost of John just chuckled.

“I was wondering about that powder, let me guess, it came from an elf, the one the boss had?”

Norman nodded, “It's dehydrated elf blood.”

“Huh, guess those fucks are useful for something. I wouldn’t worry about Gail coming after you for that though. I got the impression she wanted the Jorik alive.”

“Why? And how did you manage to capture one of them, that seems rather dangerous?”

John chuckled. “Who knows why that lunatic wants a live Jorik? Probably to drain its life force or some other weird shit. As for how we captured it, that was rather easy. We just flooded their hotel room with sleeping gas, then grabbed the Regent while he was passed out.”

Regent? Wait… wasn’t that one of the Jorik in town?

“The ones meeting with the Mayor?” Norman said, his stomach sinking with worry.

“Bingo,” John laughed.

“Won’t the Jorik find out and take retribution against the town?” Norman didn’t think the town could handle an attack from Jorik if they put in a concentrated effort.

“That’s the beauty, they won’t do shit. The Jorik are all about self-image, how would it look if they returned home and said their charge got captured by measly humans?”

“Not good.”

“You’re damn right, not good. It would make them look weak and pathetic in front of their peers. Likely they will claim they killed the Regent themselves to assume his role. And that is technically true since I heard one of the Regent’s guards came to us with this plan. I assume that’s how Gail found out, the idiot probably shopped the idea around before coming to us. Don’t let their arrogance fool ya, boy. Those blue-skinned twats aren’t any smarter than humans when it comes to having bad ideas and making stupid choices.”

“But why get rid of the elf and give me the blood? Why not try to ransom him back or something?”

John shrugged. “Boss probably figured the elf was more trouble than he was worth. And I doubt the elves would have paid for the idiot back. But that’s just speculation on my part, seeing as I was dead by that point.”

Well shit, Norman was expecting a payday from this information only to find out he had already cashed that check.

“While this has been fun, I think I’m going to go.”

“Oh, um sorry, I’ll wipe the spell and release you.” Norman made to get up but John waved him off.

“Not necessary, I can leave any time I want, or at least it feels that way. Oh, don’t summon me again, I got nothing more to say to you.” John gave him a two-finger salute that turned into the man flipping him off before he faded away, all the while laughing.

“What a dick,” Norman grumbled before smearing the mandala just in case.