“You’re the wizard?”

I don’t correct clients, as a rule, so I nodded. “Yes sir.”

“And this isn’t a scam?” he asked. He was looking at me, but the question was directed at his entourage. They took care of reassuring him; all I had to do was stand there and look ominous. I knew the type: he was drowning in grief, and desperately trying to keep it bottled inside with a sense of control.

“So you can bring my dad back?”

“Not forever,” I said. “Not even for a long time.”

“But long enough to say goodbye?”

I nodded again. And to my surprise, he grabbed me in a bear hug. “Thank you, man. Thank you. I’m Guy Redmond. My dad, he-” and then he was sobbing on my shoulder.

My assistant keeps a spreadsheet on potential clients: executives getting chemo; celebrities doing their own stunts; and of course, billionaires over 85. Julius Redmond had been at the top of the list for years; so long I’d wondered if he’d found some power even stronger than what I offered. But no, when it came down to it, Julius Redmond, billionaire media baron, just had healthy habits and excellent medical care.

A car had taken me to the Manhattan helipads; a Sikorsky charter took me all the way upstate, where another car had taken me from the helipad to the Redmond family home. Now, Guy himself walked me the last leg of the journey, down the hall to his father’s bedroom. He kept his hand on my arm the entire way; I could feel him sagging under the weight of the moment.

Julius – or at least the earthly vessel I would call him back to – reclined majestically on a large bed. Medical staff were already packing up the IV poles and monitors. “Leave that one,” Guy pointed at the heart-rate monitor that was showing a steady flat line. A nurse nodded and then withdrew, leaving us alone.

“Here,” Guy said to me, pulling a crumpled check out of his pocket and pushing it into my hands.

“Your people already paid-” I started to protest, but he cut me off.

“Nah, you’re gonna dig deeper. You’re gonna give me more time with my dad. Alright?”

The toughness was back; the need for control. But that check had quite a few zeroes on it.

“It can be overwhelming,” I warned him. “For you, I mean. It can help to have an agenda. To help you stay focused and cover everything you want to cover with him. This is your chance.”

Guy shook his head and blinked his eyes a few times. “I just want my dad to be proud of me.”

“Alright,” I said. And then I got to work.

I won’t bore you with the details of necromancy. Guy paced the room, fists balled, until the heart-rate monitor started to beep.

“Dad?” Guy rushed over to the bed. “Dad, it’s me.”

Julius’s eyes opened slowly. I put my hand against the wall, steadying myself as I channeled, slow and steady.

“Gaius, what happened?” Julius asked.

“You died, dad. And I brought you back,” Guy said, his voice trembling. “It’s not like you think. I don’t just let things happen. I can do things. And I wanted you to see.”

Guy took another deep breath. And then he brought his fist up, and punched his father. And then he did it again. And again.

Julius had been tough for his age, but he was an old man who had died once already. I felt the tether slip. The beep of the heart-rate monitor stopped.

Guy turned to look at me. His gaze was vacant, but he was breathing hard.

“Will that be all?” I asked. I was breathing hard with the strain of magic, but I don’t correct clients, as a rule.

“Oh no,” Guy said. “You promised me more time. I’m not done.” He balled up his fist, and turned to face the body. “Bring him back again."

(Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, you can find more of my stories at r/prejackpottery_barn )