Company Ink

Don't get him wrong, Davy hadn't been thrilled to end up face-down in a shallow grave…but he'd not been surprised either. With the life he'd lived, and the work he did, it had always been a possibility. So he'd not been bothering to hold his breath–metaphorically speaking, being dead–for a chance to get his own back on his killer.

On the other hand, death was kind of boring…even for a mercenary who wore the stigmata of his sins as occasionally too-independent tentacles. So when someone opened a door to the living world for him he wasn't going to say no. He figured he could knock out the revenge in a couple of hours and then spend the rest of his time on this side of the Veil getting take-out, getting laid, and getting into fights. …the order didn't matter.

Unfortunately, it turned out to be a bit more complicated than that. If Davy didn't know better, he'd have thought this whole set–up was the universe trying to get him to learn something.

All Hill had learned was that death wasn't what he'd expected. When he had opened the door to the afterlife he'd been prepared for winding sheets and bones, maybe a few chains. Not for the vengeful ghost to be a hot, dead man who'd mug him for his skin and bones. The tentacles had been a surprise too.

But then necromancy didn't come with an instruction booklet, or a restart button.

The deal had been struck, and the two of them would just have to make it work.