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Anemaciated body lay facing away from them, clad only in tattered pants.Itsbare back revealed crisscrosses of staples across its discolored skin.Hadthe wizard created it out of . . . maleLoreans?

Rökwhistled low. “Lookslike a revenant went through a blender.Sothis wretch killed its creator, then died?Atleast it didn’t have to tangle with a mob of torch-bearing villagers.”

“Theywould’ve come in the shitty sequel.”

WhenRökstarted toward it,Poppysaid, “Whatare you doing?”

“Ican’tnotsee it.”Heseemed entranced, smoke rising from his skin.

“Takeit from me: you won’t be able to unsee it either.”

Rökcontinued forward, caught in the horror-flick tractor beam. . . .

ELEVEN

Curiositygoading him,Rökapproached the body, taking in ?the stapled skin and wasted muscles.Werethose metal bolts on the wretch’s neck, like a car battery? “Yousure this one isn’t yours?”

“MyFrankenstein’smonster is more creature-feature, all forehead, with green skin like my witches.Thisone looks somewhat human.”Shesounded unfazed by their gruesome find, but after the visitors, this must be nothing. “Whyhasn’t it decomposed more?”

“Noidea.”Rökstepped closer, had to see its face.Hemuttered a curse.Itwas a death mask of anguish: brows drawn, cheeks sunken, teeth clenched.Whathad this creature gone through?Wasits first memory one of electrocution?

Lightningstruck the rod yet again, and wires pulsed.Acurrent leapt from a coil to fork out like roots toward the creature.Thoseneck bolts sparked, and the body convulsed, its spine bowing.

Rökstumbled back. “Holyfuck, it’s alive!”

“It’salive?”Poppyasked from behind him.

“It’salive!ALIVE!”Rökwent for his sword.

Shereached around to snatch his hand. “Noconductors!”

Witha nod, he yankedPoppyinto his arms and leapt to the floor.Theywatched in disbelief as the creature rolled from the sparking platform onto the ground.

Thethrashing ebbed.Withthe current disrupted, the body stilled.Nobreaths moved its chest.Noheartbeats sounded.Onlya residual spark or two crackled around those bolts.

“Ornotalive.”Rökglanced back at that leg in the tank. “Thebody was jolted.”Evenso, he squiredPoppyaway, putting distance between them and the wretch. “That. . . got my attention.”

Sheallowed him to guide her, nonchalant about what they’d just witnessed. “Youreally are scared of things that come back to life.Youscreamed like a child.”

“Thanksfor the memo,Red.”

Imitatinghim, she cried, “It’salive!ALIVE!”

“Youdone?”

“Never!”Growingserious, she said, “Ido feel sorry for what it went through.Canyou imagine what a true resurrection must feel like?”

Rökcould.Thatwas the problem. . . .

Inthe last unexplored section of the lab, they came across the wizard’s drafting desk.Itssurface held ghastly sketches of a cobbled-together man, like an architect’s plans.

Aleather-bound journal to the side caught their attention.Rökgazed on as she brushed dust from the cover and flipped through.Bloodsmeared most of the pages, obscuring the writings, but a raven’s feather marked one semi legible entry.Ithad a date from the last century and a heading.

“TheEndingofEverything,”Rökread. “Whatdoes that mean?”Andwhy did it give him chills?

“Iremember that date.Itwas fourHalloweenfull moons ago.Thatmust have been when his family died.”Poppyglanced up atRök. “Everyonebelieves the castle opens because the veil between worlds is thinnest on this date.Butwhat if it opens because it’s an anniversary of significance?”

Theyread further:Fourcalls of my raven always beckoned them inside.Fourcalls of the raven came and went, but my family never returned from their nightly play among the tombstones.