They got off the train at the next stop. Edward had a porter bring his box out of cargo and onto the railway platform. There hadn't been a direct line from school to Sterling. They had to travel about six times the walking distance to get there by train, but the time savings was enormous.

  Not wanting to advertise what was in his luggage, he tipped the porter to bring the box to his connecting train. Melody still only had a small bag.

  “Where is he?” he asked her, clearly referring to her skeletal squirrel.

  “In with yours. They appear to have hit it off fairly well.” She looked at him speculatively. At least as well as we have anyhow. Then she smiled.

  Edward had little experience with the power of a smile directed at him. It was devastatingly effective. However, he was raised in an old necromantic family. Weakness wasn't ever shown. Unable to talk after her innocent assault, he just nodded and walked after the porter. When they passed a bakery in the train station, he dodged in and bought some fresh baked goods, about three times what he would have normally. He planned to share.

  Edward recovered by the time they reached their connecting train. He made sure that his crate was loaded in a cargo car. He tried to imagine what would happen if he accidentally left it on the train platform. His mind couldn't really wrap around all the possible ways that could go poorly.

  They again found facing seats on the train, this time with a small table between them. The food cart arrived just after the train started rolling. He again got black tea. She chose fruit juice, a glass of water and another chicken sandwich. He pulled out his bakery purchases, offering her whatever she wanted. She selected an oatmeal cookie for dessert. Edward buttered several slices of a rustic, rosemary bread and ate those while she ate her sandwich. During dessert, he closed his eyes and breathed in again, savoring the smells. This, the symphony of wonderful smells was the biggest reason he disliked necromancy. Most undead just smelled dead. Here, in the train, he could smell the chocolate in his scone, the oatmeal of her cookies, the rosemary, the chicken, and her faint perfume. Now that he knew what it smelled like, he could pick it out much easier than before. He smiled and checked in with his undead.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “All good back there Hayden?”

  “Wonderful sir. It's a violin concert tonight. I forgot how much I missed music.”

  Bernard's smile grew as he imagined the music for himself. He opened his eyes to see Melody looking at him.

  “Just find out about the music?” she asked. He nodded. “Squirrel says we have to keep you guys around for a while. He said... He said, “I forgot how wonderful it is to have friends.”” She smiled a little sadly. “He's only had me for a long time now. Thank you for this. How did you get such a great group?”

  “Ha!” Bernard laughed, almost hysterically. “Tell me, have you ever met someone called Mr. Raymond or perhaps Grandpa Ray? Maybe looked like an old, well-preserved ghoul with a limp?”

  “No. Should I?”

  “It's okay. I was just starting to worry how deep his scheming goes.” Bernard shook his head. “I think he's a distant ancestor of mine. I was told he's seven generations removed. So maybe a hundred and fifty or two hundred years older than me at least. He's why I have them. How did you get your squirrel? And do you have any others?”

  “The squirrel was raised by my Great Aunt Linda, before I was born.” She laughed. “He predates the ban on intelligent undead, but showing the paperwork is always a hassle. The story goes that when I was a baby, she dropped him in my crib with orders to keep me safe and keep me company. He's done that ever since. As for other undead, none.”

  “None. And you graduated? How does that work?”

  “I did a lot of theory, not so much practice. I want to go back to school somewhere that thinking undead aren't outlawed. I wanted to make friends for my squirrel. He has so much of his time wasted when I'm sleeping, in class, or wherever. I need to be able to make friends for my squirrel and me. This quest we're off to do might open some doors and help me find the resources to make that a reality.”

  Bernard thought of the things his Grandpa Ray had given him. It was everything she wanted. Except the permits. His were all unlicensed, illegal, subject to sudden termination if their status came out. So was he actually, just for having the spell to raise them. He wasn't a good poker player. He needed to change the subject a bit. “You said you had exactly ten undead. Where are the other nine?”

  “Oh, that. I lied. You seemed like you needed to be taken down a peg, so I did.” She smiled shamelessly at him.

  The train pulled in at Sterling in the middle of the night. There were no porters. Bernard told his undead carry their own box off the train. The skeleton in hat and coat carried the box on to the platform.

  “Have you picked a name yet?” Bernard asked him mentally.

  “No, but thanks for asking.” It replied.

  They made their way to an inn, woke up the innkeeper, and got separate rooms. Bernard stored the skeleton back in his box when they reached the inn. He didn't want to panic the owner. After all, they were having an infestation of uncontrolled undead in the vicinity. Alanso quietly scouted the town and surroundings while they slept.