“That’ll be 12:05 pm,” he says, giving his glasses a nudge. “Did she say anything else?”
I glance sideways at Jude, who’s as quiet as Naomi.
Yes, in fact. She absolutely did say something else. But I can’t bring myself to repeat the words. “She was sprinkling a ring of salt and ash around the mausoleum.”
Twig’s eyes go wide.
Salt is a popular substance in the world of ghost hunting, often used to create protective barriers against evil spirits and negative energy. Salt and ash together are very unique to the Hollow Walker. So why was she sprinkling it around Dante’s tomb? What does she know, and why does Saturday feel like a lifetime away?
The front door opens, inviting in the chilly air.
Caleb Briggs and Brady Keller step inside. They join Harrison, Brynn, Kate, and Lainey across the room.
Twig shakes his head. “This is DEFCON five,” he says, eying his sister. “Chances are high Griffin is dead. And Kate doesn’t believe us.”
Naomi wrings her hands. “Neither does Harper.”
She stands next to a china cabinet filled with teacups and plates, talking with a group of theater students. Every now and then, she glaces in our direction with a look of hurt and uncertainty on her face.
“Do you think we should try warning them again?” Naomi asks.
“Maybe Harper,” Twig replies. “I’m not sure about my sister. If we don’t tread carefully, she’ll tell my parents, and that wouldnotbe good.”
No, it wouldn’t.
Because Mrs. Calloway would tell my dad and I can’t handle his worry on top of everything else.
What we need is proof.
Hardcore, irrefutable proof.
Which is right there, in the crypt.
My mind circles the well.
How hard would it be to get that key?
20
FAILED DESCENT
My flashlight bobs through the fog. A crow caws overhead. I point the beam of light at it, up into a canopy of gnarled branches and sparse leaves. Through it, the night sky is murky, but the rain has stopped. Soggy detritus squelches underfoot as a I creep along the path, a length of rope over my shoulder, a utility belt around my waist, and this high-powered flashlight in hand. I borrowed all three from the shed behind our carriage house.
Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howls.
Goosebumps tiptoe across my skin and for a moment, my thoughts run wild with the Hollow Walker and his hounds, hunting for souls. Mymother, sprinting through the trees, branches clawing at her face.
A twig snaps behind me.
I spin around, shining light into the overgrowth.
A raccoon’s beady eyes glint in the dark.
Closing my own, I tell myself to settle down.
Getting to the well is the easy part.
Climbing into it will require a bit more bravery.
