WHEN SWEETBRIAR AWOKE, she was lying on the floor with her hands tied together above her head. The ropes had been fastened securely to a stake driven into the floorboards, apparently for that express purpose. She wiggled and writhed, but the rough ropes held fast.

Theo, the bedraggled old hermit, was busily laying shards of crystal around her on the floor.

"What are you doing? Let me go!" cried the girl, struggling to free herself.

"Oh, bother. I told you the sleep wouldn't hold!" Elliott snapped. He was perched atop the glass coffin. When Sweetbriar saw the talking skeletal cat, she shrieked at the top of her lungs, which was a very rational reaction under the circumstances.

"I thought I put in enough!" Theo snapped back, arranging the last of the crystals. "I didn't know how long we'd need, and I'm not exactly proficient in poisoning humans!"

"You poisoned me?" Sweetbriar cried.

"Well, more or less," Theo explained, "But only to—hopefully—make what's to come a little less horrific for you. I've never done this before, you see. But I suppose there's a first time for everything."

Sweetbriar's eyes widened in terror. "Let me go. I won't tell anyone I saw you. I won't tell anyone I was here. I'll just leave, and I'll never come back."

"No, dear. You see, we need your soul," Theo said reasonably.

"Don't involve me in this tomfoolery," Elliott said. "I just stopped you from killing her with your cooking."

"Okay—well—the collective 'we' being me and—and not my c-cat, you see, but me and my wife."

The terrified Maple Leaf Scout glanced from Theo to the glass coffin. From her low vantage point she could barely see a few curls of Tansy's dark hair. "Her? What do you mean? What are you doing? What are you going to do to me?"

"It's no use explaining. I'm sure it would all be very reassuring ... well, actually, it probably wouldn't. Anyway, a long explanation would distract me and give you a window for escape. Just—just please hold still."

Theo rummaged in his robes and produced his iron dagger. He knelt by Sweetbriar within the loose ring of essence crystals. He had lain down a great many empties to ensure that he could capture all of the girl's soul, not knowing exactly how many would be needed for the soul of a human.

He'd never done this himself before.

Sweetbriar screamed and squirmed, kicking at Theo. She did not do much damage—Theo, perhaps remembering the well-aimed kick to his shin the previous day, had thoughtfully placed himself much closer to her head.

The sorcerer closed his eyes and intoned the arcane words that would bind the girl's essence to the waiting crystals when it was released from its earthly shell.

Sweetbriar was crying now, which was rather distracting. "Let me go! Let me go!"

"Hush now, child. It will only take a minute," Theo said, trying not to register the sound of her tears. He raised the dagger over his head, and he looked—quite by accident—at Sweetbriar's face.

She had a round, young, terrified face, and dark lashes fringed her gleaming eyes. The glossy braid lying on the floor looked just like Tansy's. Theo thought, This is what Tansy would have looked like when she was younger, before I knew her, and he thought, I miss her, I miss her, I miss her so much it eats away at my very core, at the very depths of me, and he thought, She would hate this; she'd hate this and she'd hate me, and he dropped the knife with a clatter.

Nine years of simply existing. Nine years of research, driving toward one deep-seated need, one unspeakable purpose: to raise the body of his wife. Each day he had gazed at her hollow face and lipless mouth through the haze of the glass, wanting and wanting without thinking. Needing what could no longer be had. In his grief, he had distanced himself from the pain of her, the raw wound of her, so that considering what she would have wanted had never crossed his mind.

But now, looking into this tiny stranger's face, so like the face of Tansy, the woman he loved, he knew that he could not do it. And he knew that, were he to bring Tansy back, she would never be the same. Her mind and her spirit would inhabit a wasted, fragile body. She would be miserable. She—the Tansy part of her—had moved on, and she would not want to come back to what was left for her in the mortal world.

Theo lowered his arms with a dry sigh, the sound of a tomb quietly closing forever.

Sweetbriar stared at him through her tears, her shoulders shuddering with sobs. "P-please let me go."

"Yes. Yes, of course," Theo said. He leaned down to pick up the knife again. Sweetbriar shrank away from him and lay there trembling as he sawed away the ropes.

Freed, the girl scrambled away from him on hands and knees. Theo sat where he was, wilted over like a tired leaf.

"Theo?" the girl whispered.

"Mm," Theo replied. Had he given her his name?

"I'm free to go?"

"Mm," Theo affirmed. The scent of something new tickled his nostrils. Like smoke. Ah, the fire, he'd left the fire burning in the kitchen.

The necromancer felt a soft touch trail over his shoulders, raising goosebumps down his spine. The touch trailed up to caress his cheek. He followed the sensation and turned, blinking red-rimmed eyes at the sight of young Sweetbriar standing behind him.

Only it was not Sweetbriar. As he watched, the young girl's body grew taller and more rounded. Her hair curled and swayed down past her hips. The sound of her feet as she shifted on the floor was the sound of hooves. Arcing horns gleamed in the light from the moon coming in through the window.

"So preciousss," said the demoness, her voice a sweet and venomous hiss. "I almost thought you were worth it."

Theo shrank back from her. "B-b-bah-h-"

"Bih-Bih-Bihatra," mocked the apparition. "Yes, sweeting, after all this time. Did you miss me?"

Smoke twined from the demoness' nostrils.Theo shrank back further as the curls of smoke slithered toward him through the still air, reeking of brimstone and pain. "Why are you here?"

"You know why, Theodosius. A promise is a promise. Tit for tat. Tradesies. Your daddy-dums was an accountant, wasn't he? You'll know all about interest, then. I gave you back an old man's mind. That's worth a lot. A whole lot. I'm here to call in the debt."

"You killed her," Theo cried in horror. "You killed Tansy!"

Elliott, on the fringes, could be seen making a discreet and unemotional exit from the scene.

"Oh, pish," Bihatra snapped. "You stupid humans, always trying to blame the silliest nonsense on intervention from another realm. No, fool. She just died. Humans are weak and squishy. That isn't my fault."

The demoness took a few casual steps toward the glass coffin and trailed a finger along it, leaving a faint scratch behind with her long, vicious nail. "She really didn't age very well, by the way."

"Don't touch her!" Theo stumbled to his feet and darted toward Bihatra. He grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her hand away from the coffin. Of course, touching her skin caused his palm to sizzle and burn. He shrieked with pain and let her go immediately.

Bihatra leaned closer to Theo, who was now bent over, grasping his burnt hand in the folds of his robe.

"Squishy hoo-man," she pouted, poking his cheek with a talon. "I thought I would have a little fun with you. Had you done away with the cookie brat, I'd have come out well ahead. You'd have damned yourself. I'd have not just your body, but your soul. For what it's worth, shriveled little thing. Alas, you passed the test, Theo. Altogether, you've proven to be a pretty poor investment."

She seemed to grow larger as she spoke. Theo raised his hands and bent away from her, shaking. His eyes widened in horror until they were twin mirrors reflecting the demoness' gaping maw, a cavernous mouth fringed with lethally sharp teeth. From down her throat came the stinking smoke and miasma of hell. Within her jaws was a snaking tongue. It whipped toward Theo and, in an instant, pulled him down into Death.