We arrive at the boneyard after 6 p.m., when the gates are closed to visitors. We watch the keeper make his rounds and retire for the night before returning to the exact plot where Dominic was buried.

The barrier's thin enough for him to skinride with ease, but I give him an extra little push of my own, just to make sure we both make it through. I can feel in Dominic's mind that he imagines himself ghostriding the corpse, becoming one with it, smothering it through and through.

At that point, he imagines himself appearing in the Skinlands in that mist form that he's so fond of using. We both pushe hard to make his vision a reality, and after that, all goes dark and cold as Dominic's body opens its eyes.
 
Dominic has stored me inside this family ring he was buried with. It's as convenient for him as it is for me; we'll never be separated and whoever controls the body can keep an eye on the other one.

Of course, I'm more worried about Dominic than I am about myself. Right now he's pounding on the top of the coffin, trying to push his way out.

Of course, with six solid feet of dirt above us, it's not going to happen without my help.
 
"Help me! I have to get out of here!" he cries. His voice echoes woodenly off of the cold, narrow coffin walls.

"Dominic, listen to me," I try to calm him down.

"Get me out!"

"DOMINIC!" I cry out in his head. He finally stops: "Dom, we're not getting out of here unless we work together, but I want you to promise me something first."

"What do you want?" he asks hesitantly. He already doesn't trust me, but he at least realizes that we're both going to be stuck in here until he hears me out. He's getting smarter all the time, let me tell you.

"I think we should go after the little things first, then see Rosemary last," I propose.

"Why?" he inquires.

"Well, look at it this way," I reason: "If we see her first and she freaks out and rejects you, then this whole plan will turn to shit and we're right back where we started. But if we collect all the little, easy-to-get pieces first, we'll at least get something done right and we'll be that much more powerful to resist if something goes wrong."

To me, this proposition sounds reasonable and logical: go after the easy stuff first before you go for the gold. But he's thinking about it, biting his lip like he always does when he's weighing options.

"Well?" I ask.

"I'm thinking about it," he muses.

"Well, you can spend the rest of eternity lying here under six feet of dirt thinking if you want. I have all the patience in the world for you, Dominic. But I'm not sure if Rosemary has the same amount of patience I do."

"Okay, fine. Little things first." He agrees as he begins to claw at the top of his coffin again. I remain silent.

"Why aren't you helping?" he roars, frustrated.

I drink it in, smiling inwardly: "You agreed, but you didn't promise me," I say.

"Promise me. Swear on something."

"I swear to you that we'll see Rosemary last. I swear on..."

"Her life?"

"What?"

"Swear to me on her life, Dominic. I need to trust you on this."

"Never!"

"Then have fun trying to get to her all by yourself, then," I say as I begin to rest in the ring: "Wake me up when you're willing to talk."

"Wait," he pleads. A pause. He sighs pretty deeply for a dead person.

"Would you die for her?" I ask.

"I already have," he laments.

"Then you're got nothing left to lose." I let him ponder that a moment. He bites and chews on his lip a little more.

"You've got to stop doing that, you know." I scold softly and half-heartedly.

"Old habits die hard," he mumbles.

"Fine," he finally agrees. "I promise. I swear-"

"On her life?"

"On Rosemary's life,"

"Dominic, I'm proud of you, you know that?"

He smiles weakly: "Are you ready to do this, or what?"

"I'm ready when you are," I say.