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I hate this.
Why couldn’t anything ever be simple?
* * *
It wasaround the bend of one particularly sharp path that Maggie’s steps froze. Wide-eyed, she gazed at what was in front of her. Suddenly, she felt dizzy.
“Marguerite?” Gideon placed his hand against her back.
Her long, black dress whispered against the grass and dirt as she walked through the rows of stones. Sun filtered through the trees, casting gently moving patterns of shadows on the path in the summer morning. It was a beautiful day. Warm, but not oppressive. The birds were chirping merrily in the branches, hunting worms and grubs in the grass.
It made her smile, even amid the isolation she felt. The dead here might have been forgotten by their families, or had no families to remember them, but the cycle of life continued. The dead became food for life. The worms eaten by the birds had fed upon the wood and the flesh beneath.
At least she’d be that much. Even if her soul would become nothing, her body would serve a purpose.
She wavered and nearly collapsed.Her waking world and her memories clashed violently. “Wh—” She finally lost her fight with gravity.
“It’s all right. I have you.” Gideon caught her and, lifting her in his arms, easily carried her to a nearby bench. He placed her down and knelt at her feet. “Let it happen. Don’t fight it. Let it pass through you. Slamming the door shut only builds the pressure until you can’t control it.”
Taking in a wavering breath, she tried to do exactly what he said. With a weak nod, she let out the breath in a long woosh. She tried to visualize a stream. That she was a rock, and the memory was water flowing around her.
It was deep inside the cemetery that she finally reached her destination. It was a mausoleum. An old, decrepit thing. The gate was chained shut, the metal and the lock securing it far newer than the rest of the stone structure.
Pulling out the key from her bag, she undid the lock and set the chain aside. The groundskeeper had fussed at her request, but like everything in the world, money solved the problem quick enough.
The family name etched into the facia of the tomb had long since worn away. It didn’t belong to her. It honestly didn’t matter. Because one of the graves inside did belong to her. She’d never find rest within the wood coffin that lined the stone shelves along the walls, but it was as close as she figured she would ever get.
The memory snapped into place.She had dreamt it once before, but now…it made so much more sense. She opened her eyes slowly and met Gideon’s concerned silver gaze. “I’ve been here before.”
“Yes, we used to come here from time to time, when—”
“No. That’s not what I mean.” She turned her attention to the ancient stone archway, made to resemble Ancient Egyptian architecture. It was so out of place and seemed to make no sense until one remembered how obsessed the early Victorians were with the long-dead culture and their marvels. “There’s a piece here.”
“Are you certain?”
Numbly, she nodded and carefully got back up to her feet. She felt much steadier than she had before. It didn’t stop Gideon from hovering close as he stood beside her, a hand still resting on his back.
She didn’t look at him when she spoke. “Would you happen to have bolt cutters on you?”
And there came the darkness again, suddenly and without warning. “I have my methods. Perhaps you’ll get to see some necromancy tonight after all.”
