Edgar hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Too many bizarre things happening in one day led to some tiresome pondering in bed. It was an interesting changeup from his usual routine, and today promised to be another, less weird (hopefully), changeup. His new employee walked in at 8 AM sharp: punctual, a good trait.

“Welcome, worker bee.” Edgar remarked enthusiastically.

“Hello.” Evan replied curtly. He seemed a bit wearier than the day before. Edgar chalked that up to waking up early, not that Edgar knew the boy’s schedule. “So, what is my first task for the day?”

“Yes, time to start learning the schedule. Well, we’ll start with what we started with yesterday: Moving boxes.” And so, the day continued in that manner.

At 2 PM, Edgar told Evan to take a late lunch break. Most of the maintenance work for the day had been done, so Evan wouldn’t have much to do until closing. Plus, it was important to keep a healthy schedule of three meals a day. When Evan told him that he hadn’t brought any food, Edgar offered his own, which Evan politely but resolutely declined. He then sat quietly and began flipping through brochures when Edgar remembered.

“Something weird happened last night.” Edgar recalled that Evan had asked for information about anything strange happening. Although he didn’t really think the kid was what Evan was talking about, Edgar wanted to share what’d happed regardless.

Evan sat silently, waiting for him to continue.

“So, last night, after you left, some kid came knocking at the door. The store’d been closed for well over two hours at that point, so I thought it was weird that someone would show up. I went over to see who he is, and the kid, who couldn’t’ve been over 25, claimed to be FBI.” He pauses to take a breath. Evan is listening intently, with a nervous expression. “So, then he says he can prove it and hands over a fake police badge! Can you believe it?”

“What did you do after?” Evan inquired, shifting nervously.

“Well, then I told him I’d call the REAL police, and he started breaking down crying. Then he ran off.”

“Did you call the police?”

“Nah, he was just a stupid kid.” Edgar concluded, but then he glanced at Evan. The boy looked pale. His eyes were focused intensely on the ground, unblinking. “Are you ok?”

He shot upright.

“Evan, are you ok?” He repeated.

“I… I have to go.” Evan sputtered.

“Evan?” Did he know this kid? Was the kid dangerous? What kind of danger would make him react like this? Question buzzed in Edgar’s head, but he found himself unable to ask any of them.

“I need your shovel again!” Evan practically yelped.

“S – sure…” It hadn’t been a question, but Edgar felt the need to respond anyway, just to say something. Hours were left before the end of the workday, but that didn’t seem to matter right now. Evan rushed out of the store, grabbing book and shovel before he disappeared out the back door.

What could possibly be happening? Maybe he should call the police? Edgar pondered to himself.

---

Edgar swept the floor in his empty shop. The shop’s floor was already cleanly swept, but it calmed him down a little. Twenty minutes ago, Evan had left, panicked, and Edgar wasn’t sure what he should do about it. He wasn’t sure if he should do anything about it. Was this his business? If Evan was in danger somehow, surely Edgar should do something, but what? What was going on?

Edgar’s pondering was interrupted by something in the corner of his eye. Just through the window, half in the back alley next to his shop, someone was snooping around. Edgar recognized them immediately.

“You!” Edgar yelled.

“Eep!” The boy jumped up.

“It’s you! From last night! What are you still doing here? Go away!” If this person had rattled his employee that much, Edgar didn’t want him anywhere near the shop, and he was too tense to deal with this nosy kid with any patience.

“Yes sir! Yes sir!” The boy rushed off again. He traveled off in the opposite direction that Evan had gone. Good, he didn’t want him anywhere near Evan. Edgar began sweeping angrily. Should he call the police, or shouldn’t he? Was he making mountains out of molehills? He was just a flower shop owner, why was he having to deal with this insanity again?

----

Evan rushed down the graveyard pathway as fast as he could while holding a heavy book and shovel. He hoped that the person who’d shown up at the flower shop was just an insignificant kid, but he couldn’t risk it. He was running out of time. He would be incredibly conspicuous doing this during the day, but it didn’t matter. He was running out of time. Past the 30th row of gravestones, now along the graves, he broke into a run. He didn’t expect them to be this fast. He had to find the anchor.

He arrives at the hole. It was here. It had to be here. The book said it was here. The book can sense it nearby. What is it? What is it?

Evan took out his spade and started digging. It had to be somewhere in the grave, dropped upon reanimation and escape. He desperately dug at the hole, clawing at dirt with his bare hands when the shovel wasn’t enough, only stopping to scan his surroundings – no one there, dig.

He tore at the dirt for what felt like hours. His hands were caked in dirt and filth. His clothes permanently stained. There! Something glimmered in the dirt. He greedily seized it in his hands, pulling it out with a clod of earth, before wiping it off.

A ring, the ring, THIS ring? Was this really it?

He reached for his book. Flipping through the pages with his filthy fingers until he reached the dowsing spell. He drew his finger across the page, leaving a trail of dirt. The words lit up, and Evan could feel himself directed towards the ring in his hand. This was it. This was definitely it. This was the anchor.

----

Edgar was closing up shop in a tizzy. Two incredibly unusual days in a row had left him rattled, and he probably wouldn’t calm down for at least a week. He was prepared to leave this weirdness behind him. He was not prepared for Evan to burst into the store, covered in dirt.

“Ev – an? What is – What? What is going on?”

“I’ll explain in a moment. Did that person happen to come back here?” He questioned, exasperated.

“What person?”

“The stranger from yesterday, did they come back?”

“Well, yes they – “

“I see. You were locking up for the day, correct? Are the doors in the back locked?” Evan locked the front door.

“Evan, what is?”

“Are the back doors locked?” He yelled.

“Evan! Explain!” That was it. Evan was tired of all this jerking around out of his control. “If you do not explain at this very moment, you are not welcome here anymore.”

“Sorry about this.” Evan cracked open his book.

“That’s it! Please leave.”

Edgar felt something wrap around his wrist, and his hand slammed into the table. He winced in pain and tried to wrench his hand free, but something curled around his other wrist. Panicking, he tried to get a look at his constraints. A pair of vines had snaked their way around his wrists like bracelets, trailing from a bouquet of chrysanthemums, tethering him to the table.

“Wha-“ stunned, Edgar couldn’t finish – couldn’t think a full thought. This was impossible, not strange or unusual: impossible. This couldn’t be reality.

“I’m sorry about this.” Evan spoke solemnly. “Truly, I am.”

----

Grey was disappointed in himself. He had done nothing but mess up since he received this job. It wasn’t even his first assignment, so he had no excuse. It was supposed to be simple, hunt down the undead who’d emerged in a small town with one graveyard. He’d followed his senses to a small dealer in colorful plants, but he had bungled his introduction so thoroughly that the owner did not let him be anywhere nearby without threatening involvement with law officers, and if Grey got himself that much attention, there would be consequences for sure. Just thinking about it made him want to tear up again.

Now he had to think of another way to-

Something was wrong. He felt it: magic. Someone had cast something in the direction from which he’d come. If it was coming from there, Grey knew what it would be. He turned around and sprinted towards the flower shop. He could only hope he wasn’t too late.