The Whispering Dead (Gravekeeper #1) - Darcy Coates Page 0,69

reached toward the tree.

“Keira?” Mason’s whisper was sharp as it cut through the cold air. “I think I saw something.”

No, not yet. Not when I’m so close—

Her fingertips touched the bark. Something subtle hummed through the tree, like faint static, and prickled her skin. Show me. She closed her eyes and inhaled. I want to see.

When she opened her eyes, she was no longer surrounded by black shadows and a shaking flashlight beam. Instead, the day was overcast and crisp. Something yellow shifted behind Keira, and she turned to see a woman poised just a couple of paces away.

Emma looked cold in her sundress. Color filled her cheeks as she yelled. Standing opposite was a balding, heavyset man in an expensive but old-fashioned suit. George. His hands were stretched wide as he bellowed at her. The argument was vicious, but neither voice was audible to Keira.

She blinked. Emma slapped George. The older man stumbled backward, hit the ground hard, and grimaced. The pained squint morphed into fury as he extended his hand, and the ring-wrapped fingers fastened over one of the stones bordering the garden.

Another blink, and Emma was fighting desperately, mouth open in a scream, as the stone was brought down over her temple. She crumpled to the ground and raised a hand to the blood dripping through her flaxen hair. Her eyes widened as George threw himself toward her.

Keira didn’t want to see any more. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to block out the sights, but they flashed across the backs of her eyelids. The stone came down again and again and again, crushing the skull, sending bone fragments flying. Emma’s struggles failed after the third blow, but George didn’t stop. He kept beating until her head was pulp.

When George pulled back, sucking in ragged gasps, his face was wet with blood and sweat, and clumps of hair clung to the stone in his hand. He stared at it, appearing stunned at the sight, and dropped it to the ground. He turned his gaze to the body at his feet. Then, very slowly, he rotated to look at the garden. The ground had been recently turned; a shovel still protruded from the dark earth.

Keira inhaled sharply as the vision faded. She stumbled backward, and warm arms enveloped her.

“Deep breaths,” Mason urged. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Just…just surprised,” she managed.

“We need to leave. Quickly. Can you walk?”

Not trusting her voice, she nodded emphatically. Her legs felt like they were made of paper, but she knew their muscles would carry her.

Mason kept his arm around her as he drew her down the path leading toward the woods. “Zoe,” he hissed. “Turn the flashlight off.”

“I can’t see without it!” she whispered back.

Something cold was running down Keira’s face. Blood, her mind, still full of the images of Emma’s death, suggested. She touched a finger to the substance and realized the clouds had begun to release their burden in earnest.

“Turn it off.” Mason’s voice was tight and urgent. “We’re not alone.”

With a click, the light disappeared. Being blind in the overgrown garden made her sick with fear, and Keira reached for her other senses. Mason’s arm across her shoulders felt firm, warm, and good. She reached up to hold his hand, and he tightened his fingers around hers. It was enough to quiet some of the panic dancing through her mind, and she tried to feel out their surroundings by sound and touch alone.

The most persistent noise was the low, droning drum of rain hitting the ground, the plants, and the house. Interspersed through it was her companions’ breathing. Mason’s was deep but quick; Zoe gasped in short, ragged breaths. And then Keira could sense the texture beneath her feet. She could feel the ground turning from compacted dirt to spongy grass and weeds. She snagged Zoe’s sleeve with her spare hand and redirected both of her friends back to the path.

The audio was her best clue, so she focused on the different cadences of the falling rain. It was harder behind them, where it pinged off the slate roof. Ahead was softer, where it hit and ran through a forest of trees.

We’re not far from the woods.

Then there was another sound. It was so faint that Keira almost didn’t pick it out from among the rainfall, but it was unmistakable: crunching gravel just ahead.

She pulled her companions to a halt, released her hold on Zoe, and reached into her back pocket. Mason’s fingers tightened over hers in a silent question. She