Page 21 of They Were Broom-Mates

Amelie’s brow furrowed in confusion, causing Delia to purse her lips and sigh deeply.

“I’m not a complete person, Amelie.” Delia’s voice was sad but confident. This was a statement she had heard over and over again, either from herself or others, of that Amelie was sure of.

“What makes you say that?” Amelie gently squeezed Delia’s hand.

Still avoiding her gaze, Delia took another deep breath. “I am a twin. My sister Roz… we are nothing alike. Our mother used to joke that she took the personality in the womb.”

Amelie frowned slightly, but said nothing, allowing Delia to continue.

“My Great Aunt Francesca was one of the most skilled necromancers this side of the world, so of course everyone expected a lot when my mother announced her pregnancy. Then, when the family found out there were going to be two of us…” Delia laughed dryly.

“That was just the best news ever.” Delia took a sip of her tea with her free hand.

“Unfortunately, we were not identical. There hasn’t been much research on the way magic gets passed down, but the little that has been done has determined that inheritance of powers hinges upon whether or not the twins were formed from one egg or two. Had we been identical, we likely would have inherited the same abilities. But since we were fraternal… well, each of us got different pieces of the inheritance.”

Amelie nodded in understanding. “So when you said that you were incapable of raising the dead…”

Delia nodded, a sarcastic smile on her face. “I meant it. Before my Gran passed, she did tests on both my sister and me to determine the extent of our abilities. I failed reanimation protocols every single time.

Her theory was that my sister’s latent abilities remained dormant in her body since she couldn’t access my half of the magic, but since I could only cause decay… I wasn’t truly a necromancer either.”

“So…” Amelie considered Delia’s words carefully. “If you didn’t raise the zombies… who did?”

Delia started to shake her head but stopped, her brow furrowing.

“Delia?” Amelie prompted.

“Roz’s powers have always been dormant…, but she did stop by the other day to bring some rolls from the diner… Maybe…”

Amelie followed Delia’s gaze back to the cemetery. “What are you thinking?”

“I think we need to go take a look at the grave that zombie came from.”

Amelie hurried after Delia as she hastily walked back toward the mausoleum. The door was still shut, and the pair could see movement from within the crypt. So confident the zombie was still quarantined, they made their way to the entrance.

Delia looked down at the steps, where semi-dried droplets of blood dotted the stone, and started following the trail off in the direction the zombie had come from. It didn’t take very long for Amelie and Delia to find the grave that the creature had dug its way up from. Dirt displaced alongside the grave itself, along with pools of blood and pieces of flesh lining a hole in the ground, made it pretty apparent.

“Oh, ugh…” Amelie placed her hand up to her face, covering her nose. The smell of rot was pungent and all-consuming. Delia, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered, but instead got even closer. Dropping to her knees, Delia scooped up some of the dirt in her hands and watched it fall.

Shaking her head, Delia looked around. “No… this doesn’t make any sense.”

“What doesn’t?” Amelie responded through her hand.

“There’s nothing here that indicates a spell took place. This level of resurrection requires preparation, magic circles… but there’s nothing here but dirt.”

Amelie swept her gaze across the area surrounding the empty grave until it settled on a, larger-than-average tombstone.

“Delia?” Amelie called out, making her way across the empty grave and over to the headstone.

“Yeah?”

“Didn’t you say something about blood magic earlier?” Getting closer to the tombstone, Amelie noticed a distinct spot of red smeared across the headstone itself.

Instead of responding, Amelie heard Delia get up and walk over to where she was now standing.

“Fuck.” Delia swore, passing Amelie to get a closer look at the stain. “Dammit, Roz.”

Running her finger across the stone, Delia clicked her tongue when it came away flaky.