Savannah Sacrifice (8 page)

“Where can't you go?”

Epione's already pale face blanched. “Bonaventure Cemetery.”

The Bonaventure Cemetery sat just outside of Savannah, and the cabby chatted away with Starling and Jasper as they made their way through the Spanish moss-cradled city. For the first time since she had arrived, Starling noticed the smell of swamp and hot boiled peanuts, and even more prominently, the rich scent of late-evening flowers. What kind, Starling couldn't be sure, but the floral fragrance was heady, almost intoxicating.

The cabby stopped at a crosswalk for a man in his mid-sixties who stood waiting by the light. The man walked across the street, staring at them as he made his way. His gaze slid over her like an icy wind, making goose bumps rise on her arms.

“Do you see that guy?”

Jasper looked out at the window at the man. “What about him?”

“He gives me the creeps.”

The man turned his back to them as he stepped up on the curb.

Jasper frowned. “You want me to check him out?”

“No,” Starling said, shaking her head. She was only imagining dangers, making up for her mistake in not seeing the threat that was Devon.

“You sure?”

She nodded.

Jasper eyed her for a moment and then turned to the cabby. “Do you know where we can find a lady named Gracie?”

The man glanced back at them in his rearview mirror. “What're you doing? Trying to fit every tourist spot into one day, sir?”

“Yeah, you know how it is,” Jasper said, but his attempt at sounding nonchalant fell flat. “Is Gracie a tour guide at the cemetery?”

“Almost, but not quite.” The cabby laughed. “Gracie is one of Savannah's resident ghosts. She's a little girl who was buried in the cemetery in the 1800s. Pretty little thing if you take a look at her statue.”

“She's dead?” Starling shouldn't have been surprised. Of course Epione would have sent her to visit another member of the dead club.

“Yeah, some say that if you put something in her hand, the next day the item will be gone. Others have told of her crying if you take away what you have given her. So many people were trying to play with the little girl that they had to build a wrought iron fence around the little thing to protect her from being destroyed.” The cabby turned down a street and slowly came to a stop in front of the main gates of the cemetery. “If you ask me, they should have left well enough alone. I bet the little thing is lonely now that no one comes to play.”

The driver pulled into a parking spot behind a black SUV that looked eerily similar to the one she had seen pull away after the thief had tried to steal her bag at the airport. A man in a suit was standing on the sidewalk beside the car, talking on his cell phone. As the man noticed them, he turned away, but Starling didn't miss the fact that he continued watching them from the car's side view mirror.

After a few moments, he walked around to the driver's side to get into his car, but not before his green eyes caught her gaze and he sent her a bone-chilling grin. He got in and the car quickly pulled away.

She opened her mouth to tell Jasper about her suspicion the Catharterians were tailing them, but she stopped. She couldn't be sure it was the same man or even the same car model as the one that had been parked outside of baggage claim. She was just being neurotic since being attacked. She needed to stay strong.

The cemetery entrance was just a few steps from the cab. Starling could already sense the sad energy that filled the place. “Where's her grave?” She hated to spend any more time here than necessary. The last time she'd been in a cemetery was for her mother's funeral, and as she peered out the window at the long rows of grave markers, memories of her funeral possession made a sick feeling rise in her stomach.

“It's in Section E. It's something you won't soon forget,” the cabby replied.

“Got it,” Jasper said with a nod. “You mind sticking around a little while longer? I think we'll need a ride back to the hotel and then the airport when we are through here. Okay?”

“Not a problem, sir. I got no better place to be on this fine summer evening.” The cabby put the car into park. “I'll wait right here if you got any more questions, sir.”

Starling got out of the car and the sad, humidity-cooled air draped over her shoulders like a shroud.

“You ready?” Jasper asked, stopping beside her.

She nodded. She was as ready as she was going to be.

Jasper took her hand and led her through the gates. A few couples milled about, but for the most part, the place was almost empty, and their only psychical company was hundreds of tombstones. Some of the markers were covered with figures of angels, statues of Jesus, and markings that Starling didn't recognize. If it hadn't been for the blanket of sadness, it would have been easy to be swept away by its ethereal beauty.
You shouldn't be here,
a female ghost whispered as they neared a mausoleum. The house-like structure was made of white and gray marble with a cobweb-covered stained glass window at its entrance.

Starling moved closer to Jasper, trying to not pay attention to the new, unwelcome voice.

This is no place for you
, a different woman's voice repeated the ominous warning.

You will find only death in this place
, a male ghost whispered.

It had been less than two hours since her last dose of medication, but it didn't stop her from reaching in her purse and getting another pill.

“You okay?” Jasper asked as she dropped the bottle back into her purse.

Starling nodded. She should have expected to be inundated by spirits in a cemetery. The last time she had been able to rely on her medication crutch to make it through the bustling crowds of the dead. But this time, with the drugs not working as well as they had, she was on her own.

Jasper pulled her closer. “It'll be okay. I got you.”

Maybe she wasn't as alone as she felt, but there was little he could do to protect her from the spirits.

She glanced down at the plaque on the mausoleum and noticed the building was dedicated to an entire family.

We'll be seeing you on our side soon …
a male ghost said. His English-accented baritone reminded her of Boris Karloff, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

No
Starling closed her eyes. Leave me alone. I'm only visiting.

That's what we all say when we first step foot in this place, but people like you … you have no hope. Your spirit will easily be taken by those who reside here.

Starling pulled tightly against Jasper's side. “Let's hurry.”

“Section E is just ahead. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Starling replied, trying to summon the last bits of her waning courage. “The spirits here are restless.”

Jasper's footfalls sped up and she raced to stay beside him.

A black wrought iron fence came into view, its bars tipped with spikes. On the gate was the name
Gracie Watson
.

“Epione didn't mention where we would find the books.”

Jasper shook his head. “Do you think you can talk to Gracie? Maybe she can tell us something.”

“I can try, but it doesn't always work,” Starling said, taking hold of the metal growing cool in the evening hours. Inside the fence on the ground was a memorial telling the story of how Gracie had passed away from pneumonia at the age of six. Her sadness grew; the spirits of children were the most wrenching when they came to Starling and asked for help.

By her feet was a marker with the girl's last name, Watson. Small pebbles had been placed at the top and a dead leaf littered the corner. Reaching down, Starling brushed the leaf away. She rested her hand on the stone and shut her eyes.

Gracie?
She concentrated, hoping to hear a child's voice, but no one answered. Gracie, are you here?

Nothing.

Gracie, my goddess, Epione, sent me here for a collection of books. She said you could help me. Are you here?

No answer.

“Is it working?” Jasper asked.

Starling shook her head.

“Remember what the cabby said about people putting gifts and money in her hand? It's worth a shot.”

“How are we going to get through the gates to reach her?”

“Don't worry,” he said with a wicked smile, “I got this.” He pulled out his wallet and grabbed a wire-type tool. After a few well-practiced motions, he picked the lock, and the gate squeaked opened.

“You must have done well in bodyguard school,” Starling said, acutely that she was in the presence of a man who could, if necessary, be deadly.

“Oh, I learned that way before I trained to be a bodyguard.”

There was so much she didn't know about him. Then again, did she want to know Jasper Gray? Undoubtedly, he would only hurt her again. And even if she did open her heart, it would only put him in danger. Her kind couldn't love.

“Hand me some coins. I'll go in,” Starling said, trying to think about anything but how close they were to one another.

Jasper pulled the money out of his pocket and handed it over.

Sliding through the barely opened gate, Starling walked over to the statue and dropped the money into the little girl's hand.

Gracie? Please come to me. I need your help. Please.

A child's laughter filtered through the trees and down on her.

Sweetheart, are you here?

There was a tug on Starling's pants leg. Looking down, she couldn't see anything, but her skin was cold.

“Hi, Gracie. It's nice to meet you.”

Hi…
The little girl answered shyly.
Can you see me?

Starling shook her head. “I'm sorry, I wish I could, but I'm not magic. I can only talk to you.”

Did you come to play?

“Would you like to?” she asked.

It's been a long time since someone wanted to play.

“What do you like? Do you know ‘Ring Around the Rosie?'” She couldn't miss the irony in singing a children's song about the dying with a dead girl.

I love that song. But we need someone else to fall with us. What about the man?

Starling turned to Jasper. “She wants you to help us sing the song. You up for it?”

He made his way into the little yard that surrounded the girl's grave, but his eyes scanned the square like he was searching for something. “Sure,” he said, sounding apprehensive.

“It's okay, she won't hurt you.” Starling turned back to the girl's statue. “You won't hurt my friend Jasper, will you?”

Nuh uh, ma'am. But there are others here who are bad. They do bad things. They hurt people.

Chills ran down Starling's spine. “Who are these others, Gracie?”

The bad ones.

Starling's hand turned cold as the ghost must have slipped her icy hand into hers.

Let's not talk about them; let's just dance.

Reaching over, Starling slipped her free hand into Jasper's. He glanced down at his other hand. “My fingers are cold. Does that mean she's touching me?”

Starling nodded. “It's a strange feeling, isn't it?”

Jasper's face was pale as he nodded.

“You okay with this?”

“I'm fine,” he said, but the color didn't return to his face.

Ring around the rosies,
Gracie sang.

Starling nudged Jasper as she picked up the song. “Pockets full of posies. Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down.” Starling fell to the ground, her head landing in Jasper's lap.

“Sorry.” She sat up and away from Jasper's touch.

“It's okay,” he replied.

The girl's laughter filled the silence.
That was fun. Let's do it again!

“Gracie, I am looking for a collection of books. Can you help me?”

The girl's laughter stopped.
What books?

“They're called the
Libros Umbrarum
. Have you heard of them?”

Yes.

“Do you know where I can find them?”

The girl didn't answer.

“I need them. The spirits have told me that they will help me gain control over the voices I hear. Please?”

Starling tried to quell her nerves. Gracie was only a little girl—there was no guarantee that she could, or would, help. If she didn't, they would be left at square one—no answers and the fear of attack. “Gracie, did you hear me?”

They're with the bad people. I don't want to go there.

“You don't have to go anywhere. You can stay right here and keep singing while we go, but you need to tell me where the books are, sweetheart.”

Jasper gave her a questioning look, but she waved him off. “Where are the books, honey?”

The cold returned in Starling's hand followed by a light squeeze.

“Are you going to show me?”

There was a tug on her arm and Starling moved in the direction the little girl urged, summoning her courage for the sake of the child. Jasper followed as they made their way down the path and toward an archangel. The angel looked down on the grass, its wings spread slightly open, as if any moment it would take flight to the heavens. Her hands were open, palms up, ready to receive. At the base of the angel, the grave marker read:
Avi Mortem, December 12, 1896
.

“Jasper, have you ever heard of this Avi?” Starling whispered.

He shook his head.

The tugging stopped as they came within a step of the angel.

Put your hand in hers
. Gracie squeezed Starling's fingers.

Reaching up, Starling slipped her hand into the angel's.

“Now what?” Starling asked.

You have to say the special words. You have to say: Avi Mortem, find comfort in the arms of the wicked and solace where no other dares. Mortem. Genus. Honor.

Starling repeated the chant and as the last word rolled from her tongue, the angel's stony fingers trembled. In what seemed like slow motion, the marble wings opened, exposing a long set of stairs leading below ground.