The Awakening

by Amanda Stevens

  “No, we are not,” I agreed. “You still haven’t told me why you came back to the cemetery.”

  His gaze strayed to the house. “Let’s get back to the cars. We’ll have a better sight line on the main road.”

  A better sight line? Who or what had him so worried?

  Obviously he wasn’t telling me everything, but then, I hadn’t come clean with him, either. Communication had never been our strength as a couple.

  Nevertheless, I fell into step beside him as we headed down the road, but I maintained a safe distance between us. I didn’t want to take a chance that our shoulders might accidentally brush or our hands connect.

  The moon was so bright I didn’t bother with my flashlight. No use taking a chance on drawing attention. But the ruts in the gravel road were challenging and I had to concentrate on my step. Even so, I found myself glancing over at Devlin, surreptitiously studying his profile as we hurried along. How strange it was to be alone with him after all this time. I felt uneasy and off-kilter and I couldn’t seem to quiet my heart.

  We came to the end of the gravel road and turned left onto the paved street that ran in front of the cemetery. I could hear traffic on Morrison Drive now and it made me feel closer to civilization and a little less vulnerable.

  “I’m parked just ahead,” I told Devlin. “On the left side of the entrance.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m parked beside you.”

  That surprised me. The way he was acting, I half expected that he had hidden his car in the bushes somewhere. “Do you think it’s a good idea for us to be seen together? You aren’t worried that someone else could come back to the cemetery?”

  “I’m more worried about you being out here alone after dark,” he said.

  “Because the area isn’t safe?”

  A slight hesitation. “Yes. Because the area isn’t safe.”

  He didn’t fool me. His precautions had nothing to do with the neighborhood and the miscreants that inhabited vacant houses. I suspected the threat was personal and far deadlier.

  As soon as we cleared the cedar trees, I saw his car—sleek, black and gleaming in the moonlight. He took out his remote and the lights flashed as the doors unlocked. “Get in.”

  I turned in surprise. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

  “Nothing about this night is a good idea,” he said. “Just get in.”

  Eighteen

  To my credit, I balked. My defenses held. I told myself to get in my own vehicle and drive away. Just go and don’t look back. More than ever, I needed to be home safe and sound in my sanctuary, protected from ghosts and evil and the man who stood staring down at me in the moonlight.

  I got in.

  The interior of Devlin’s car was just as I remembered, close and luxurious with lots of supple leather, chrome and sleek mahogany. I sat with my legs dangling from the open door so that I could kick off my work boots.

  “Don’t bother. I’ll have someone clean it tomorrow. Get in and close the door.”

  Yes, of course, there would be someone to clean his car. Now that he had reclaimed his place as the Devlin heir, he undoubtedly had people to cater to his every whim. The juxtaposition of the Devlin I had known then and the man I saw before me now was jarring. The deeper he sank into the lap of luxury, the rougher his outward appearance. I wondered if his perpetual five-o’clock shadow was his unconscious way of rebelling against all those heavy expectations.

  I leaned back against the seat. With the door closed, the overhead light faded and the interior became an opulent cocoon, one that I in no way found protective. Particularly with Devlin so near, so shadowy and watchful.

  With those dark eyes upon me, the strangeness of our situation hit me anew. I must have imagined a similar scenario a dozen times over during our estrangement, wondering how I would react to him, what I would say to him. How I would feel in his presence. Our parting conversation had become almost epic to me, one that I had used to convince myself of his noble intentions. He’d left to protect me, and even after our breakup, he’d found an extraordinary way to warn me of the treachery I’d faced at Seven Gates Cemetery.

  If I truly believed in Devlin’s virtue, then the flush of anger I felt now was petty and unjustified. But there it was. Anger at how easily he’d walked away, resentment for all those sleepless nights and more than a trace of bitterness at how quickly he’d found someone else.

  Beyond those emotions, something more perilous lurked. Smoldering passion ready to flare up at the most inopportune time.

  He draped an arm over the steering wheel as he turned to me. I wondered if he could hear the pounding of my heart. Did he have any idea of the tempest raging inside me? Did he even care what his nearness did to me?

  Despite my anger, I wanted to touch him, needed to touch him, and so I curled my hands into fists at my sides and dug my nails into my flesh.

  “You have questions,” he said in that low drawl.

  I closed my eyes briefly. “I watched you leave the cemetery earlier. I heard your car drive off. And yet here you are.” The nails dug deeper into my palms. “Why did you come back?”

  “I wanted to make sure you were all right. We kept you out here talking until almost dark and I knew you wouldn’t leave until you’d finished whatever task we interrupted.”

  “You think you still know me that well?”

  “Some things don’t change.”

  “True enough. But you could have just called.”

  “You turn off your phone when you’re in a cemetery. That hasn’t changed, either, I’m assuming.”

  “No.” Evidently, he did still know me that well.

  “I circled back and saw that your car was still parked in the same location, so I knew you were around,” he said. “When I couldn’t find you in the cemetery, I went looking for you. I spotted you out on the road in front of that house. You kept glancing over your shoulder as if you thought you were being followed.”

  I gave him a look. “Turns out, I was.”

  “That’s why I didn’t call out to you. I didn’t know who else might be around. I kept my distance and followed you because you were acting strangely and I didn’t know what you might be walking into. I’m still wondering.”

  “I already told you. I went looking for the caretaker.”

  He leaned in, peering at me so intently I couldn’t hold his gaze. “Why don’t I think that’s the whole story? What aren’t you telling me? What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

  It was the “this time” that tweaked my anger, and I pulled myself up by the bootstraps of my hardened resolve. “Maybe you should ask your fiancée. But perhaps the better question is—what has she dragged me into?”

  He went very still as his cold, hard gaze searched my face. “What does she have to do with your being at that house?”

  “She didn’t tell you about the anonymous donor? Wait. I don’t like to be presumptuous. Before we go any further, we should probably clear something up first. You are still engaged, aren’t you?” I couldn’t help taking a perverse pleasure in calling him out on what I’d witnessed in the cemetery. “You’ll forgive the question, but earlier when we were all together, I could have sworn the two of you detested one another.”

  There was a painfully long pause. “I wouldn’t read too much into that. Things aren’t always what they seem.”

  How well I knew.

  “Tell me about this anonymous donor,” he pressed.

  “I just found out about it today. I’m surprised your... Claire didn’t tell you herself. She’s more familiar with the details than I am, but apparently, the donation for the restoration was made anonymously to the Woodbine Cemetery Trust with two stipulations. The work had to be done in a certain time frame and only I was to be awarded the contract. She seemed to think
the conditions eccentric but inconsequential. Although she did make a point of telling me about them.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I’m troubled,” I admitted. “I was led to believe others were vying for the project, but I’m the only one who received an invitation to bid. I had another project that was scheduled to begin within a week and then all of a sudden, that job got postponed. Maybe the delay was legitimate. It happens. Maybe this whole thing is just one big coincidence, but it has the feel of a setup to me. Someone is pulling strings and I don’t like it.”

  “Then walk away.”

  I stared at him in surprise. “What?”

  “Break the contract and walk. If there are any legal complications, they can be handled.”

  “Handled how—never mind. I’m not breaking the contract. It’s unprofessional and could ruin my reputation. And anyway, I like to finish what I start.”

  His voice grew terse. “Even if it means putting yourself at risk?”

  “Yes, even then.” I studied him through narrowed eyes. “You keep talking about danger, but you’ve yet to identify a specific threat. All you’ve really succeeded in doing is making me uneasy. I’ve worked in far more questionable areas than this. You know that. Almost every graveyard I restore is isolated, and I always take precautions. You know that, too. So why don’t you tell me what you’re really worried about?”

  He didn’t answer, just sat staring through the windshield, scouring shadows and bushes and all those dark corners. When he finally turned back to me, his expression was inscrutable, but I caught a glimpse of something in his eyes that left me chilled. “You need to stay away from Claire and her stepbrother.”

  “Why?” I said on a breath.

  “If they come back to the cemetery, avoid them or leave,” Devlin said. “Don’t take meetings, don’t give tours and whatever you do, don’t go out to Duvall Island even if Temple invites you to the site herself.”

  My heart thudded and I felt a terrible foreboding closing in on me. My gaze darted to the cemetery. I didn’t know what I expected to find lurking inside the arched entrance. The ghost child? An evil presence? Claire Bellefontaine? I wasn’t certain which threat I dreaded the most.

  I almost clutched Devlin’s arm until I thought better of it. “Tell me why.”

  “They’re not good people. Is that specific enough for you?”

  “I need to know why. If they’re not good people, why were you with them earlier? Why are you with her?”

  “I told you, things aren’t always what they seem.”

  His wording was the same as before, but now he seemed to contradict his previous insinuation about his relationship with Claire Bellefontaine.

  “Is your engagement real?” I asked bluntly.

  “Yes.”

  “You really mean to marry that woman?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then things are exactly as they seem.”

  The confines of the car were overpowering at that moment, the intimacy of our conversation almost more than I could bear. Images bombarded me as my memories betrayed me and I found myself wincing as my nails pressed into my palms.

  “Don’t,” he said harshly.

  “Don’t what?”

  “You need to stop looking at me as if you’re torn between kissing me and killing me.”

  I felt as though the wind had been knocked out of me. He had summoned up my contradictory emotions perfectly.

  “Maybe I don’t feel either of those things,” I said. “Maybe I’m having trouble figuring out why you still feel the need to protect me. Why you would go to the trouble of coming all the way back out here just to check up on me. Why do you even care?”

  He said impatiently and without finesse, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  I tried not to read beyond the surface of that comment, but I wanted to believe I could detect a hint of tenderness around the edges. “Does she know you’re here?”

  “Not unless she had me followed.”

  “Is that a possibility?”

  “Anything is possible with that pair. But I know what I’m doing. I may not be a cop anymore, but I’m still capable of spotting a tail.”

  “What if she doubled back first? Isn’t that really what you’re worried about?”

  “I’m worried about a lot of things,” he said. “Stay away from Claire and her stepbrother so I don’t have to worry about you.”

  “I need some air,” I muttered and before he could stop me, I opened the door and climbed out.

  He didn’t immediately follow. Maybe he sensed I needed time to collect my composure. Maybe he did, too.

  * * *

  Seconds and then minutes ticked by. I began to think that Devlin might just up and drive away without another word, and maybe that would have been for the best. I wasn’t safe out here alone with him. He wasn’t safe with me. My thoughts had taken a risky turn. Despite his insistence to the contrary, I didn’t believe in the legitimacy of his engagement to Claire Bellefontaine, which in turn made me wonder about his true feelings for me.

  Don’t be ridiculous, I berated myself in Devlin’s drawl.

  I’d gone around to lean against the front of my vehicle, but I could sense him back there in his car, dark and brooding, perhaps even fuming that I refused to accept his warning without question.

  I was stunned he’d said as much as he had, actually cautioned me away from Claire and her stepbrother. It made me wonder what bad things he knew about them and why he continued this dangerous charade of an engagement. It made me more certain than ever that they were all members of the Congé.

  What a strange night this had turned out to be.

  Through the cemetery gates, I traced the silhouette of angel wings and the outline of live oaks with their eerie outstretched arms. The landscape looked even more ominous now that darkness had fallen and the ghosts were fully manifested. There were a lot of them tonight and I was glad that I had Rose’s key to keep them at bay. I could see the shimmer of their auras as they glided over graves and through the trees, forever restless and ravenous and searching. Was the ghost child out there with them? I wondered. Or was she even closer, hiding in the shadows as she plotted her revenge?

  The ghosts—even the spirit of a murdered child—were the least of my worries tonight.

  Finally, I heard the car door open but I still didn’t turn. Even when Devlin came over to join me, I kept my gaze trained on the cemetery. He didn’t touch me, but I could feel him there beside me. It was like in the old days when I’d had a sixth sense about his presence. There had been times when he’d seemed so much a part of me that I knew if I closed my eyes and concentrated hard enough, my heightened senses could pick up the beat of his heart and synchronize it with my own.

  Those days were gone, but all of a sudden my memories had taken on a new life. I cast him a sidelong glance as an image unfurled in my head and I drifted back to a rainy Saturday afternoon. We were lying in my bed, front to back, his hand on my breast, my head against his shoulder as we basked in the afterglow.

  “Do you ever think about the first time we met?” I murmured. “Where each of us would be right now, at this very moment, if you hadn’t found me walking on the Battery that night?”

  “I would have found you regardless,” he said in that tantalizing drawl.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because some things are meant to be.”

  I shivered and pulled myself back from the brink. Neither of us said anything for a very long time, but I sensed that our moods had shifted. Maybe it was just mine. Devlin had taken a big chance on warning me about his fiancée and her stepbrother and now I felt it was time for me to lay my cards on the table.

  “I know who they really are,” I said, my focus still on the cemetery. “Claire Bellefo
ntaine and Rance Duvall. I know what they are and why you’ve warned me to stay away from them.”

  He said very quietly, “What is it you think you know?”

  “They’re members of an old and deadly faction known as the Congé. Their mission, perhaps even their raison d’être, is to eliminate those they deem a threat to the living world. People with unnatural abilities. People...like me.” I heard the sharp intake of his breath, but I turned to him before he could respond. I even laid my hand briefly on his sleeve. “We don’t need to pretend. Not after Kroll Cemetery. So let’s skip the parts where you claim you don’t know what I’m talking about or you gently call into question my sanity.”

  “You’re not crazy,” he finally said. “I’ve never thought that even for a second. And, yes, I know of the Congé, but it’s nothing more than a legend. The kind of grim folklore we Southerners thrive on because it feeds our fascination for the macabre.”

  I sighed. “Are we really going to do this? Then let me remind you that I was once told the same thing about the Order of the Coffin and the Claw. That secret society was nothing more than a legend, people said. If it had ever existed, it had long since fallen from favor. Yet you continue to wear that symbol around your neck. I’ve never once seen you remove it.”

  He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he leaned against the car. He didn’t seem particularly defensive, but I definitely sensed wariness. “You seem convinced you’re on to something so I’ll play along. What makes you think the Congé are real? What do you know that I don’t?”

  “I know that they can be traced back to the early days of Charleston, when some of the city’s most prominent citizens formed an alliance to do battle against the influences of a powerful witch doctor.”

  He said nothing.

  “I know they were considered guardians against the dark forces of black magic and witchcraft, but over time, they became fanatical in their pursuits. Not unlike the puritanical zealots that participated in the Salem witch hunts, I might add.

  “I know that as recently as twenty years ago, the Congé murdered at least twelve men and buried their bodies in a circle of caged graves in Beaufort County. I found those graves during the restoration of Seven Gates Cemetery.”