“Not really. More like a witch.”
“Mother made me promise not to get caught up in any of your schemes.”
“What about if it’s a witch that can only do our bidding?”
“A zombie witch,” Zorn offered.
“Yes,” Topher said. “And no. More like a golem zombie. Well no, that’s redundant. Gertrude, are you in or not?”
Gertrude studied the metal collar. Then his eyes fell on his textbook, the laboriously titled Bloated Flesh and Lost Compass: History’s Greatest Maritime Nautical Disasters. He wanted to say no. He wanted to pick up that silly book and study. He heard his mother’s voice, admonishing him to stay out of trouble, to stay away from “that boy.” But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. What Topher was proposing was just too exciting. Topher’s propositions were always much more exciting than anyt
