Part 21
It was nearly midnight as Viveka scaled up the tall wrought iron fence of largest cemetery in the
city. It stretched out for miles around with meticulously kept grounds. Palm trees grew along the
edges of the roads that wandered amongst the graves. Up on the hills were acres and acres of
mausoleums and estates. There were countless small lakes and ponds with bridges crossing over them.
Jorgen stood behind Viveka keeping watch as she climbed over the fence and dropped down to the
cemetery grounds. Jorgen looked to his left, then to his right, and quickly hopped over the fence,
following after Viveka as she began trekking through the aisles of graves to the center of the
cementery.
It wasn't often they came to this cemetery, typically they would visit the one nearest to their home
for Viveka to do her work but Eleven had given her a special assignment that would require more time
and much more power than would be found at an ordinary cemetery. The entire ordeal had already taken
a week in the making. Viveka had carefully created a series of artifacts and imbued them with power.
She had Jorgen personally deliver each of them to the nineteen people on the list Eleven had given
her. Now it was time to complete the ritual that would seal their fates.
Jorgen was never especially fond of the cemeteries nor did he enjoy the dark. The prospects of
ghosts didn't frighten him, he was quite accustomed to them and various other sorts of the dead that
Viveka had summoned up. The cemeteries made him think of those in mourning over their lost loved
ones and put him in a slight depression over it all. They were not happy places to be and it made
him a bit uncomfortable and nervous to be there.
It all reminded him of their pet dog, Odin from when they were children. He grew as they grew and by
the time they were teenagers he was very old and sickly. Then one night as they slept he finally
died. When Jorgen awoke he found Odin in Viveka's bed but there was something wrong about him that
Jorgen couldn't place. As time passed Odin's body began to decay, his hair fell out and his skin
began to rot away, through pieces of his missing flesh he could see the bones moving inside.
Viveka was always happy when Odin was around, she fed him treats that he would eat that would form a
mush on the floor. Jorgen tried desperately to heal the decay, to bring Odin back to life but he
couldn't. Once Viveka brought him into undeath all he could do was destroy him and return him to the
earth. Jorgen could never bring himself to do it.
Now Odin rested in their home years later, a collection of bones. Jorgen would hear the terrible
clattering of his paws across the wood floor or the tiles in the kitchen and lament the fact that
his childhood friend was a restless abomination and that he was too afraid and cared too much for
Viveka to return Odin to rest. There was solace to be found in the fact that Viveka never brought
their parents from the land of the dead but Jorgen found little comfort in it when he would hear the
clacking of Odin's bones against each other.
Viveka had brought others into unlife in the past, primarily to defend them against those who would
bring them harm. She wasn't thought well of in their village all those years ago. People feared her
and that fear grew into a hatred for her. They blamed her for their misfortunes. She was a dread
witch, she naturally was their scapegoat.
A time came where she could not walk the street without fear of being attacked. At first she would
surround herself with spirits, they would lash out at those that came close, never leaving a mark
but inflicting grievous pain. However that only dissuaed the villagers for so long. Soon they
rallied a mob and burnt down their childhood home. Viveka was forced to raise up an army of the
undead from the town's cemetery. Ghouls, skeletons, and zombies to push back the villagers so that
she and Jorgen could escape. Her control over the army waned as they made their escape until all
that remained were corpses in the streets.
Viveka continued to walk towards the middle of the cemetery with Jorgen following closely behind.
"I don'ts know about this," Jorgen finally said. "Those people, they didn't really did anything. Is
you sure we has to do this?"
Viveka nodded and her voice rang out in his mind, "That is the point, Jorgen. They didn't do
anything. They stood around and they watched. They took pictures with their phones. None of them lifted a finger to help."
"Viveka, you isn't doing this 'cause you thinks it the right thing. Don'ts play with my head likes
that," he said, trying to sound strong though his voice wavered. "You are doesing this 'cause it
makes you strong."
"Does it matter?" She asked. "Do my reasons matter at all? We both know what the end result of this
will be. They will be dead and their souls will be imprisoned. A man who kills for good is no less a
murderer than a man who kills for pleasure."
"I just doesn't like it whens they didn't hurts someone by themselves," he said softly.
Viveka stopped suddenly, looked back at Jorgen and took his hand in hers.
"We all have our parts to play, Jorgen," she said.
"I know, but . . ." Jorgen started as Viveka continued on. "Can'ts you let the souls went? You don't
has to put them in the knife."
Viveka sighed and touched her fingertips to the handle of the dagger sheathed at her hip.
"I need them, Jorgen, you know that," her words echoed. "I'm not like you. I can't just do what I do
the way you can. It takes time, it takes preparation, it takes power. If I released them I would be
weaker. I wouldn't be able to protect us like I have in the past. You know how people are. How they
think of people like me."
"Yeah, but nobody here knows abouts you like at home. Just our friends. You doesn't have to protect us," he argued.
"You can't trust everyone like you trust me, Jorgen. I love you and have your best interests at heart, they don't," she said.
"I just thinks you could be a little more nice about these stuffs," he said quietly.
Viveka shook her head and looked to him. She smiled slightly and touched her hand to his cheek.
"Jorgen," her voice said. "There is nothing I can do to make what I do nice."
Together they finally reached the large oak that marked the middle of the cemetery. Jorgen sat down
at the foot of the tree, resting up against it as Viveka knelt down, emptying the contents of
her pouches into a neat pile on the grass. The pile was a mixture of various herbs, tobacco, spices, bones,
and dried organs of several small animals. She pulled a cigarette lighter from the same pouch and
lit the small heap until it began to smoke.
The smoke wafted into the air and Viveka pulled the jagged knife from her hip with her left hand.
Jorgen lifted the collar of his shirt up over his nose and mouth to avoid the noxious smoke. She
gripped the handle of the dagger and sliced into the palm of her right hand. Blood quickly flowed
from the deep wound and she spun in a slow circle with her hand outstretched, the blood dripping to
form a circle around her and the smoking pile.
Once the circle was formed she opened her right hand and stretched her arm out towards Jorgen. He
shut his eyes tight, looking away as he moved his index finger toward the wound. With a quick flash
of brilliant green light the pain ceased and Viveka's palm was completely healed.
Jorgen watched closely as Viveka continued the ritual. She swayed and twisted her arms through the
air, clutching her dagger in her right hand as the blade began to glow a faint purple. She knelt
down, tracing the forms of runes and symbols through the air with the blade, mouthing words since
she could not speak them.
Gradually the blade of the dagger began to glow brighter and the edges of the circle took on a
similar glow. She raised her arms up towards the sky and the ground beneath her feet seemed to open
up, issuing forth violet light. Her breathing became rapid and shallow as she closed her eyes, her
head tilted upwards. Gradually her feet lifted up from the ground as her lips mouthed the same
series of words repeatedly.
Suddenly came a loud crack of thunder from the sky and she dropped to earth, falling to one knee
with the glowing blade of her dagger sunk into the ground. As she pulled the blade from the earth
the glow had vanished. She slowly stood up and brushed the dirt away before returning the knife to
the sheath at her hip. She stamped out the smoking pile of ash and turned to Jorgen and nodded.
Jorgen rose to his feet and together they began walking back towards the cemetery fence.
Seven days after Viveka had finished her ritual, each of them had died.