"Growing up in Coffin Ridge, the preeminent graveyard town of America, meant cemeteries were no big deal. They were like steel factories in Pittsburg or car assembly plants in Detroit. The parents of half the kids in my school worked in the death industry.

But in almost every story, the cemeteries are places of perpetual night. Where the dead refuse to stay put. Where Death lingers behind every headstone. Where the evil go to be forgotten."—Rowen Keckilpenny-Brown

I scooped up my familiar, his once bright beady eyes now frozen. My hand shook as I looked into his stony gaze. I could feel the mirror next to me celebrating its victory. And it wasn't done. It wanted me.

Well, tough! The mirror was out of luck.

"Look deep into my depths," the mirror crooned. Of course, it could talk. Everything talked in Brittlebane—door knockers, mirrors, animals, trees. It was actually weirder when something didn't speak. Like, how come my scrambled eggs never wished me a good morning? "Come on, witch! Don't you want to see who you truly are?"

As if!

"It was only a rat. A disease-infested pest."

I balled my fists and growled. Fury boiled inside me. My magic simmered and buzzed. And without Vermeil to calm me down, I was definitely going to be blowing something up. And I was going to enjoy it. "Never!" I said. "Put him back the way he was."

"No can do!" the mirror said.

"Oh, but you can. And you will!"

The surface of the mirror rippled like water disturbed by a pebble. "Don't feel like it."

"Do you feel like having my foot shatter you?"

"I'm unbreakable."

"Are you sure? Do you want to risk it?"

"I think I do. By the way, it's rude not to look at mirrors when you're addressing them."

"You know what's rude? Turning innocent rats into stone."

"Not my fault."

"Well, I know it wasn't his fault. He's good. But I'm not! You will never again turn anyone to stone!"

I lifted my leg, preparing to slam it into the mirror when an invisible force took hold of my leg and tossed me to the ground.

Pain exploded in my side. I lay there, breathing hard, trying to get my bearings. "Why did you do that?" I accused the mirror.

"I did nothing. Blame her."

"Who?"

"Behind you."

I rolled over, (carefully!), and there was Tyra. All shimmery and pink and flowy, arms crossed over her chest. "Tyra!"

"Congratulations on finding the Mirror of Reflection and not being turned to stone," she said. "We've been trying to get hold of it for ages, but you're the first quester who succeeded." She pointed at the creepy, lifelike statues littering the chamber. "This mirror is really going to come in handy with the upcoming gnome wars. My garden needs more statuary."

Wait, wasn't Frekvic a gnome? "You won't be using it for any wars because I'm going to destroy it. Look what it did to my familiar!" I held out my little rat so she could see. "Help me fix him!"

"Nope. Sorry, stone metamorphosis happens," she said, ignoring my fury.

"Not on my watch."

"I'm afraid that's exactly what happened. Now, it's time for your next trial, The Tomb of Desolation."

"Who names these things? Ten-year-old video-game-obsessed boys?"

"Excuse me? No. Who names anything? They do."

"They?"

"They who cannot be named."

"So, the people who name things are nameless?"

"Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?"

"Yes, you have."

"Yes, I have, haven't I? Well, hand over the rat."

"Be careful with him," I said, setting my precious familiar in her hand. I fixed my eyes on hers with a severe gaze so she knew I expected her to heal him and not add him to her garden statuary collection.

"I'll put him with your other petrified friend."

"Huh?"

"That annoying minion, Blech."

"His name is Blade. Have you healed him yet?"

"Working on it," she said. "He did call out for you once."

My heart twisted. "That's a relief!"

"Not if you heard what he called you! Anyway, your quest in the Tomb of Desolation will be to retrieve the Skeleton's Key, and—"

The plastic skeleton in the attic flashed across my mind. I held up a hand. "Wait, a sec." Tyra cocked her head, looking at me as if I were a petri dish of bacteria. I gulped. I had a feeling this skeleton would not be made of plastic. It would be made of bones. Human bones. Nope! No way was I snatching a key out of a skeleton's hand. Because you know what always happens next. The hand grabbed your wrist, and then, boom, you're a skeleton too. "I'm not really into skeletons," I said.

Tyra rolled her eyes. "As if I care what you're 'into!' Now after you use the key to enter the passageway that leads to the tomb, you will find your way to the tomb and free the demon imprisoned there."

Ash was kind of a cool demon. Maybe not all demons had nefarious plans to destroy humanity or whatever. Still, it had to be bad if Horrible Tyra wanted to free this demon. I ought to get a little more information. "So, this demon—"

But you, dear reader, already knew I would not finish my question.

Because, as usual, I had ...

No notice.

No countdown.

No warning.

Just a shower of fairy dust, and ...

... boom!

I fell from the sky, my stomach lost in a nauseating spin of magic, and I re-materialized inside an iron gate in a moonlit graveyard, shivering in a cloak of fog. As a lifelong resident of Coffin Ridge, I'd been in my share of cemeteries for merriment, mayhem, and mourning (never for romance, as you already know.) Graveyards didn't scare me as much as they might an ordinary potential evil queen/witch/teenager. Still, this one made my bones quiver, and the adrenaline in my veins gush like blood from a decapitated murder victim. It had the appearance of something long abandoned. A place where bad things had happened that no one wanted to remember.

The thin watery fog gave the cemetery the look of a watercolor dripping with paint. The graves stretched out before me like a solemn audience, the names and dates on the crumbling headstones eroded as if the people never existed. Tangles of thick ivy shrouded the mausoleums and spires. Werewolves bayed off in the distance, and the air was choked with the smell of jasmine.

I pushed my fear (for myself and for Vermeil and Blade and my dads) deep down and steeled myself for the task ahead. Namely: Locate the entrance to the Tomb of Desolation. Procure skeleton key. Open entrance. Find tomb. Release, hopefully, nice demon.

I clenched my fists and exhaled, my breath coiled in front of my face reminding me that, as long as I was still breathing, there was hope.

My senses heightened, and my eyes darted around, searching for any sign, any clue that would lead me to the Tomb of Desolation. A neon sign stating: "This way to the Harmless Tomb of Desolation" would be my preference.

With no sign in sight, I chose the direction that made the most sense—yeah, the darkest part of the cemetery with the oldest, crumbliest headstones—and walked. My heart pounded a staccato, wild rhythm as I passed the tombstones with shadows dancing like lunatics over the rubble.

The path before me twisted and turned, leading me deeper into the dark heart of the graveyard. Moonlight filtered through the gnarled branches of ancient trees, casting skeletal patterns upon the ground.

Finally, after an eternity of searching, a towering obelisk bathed in an ethereal glow poked out from a tight cluster of marble slabs. Okay, it wasn't a neon sign, but it was as close as you get in a fairytale setting.

As I neared, I could see that the smooth sides of the obelisk were marked with cryptic symbols like the ones on our kitchen shelves back in Coffin Ridge. A pang of longing for my lost life twisted in my chest. Who knew I'd ever think fondly about my old life? But when you're in the middle of a dangerous quest, about to turn into a skeleton or possibly be entombed for the rest of your life, it makes sense.

I ran my fingers over the markings. The stone was warm and buzzed against my skin. A sudden realization washed over me as I deciphered the hidden message. "Beyond these marble walls lies the Tomb of Desolation. Management not responsible for loss of life or limb. All persons entering the tomb do so at their own risk. Thank you for not smoking on the premises. Have a nice day."

"Hey, Rowen," the obelisk rumbled. My heart leaped out of my chest, and I jumped back, almost falling onto a nearby headstone. Why? Because I stupidly didn't expect the obelisk to talk. I really ought to pay attention to myself more! "Welcome to the entrance to the Tomb of Desolation," it continued, impervious to my distress. "Do you have the Skeleton Key?"

"No," I replied.

"Then prepare to be turned into a skeleton."

"Excuse me?"

"I turn all trespassers into skeletons. Didn't you read the sign attached to the iron gate?"

"There were no signs."

"Oh, dear. Those poltergeists keep taking them down. They think it's funny. Nevertheless, I will have to zap you."

"Rather than that, how about you give me a few minutes to find the key? Wouldn't that be better than frying an innocent witch?"

"Not really. I haven't fried anyone for eons. I've kind of been looking forward to it."

Think, think, think, Rowen. They wouldn't send me on a quest just to have me killed. They wanted that demon freed. Which meant I should be able to figure out where the key was pretty quickly.

That's when it clicked. I was a hacker! I could break into anything. Maybe the key wasn't a physical thing at all! Perhaps it was just a word. Like a password!!! Which, as you know, is totally my jam! And I knew what the password was!!! Most people use something obvious.

"Skeleton!" I cried.

"Awwww!" the obelisk whined. The earth beneath me shuddered, and a resounding crack echoed through the night. A secret entrance appeared on the side of the obelisk, revealing a dark passage leading into the abyss.

"Maybe you can zap the next witch," I said, trying to lift the obelisk's spirits.

"There won't be one for centuries," it said. "Have fun in there. Whatever you do, don't unleash the demon."

"Why not?" I said.

"Because it's a demon, stupid."

"I'm not stupid if I figured out the key."

"Go in before I change my mind and zap you anyway to relieve the boredom in my soul."

Shaking my head, I stepped into the dark, despite a sense of foreboding that gripped me like a moat monster's jaw. The door slammed behind me, cutting off the sounds and smells of the graveyard. I was so scared; I even missed the howling werewolves!

Summoning my inner strength, I stepped further into the depths, my heart pounding against my ribs. Get a grip, Rowen! Conjure some light and settle down.

I gathered my magic and yelled, "Fiat lux!" The air crackled with energy, and the entire tunnel lit up! My powers were getting stronger! The tunnel wasn't as scary now. I mean, the skeletons lining the path, the rotted roots coming through the ceiling, and the smell of brimstone weren't exactly calming, but hey, you've got to take your wins.

The path led steeply downward, and the temperature rose. Sweat broke out on my brow, and my muscles ached. It felt like I'd been walking long enough to actually reach the earth's core, which would explain the heat.

My legs had practically turned into noodles, and my body suggested that it might be wise to collapse on the ground and rest for a century or two when at last, the tunnel ended at a vault-like metal door with a handprint etched into the surface.

I'd found the Tomb of Desolation! I knew I'd found it because I could feel the ancient presence of evil seep into my very being. Trembling, I reached out, holding my fingers poised over the handprint.

I sucked in a breath. Now that I'd gotten here, I wasn't sure if releasing the demon was such a good idea. Maybe Tyra would be cool with the fact that I found the key and the tomb. So, what about the demon bit? But who was I kidding? Releasing the demon would be Tyra's favorite part.

I had to do it and deal with the consequences later. My hand fit perfectly over the indentation. The door began to glow. Hotter and hotter. I tried to pull away but couldn't. My hand had melded with the door!

"Ouch!!!" I screamed, when finally, the door disappeared. I pulled my hand away and was amazed to find it unharmed. Beyond the entrance was a white room filled with computer equipment. A completely real, non-AI female demon in a white leather bustier, a white feathered miniskirt, and waist-length black hair, spun in her office chair.

She grinned, revealing her pointy teeth, a dribble of blood running down her chin from the corner of her mouth.

"Hey, Xiri!" I said.

"You called?" she replied.

And there you have it! Chapter 37! I hope you enjoyed the read. Were you surpised to see who was inside the Tomb of Desolation? I was! Xiri just decided to show up, annoyed that she had such a small part on the story. And who was I to argue with a demon?

Don't forget to vote and comment and stuff!

Hugs!

Britt/Deb