Dangerous Spirits by Jordan L. Hawk

Author:Jordan L. Hawk [Hawk, Jordan L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Vincent watched Henry climb out of the hole and wipe the sweat from his brow. Bending over and resting his hands on his knees, Henry gasped, “I think we can remove the coffin now.”

Rather than conscript any of the workmen lounging in front of the saloon, they’d decided to undertake the task themselves. It didn’t seem likely Rosanna—or, heaven forbid, Zadock—would be able to exert much influence during the daylight hours. Still, Rosanna stalked both Henry and Norris in Devil’s Walk Woods during the day. Better safe than sorry.

The old trees cast soothing shadows over the graves, blocking out most of the hot July sun. Emberey, Lizzie, and Jo all stood in the shade, watching while Vincent, Sylvester, and Henry took turns digging. Vincent’s shoulders were soon afire, adding to the ache of the bruises discoloring his back. He tried to avoid physical labor whenever possible—and with good reason, given the blisters now decorating his hands and the dirt on his clothing.

Thankfully, the mass reinterment meant the workers buried the coffins just far enough below ground to ensure protection from scavenger or flood. If they’d had to dig through six feet of dirt, Vincent didn’t think they would have uncovered the coffin before nightfall. Tomorrow.

Henry sat on the edge of the hole and removed his spectacles. Taking out a handkerchief, he set about cleaning the glass lenses. “I take it none of you have sensed anything untoward?”

Vincent shook his head. With every shovelful of earth, he’d waited for some foreign flavor to invade his mouth. Dirt or blood, rot or dank water. Ashes and overdone pork. But he tasted nothing but fading coffee and the cinnamon cachous he ate out of habit more than anything else.

“Not a tingle,” Sylvester said. “But I would like to make certain.”

Henry frowned. “Make certain?”

“Let’s get the coffin up first.”

Henry and Vincent had already slid ropes around it; now, along with Sylvester, they hauled it free of its very temporary resting place. The moldering wood groaned and creaked, but didn’t break. As no doubt befit his position as one of the leading citizens in the old town, Zadock’s coffin had been constructed of sturdy materials.

Once it lay to the side of the hole, Sylvester pressed a hand to the small of his back. “Well. Almost done. All we need is a pry bar.”

Henry, Jo, and Emberey all looked alarmed. “A pry bar?” Emberey asked.

“We have enough troubles with Rosanna,” Sylvester said tiredly. “I’ve no wish to have Zadock haunting us as well. So, yes, a pry bar.”

A cart waited outside the graveyard, ready to transport the coffin back to its original resting place in the old town. A quick word to the man driving it produced a pry bar in short order.

“If the rest of you would step outside the churchyard and close the iron gate, I’d be grateful,” Sylvester said.

Henry frowned. “Why?”

“I mean to open the coffin and disturb the remains,” Sylvester replied. “We’ve received no hint Zadock’s spirit yet lingers in this world, or cares at all about his earthly body.

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