up the stairs, Thornley was favoring his left knee—an old rugby injury—and Vambéry appeared short of breath. I reached for Vambéry’s satchel and slung it over my other shoulder. “I will return it to you at the top,” I told him.
Vambéry prepared to argue but granted me a quick nod instead. “My leg is a burden, particularly at a time like this,” he said, now breathing through his mouth.
“The air is thin up here, difficult for anyone.”
“Not you.”
I said nothing to this, just kept walking. He was right, of course, I felt no fatigue whatsoever. I could have sprinted up the steps, had I so chosen.
“Do you sense she is up there?” Matilda asked.
I shook my head. “I’ve felt nothing since she blocked me earlier. If she is in the abbey, I cannot tell.”
We passed only three other people as we mounted the steps farther, two older fishermen and a woman. All three eyed the sky nervously as they made their way down. When we reached the apex, we found ourselves alone in the sprawling graveyard, with St. Mary’s Church to our left and the abbey in front of us, a large pond right next to it. The graveyard continued on over the hill towards the cliff, high above the water. The site was much larger than I had expected. “Where do we begin?”
Vambéry asked for his leather satchel, which I readily returned to him. From a pocket in the front, he pulled out an old map and unfolded it. Its weathered paper bore a drawing of the buildings and grounds. “We are here,” he said, pointing to the steps snaking up from the town at the edge of the map. “Saint Mary’s is still considered holy ground, so Ellen could not possibly be in there. Most of this cemetery is still consecrated, too.”
“What about the graves of the suicides?” Matilda asked, studying the map.
“Yes,” Vambéry said, “they can be found here and here.” He indicated two spots on the map—one near the side of the abbey, the other perched precariously on what looked like the very edge of the cliff. “The suicides are not part of the church grounds but are on land belonging to the abbey.”
Lightning filled the sky over the sea, three quick flashes. We all regarded it with trepidation.
“Perhaps we should split up before this storm strikes,” Vambéry suggested. “Bram and I can take the interior of the abbey while the two of you search the suicide graves.”
“Is that safe? Maybe we should stay together,” Matilda said.
“If these creatures come out during daylight hours, they have no powers. They are less than mortals. If she is here, if any of them are here, they are most likely at rest,” Vambéry explained. “We have four hours of daylight remaining; we must make the most of it.”
Matilda reached out and squeezed my hand. “Do be careful.”
“You as well.”
Vambéry said to Thornley, “If you discover anything, come retrieve us. We are close by.”
I watched Matilda and Thornley make their way past the ancient towering cross that marked the cemetery entrance and disappear amongst the large headstones.
Vambéry reached down and picked up his bag. “Come, my boy. Let us hurry.”
Much of the abbey was a crumbling ruin, but that which remained was extraordinary—tall, intricately carved columns and massive stone blocks reaching for the swirling gray clouds of the heavens. The grounds were overgrown with foliage and weeds, all fighting to claim this structure, yet it was fighting back, unwilling to concede just yet. We passed under an apse and entered the abbey at the south transept. The remains of a staircase stood among a pile of rubble against a central wall.
“These cloisters follow the exterior walls,” Vambéry informed me. “To the west, they lead to the nave, and the east end houses the choir, presbytery, and sanctuary. The round towers standing sentinel at all four corners are accessible by staircases; they are frequented by the locals, particularly on nights when ships are out at sea during a storm and a high vantage point is required to help guide them safely to port in the harbor.”