Grave Memory: An Alex Craft Novel

by Kalayna Price

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the hospital?” the intern asked as I walked through the door.

  Tamara shook her head. “You’re doing fine and you’re half done.”

  “But the hospital would have local anesthetics for the—”

  “You’re the one cringing, not me,” Tamara said, her voice sharp, which made the other woman flinch worse. It was true, the woman acted like she was the one being sewn up without painkillers, instead of the reverse. Tamara noticed me in the doorway and nodded in greeting.

  “Guess I won’t be buying a short-sleeved wedding dress, huh?” The words came out tense despite her attempt at humor, and her brown eyes had the glassy shimmer of shock.

  “Best charm witch I know not able to cover a couple of scrapes? As if,” I said in reply, forcing a smile, but my stomach was in my throat, or at least the taste of bile and the fact I couldn’t swallow or breathe suggested it had lodged there.

  My gaze stuck to the four jagged claw marks. Ghoul claw marks. I didn’t hear what the intern said because inside my head, I was screaming. Which is probably why I didn’t hear Briar behind me. Or maybe she really was that quiet.

  “Craft, I told you not to run off.”

  I whirled around. I almost corrected her and told her she’d actually said she wasn’t my free pass onto the crime scene. But I remembered what she’d told me two days ago, that killing a ghoul victim was more humane than letting them turn into monsters. I couldn’t let her know Tamara was hurt.

  Unfortunately, someone had already told her. “The dead are the body mover and one OMIH official. The other official survived and was rushed to the hospital. I’m told the ME was injured as well. Is that her?”

  Crap.

  She shoved past me, not waiting for an answer. She walked over to Tamara and examined the half-stitched wounds. The intern’s hands shook under the scrutiny and Tamara finally winced.

  Without a word, Briar turned on her heel and walked back out of the room. I followed her.

  “Is she going to be okay?”

  “She a friend of yours?”

  I nodded.

  “Then you might want to clear any bad air and say all the things you’ve always wanted to say. One scratch is enough to infect. If I don’t find this ghoul, she’s got forty-eight hours, maybe seventy-two since it’s such a small wound.”

  My throat closed.

  Two days.

  If the ghoul wasn’t destroyed in two, maybe three, days, Tamara would die and turn ghoul. Or Briar would terminate her first.

  Chapter 32

  “Let me help you hunt the ghoul,” I said after Briar finished telling the officer in charge that Reggie and the OMIH official’s bodies should be cremated in the next twenty-four hours to prevent any chance of them rising. I still needed to find out what had happened to the rider after Larid’s body had died. Had the OMIH contained it or had it jumped hosts? But right now I couldn’t worry about the possibility a stranger was being ridden—all my thoughts were on Tamara and preventing her from changing.

  Briar gave me a skeptical look as she headed toward her SUV. “You want to hunt the ghoul that hurt your friend? What do you know about hunting ghouls?”

  Not a whole hell of a lot. Most of what I’d learned in academy were warnings, not practical information on how to destroy a ghoul if a grave witch did screw up and end up with a nest of corpse-eating creatures. I’d actually learned more in my short conversations—or should I say, interrogations—with Briar than I ever had in school. But I had one hell of a motivation to find and destroy that ghoul. One of my best friends was infected. And her baby. Yeah, motivation wasn’t an issue.

  That must have been obvious in my face because Briar’s dark eyes turned sympathetic. “I know you want to help your friend, but you’d just be in the way.”

  “Ghouls are dead. I can sense the dead.” I could also accelerate the decay of a dead body and I’d ripped souls out of the dead before, though I didn’t have a clue if I could rip a ghoul out of a body. I couldn’t touch the rider, but he inhabited live bodies. The dead were a different story.

  “A human divining rod for ghouls, huh?” She crossed her arms over her chest. The movement made the vials in her bandolier rattle. “Normally I have to wait until night when the ghouls are active, but if you can find them…” She opened the hatchback of the SUV and grabbed a map. Then she unfolded it on top of a crate. “Ghouls don’t like the sun. It doesn’t hurt them or anything, so don’t think they’re easier to kill in the light. They just avoid it. As the police haven’t received any reports about people being mauled on the street, the ghoul must have found a sheltered place to spend the rest of the day, or it found the sewer system. Either way, it will be drawn to the nearest graveyard.” She scoured the map. “Damn. Rosemount Cemetery and Oak View are nearly equal distances from here.”

  “You’re sure it will head to a cemetery? If the goal is dead bodies, why not stick around the morgue?”

  Briar considered this. “It’s possible, but ghouls are hive minded. If even one other ghoul dwells in one of these cemeteries, the new ghoul will be drawn to it. Besides, ghouls don’t eat the freshly dead.”

  But we couldn’t be sure Larid wouldn’t stick around. I glanced back down the hill where the crowd of cops had begun dispersing. The bodies had been moved into the morgue and half the force had volunteered to start a grid search of the area, looking for the ghoul.

  Briar shook her head. “We’ll have more bodies on our hands if one of those cops finds it first.”

  “Bullets won’t work?”

  “They work if your goal is to piss it off. The only way to stop a ghoul is to destroy the body.”

  Which explains the incendiary rounds. It also might explain why the rider killed the victims in such extreme fashions—he wanted to make sure they didn’t get back up.

  Briar looked from her map to the sky and then back. It was slightly past noon and a good six hours until dark. “You’re sure you’ll be able to sense ghouls?”

  “I’ve never tried before but I’d say it’s likely.”

  “Then we’ll start with Rosemount—it’s the older of the two. If we don’t find anything we’ll head to Oak View.” She folded her map. Then she opened the huge crate and pulled out a vial of something that my senses told me was particularly nasty. And flammable. “If we find anything, I want you to get the hell out of the cemetery, I don’t have time to babysit. You run into trouble reaching the gate, toss that at a ghoul and it will be too busy burning to follow you.”

  “Right,” I said, holding the vial carefully, I didn’t need to break the thing and end up like Kirkwood.

  The drive to Rosemount was agonizing. I all but stumbled out of the SUV when it stopped. Briar gave me a strange look but didn’t comment. I hoped she assumed I got carsick easily.

  “So?” she asked within two seconds of stepping through the cemetery gates.

  I frowned at her and without answering, reached out with my senses. Grave essence battered at my mental shields. It’s hard to open yourself and barricade your mind at the same time, but I didn’t dare let the grave essence in—I needed my eyes.

  I let my mind skim over bodies as I walked a spiral pattern through the graves. Briar stalked in my wake at first, but as I worked my way inward, her impatience got the better of her. She sat down on a bench and pulled out her crossbow. The way she handled it was almost loving, as if it were her closest friend—which would be very sad indeed. I assumed she was cleaning or adjusting it, I didn’t pay much attention.

  By the time my spiral led me to the center of the graveyard, I had a pounding headache, but I was confident I’d checked every grave or area a ghoul could hide. My search had turned up half a dozen haunts and one grave with two bodies, but nothing else of note.

  “Well, that took long enough,” Briar said, tucking a knife into her sleeve.

  “I wanted to be thorough.”

  She made a noise that was either a choked la
ugh or a snort—I was leaning toward the latter. Then we headed for Oak View Cemetery.

  As soon as I stepped through the gate, I realized I hadn’t needed to be quite so diligent at Rosemount. I hadn’t even opened my senses yet and I could feel the hungry darkness lurking in the shadows.

  “We have ghouls.”

  “Where?”

  “I haven’t gotten that far yet.” Though it wasn’t hard to feel where we should start looking. The closer I got to the ghouls, the more every instinct in my body told me to run away. The ghouls didn’t feel evil the way the rider did, they just felt…primal. Their drives were simple—feed and replicate.

  “Here,” I said, stopping. They were directly in front of me, in a small crypt. I could feel them sensing me back and I shivered. “There are six, maybe seven. How the hell did there get to be so many?”

  “They see anything living as a threat. Enter their territory at night or on a cloudy day and they’ll attack to kill. A couple of days later you have a new ghoul.”

  I thought about all the missing person reports I’d sifted through and wondered how many were desiccated corpses inhabited by creatures from the land of the dead.

  “Seven, huh? Damn. I don’t like those odds.” Briar circled the crypt. When she reached where I was standing again she looked me over and cocked a dark eyebrow. “You ever shot a crossbow before?”

  I shook my head and she cursed.

  “Remember when I told you to get the hell out once you located the ghouls? Well, now is your chance. Or, if you really want to help your friend, I’ll give you a couple more potions, but if you die, it’s not on my hands. Got it?”

  Did I want to die? No. Did I want to help Tamara? Hell yes. One outweighed the other. “Give me the potions.”

  Briar nodded and unhooked three more vials. I accepted them gingerly, wishing I had some safe way to carry them. I considered tucking half in my pocket, but I didn’t want to accidentally incinerate myself. So, I gripped three in one hand, and prepared to toss the fourth at anything that moved out of that crypt.

  “You ready?” Briar asked, slinging her crossbow in front of her. At my nod she grabbed two more vials and marched toward the crypt. “If we’re lucky, this will take care of at least one before we start.”

  She stopped in front of the door to the crypt and took a deep breath. Then, almost in one movement, she kicked down the door, hurled the two vials into the crypt, and threw herself backward. She rolled over her shoulder and came up on her feet, her crossbow already aimed. A twang sounded and her bolt took the thing emerging from the crypt in the chest. Flames burst over it.

  The entire sequence happened so fast I hadn’t even had time to consider throwing my vial.

  The ghoul let out an inhuman howl as the flames consumed it, and it threw itself to the ground and rolled—which didn’t help with the magical fire. Two more ghouls barreled out of the crypt, they charged forward, talons flashing like rusty spikes. Briar’s crossbow twanged again and one burst into flames. I hurled my vial at the other.

  It landed a good two feet shy of the ghoul, creating an explosion and singe mark in the grass, which attracted the ghoul’s attention. It turned toward me, running full tilt. The thing barely looked human anymore, with its leathery skin pulled tight over its bones and eyes blue in death. I fumbled for another vial and hurled it at the ghoul.

  This one hit its mark, flames bursting to life everywhere the liquid touched. It didn’t go down, at least not before I hurled the third vial. Then with flames consuming it, the ghoul fell.

  Another followed right behind it.

  I stumbled back in surprise, throwing the vial at the same time.

  I missed.

  The ghoul was three yards away and closing fast. It was as leathery and deformed as the previous, rows of sharp teeth flashing in its gaping mouth, but I recognized something of Larid in the features. This was the ghoul that had attacked Tamara. Destroy it and the chain of infection broke, sparing Tam. Larid had to die—again.

  And I had no vials left.

  I threw open my shields as it lunged. Grave essence plowed into me as the planes of reality splashed together in my vision. The ghoul didn’t change. It was already connected to the land of the dead. I had a moment of shock. Then the ghoul slammed into me.

  Pain stabbed through my chest and tore into my stomach as the ghoul’s talons sank into my skin, ripped at me. The ground jumped up to hit me as the ghoul’s weight knocked me back. It rode me down, the impact making its claws dig deeper.

  I didn’t have enough air to scream.

  Those teeth were inches from my face when the ghoul burst into flames, a silver bolt sticking out of its side. A black motorcycle boot smashed into the thing, knocking it off me. Its claws ripped free. Now I screamed.

  Briar stood over me, her crossbow twanging once more. Then, nothing.

  Everything was silent except for the sound of sizzling, dead flesh and my thudding heart, which seemed too slow for the situation. That suddenly became very important to me, and I tried to count the seconds between beats, but blackness took me before I reached two.

  “Hey, you alive?”

  I blinked, opening my eyes. It was hard to focus on Briar, but I tried.

  “Damn, you’re conscious,” she said. “Listen, your wounds are bad. I can sit here and put pressure on them and you might live five extra minutes. Otherwise, you’ll either drown or bleed out in the next couple of minutes. Or I can save you the misery and end it quick. Preference?”

  I blinked again. I was dying? I couldn’t die. Not here. I opened my mouth but instead of words, I coughed. It hurt like hell and tasted of blood. Fuck. She was right. The ghoul had hit a lung.

  I tried again and this time managed to croak the words “out of graveyard.”

  The blurry Briar gave me a confused look.

  “Can’t die”—cough—“in graveyard.”—cough—“Get me out.”

  She looked around, but the shock was peeling away under my panic. “Get me out.”

  “Okay, okay.” She leaned down and wrapped my arm around her neck. Then she half carried, half dragged me toward the entrance.

  I tried to help, but I couldn’t get my feet to cooperate. The gate looked a million miles away. I’m not going to make it. I’ll be stuck here forever. Somewhere I knew that my spirit wouldn’t just pop out of my body once I died, that when they removed me from the cemetery, the collectors would come, but all I could think of was that I’d end up a haunt.

  “Hurry.” The word was broken and slurred, but Briar understood enough to curse about the demand.

  The gate was closer now. I was going to make it.

  And Death was on the other side. Waiting.

  Briar dragged me just beyond the gate and then lowered me to the ground. “Happy now?”

  I was. But I didn’t waste the strength to tell her. All my attention was on Death.

  “I’m glad it’s you,” I said, or at least, I tried to say. Everything was darkening now.

  “Why can’t you at least try to stay alive?” Death asked, dropping to his knees by my shoulders. “For me?”

  I was out of words. Which was okay, because Death’s hand slipped under my head, and his mouth covered mine, negating the need to speak. His lips were warm and soft, but his mouth pressed hard against mine.

  Well, if I was going to die, it might as well be kissing a very sexy soul collector.

  The kiss sent a wave of heat starting at my mouth and spreading outward, but that was chased by a cold so biting I flinched. Death’s hand behind my head ensured I couldn’t pull back as the chill poured into me.

  “What the hell?” I heard Briar say, but now I was actively struggling against the cold Death shoved into me.

  And I had the strength to struggle, which was odd as I’d barely had the strength to keep my heart beating the moment before. What’s happening?

  Finally, once I felt like all my organs had frozen, the chill stopped and Death’s lips on mine were once ag
ain warm. He pulled back, not far, but far enough that I could focus on his eyes.

  “You okay?” The question was a whisper.

  And oddly, the answer was yes. I hurt like hell, but the darkness had pulled back, and I could feel all my limbs again.

  “What did you do?”

  At my question, he smiled, his eyes closing in an extended blink. I could feel the relief vibrate off him. Then he went still.

  “Who and what are you?” Briar said, and I wiggled so I could see around Death.

  Briar had her crossbow pressed against the back of Death’s head. Oh, this is bad. I was suddenly not dying and Briar could see Death—and I wasn’t forcing him to manifest. I could think of only one explanation. Death had switched life essences with me. It saved me, but it made him mortal.

  Which meant if Briar shot him, Death would be very dead.

  Chapter 33

  “Don’t shoot him.”

  “Craft? You sound pretty alive down there,” Briar said without moving her crossbow. “This thing heal you?”

  “He’s not a thing. He is…” I hesitated. Explaining soul collectors to someone who couldn’t see them—at least under normal circumstances—wasn’t always easy. It probably also wouldn’t help convince her not to shoot him.

  “He’s what, Craft?”

  “Well, I’m starting to think he’s my guardian angel.” Though angel of death was what most people would call him.

  Despite the crossbow pressed to his head, Death smirked.

  “Do you shoot anything that catches you off guard?” Death asked without moving. I flared my eyes at him. Didn’t he have any sense of self-preservation? You don’t poke bears—or a witch armed for war.

  “It’s worked for me so far,” she said, but she lowered the crossbow. She didn’t put it away, but at least it wasn’t pointed at his head anymore.

  He straightened, helping me up as he climbed to his feet. I moved slower, wincing. The stabbing pain was still in my chest and abdomen. I glanced down at myself, and then wished I hadn’t. There was a good reason the pain was still there—I’d been gored and though I wasn’t dying, I also hadn’t been healed. Shiny strips of flesh showed in my abdomen. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to hide the wound from Briar.