TITLE: Graveyard Phoenix
GENRE: Urban Fantasy
I was fighting not to show my annoyance at the weeping woman standing a few feet away from me. It wasn't that I didn't sympathize with what she was going through; it was just that she seemed to be one of those overly excessive weepers, one who brought all the dramatics they could muster to the table. Granted, my annoyance could also be because it was seven thirty at night, I was standing in front of an open grave, and when I was done here, my night was far from over. Nine to five was never my thing.
"Mrs. Tillar," I said, trying to put as much patience into my voice as possible. "If you spill the canister of blood before I begin the resurrection, it will be a wasted night for all of us." I took the blood from her; I don't even know why she'd picked it up. Her brother-in-law Jack, a graying man with a rather stony expression, put his arms around her and drew her in, as though that would make her feel less sad. It never does.
"I'm going to start now," I announced. Jack turned to me, but Mrs. Tillar continued sobbing loudly into Jack's lapels.
"You know that I'm bringing your son back to life right?" I couldn't help but ask, because honestly it felt like I was performing funeral rights for Gideon Tillar, who was currently resting in his snug mahogany coffin six feet below us.