I approached a grand mausoleum whose facade had Victorian angels carved into it. They formed the entrance's columns, gray wings drooped in mourning. I entered, footsteps echoing in the airy, damp enclosure. A large stone slab occupied the center of the room, housing its owner's bones. The bones rattled in anticipation, and a thick mist crept from the cracked floor, threading around my ankles. A ghostly wail echoed from the walls.
I rolled my eyes. "Are the theatrics really necessary?" I snapped, slinging my messenger bag onto the stone coffin.
The bones fell silent, and the wail became dark laughter. "I bore easily," came a disembodied voice. Darkness pulsed around me, thick and cloying. "Now will you summon me and break the godforsaken barrier already? I can smell the holy water, Shannon," it said, lusty. The disembodiment had a bad habit of binge-drinking holy water, leaving me to deal with its maudlin after-effects.
