Chapter 21

Twenty-One

Reluctantly, the rest of the group followed behind Cain far into the depths of the cemetery, a growing curiosity for whatever it was he so desperately wanted to show us. Seeing him carry a shovel was even more peculiar, as he didn't bring one with us on the trip.

The air had dropped in temperature, our breaths lightly clouding around our faces as a thin layer of fog settled loosely around our feet. A crisp gust of wind danced along my back, lingering against my neck as if someone were tapping my skin. A negative presence hovered over me as I tried to ignore it, brushing it off. The whole energy of the cemetery shifted into something new, something sinister, thickening with each second we remained.

Cain had led us to the far west corner of the New Bedeville Cemetery, where he had been investigating by himself earlier in the night. It seemed older than the rest of the graveyard, the headstones substantially dated, the appearances of them completely different and far more weathered, almost as if they were from another time—another world. This section of the property must've been a part of the original graveyard for New Bedeville that the rest of the cemetery expanded from. The graves, the path, even the trees seemed older. Ancient. Forgotten.

"Here." He abruptly turned to face us, the shovel stretched behind his neck and across his shoulders. "I thought you guys would like to see this." He stopped, standing next to various tombstones.

We all looked at one another, puzzled by his words. "What exactly is this?" Lazarus asked, obviously annoyed. Was Cain referring to this corner of the graveyard itself? I mean, it was something, but it wasn't much to marvel at.

An unnatural whisper breathed into my ear. Why hello there.

The chilling sentence hardened my stance as my body froze at the familiar voice. I waited, unsure if I had even really heard the words or simply imagined them.

Cain lowered the shovel, the blade roughly piercing the earth. "This," he leaned on the handle, his head motioning at a single headstone at his feet, "is the grave of John Crowe." My heart sank in response to his statement.

"You gotta be shitting me." Lazarus shot closer to examine the small, discolored slab of stone. He kneeled, his hands brushing away centuries worth of dirt and decay, revealing only the image of a poorly hand-carved crow.

"Wait a second. You mean to tell me," Ruby placed her hand on her hip, "that this whole ‘let's check out a famously haunted cemetery' crap wasn't to actually investigate ghosts, but a ploy to get us here to see if you could find the rumored grave of a serial killer?"

Cain exhaled, smiling. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Oh hell no!" she screamed, fuming. Jinx grabbed her arm, trying to calm her temper as Cain watched her, pleased with the reaction.

I know what you are, little hexer. The disembodied man's voice returned, confusing me with his words. The strange, foreign phrase was proof I hadn't been imagining the eerie voice. It was real. I glanced around, the rest of the group unphased by the breathing presence. Has no one else heard it?

"There's no name?" Lazarus glanced up at Cain. "Just a carving. Sure, it's a crow, but how do you know if it's even his?"

A crow, oh how original. The same voice whispered along my ear, causing my hair to sway as it cackled, the unnatural laughter echoing around me. What was happening?

"Well," Cain sighed, picking up the shovel as he walked across the earthy patch surrounding the gravestone. He raised the shovel high and slammed it deep into the earth as thunder rolled in the distance. "I guess there's really only one way to find out." His gray eyes flashed beneath his dark hair, meeting mine. What the hell did he think he was doing?

He pushed the shovel at an angle, tossing a blade full of damp dirt aside. "What do you say, Lazarus? Want to help me dig this coffin up and see if it's really him?" Cain looked at Lazarus. "Or do you just want to sit back and helplessly watch?" I knew he was poking at Lazarus, trying to get a rise out of him, but this was twisted.

Lazarus' face hardened as he looked at me. Don't do it. "Don't think anyone should be doing this, Cain. It feels wrong, digging up someone's grave." He turned, glancing back at Cain. "What would even be the point?"

"The point would be finding one of the most underrated, prolific serial killers in history! No one has been able to venture into this cemetery, let alone be lucky enough to find his grave, until now. We did! Think about it, Lazarus."

"Yeah, but it's someone's resting place, Cain. It seems—"

"Oh, come on, you act like this fucker has feelings!" Cain cut him off, pushing the shovel into the ground, digging. "He's dead, Lazarus." He stopped, glaring at Lazarus. "Either you help me dig him up, or you can get the fuck out of my way. Shit, I'll have Alaska help me." Lazarus' jaw clenched, tensing at the aggression in Cain's voice.

"Give me the damn shovel," he snapped, taking off his jacket. Cain tossed the tool in his direction as Lazarus caught it, his arm muscles bulging. He began to dig up the grave, obviously displeased by his own actions.

This was wrong. All of it.

Gentle raindrops began to sprinkle around us as the two men took turns shoveling and slinging clumps of thick mud and dirt. Ruby, Jinx, and I all huddled together, Alastair at our feet as we held our bags above our heads, shielding our faces from the misting rain. None of us knew what to say, as Cain had made up his mind, and we all knew there was no stopping him once he did so. We were stuck, bystanders, watching the disrespectful act as it took place before us. We shouldn't be here. We shouldn't be doing this.

Oh, but you are. The whispered words made my heart jolt in fear. Weak little hexer.