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“I don’t need your help,” I snarl.
I hold onto the bricks with my hands, spin around, dangle to reduce the distance, and then drop. I almost lose my balance, but a clumsy landing is better than letting Callen catch me. Freddie follows close behind. He moves stealthily enough that I hardly notice the figure in black landing at my side.
I dust myself off. “Where’s the crypt?”
The graveyard is vast, and rows of crumbling ancient stones stretch out before us. The area needs serious upkeep. Wild trees and overgrown grass have taken over, and the frozen eyes of aging angel statues hiding behind branches trace our every move.
“Over here,” Freddie says, making his way through the undergrowth.
It’s a clear night, and even though we’re on the outer edge of the city, there’s too much pollution to see any stars. Bushes rustle as we walk, as if spirits are whispering to each other, knowing we’re planning to bring another soul to join them soon. Whoever is listening, I hope they’re ready to drag Trout down to hell, where he belongs.
Twigs crack under our feet. Callen and Freddie’s phones illuminate our path ahead. Eventually, we arrive at a grey brick building with a domed roof. It’s smaller than I expected, with just enough room for the three of us to fit inside. A rusty chain and lock keep the entrance sealed, but Callen manages to pick it in seconds.
“Are you sure this is the place?” I ask skeptically.
“Trust me,” Callen says. I answer, ‘never’ in my mind. “This is the place.”
The door creaks when he pushes it open and steps inside, shining his phone torch around the bleak, grey stone structure.I wait at the entrance, watching as he and Freddie move into its centre, standing shoulder to shoulder where the ceiling is highest, before following them.
The light illuminates decades’ worth of cobwebs and bronze plaques on the walls that display names and dates. The crypt must belong to an old family whose gene pool died out long ago.
While I look around, fingers pinch my hip playfully, making me jump out of my skin.
“Shit,” I squeal, staggering back.
“Gotcha!” Callen says triumphantly.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, trying to steady my breathing. “How are we going to kill Trout in here? There’s no space!”
Freddie kneels to inspect the floor. He brushes dirt away to reveal an indent in a stone.
“This is it,” he says, gesturing for us to step out of the way.
We move while Freddie heaves, gripping the groove in the slab and pulling with a grunt. Despite my lack of faith that it’d do anything, he drags the slab away to reveal a hidden entrance.
“You can hold my hand if you get scared,” Callen jokes, peering into the open hole in the floor. Where the dust has cleared, steep stone steps lead into the unknown. “Ladies first.”
I take a step, determined to prove I’m not scared after Callen’s prank, but Freddie puts his arm out to stop me.
“No,” he says. “I’ll go first. We don’t know if the stairs will collapse.”
I roll my eyes sarcastically. “So now you want to be a gentleman…”
CHAPTER 37
BRAM
“They made it to the crypt,” Seb declares after receiving Freddie’s most recent update.
I shuffle in my seat, wishing I was with them. Although I trust they’ll get the job done, knowing that Ivy is alone with Freddie and Callen is unsettling. Everyone knows a cemetery is one of the best places to hide a dead body. Ivy pushed Freddie into losing control earlier—what if things went wrong again, and no one was around to stop him from taking it too far?
I turn on the television to distract myself. I flick through the channels, unable to find anything worth watching, then throw the bulky remote at Seb, who continues until he settles on an old comedy show. It’s something we’d usually enjoy, but I’m not up for hearing jokes tonight. He doesn’t react to any of the comedian’s gags, either.
A weird atmosphere lingers between us. Seb and I have always been close. He’s the brother I never had, and it’s easy to tell when something is bothering him. After seeing his face when Ivy kissed me, I think I understand why.
He disappears into the kitchen and returns with a can of beer and a Coke for me. I listen to the fizz as his can opens. AlthoughI can be around alcohol, it doesn’t mean I don’t miss it. The satisfying bubbles… the foam on top of the beer glass… the fuzzy feeling it gives you…
I watch Seb glug it down. He drains it in one, exhales deeply, and crushes the can in his hands.
