Page 31 of Grave Expectations

It was just as Roz remembered it. Worn tea towels hung from a stainless steel sink. The old cabinets were discolored from multiple attempts at filling in their cracks and nicks with spackle. The living room had several bookshelves, all overflowing with romance novels.

Alaric raised an eyebrow as he examined her bookshelf. “She didn’t keep many magical books, did she?”

“I told you, our family is the book,” Roz reminded him. “Did you know my ancestors?”

“In a way. They kept to themselves, very mysterious,” Alaric said.

“How did the line continue if they were so mysterious?”

“I imagine they’d just grab a man and drag him to a handfasting if they found him suitable,” Alaric said with a shrug. “It wasn’t I do, it was you’ll do.”

“Stop!” Roz laughed, swatting playfully at him.

“I’m allowed to speak ill of the dead,” Alaric said.

“Right,” Roz said.

Alaric peered at the old family tree hanging on the wall. “Ah, yes—Chasity Graves,” Alaric said, pointing to a name. “She reanimated a woman from town to point to her murderer. It was the start of the downfall.”

“The downfall?”

“Where the idea of witches started. The woman was murdered and there was no justice. Chasity couldn’t abide by it. I think they were secret lovers. She reanimated her, and she pointed out her murderer. Then she disappeared and tried to return to her town to see her family. That caused quite a scene in town, and then the rumors started of devilry…” Alaric trailed off.

“My family is responsible for the witch trials?” Roz asked.

“I think it was the fodder the local clergy needed. They were having trouble keeping order. There was a lot of land, a lot of space, a lot of reasons not to go to church on the holy day. Women were trying to gain independence, since they couldn’t just go back to England to live with their families if their husband died. Witches were an excuse, and it would have boiled over without the reanimation.”

“Wow,” Roz said. “They don’t teach that in school.”

“Unsurprising, given that they tried to hide the skill of reanimation. Don’t be so hard on your ancestor, she did it out of love.”

“I bet she felt awful,” Roz said quietly, tracing her finger over Chasity’s name. The sentence under her name was blacked out, the paper burned in the spot to prevent anyone from reading her accomplishments.

“She did,” Alaric agreed. “Now, where would your aunt hide a book she didn’t want anyone to find?”

“I wish I knew,” Roz admitted. They continued through the rooms, opening cabinets and turning things over to look for any evidence of a hidden book.

Roz paused before the last room—Franny’s bedroom. She’d never been inside it, never been permitted. The door was always closed tight.

“Last room,” Alaric said. Roz nodded and pushed the door open.

A small bed sat just below the windowsill, overlooking the garden beside the house. A simple desk was pushed against a wall, with a notepad and a set of pens atop it. There was an ancient, large armoire that towered in the corner, filled with Franny’s clothes.

“This place is untouched,” Alaric remarked.

“I don’t think anyone has the heart to remove anything,” Roz admitted. “Franny was a bit of a matriarch, I think they’re all worried she’ll come back and haunt them if they move her things.”

“So they just keep it clean,” Alaric said. “Fascinating. Even in death, your aunt is a commanding woman.”

“Especially in death, because no one can escape her,” Roz said.

They searched through the room to no avail. Roz sighed and sat on the floor before the bed. When she landed, the floor made a strange noise—a hollow sound. Alaric heard it too, his head snapping to the sound.

“Did you hear that?” he asked.

“If she kept it hidden under the floorboards…” Roz grumbled, turning over to examine the floor. Her fingers dug along the edges of the planks until it slipped into an empty space. She pulled back, the floor easily coming up with her.

There, under the floorboards, was a book.