Marc jumped the wall of the cemetery in one smooth motion. He fumbled in his backpack with his ritual materials for a moment before pulling out his flashlight. The ritual had to be performed on the new moon, and the cemetery was enveloped in darkness. Marc pulled the backpack onto his shoulders again, pushed up his glasses, and began searching for Rosaline's grave. He had visited it enough times before, but the cemetery looked very different in the dark.
He had waited so long for this moment. Rosaline was everything to him. When everyone else had called him creepy and weird, Rosaline had been his friend. They had known each other since they were little kids in grade school. When he would try to gross her out with worms and spiders like he did with all the other girls, she would just laugh and smile at him. They grew up together, and he watched her as she grew more beautiful each passing day. She was the girl everyone liked, and she sincerely liked everyone. Marc had seen her go through several boyfriends. Some were jerks and others were nice but ultimately kind of mundane. She never really had anyone steady, but could always count on having a date with someone. Of course, Marc had never gotten to go out with her. Oh, they went out as friends often enough sure, and in that sense they were best friends, but never anything more. Maybe if he only he could have worked up the courage to ask her, things would have been different.
It was a year ago tonight that they went to that party. They were just out of their freshmen year. They were walking home. Roz had a little more beer than she should have and was laughing and swaying back and forth while Marc tried to keep her from falling over. They were both laughing when the pickup came out of nowhere. Marc tried to pull Roz out of the way in time, but it was to late. The car smashed her into a telephone pole. Marc pulled out Roz's cellphone and called 911, then cradled her in his arms. He sat there crying as his best friend started to slip away in his arms. He kissed her, and she let out one last breath. The ambulance arrived, and the paramedics grabbed her up and hauled her away, but Marc knew it was too late. She was already dead.
Marc wiped his eyes as the memories came back to him. This wasn't the time for tears. He had cried enough since that night. Now was the time for action.
At last he located Roz's headstone among the hundreds of other stones. He pushed the end of his flashlight into the soft earth to illuminate the area, then pulled of his backpack. He first needed to obscure the area so his work would not be disturbed. He began to spread a mixture of herbs and salt in a circle around the grave, careful to give himself enough room to maneuver without breaking the circle. He pulled the yew wand from his backpack, and began to chant. The words made no sense. They did not have to. He felt the power grow and warp around him, and at the center of his mind formed a sphere of black threads around the gravesite. Now he would be undisturbed. He knelt at the grave, and drew a Divamallochia pattern on the headstone. Finally, he took his ceremonial knife, and cut open his hand while he chanted. The blood spilled on the ground and the pain brought him deep into his mind as he pulled her essence to him, drawing her in with his life force. Mist swirled around him and a sudden wind whistled though the trees. Marc opened his eyes and watched as the mist pulled together and began to glow. Each second it became more and more distinct, until at last it was the glowing naked body of Rosaline.
"Oh spirit, I beseech you..." Marc began, only to see Roz giggle at him.
"You should know there is no need for that. Get up," she said as she pulled him to his feet. She was quite solid and surprisingly warm.
