They had buried Thyra’s body deep in the rotten soil of the outback where the earth was of a heavy black and smelled of death and decay. They had not marked her grave, they had not paid her the respect one paid the dead – they had just dug a hole and thrown her in, shoved the earth hastily back over her.

And there she lay.

It had been Pazuzu’s idea to pay her grandmother the last respect and give her a proper burial and Stephanus had agreed to this fool’s plan. They spend three days combing through the outback until they are reasonably sure that they found the right spot and then they start digging, deeper and deeper.

The avalanche of sheer malice that hits them after a while of digging is unexpected and knocks Pazuzu back on her ass, earth sticking to her like glue. The pale hand reaching out of the soil to grab her ankle make her screech and call up the earth to get rid of the appendage that claws at her. When Stephanus gets out his axe to take care of the whole thing by himself it’s him who gets thrown back.

And then she rises.

She is pale and tall, taller than she was in life, stretched out farther than possible and she towers swaying over them, her black hair floating around her like a veil. She is still beautiful and he can see his sisters facial features reflected in her face as she stares at him with eyes of blackness. Pazuzu spits out a curse he’d have wacked her for every other time but he is too mesmerized by the face of the woman he has never consciously seen before.

Over the white noise in his head he can hear his daughter curse about spirits and their annoying fixation and he hisses towards her “Attack me.” She flips him the bird but does as told, coming at him with full speed, only to be knocked back by Thyra who floats around him like smoke, still somewhat corporal and somehow not.

“Ah”, Pazuzu sighs and just keeps on laying where the hit threw her to: “I guess we know what her purpose is that powers her.” It’s a statement, not a question, so he ignores her in favor of mulling over the possibilities this opens up. “There should be a card for this occasion, you know”, his daughter rambles on “Like ‘sorry your wife can’t be reburied cause she turned evil spirit and is now fixated on protecting your son forever and always. Sorry about that, wasn’t our brightest idea we admit’. Like condolence cards, with a black border ‘cause-“

He shushes her with an impatient click of his tongue: “The soil here is rich of gemstones and precious metals…” – “oh my god, are you really going to do this? Like, just so that we don’t have to admit to your father straight away that we fucked this up?”, his daughter’s biggest fault has always been her big mouth so he keeps on ignoring her and kneels down to touch the rotten soil. Rich indeed, if tarnished but it should be enough.

Harnessing her isn’t his best work and if his old teacher could see his sloppy work he’d never hear the end of it but there is no time for finesse when they are due to be back within a few hours so he puts the amulet around his neck and hopes he can leave her there.

Right over his heart he can feel the faint pulse of his mother’s heart emanating from the amulet.