The Whispering Dead (Gravekeeper #1) - Darcy Coates Page 0,52
of rope hung from one hand, dragging over the floor and creating paths through the dust. Keira blinked again and saw the man throwing the rope over the pipe. Then he was tying one end into a noose. Climbing onto the chair Keira had rested against. Tightening the rope. Kicking the chair away.
A choked cry escaped Keira as she watched Frank Crispin spasm on the end of his rope. Then she blinked and was back in the present, shaking and exhausted, one hand pressed over her mouth to silence the cries. Her legs collapsed and sent her tumbling to the ground.
Icy chills ran along her arms and her back, and she had a horrible idea that the mill’s spirits had clustered forward to touch her. She tried to pull on the ability that allowed her to see them, but it did nothing except stab pain across her skull. She’d overused the muscle.
Keira put her hands on her knees and focused on breathing deeply. Bit by bit, she began to block out the emotions, gradually reducing her exposure to the mill’s effect until her head had cleared enough to think.
Frank Crispin isn’t here. If Emma is waiting for him, he’s already moved on.
She raised her head. The mill, mottled by shadows, appeared desolate in her flashlight’s beam, but she couldn’t forget the thin, baleful faces that had watched her. She wanted to say something, but words failed her. Comfort would be hollow. Promises couldn’t be met. Sympathy would feel trite. All she could manage was to echo herself. “I’m sorry.”
Chills grazed her cheek, brushing at the tears there. She shivered as the liquid turned to frost. The invisible fingers lingered for a moment, then retreated.
Slowly, feeling as though she’d stepped in front of a freight train, Keira regained her feet. She stumbled to the pile of wool below the window. The sill was high, but she rested her forearms on it and scrambled up. As she slid through the opening, she managed to twist her body and hold on to the ledge while lowering her legs toward the external wood pallet steps. She ended up with her body outside and her head poised in the window. Keira directed the flashlight into the mill a final time, looking over the last resting place for dozens of souls and said a word that made her stomach shrivel in misery: “Goodbye.”
The walk back to the parsonage was a slow, bitter one. She’d seen Frank’s death, but no help had come from it. He’d moved on—probably at the same moment as he’d died—and her instincts told her that bit of information wouldn’t be news to Emma.
On top of that, the cluster of souls waiting inside the mill set her heart aching. They had already been there for decades. Who knew how much longer they would linger in the loveless, lifeless shell of the building? Would they be stuck there until the Earth dissolved and life was extinguished? She exhaled and pushed her hands into her pockets. She hated herself for not being able to help. But with one day left in Blighty, she was no closer to saving the first spirit she’d promised assistance to.
The thoughts consumed Keira so completely that she forgot to feel anxious as she walked through the cemetery’s mist. She paused at the gate leading to her cottage and turned back to the gravestones. Her headache was still strong enough that she knew attempting to invoke her second sight would be stupid, so she spoke to an invisible audience. “Emma? I went to the mill. Frank died in it. But he’s no longer there. He moved on.”
The graveyard was still. Keira waited, watching the mist, and finally shrugged. “I guess you already knew that. I’m sorry, Emma.”
Inside, the cottage was blissfully warm, and Keira shed her extra clothing. The bed was tempting, but a layer of dried sweat forced her into the shower. Even though she washed quickly, by the time she’d braided her wet hair, it was nearly two in the morning.
She belly flopped into the bed and groaned happily at how soft it felt. A small, warm shape jumped up beside her and began kneading at her back. “G’night, Daisy,” Keira mumbled, and she was asleep even before the cat had finished licking her face.
Chapter Twenty
Spears of light cut across Keira’s face. She squinted and rolled onto her other side, dislodging the warm cat from her shoulder. Daisy stretched, yawned, and flopped onto her other side.