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5. (Sorry, no sex in this one, but is just to move the story along. Sex next time, promise.)

*

Roger was stronger but not as limber as me, so we tried to find a place where the brambles were not so thick. About maybe thirty feet toward the water, I found a part in the stone wall broken, and brambles grown around it. I stepped into the brambles, hissing and muttering, *quot;Ow, ow*quot; as the thorns pricked me. Amazing how tiny thorn pricks hurt, but big ones don't.

Anyway, I cleared that, and watched as Roger followed me, also spitting *quot;Shit, ouch, fuck -- *quot;. He had khakis on as opposed to jeans, so he really wasn't made for this. After clearing the wall, I happened to see Nettie's car park near on the curve before where we had been.

When we to her I asked, *quot;Are you sure this is the place?*quot;

*quot;Well, while you guys were doing whatever you were doing -- *quot; and she smirked at me -- *quot;I marked off where we were.*quot; She pointed into the woods and I could see a white strip of cloth tied to a branch. *quot;Think you can track her?*quot;

I still had the izmir escort piece of material in my pocket. I could have done the spell to find where the rest of it was -- but then the necromancer would notice if that zombie turned around and suddenly started heading toward me.

*quot;Got an idea,*quot; I said, and knelt on the asphalt in front of the car. I took out my Swiss Army knife -- the one that doubled for an athame in a pinch -- and cut a piece of it off. Next, I went in my wallet and took out a small crystal-shaped dark stone -- not iron, hematite -- on a string. I placed the piece of material on top of the hematite and closed my eyes, letting the string move on its own.

When it started swinging is when I opened my eyes. It was swinging deeper into the graveyard. *quot;Let's follow this,*quot; I said. *quot;It might take longer but it's not as noticeable.*quot;

We walked about ten feet and then I'd stop and do it again. It wasn't until we got to the other side of the driveway loop that the thing took a hard swing to the north escort izmir -- heading back out the graveyard.

*quot;Damn,*quot; I hissed, and took off the piece of fabric. *quot;They left.*quot;

*quot;Well, of course they left. Any way we can use that in the car?*quot;

*quot;Unless you want to piss off traffic for driving ten feet and then stopping for a reading.*quot;

Said Roger quietly, *quot;Sometimes people return to the scene of the crime.*quot;

*quot;This isn't _Murder She Wrote_,*quot; I said, and turned back to Nettie. *quot;Does your grandmother have something hidden? Some family legend?*quot;

*quot;Not my grandmother, my grandfather.*quot;

I waited, tapping my foot.

*quot;He had something from India. Something some Raj gave him when he was visiting.*quot;

*quot;And...?*quot;

*quot;It was gold. But nobody's ever found it.*quot;

*quot;Did your grandmother know about it?*quot;

*quot;She told the story.*quot;

*quot;So she never found it.*quot;

*quot;Well, nobody did.*quot;

I asked the last stupid question I could think of. *quot;Did anyone look?*quot;

*quot;I didn't. I izmir escort bayan don't know. It was a myth. You'd think if it was gold --*quot;

*quot;Our necromancer wants that thing from India and just raised your grandmother to go find it.*quot;

*quot;Why didn't he raise my grandfather?*quot;

*quot;Where's he buried?*quot;

*quot;In the Veteran's Cemetery.*quot;

*quot;The Vet's Cemetery is too well-guarded,*quot; I said, heading back to the car. *quot;Know anyone in your family ruthless enough to want this thing?*quot;

*quot;I don't even know what it is?*quot;

*quot;Let's go see your mom, maybe she knows.*quot;

*quot;My mom's not talking to me.*quot;

I leaned against the car. *quot;Again?*quot;

*quot;She keeps after me to find a better boyfriend.*quot;

*quot;-I- keep after you to find a better boyfriend but I still talk to you.*quot;

*quot;Well, she's different.*quot;

Meanwhile, Roger was quiet through the entire exchange, a small look of amusement on his face. *quot;What about an uncle, an aunt?*quot; he put in.

*quot;I could see Uncle Blair. He's at Oak Hill right down the street.*quot;

I sat in the back of the car. Roger sat in the back with me, putting a hand on my thigh. *quot;Does this happen every weekend?*quot;

*quot;Only when I'm trying to get laid.*quot;

Nettie yelled, *quot;If you're too BUSY to do this?*quot;

*quot;No, Nettie, I'll help you.*quot;

Roger squeezed my thigh and grinned. *quot;Maybe you should try to get laid more often.*quot;