Graveminder

“I love you, Rebekkah Barrow.” He released her hands and stepped into the tunnel. “I will take you there, but I will bring you home.”

Chapter 29

“BYRON?” REBEKKAH TRIED TO FOLLOW HIM, BUT WAS STOPPED BY AN INvisible barrier in front of the tunnel. She put both hands on the air and leaned into it. She watched Byron take a torch from the wall. It flared to life as his hand wrapped around it. “Byron!”

He reached back through the barrier and held out his hand. “You gave me your word, Bek.”

She slid her hand into his and tried to ignore how right it felt.

For a moment he stared at her, his features unreadable, and then he pulled her into the tunnel. “When we get to the other side, we need to find Mr. D. Later, at home, we will talk ... about us. No matter what, though, you need to trust me.”

“I do trust you. I always have.” She wasn’t sure of much, but she knew that. In the moment she’d stepped into the tunnel, she also knew that Byron was meant to be beside her. He would lead her home. She knew with a certainty that she had never felt before that he was meant to be at her side—he was hers .

The voices in the tunnel lifted and fell in waves; they spoke words she couldn’t quite understand. They are trapped. The air around her was filled with invisible hands petting her cheeks and hair. They are the dead who were abandoned.

Byron’s hand held fast to hers; their fingers were intertwined. She squeezed. A chill wind pressed against her, bringing tears to her eyes, stinging her face. The wind swept the tears from her cheeks and the breath from her lips.

“Byron?” she called.

“I’m with you,” he assured her.

At the end of the tunnel, she gasped. The colors she could see were so vibrant that it almost hurt to look around her. The sky was streaked in violet and gold. The buildings around her were breathtaking. Even the drabbest of them was cloaked in shades of colors that surely couldn’t exist. She let go of his hand and stepped forward. Slowly, she turned around in a circle, taking in the sights of impossible glass buildings gleaming like jewels in the distance and nearer wooden buildings and brownstones. Everything was richer in hue than her mind could process.

Rebekkah looked around. “Byron?”

“Can’t join us just now,” a man said. He shook his head. “It’s a real shame. He’s entertaining.”

“Where is Byron?” She looked around her, but she couldn’t see the tunnel either. It had vanished when she’d stepped out of it. “What just happened?”

“Your Undertaker seems to have been detained. He will meet us at the house, my dear. I will escort you there.”

“You ... No, I need to find Byron,” she insisted.

“My dear, he was escorting you here to meet me .” The man took off his hat, holding it by the brim, swept his arm gallantly, and simultaneously bowed from the waist. A lock of dark hair fell forward as he did so. Still in his bow, he lifted his earth-dark gaze to stare at her. “Charles.”

He straightened, still holding her gaze, and added, “And you, my lovely one, are my Rebekkah .”

She shivered. Her name sounded different on his lips, like a prayer, an incantation, a holy plea.

“Mr. D,” she murmured. “Byron told me—”

“Half-truths, my dear.” Mr. D extended an elbow to her. “Let me escort you to the house while we await your Byron.”

She paused, looking from his crooked arm to his face.

He smiled. “I’d rather not leave you here alone, Rebekkah. The streets can be treacherous.”

“And you?”

Mr. D laughed. “Well, yes. I can, too, but you are here to see me, aren’t you?”

The things Byron had told her didn’t inspire a lot of faith in the charming man beside her, but her instincts warred with Byron’s words. She wanted to trust Mr. D, even though she had no reason to do so. Cautiously, she laid her hand on his forearm. “I’m not sure why, but ...”

“Ahhh, the devil you know,” he stage-whispered. “You know me. Whether we’ve met or not, my Graveminders always know me.”

“And do they like what they know?”

Charles laughed. “That, my dear girl, remains to be seen. Come now. Let me show you our world.”

Rebekkah looked around one more time. There was nothing even remotely like a tunnel anywhere as far as she could see. A wooden walkway twisted off to one side; a cobblestone walk intersected it a short distance away. To her left, a dirt path and a paved city street extended into what looked like different neighborhoods. As she turned to look behind her, a river appeared. There were more paths than she’d first noticed, and none of them stood out. She turned her attention back to the man beside her. “You’re certain that Byron will come to your house? Today? Soon?”

“Most definitely.”

Unsure of what else to do—and guiltily curious about the world that spiraled out all around her—Rebekkah nodded and started walking with him, hoping that she wasn’t making a mistake and trying diligently to focus on the warnings Byron had shared with her. This was the man who had manipulated Byron, who knew the answers to the questions she hadn’t even known they should be asking until earlier today—and at that moment he was carefully guiding her through a city the likes of which she couldn’t have conceived.

She alternated between gawking at the sights and feeling oddly self-conscious of her jeans and T-shirt. Or perhaps longing for something else. Mr D wore a well-tailored suit, and the women around her were dressed in a variety of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century gowns. She could hear the swish of fabrics, see the jewel tones and muted shades. She wanted to reach out and touch them. With more effort than she could’ve imagined, she resisted.

“It’s normal.”

She darted a glance at him. “What?”

“Our world is different to you.” He gestured with a sweep of his hand. “Your senses are alive here. No other mortal experiences this world as you do. You are the Graveminder. My Graveminder. This is your world more than that other one ever will be. Shades and ashes, that’s all you can find over there . But this”—he took a scarlet poppy from a street peddler and held it to her face —“is your domain.”

The touch of the poppy was dizzying. The petals against her cheek felt like raw silk, and the vibrant color seemed too extreme to be real. She closed her eyes against the intensity.

“Over there you are a mere shade of what you are in our world.” Mr. D stroked her cheek with the flower. “Death is a part of you. It’s the future you’ve been headed toward all these years. It’s the path our dear Maylene chose for you.”

At her grandmother’s name, Rebekkah opened her eyes. “Is she here?”

“She was waiting until William came to meet her.” Mr. D dropped the poppy to the ground. “He joined her yesterday.”

“And now?” Rebekkah felt like her eyes were burning from the tears she didn’t want to let fall. “Can I see her?”

“Even if she was here, Graveminders may not see their own dead, girl.” Mr. D patted her hand, which was still clutching his crooked elbow. “You are such predictable creatures.”

She pulled her hand away. “Humans?”

“Graveminders,” he corrected. “Although humans are often predictable as well. Shall we perambulate awhile? Take in a show?” He tipped his hat to a woman who wore nothing more than a pale gray chemise and cascading