Bixby the Martian

Chapter Six:  Fighting a Necromancer in a Cemetery at Night during a Fucking Tornado We got into his truck just as fat drops of rain started falling. They were sparse, still, but wouldn’t be for very long- the storm was coming.  He rubbed his face, for a moment. “How do we get your magic back?” he asked.  “It’ll come back on its own after a day or two,” I said. I felt like raw meat, like I was bleeding from wounds nobody could see. Not to mention all the bruising and the way my eye was throbbing. “I think if I get my hands on her I can maybe pull it back out of her, but I’ll get it back either way. She can’t graft it onto herself, or anything like that. Not with stealing it. She’s only gonna be able to use it so long, now that you’ve killed the siphon.” “You can’t… just fill back up? When I borrow magic…” I shook my head. Which wasn’t useful- it was basically pitch black in the cab of the truck. “So, the first thing siphons like that do is they damage your ability to hold...

Chapter 5: [this space intentionally left blank] It probably took me a full 15 minutes for me to realize that I was arguing with a goddamn illusion. I was so busy trying to keep her occupied so Tabitha could do her work, that I didn’t notice she wasn’t real. And she definitely had to know we were there, at this point, our conversation got heated. I was trying to be mindful of the neighbors, but if someone was in the house, they were very likely aware of my presence. Either way, the gig was up, so I swatted the illusion. That probably sounds weird, but the illusion just dies if you do something that shows you know it’s not real. Putting your hand through it usually works. So I just swatted it, like there was an insect. Door wasn’t even open. Why would it be? Of course it wasn’t open. Still, I was put out. (I just spent fifteen minutes arguing with a damned door.) Someone else had been doing some preparations this afternoon, as well, it would seem. Well. Shit a brick. I dug my phone out ...

Chapter 4: Dealing with a Fucking Necromancer God Dammit We ate, we went to my place (he drove, I napped), we spent several hours swearing at various household and sundry items as we tried to put some spells together. He called the Council, but- it’s like I said, we have been the ones dealing with this kind of shit. They didn’t really know how to handle it, and I still am the only person in their sphere of influence who can see and handle death magic without a ton of prep. The Council was going to reach out to the OSBI- they have contacts everywhere, basically- and see if they could get photos of the crime scene, assuming someone took them before they dug the broken coffins out. I wanted to see as much as they could get, but that wasn’t really going to help us with the task in front of us. I was curious as to how this had been done- now, I had a basic idea. Someone had managed to concentrate and focus all the death magic in the space the graves occupied back into the occupant, and used...

(Originally posted here on July 1, 2025)  Chapter 3: Having to talk about my fucking feelings The stone had been smashed. There was a chunk of it sitting there, still. “Where’d the rest of the gravestone go?” I asked. “I think it’s all mixed in with the dirt,” Jacob said. “I thought they’d take it for evidence, but it was still here after the cops left. And the OSBI people, the first time they came out. Maybe whoever came out with the backhoe took it?” I nodded. “Possibly.” I drank some more water, and then knelt down next to the pile of dirt. It had rained a couple of times, and so it was mostly kind of a mound of not quite mud, but it also meant that digging around in it didn’t really give me any hints. If there’d been anything mixed in with the dirt, it was fine enough that I couldn’t figure out what it was. I also couldn’t find any bits of the gravestone around the edge, but I wasn’t willing to stick my whole arm in there and be certain. “What do you think?” Callahan asked. “I...