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~~((Thanksgiving Special - page 29 of 30))~~
Where was it? He looked around, but the Scarf was black, and just like Garovel had said, so was the whole damn tower.

'By the bed,' said Garovel, apparently not needing an explanation of what Hector was after.

And indeed, there it lay, on the nightstand next to the amber lamp.

Hector breathed a sigh of relief and went over to pick it up again.

Immediately, the fullness of the room filled his mind as he could sense the flow of air all throughout it.

'I'm surprised you didn't notice you weren't wearing it sooner,' said Garovel.

"You said you regrew me from scratch, right?"

'Yup.'

"So then..."

'Dimas Sebolt carried it back for us,' said Garovel. 'At my request.'

"Ah..."

'Yeah.'

"So now he knows what the Scarf is capable of."

'Yes, he does. I didn't exactly explain it to him, but he was touching it for several hours while you were busy being dead.'

Hector squinted. "Wait a minute. Why didn't you just resurrect me then and let me carry it back myself?"

'Oh, um. Well, y'know. I probably should've, huh? Guess it slipped my mind. Probably would've saved us some time, too. Bit of a BONEHEADED move on my part. Heh. Get it? Boneheaded?'

Hector did not react.

''Cuz you see me as a skeleton, right? Skeleton joke.'

Hector just kept staring at him.

'You could at least pretend to laugh. It was a little funny.'

Still, Hector made no response.

'Alright, stop that. You're freakin' me out. Say something, damn you.'

The truth was, something else was bothering Hector. He stepped closer to Garovel, looking the reaper up and down, searching for signs of anything amiss. Hmm.

'Excuse me, but my eyeholes are up here.' And after a beat, he added, 'They ARE up here, right?'

Hector ignored him. He didn't find--

Ah.

There was a gash on Garovel's backside. Small but there. Smoldering with ethereal, black-and-white smoke.