Graveminder

Chapter 16

DAISHA STEPPED INTO THE BUILDING, CROSSING THE THRESHOLD WITH the assurance of one who knows she is safe. It was an unfamiliar feeling. After years of flinching at every sound, the security of her new life was heady.

She was in a cloakroom, an antechamber for the mourners who hadn’t yet readied themselves for the viewing. Even out here, beige carpet and leafy green plants were positioned for a calculatingly soothing atmosphere.

Beyond the doorway stood the man she needed to find. Mr. Montgomery knew she was different; she could tell by the cautious way he watched her. No one else in town— except Maylene —had looked at her that way.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

Her body had known she needed to come here, just as it had known she needed to find Maylene. She’d walked for days, not knowing where she was going or why, just that she was going to the place where things could be made better. Her body belonged here in Claysville.

“But I am here,” Daisha told Mr. Montgomery. She stepped into the viewing room, where he waited. Once she’d sat in this same room mourning an uncle who’d been in a wreck after too many drinks and who knows what else. The smell of it was the same as it had been then, a lingering perfume of flowers and something sweeter. Once she’d thought that this was the scent of death, an almost sickly sweet odor. Then she had died. Now she knew that sometimes death smells like copper and leaves.

“I can help you.” His voice was comforting, confident.

“How?”

“Help you get where you need to be,” William said. If not for the fine trembling in his hands, Daisha would think he was unaffected by her.

Daisha shook her head. “The other one that tried that ...”

“You killed Maylene.”

“She offered to feed me,” Daisha whispered.

William raised his voice then: “So you murdered her .”

She frowned. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He wasn’t supposed to be so mean. Maylene hadn’t been.

“What else could I have done?” She wasn’t objecting; she was asking. William didn’t see that, though. Maylene would’ve. She did before she died.

Maylene offered Daisha a glass of whiskey and water.

“I’m not old enough to drink that.”

Maylene smiled. “You’re a bit beyond their rules now.”

Daisha paused. “Why?”

“You know why.” Maylene was gentle but firm. “Take it. It’ll help.”

Daisha took the glass and tossed it back. It didn’t burn like whiskey usually did; instead, it felt heavy, like some sort of syrup coating her throat all the way down to her stomach. “Nasty.” She tossed the glass at the wall.

Maylene poured another. This one she lifted in a toast. “You might finally have me, you old bastard.” She emptied the glass and then looked at Daisha. “Let me help you.”

“You are.”

“I need you to trust me. If I’d known you were ... gone, I would’ve minded your grave. We still can do that. Tell me where—”

“My grave.” Daisha stepped backward. The truth that hadn’t taken shape yet hit her. My grave. She looked down at her hands. Her fingernails were dirty. She hadn’t crawled out of anything, though. She mightn’t remember everything, but she knew that. “I wasn’t in a grave.”

“I know.” Maylene poured another glass, tilting both the whiskey and the water bottles over the cup. “That’s why you’re so thirsty. The dead always are if they haven’t been minded properly.”

“I’m not ...” Daisha stared at her. “I’m not.”

Maylene cut a thick slice of bread, laid it on a plate, and poured honey over it. She slid the plate forward. Her fingertips were right next to the handle of the bread knife. “Eat.”

“I don’t ... how can I be dead if I’m hungry?” Daisha felt the truth in Maylene’s words, though. She knew.

Maylene nodded toward the glass and the plate. “Eat, child.”

“I don’t want to be dead.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be in a grave either.” Daisha pushed away from the table. The chair fell backward to the floor.

Maylene didn’t react.

“That’s what you want, though, isn’t it?” Daisha understood. She knew why she’d come here, knew why the old woman was giving her the whiskey and the bread.

“It’s what I do.” Maylene stood. “I keep the dead in their place and I send them back when they wake. You shouldn’t have been left outside Claysville. You shouldn’t have been ...”

“Killed. I shouldn’t’ve been killed.” Daisha was shaking. Her head felt like it was full of bees buzzing so loud her thoughts weren’t staying clear. “That’s what you want. You want to kill me.”

“You’re already dead.”

The next thing Daisha knew she was kneeling over Maylene, the floor hard under her knees. “I don’t want to be dead.”

“Me either.” Maylene smiled. Blood ran down a cut by her eye. “But you already are , child.”

“Why you? Why did I come to you? I couldn’t stop myself from coming,” Daisha whispered.

“I’m the Graveminder. It’s what I do. The dead come knocking, and I set things right.”

“Put us back.”

“Word, drink, and food,” Maylene murmured. “I gave you all three. If you’d been buried here ...”

Slowly Daisha walked farther into the room. All the while, she watched William. He didn’t seem like a threat, but she wasn’t sure.

“He doesn’t know what I am ... the other Undertaker. He doesn’t know any of this,” Daisha guessed. She took a step forward.

William didn’t back up, but the tension in his body said he wanted to. His gaze narrowed. “Leave them out of it.”

Daisha ran a hand over the back of a chair beside her. “I can’t. You know that, don’t you? Some things aren’t choices.”

“We can end this before anyone else gets hurt.” William held his hands out to the sides as if to show her he was unarmed. “You don’t want to hurt people, do you? You will if you don’t come away with me. You know that.”

“I’m not bad,” Daisha whispered.

“I believe you.” He held out a hand to her. He curled his fingers toward him in a beckoning gesture. “You can do the right thing here. Just come with me. We’ll go meet some people who can help us.”

“ Her. The new Graveminder . ”

“No, not her. You and I can fix this all on our own.” He took another step forward, hand outstretched. “Maylene gave you food and drink, didn’t she?”

Suspiciously Daisha said, “Yeah, but not enough. I’m so hungry.”

“Do you need me fix you something?” William’s breathing was ragged. “Would that help?”

Without meaning to, Daisha took his hand and pulled him to her. He was so close; it wasn’t as if she’d even meant to move, but she had. She was shaking her head. He trembled. Like Maylene did. Daisha sank her teeth into his wrist, and he made a sound, a hurt animal noise.

He pulled something out of his pocket and tried to stick it in her arm. A needle. He’d offered her hope, but he was trying to hurt her. Poison. She pushed him away. “That wasn’t nice.”

He clutched his bleeding arm to his chest. Little red drops fell to the floor; more sank into his shirt.

“Let me help,” he said. He reached for the needle, which had fallen from his hand. “Please, child. Let me help.”

Daisha couldn’t stop looking at his wrist. The skin was torn. “I did that,” she whispered.

“We can make it okay.” He picked up the needle. His face was pale, and he dropped to the floor so that he was half kneeling, half sitting in front of her. Despite his obvious pain, he reached out to grab her wrist. “Please. I can ... help you.”

“No.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her mind felt clearer now. Everything made more sense when she wasn’t so hungry. “I don’t think I want the help you have.”

He cradled his bloody arm and tried to stand. “This isn’t right. You aren’t right. You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“But I am .” Daisha shoved him down. She was still hungry, but she was more afraid of him than she was hungry. He doesn’t understand. Afraid meant falling apart. She didn’t like that. She wasn’t going to let that happen. Daisha might not have chosen to be dead—or to be awake after dying—but she could make a few choices now.

Quietly Daisha left the room and closed the door behind her.

William didn’t follow.

She thought about visiting the woman who was humming in her office, but staying here seemed unwise. William might not be strong enough to stop her, but he knew things and people who might be able to hurt her.

Daisha slipped out the door.

Someone else would feed her, someone who didn’t make her afraid. She’d find them, and then she’d decide what to do next.