How Not To Raise The Dead: A Bone Witch Short Story: The Bone Witch, #2

By Tami Veldura

 Nariah is a bone witch, capable of seeing dead spirits and channeling their power in the mortal world. But she's not the only thing with power in the world and sometimes those things need killing. A grim wakes up in his graveyard to a necromancer disturbing the spirits and he calls on Nariah to help fix the problem. But at least the necromancer is human. It's the inhuman Nariah's afraid of.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Story Prism Studios
• Release date: Oct 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781941319352

Tami Veldura

Tami Veldura is an enby/aro/ace author of queer fiction. They have published short stories in anthologies Fresh Starts, Hauntings, Love Among The Thorns, Love Is Like A Box Of Chocolates, the magazine Galaxy’s Edge, and they are a contributing member of the scifi magazine Boundary Shock Quarterly. They publish new work every month, crossing every genre, but always featuring queer characters and found families.As S.T. Lynn, they write uplifting, sweet, and tropey fantasy fiction, featuring women front and center. Including fairy tales, elves, magic, and happy endings for young adults and young-at-heart.

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Book Description

Nariah is a bone witch, capable of seeing dead spirits and channeling their power in the mortal world. But she’s not the only thing with power in the world and sometimes those things need killing. A grim wakes up in his graveyard to a necromancer disturbing the spirits and he calls on Nariah to help fix the problem. But at least the necromancer is human. It’s the inhuman Nariah’s afraid of.

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Call Of The Grim

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How Not To Raise The Dead

Nariah tied a colorful headband over her forehead and pressed it gently back to contain her tightly coiled hair. The chill in the night air prickled along her bare arms, bringing an electrifying awareness along with it. There were spirits on the rise.

Just over an hour ago Nariah had felt the call, a pressure under her breastbone, a yearning that couldn’t be satisfied with mortal pleasures. The call of the grim. She followed it here to Magnolia Cemetery and looked out at the gently rolling grounds from the safety of the parking lot.

The magnolia tree at the caretaker house, older than Nariah at least, stretched over graves and ground alike, its stiff white blooms open in the moonlight, glowing like stardrops. Its soft scent permeated the grounds, pressing an ancient healing into the spirits who rested here. A magic older than the city itself. But something had disturbed that old rest. Spirits that should have been sleeping moaned in the darkness.

Nariah grabbed the bone-chain around her wrist, her eyes sharp on the rows. Spirits were mostly harmless, it was whatever disturbed them that kept Nariah