[ WP ] Your father was an abusive bastard . You 've spent the last 3 decades since his death studying Necromancy , just so you dig him up and settle an argument .

The shovel bit deeply into the nearly frozen Kentucky soil. With a determined grunt, Jack Mastiff heaved a shovelful onto the growing mound of dirt next to the grave and peered over the side. Licking his lips, he scanned the surrounding area carefully then raised a flask to his mouth and took a long pull. Digging was thirsty work. 
 
 
 Tossing the flask on top of his jacket, he quickly settled into the unholy chore. Dirt flew over the side as the temperature dropped. A full moon rose over the modest Calvary cemetery, washing out the colors and lending an urgency to his efforts. 
 
 
 Jack jerked violently as his mobile phone vibrated in his back pocket. “ Goddamnit! ” He swore under his breath, jerking it from his pocket and answering it. The voice on the other end was cultured, vaguely european, and conveyed just a hint of a smile. Eddie had probably watched him jerk like a fish when the mobile went off in his pocket. “ What do you want, Eddie? ” 
 
 
 “ You ’ ve got an hour until midnight. How are things coming along? ” 
 
 
 “ Things would be faster if you were freezing your ass off and shoveling with me instead of interrupting every 15 minutes. ” 
 
 
 “ Hallowed ground, buddy. You know I ’ d be there otherwise. ” 
 
 
 “ Yeah, I know. ” Jack said, taking another pull from his flask. “ I ’ m nearly there. I ’ m not going to uncover the whole thing, just enough to get the job done. ” 
 
 
 “ I was checking the lunar calendar while you ’ ve been busy and you ’ re not going to get another opportunity for this until 2028. You need to make this count unless… ” Eddie let the sentence trail off. 
 
 
 Jack knew what was unspoken. Unless he walked the dark path. Unless he used necromancy to preserve his body, to become an abomination, a Litch held together by magic of foul unpredictability. “ Don ’ t interrupt me again unless you ’ re coming in here to help. ” He snapped. 
 
 
 “ That ’ s not happening. ” Eddie said, always needing the last word. 
 
 
 Jack redoubled his efforts and fought back the urge to drop the shovel and go throttle Eddie. Eddie was the facts guy, he checked things like places and dates and times. He was the perfect annoying counterpoint to Jack ’ s innate abilities. Jack was a percipient, and facts always muddled his instinctive grasp of the worlds. 
 
 
 But as much as Jack hated knowing the facts, his long time companion and business partner Eddie Savoie made sure he always had the facts, and just enough to feed that gnawing percipience inside his gut without overwhelming it. 
 
 
 The shovel impacted the coffin with a hollow thunk that echoed loudly around the graveyard. Jack quickly cleared the dirt away and attacked the old wood with a hatchet, opening a gaping hole and exposing the mummified face of the man inside. 
 
 
 Grabbing his kit from the side of the grave, Jack quickly spread his tools before him and prepared the ritual. A clay paten, dug and fired by his own hands, inscribed with a triquetra of his own blood. The arthame forged of nails pried from coffins, with a hilt of the blackest obsidian. His wand, 33 centimeters, carved from the bone of a living man. And finally, the chalice, a simple bowl of beaten copper which was given freely by someone who loved him. 
 
 
 Of all the things that he had done, of all the arcane knowledge he had acquired, the chalice disturbed him most. It was a gift from Eddie, and unlike a simple linear gift, it bound their powers into a triangle which both fueled and fed upon itself. He filled it with holy water, then pricked his finger and allowed three fat drops of blood to fall within. 
 
 
 Jack lit a tallow candle and the stink of unbaptized baby fat filled the grave. 
 
 
 Midnight, and the world stood still for an eternal moment while he chanted softly, forcing the glottal invocations through his unwilling throat. Moonlight spilled into the coffin, illuminating the leathery skin stretched across the skull, gathering into silvery ropes, twisting into the spirit of a man dead these last three decades. 
 
 
 “ Who summons me? ” it spoke in an etherial susurration. 
 
 
 “ Happy birthday, Daddy. ” Jack said, smiling through clenched teeth. “ Let ’ s talk about your suicide. ”
