Unmarked Graves Read online

  When she entered Will’s bedroom, she saw that he was asleep, head lolling to one side as he sat propped up against the pillows. Moving carefully, she went over to the chair and sat down, then took a sip of coffee. Before, it had felt awkward to sit here quietly and gaze at him, but now she was just glad she had the chance to do this for him, to be the person who would stand guard here during the dark watches of the night. There was something peaceful and quiet about this house, about the plain, mismatched antiques and the old wood floors and the faint scent of Murphy’s oil soap that seemed to linger in the corners.

  Or maybe she simply liked it because it was Will’s house.

  He moved then, eyelids fluttering, before his eyes opened fully and he focused on her. “You’re back.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Everything is fine. I’m sorry I left without saying anything, but you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

  That comment made him lift an eyebrow. “You’re supposed to be waking me up.”

  “Not fifteen minutes after you’ve gone to sleep,” she protested, although she knew she was probably being disingenuous. No, the truth was that she’d known if she told him what she needed to do, he would have done his best to dissuade her from going to the Glendale house. She hadn’t wanted to get in an argument, and there was no one else who could have handled that particular little detail, not with Michael Covenant a whole state away from them. “Anyway, it was fine. The crawlspace is secured, and there isn’t any other evidence of our confrontation with Caleb, so Detective Phillips is going to get a big ball of nothing when he comes over to take a look.”

  For some reason, Will didn’t appear as relieved by this reassurance as she’d thought he would. His lips pressed together, and he said, “And you’re sure there aren’t any signs of forced entry?”

  “Yes,” she replied. At least that question had been easy enough to answer. Although she knew that Caleb must have entered the house the same way he exited it — i.e., by means of his inherited demonic powers — she’d still checked all the windows and doors, had made sure they were all still locked securely. Nothing had been disturbed. “I’m sure that will puzzle Detective Phillips, but since he won’t be able to find any real evidence, he’s going to probably realize pretty quickly that this is one case he won’t be able to solve.” At least, she hoped he would give it up once he realized he didn’t have any leads to follow. Things were complicated enough with dragging the police into the whole mess.

  “Let’s hope.” Will reached for his tea and sipped from the mug; Rosemary guessed the liquid inside must have been lukewarm by that point, even if her mother had made him a fresh cup. He didn’t seem to mind, though. Expression thoughtful, he went on, “Did he say anything about interviewing me?”

  Since she’d been expecting that question, it was easy enough to answer. “Yes, he wants to talk to you, but he said he was willing to wait until you felt up to it.”

  “I’d prefer to get it over with.”

  Rosemary could understand that. Much better to meet with the detective, offer a couple of not very helpful tidbits of information, and then get on with their lives. Still, a lot would depend on how Will felt in the morning. He seemed awake and aware now, even though he still looked far too pale, but she wasn’t going to let him push himself too far.

  “We’ll see,” she said, and drank some more of her coffee.

  Apparently, he wasn’t too thrilled with that non-answer, because he said, “I’m fine, Rosemary. I have a bump on my head and a good assortment of bruises forming, I’m sure, but there’s no need to treat me like an invalid.”

  “That’s not what the doctor told me,” she returned. “He said I needed to keep a close eye on you.”

  “Which you are…except for your little jaunt over to Glendale.” His eyes narrowed then, the distinctive crystalline gray almost obscured by his heavy dark lashes. “How did you manage to get the crawlspace sealed back up?”

  There it was. She supposed she could have lied and told Will she’d found a ladder in the garage, but if they had any kind of chance of making this…whatever it was…between them work at all, she needed to be honest with him. Besides, what she’d done at the house frightened her, and she thought maybe she would feel better after she’d talked it over with him. Although she normally would have said she was doing just fine and didn’t need anyone to hold her hand, she had to admit there was something infinitely reassuring about his presence, even when he wasn’t operating at full strength, so to speak.

  “I — ” She hesitated and wrapped her fingers around her mug, taking a little comfort in the warmth that seeped through the heavy ceramic. For some reason, she suddenly felt cold, although Will’s bedroom was certainly warm enough. “This is going to sound crazy.”

  His mouth lifted in a smile. “I think we’ve been through enough craziness lately that I’m pretty sure I can handle it.”

  Well, that was true enough. Ghosts…demons breathing green mist…the guy she’d been half-heartedly dating turning out to be not quite human…things had been sort of upside down this past week.

  “There wasn’t a ladder,” she said quickly. “And I didn’t know what to do, since the house was empty and there weren’t any chairs or anything else I could stand on. So I…moved it myself. Like this.”

  She raised her hand in the same way she had back at the Glendale house, only without any intent behind the gesture. The last thing she wanted was to levitate his dresser or send the lamp on his bedside table flying through the air.

  Will watched her, brow furrowed slightly. “You lifted it? Wasn’t the ceiling too high?”

  “It was. I lifted it with my mind.”

  His expression didn’t change. “You’re joking.”

  “No,” she replied. She wished it was a joke. She wished things could go back to the way they’d been only an hour earlier, when she might have been psychic but didn’t have crazy powers of telekinesis. “I’ve never done anything like that before. But somehow, I was able to do it tonight.”

  Will pushed himself a little more upright. A slight clenching of his jaw told her that the movement had probably hurt, but he didn’t say anything, only continued to stare at her. At last, he said, “If you’d never done anything similar — never shown any signs of having powers like that — then why did you think you could do it?”

  “Because — because I was feeling desperate!” Rosemary replied, guessing that she wasn’t making a very good case for her story. “I guess I figured I could try, and then when it didn’t work, I’d either try to find a hardware store open that late or just drive back to Pasadena and get the ladder out of Michael’s garage. Only I didn’t need to do that, because it did work. And I’m just a little freaked out about it.”

  “It’s all right,” he said quickly, as though realizing he needed to do his best to soothe her fears. “That is, you already knew you had powers beyond what most people possess, so it sounds as though you now have something a little extra in your toolkit. That’s all.”

  He made it seem as though suddenly developing the ability to move things with her mind was no big deal. Then again, she’d been looking for some kind of reassurance from him, so it didn’t make much sense to be angry with him for providing the comfort she needed.

  “I’m not sure it’s ‘all,’” she said. “But…it does seem as if I have to really focus to make something happen. It’s not like someone can make me angry and turn me into Carrie at the prom.”

  At that comment, he chuckled. “I have to say, that’s a relief.”

  Was it strange that he should seem so unconcerned? Maybe that blow to the head had taken away his ability to be worried by strange phenomena. But no, Rosemary didn’t think that was it. Most likely, Will was doing his best to roll with the punches. And who knows — maybe he viewed her strange telekinetic ability as a gift from God, something that would help them prevail against the demons. She didn’t quite see how, but she had to admit that was a much more reassuring w
ay to look at the situation.

  “For both of us,” she agreed, then was quiet for a moment. A bracing sip of coffee, and another, and she realized she felt much better than she had when she’d come to Will’s room a few moments earlier. Tone a little softer, she added, “You should probably try to go back to sleep.”

  His fingers played with the edge of the quilt that lay across his lap. “Easier said than done. My mind is going a mile a minute.”

  While she could understand why his thoughts might be racing, she knew he wasn’t supposed to exert himself physically or mentally. “Well, try to tell your brain to take a breather. Do you meditate at all?”

  “Actually, I do. And that’s probably a good idea.”

  He shut his eyes then, and Rosemary saw how his breathing slowed slightly, how a certain tension appeared to leave his hands where he’d crossed them on top of his stomach. She didn’t think he was asleep — not yet, anyway — but she thought he was allowing himself to slide down into slumber, quieting his mind and allowing the normal rhythms of his body to take over. Watching him, she experienced a brief stab of jealousy. Not that she wanted to be lying in bed with a concussion, but it would have been awfully nice to let herself go to sleep.

  No such luck, however. A few more minutes passed, and then she was sure he slept. She realized she needed to text Michael to let him know how things had gone at the Glendale house, but she’d left her purse in the kitchen with her phone inside.

  Once again, she got up with exaggerated care and tiptoed out of Will’s bedroom, then headed down the hallway. Her mother must have left while Rosemary was talking to Will, because the kitchen was now empty, the mug Glynis had been using nowhere in sight, which meant it probably had been rinsed out and placed in the dishwasher.

  Rosemary had already resolved not to say anything to Michael about her strange demonstration of telekinesis. She knew he would start asking her all sorts of questions, and she simply didn’t have any answers for him at the moment. And for all she knew, both he and Audrey would pressure her to come to Tucson as soon as she was able so they could run tests on her or something. No, thanks.

  Or maybe that was uncharitable of her. Right then, she just felt tired, despite the coffee she’d already consumed that evening. Whether it would really be able to keep her awake might be a moot point.

  But one way to stay awake was to keep busy. She retrieved her phone from her purse and was relieved to see that she hadn’t missed any calls or texts. Not that she’d really expected to; her mother had just been here, and Celeste and Isabel probably didn’t even know what was going on. Michael apparently was content to wait until she got back to him. And the call she’d been worried about the most — one from Detective Phillips asking to talk to Will now — hadn’t materialized at all.

  Hey, Michael, she texted, the house is secured and Will is doing fine. With any luck, things will be quiet here for a while.

  She didn’t get an immediate response, but she hadn’t really expected one. After all, Michael couldn’t have known exactly when she was going to be done with her errand, and he was most likely off doing something else. Maybe watching a movie with Audrey, or possibly getting ready for bed. Rosemary realized she didn’t have a very clear idea of their daily schedule, although she’d gotten the impression that they weren’t night owls. Well, that made sense, with Audrey working away on her Ph.D. She probably had to get up early most of the time.

  Would Will mind if she rummaged around in the fridge or the cupboards? Rosemary realized she was hungry, although she couldn’t help wondering if her sudden craving for a snack to nosh on stemmed more from a desire to do something to distract herself than because she really needed to eat.

  She doubted he would care if she stole a few crackers or a carton of yogurt. At least, he didn’t seem like the type of person to be selfish about such things.

  Just as she was reaching for the handle on the refrigerator, however, her phone buzzed. She turned back to pick it up and saw a text from Michael.

  That’s good news. I’m glad everything went smoothly. No sign of C?

  No, she replied. It looks like he’s gone for good…or bad, depending on how you look at it. Any ideas on where we can track him down?

  Working on it, Michael texted back. All the Underhill trustees were in Indiana, so that could be where he went to ground. But you don’t need to worry about that. You need to focus on Will’s recovery.

  The subtext being that Michael didn’t think she was up to the task of confronting the semi-demons in their lair, wherever that turned out to be. Of course, Audrey had made it sound as if the original trustees had set themselves up to appear like local pillars of society — bankers, lawyers, business owners — and so their “lair” might turn out to be the local country club.

  To be honest, Rosemary didn’t know whether she was up to that sort of thing, either. Besides, was there really any point in chasing after Caleb? From the way he’d been talking, he made it sound as though the demons didn’t want that footage released, since proving the existence of demons meant also proving the existence of God, and that was something they’d really prefer to avoid. A populace strong in its belief in a Creator was a populace a lot more difficult to coerce or corrupt.

  Then again, maybe the demons were going to hold off on destroying the evidence for the time being. Maybe they were trying to figure out if there was any benefit to releasing the footage, or at least certain portions of it, heavily doctored to have it work to their benefit rather than the reverse.

  Hmm. Rosemary thought she might be on to something there. What if the Underhill demons — thanks to Caleb hanging around on indie filmmaker Reddits or whatever — knew that there was a lot of interest in the Project Demon Hunters footage? Colin had been talking about it in places where he probably shouldn’t, and maybe the plan was to re-edit the footage to make it look as though it was all obviously faked. That kind of maneuver would discredit Colin and also safely remove the threat of anyone thinking those demons were real.

  All the more reason to get that footage before it was weaponized.

  Her phone buzzed again. You still there?

  Yes, she responded. Sorry. I guess there isn’t much else for me to do except wait to hear from the detective tomorrow.

  It’ll be fine. I know you can’t exactly rest, but try to take it easy. You’ve been through a lot.

  “More than you know,” she murmured to herself, but she only typed back, Not as much as Will has. I’m good. I’ll be in touch if anything changes.

  Have a good night.

  Her phone went quiet after that, and she knew Michael had signed off for the evening. She went and slipped her cell into her purse, then slung the bag over her arm, intending to take it back with her to Will’s room.

  A blur of movement caught her eye, though, and she froze.

  Madeline Nash’s ghost stood at the far end of the kitchen, near the back door. She looked more transparent than Rosemary had ever seen her, was barely more than a wispy mist in the shape of a woman. The only solid thing about her was her eyes, which seemed like wells of darkness, impossibly deep.

  For some reason, though, Rosemary wasn’t afraid. She looked at the spirit and said quietly, “Colin’s hard drive with the footage was in your house, but we were too late. The demons got it.”

  The ghost nodded. Her expression was too serene to be sad, although Rosemary got a sense of wistfulness from her. She spoke then, her voice a whisper so faint, Rosemary had to strain to hear it.

  “You tried.”

  Yes, they had, and Will had ended up in the hospital because of their efforts. In this particular instance, though, she couldn’t feel too great about telling herself that at least they’d done their best. This wasn’t a football game.

  Rosemary rubbed her brow and tried to convince herself that she really wasn’t getting a headache. “Any words of wisdom?”

  Madeline smiled. Or at least, her mouth curved upward, but she was so insubstantial that he
r expressions were getting almost impossible to read. “I did what I needed to. It’s time for me to go.”

  “Do you have to?” Rosemary asked, worry stabbing through her. All right, the ghost of Madeline Nash hadn’t exactly been the most reliable ally, but at least she’d done what she could to help. The thought of her being gone forever with so much still unresolved was not appealing at all.

  “It’s time.” A pause, followed by a very faint whisper. “I’m not the only one who can help you.”

  And then she was gone. Rosemary took a step forward, hand outreached as though she thought she could somehow grab hold of the ghost and prevent her from leaving. But she was too late. Anyway, even if she had managed to get to Madeline in time, what was she supposed to hold on to? The other woman had been a ghost, no more substantial than the mist that sometimes hung around the foothills in the winter and early spring.

  She stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where Madeline had disappeared.

  I’m not the only one who can help you, she’d said. Maybe those words were supposed to be reassuring, but Rosemary had to wonder exactly what kind of “help” she meant.

  Another ghost?

  The ghost of whom?

  There was no telling. Holding back a sigh, Rosemary took her purse and left the kitchen. Sudden fear made her hurry down the hallway to Will’s room, but he was still sleeping peacefully, hands folded in his lap, eyes shut. She paused in the doorway and watched him for a long moment, a strange, unexpected tenderness stirring within her.

  She had no idea what was going to happen next…but she knew she would do whatever she must in order to keep him safe.

  Chapter 5

  Birds sang outside the window, and a thin bar of sunlight slipped in between the heavy textured cotton of the drapes. Will cracked an eyelid and blinked at his surroundings, suddenly hit by the impression that he was late for something.

  But then his gaze slid over to his left, and he saw Rosemary sitting on the chair by his bedside, head drooping over her chest so that her heavy, curly hair completely obscured her face. However, he could tell by her posture that she must be asleep.