Set My Soul On Fire

Chapter 2: Botta Bing Botta Boom

Let it be known that Amaya was not a morning person.

So, waking up at 6:30 in the morning was not a great start to her Thursday. Especially not with the dead guy staring at her.

Before she'd opened her eyes, she'd known she'd had a visitor based on the Arctic chill in her normally toasty bedroom. Heaving a deep sigh, she cracked her eyes open and nearly jumped out of her skin to see two semitransparent brown eyes. No matter how many times she saw a spirit, she'd never get used to seeing a person and her bedside table in the same place, at the same time.

"Morning," the spirit croaked.

Amaya closed her eyes and almost gave into the urge to cry. Couldn't spirits wait until the sun had come up to start harassing her? "Morning. Who are you?" She muttered into her pillow.

"James. James Deer, ma'am."

She looked up. The spirit was a young man, probably around sixteen or seventeen. Brown hair, big brown puppy dog eyes. He wore a frayed pink bracelet on his right wrist. Her heart hurt. Kid was too young for his life to be over already.

She sat up and reached for the pen and notepad on her bedside table, turning on the lamp and squinting at the sudden light. "You have a message for your family?" He nodded. "Please tell my sister that I love her more than anything. And tell my mom not to work so hard–she's gonna end up in an early grave." He snorted. "Guess I can't talk about early graves, huh." After writing that down, she asked if there was anything else.

"Yeah. Tell my dad to rot in hell."

And the kid disappeared in a bright flash of light as he moved on to the next world, leaving behind the image of his bright smile.

Amaya blinked. "Alrighty then."

...

Unfortunately, she was not able to get back to sleep after her guest left. So, after 30 minutes of tossing and turning, it was off to the kitchen to make some warm milk to hopefully send her back to sleep.

She blearily took the milk from the fridge and poured it into a mug, popping it into the microwave for thirty seconds. She grabbed the cinnamon and sugar as she waited. After the microwave dinged, she grabbed her warm milk and shook the mixture into it.

Her eyes closed against the light, she groped around for the handle to the utensil drawer. Instead of a handle, her fingers wrapped around the business end of a spoon. "Thanks," she muttered, taking the spoon.

Then, she stopped. What the fuck...? Opening her eyes, she looked to her right and nearly screamed. A doll stared at her with empty blue plastic eyes. It's head cocked to the side. "Welcome," it squeaked.

"Fucking hell!!" She screamed, smacking it straight off the counter, where it bounced off the floor.

"Well, that wasn't very nice," a man's voice said from behind her.

She turned and flipped him off. "Screw you, Hinata!! How many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?!" He laughed as he squatted down to allow the doll to climb into his hand. "Love you too, sis."

Hinata Vixen was Amaya's older pain in the ass brother. Whereas she was a necromancer, he was an animancer. Their poor parents had their hands full with the two of them–especially when Hinata would send animated dolls after his sister and she'd retaliate by reanimating dead animals to chase him around.

"When did you get back?" She sighed, setting down her milk and collapsing into a chair. "About two hours ago," he responded, hopping up onto the counter. Hinata had been tracking down a bounty in Mexico for the last week. "Guy screamed his head off when he saw Suzie," he laughed. "I think he sung soprano for a moment there."