Better off Dead A Lucy Hart, Deathdealer - By Eva Sloan Page 0,78

of his brothers, and an ancient aunt from her mother’s side of the family. But both her mother and father had always insisted that neither she nor Seth had to go.

Weird, she thought, now walking in the moonlit night, surrounded by a crush of headstones.

Something…a tingle, or a chill, rippled through her body as if it were coming right out of the ground. Almost like a weak electrical charge coming through her feet.

She stopped, momentarily dazed, and looked around her. She could swear something palpable, something almost visible, was rippling outward from her. Tentatively she reached out her hands, and even though she wasn’t touching the ground, she could feel a cold, dank energy flowing through her fingers with little electric shocks.

Wow, Lucy thought as she turned around on the spot, looking at the ground and then feeling a pull, something literally tugging at her, pulling at her gut like a cramp…no, not a cramp. More like that feeling you get when you’re on a roller coaster, and your belly flips over.

“Lucy…what’s the matter?” Abbey was walking back toward her, eyes worried. Or was it fear?

“I-I don’t know.” Lucy touched the spot on her stomach were that feeling of being pulled at was coming from. It was getting stronger. And, to Lucy’s dismay, she was starting to feel hungry. As if whatever was pulling at her was something she was yearning for—and had always been hungry for.

Abbey reached out and took her gently by the arm. Lucy could swear Abbey jerked, as if she were feeling what Lucy was feeling. She let go of her, looking at her own hand like there was something clinging to her flesh.

Why does everyone do that? Lucy tried to say something, but just then she realized what was pulling at her: the dead.

She closed her eyes and tried to force out that sickening thought, but that just made the sensation worse. It was like no matter where she was trying to drag her mind, there was something cold and dead—and inviting—calling to her. And they were reaching back, trying to pull her to them.

Abbey grabbed her again, this time hard, as she pulled her along with her. “It’s not far…and time’s almost up.”

“I can’t,” Lucy rasped as she tripped along after Abbey. “I think something’s wrong!”

“Nothing’s wrong!” Abbey practically sobbed. “Everything will be fine. We’ve just got to get there…before it’s too late.”

Moving faster seemed to help, as if the dead couldn’t quite get a grip on her if she was moving fast enough. “Where are we going?” Lucy said, but suddenly she knew. Right in front of them a head stone had long, thick white candles atop it, and in the middle was what looked like a picture frame.

Abbey stopped right before the headstone, pulled a lighter from her pocket and lit the two candles. Between the moonlight and the dim candlelight, Lucy could make out a handsome couple, not much younger than her own parents, peering out from the frame, looking adoringly into the camera.

Lucy looked down and read the names on the stone.

James and Julie Adams. Beloved and Missed.

They had died two years ago.

“I took this picture,” Abbey said, her hand shaking as her finger caressed the shiny black of the frame. “We were so happy.”

“I’m sorry.” Lucy couldn’t believe it. She’d just assumed Abbey was living with her grandmother because her parents were getting a divorce. She had never even thought they were dead; hadn’t thought to even ask.

“Don’t be sorry.” Abbey swiped at the tears that were streaking her mascara. “Your grandma and mine both couldn’t, or wouldn’t help me.”

“What?”

Abbey smiled bitterly, turning to face Lucy. “My Gram’s a witch, yours is a necromancer.”

“I-I don’t know where…” Lucy began to deny it, but the look on Abbey’s face said it all. The jig was up. “You know?” Then another thought crossed Lucy’s mind. “Did you know before I met you? Like, is that why you became my friend?”

“God no,” Abbey sobbed. “I’m your friend. I just guessed that you had your grandma’s power, though hers is pretty much just a glimmer of what it used to be…nothing much at all compared to yours.”

“I can’t really do anything.”

Abbey rolled her eyes.

“Okay, I have done a couple things, but they were creepy, and I had no control over it. I don’t think I can actually do anything on purpose.”

Abbey’s head drooped, her chin bending into her chest as a tear formed on her chin and dropped onto her black T-shirt. Abbey