Graveminder

Chapter 35

BYRON WAS GRATEFUL THAT REBEKKAH HAD BEEN SILENT AS THEY’D LEFT the land of the dead. His relief at seeing her unharmed vied with a fury that she’d been in the land of the dead alone. Charlie arranged that , Byron reminded himself. Unfortunately, he was also aware that Charlie couldn’t have arranged it if Rebekkah hadn’t let go of his hand: she was so entranced by what she’d seen there that she’d stepped away from him.

The world she seemed to see was unlike the one he’d experienced, and now, even as she stayed at his side, she was lost in thoughts he wasn’t privy to. He’d known that her experience there would differ from his, but he hadn’t thought about what that meant. He had absolutely no desire to step foot there again.

Except for the need to keep Rebekkah safe.

He considered the possibility of opening the gate and simply shoving the dead into the tunnel, but the image of tossing the dead girl—Daisha—into a tunnel without walking her into the land of the dead made him feel like a criminal. Good men didn’t abduct people. Good men didn’t truss them up and throw them into hidden chambers.

Daisha is dead. The girl is dead already.

The warnings his father had shared had sounded far less challenging at the time. The monsters need to be stopped. The dead girl had bitten a child, had injured William, had killed Maylene.

This time, Rebekkah kept her fingers laced with his as they stepped back into the storage room, so he used only one hand as he closed the cabinet and hid the tunnel. The room felt different the moment the tunnel was out of sight, as if removing the visual temptation of it changed the threat.

It doesn’t.

He’d seen Rebekkah’s face when she stood on the balcony looking out over the city of the dead. She was afraid, but underneath the fear, she was enamored. Her cheeks had been flushed, and her eyes had glimmered like she had a fever. For a chest-tightening moment, he’d wondered if that’s what Ella had looked like when she’d gazed out at the land of the dead. He might not understand it, but something they’d seen there had been alluring enough to cause Ella to rush to the end of her life.

Will Rebekkah do the same thing?

With carefully controlled movements, he lowered the duffel bag of supplies from Alicia to the floor and kept his voice even as he asked, “What happened to your clothes?”

Still holding his hand, she turned away from the cabinet and blinked at him. The gown that was gray in the land of the dead was suddenly vibrant in the world of the living. The rich green fabric stood out in the sterile steel and muted tones of the storage room.

“Bullets. Blood.” She put her free hand against her side. “Just a graze. Charles kept me safe. It doesn’t even hurt now.”

Byron paused at the familiarity in her tone. His opinion of Charlie was far from a positive one, but Rebekkah seemed to think differently. Their entire experiences of the land of the dead were dissimilar. It added to Byron’s dislike of the place. All he said, however, was, “I don’t trust him, but I’m glad he protected you.”

“Me, too.” She took her hand away from her side. “I feel fine, but if he hadn’t ...”

“He kept the bullets from you. That’s what matters. If he hadn’t trapped me in the tunnel—” He stopped himself. “I can look at the injury if you want.”

“Really, I’m okay.” Her eyes widened briefly. “It should still hurt. It did when I was over there, but now”—she put a hand on her side—“it’s ... fine.” She looked into his eyes. “It’s gone.”

He wasn’t sure whether he was alarmed that the injury seemed to be tied to her time in the land of the dead or grateful that her pain was gone. Would it return when she went back there? Or had it truly healed by passing through the tunnel? As with so much else, there were more questions than answers. Obviously, things could cross between the two worlds. If not, Alicia wouldn’t be making requests of him.

Byron tried to keep the worry from his voice as he said, “It’s probably a good idea to look at the wound.”

“Right ... but I’m not wearing underwear under this, so that means it’ll wait till elsewhere or I’m going to need to get naked.” Rebekkah plucked at the skirt. “ All of my clothes were ruined.”

“Oh.” The thought of Rebekkah injured was briefly replaced by the idea of Rebekkah vulnerable in Charlie’s bed.

He was just trying to provoke me when he said that. She wouldn’t . Would she?

Byron wasn’t sure what had actually happened, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to ask just then, wasn’t sure he could handle knowing. Instead, he said, “You’re not in danger from me, Bek. I can be professional. If you’d prefer, I can ask Elaine to look—”

“No.” Rebekkah shuddered. “She’d probably make me lie on the prep table.”

Byron smiled a little at Rebekkah’s attempt to lighten the mood. “Be nice.”

“Anyone that efficient isn’t going to be gentle.”

Byron pulled open the utility closet where he’d stored extra clothes since he’d moved back. He reached inside and grabbed a few things, shoving most of them into the bag Alicia had given him. “ I can be efficient and gentle.”

“And professional?” Rebekkah prompted.

“Do you want me to be professional?” He pulled his shirt off. There wasn’t a lot of blood on it, but there was enough that he wanted a clean one. “Is that the lie you still want to hear?”

“You’re heading into dangerous territory, B,” Rebekkah cautioned, but she’d made no pretense of looking away as he stripped off his shirt and put it into the biohazard bin.

He grabbed a clean shirt from the closet, but didn’t put it on. “And?”

She pulled her gaze away from his chest and studiously looked at the floor in front of her. “I don’t need you to look at my side. It’s fine.”

He walked across the room and stopped in front of her. “That’s not what I asked.”

She lifted her gaze. “You do know that I wasn’t ... when Charles said those things ... I mean, I slept there, and—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. The last thing he wanted to hear just then was Rebekkah talking about Charlie. “You don’t owe me an explanation; you’ve made that abundantly clear.”

“Sure.” She put her hands on his bare chest. “And I’ve known you too long to believe for a minute that you’d be fine with me being with Charles ... or anyone else.”

“Maybe I’ve changed.” Byron ran his hand over her hip. “Maybe—”

She stretched up and kissed him, carefully and slowly, and all of her repeated protestations that she didn’t do relationships felt empty. She didn’t touch him as if this was casual. He’d had friends with benefits; this felt like more. It always had.

For both of us.

She pulled away. “No.”

“No what?” he prompted.

“No, I don’t want you to be professional, and no, you haven’t changed, but right now I’d probably ignore that ... again. Then tomorrow we’d regret it.” She stepped back.

The temper he’d been trying to keep in check slipped a little then. “Bullshit. I never regret it the next morning. You’re the only one with that issue.”

And as she had done for the past nine years when he tried to talk about things she didn’t want to discuss, Rebekkah changed the subject. “I need to find Maylene’s journal. She left me a letter that said there were answers in it. I started to look for it, but I didn’t realize how important it was. Now I need ... I’m not even sure what I need, but there’s a dead girl out there and I have no idea how to stop her.”

“Right,” he bit off.

He pulled on his shirt, lifted the bag, and walked toward the doorway that led into the hall. He felt like he was walking a thin line between pushing her to face facts and going along with her habitual avoidance. The problem was that he knew they were past the point where ignoring their relationship was an option.

She can accept murderers and hidden worlds, but us ... that she can’t accept.

Frustration barely in check, Byron stepped aside for her to pass him.

She caught up the hem of her skirt and stepped into the hall. Once he pulled the door shut, she asked, “Will you come with me? To look through the house, I mean.”

“I was planning on it. First, though, I need to grab something.” He locked the storage room behind them. “Last night, before Dad ... before I came back from there without him, Dad said he left some things up in his room.”

“And you didn’t get them yet?” She gave him an incredulous look. “Why?”

He stared back at her for a moment. “Because I thought finding you was a bit more important, all things considered. Dad said that nothing else could be done until you met Charlie, and the whole thing was a bit surreal. I just wanted ... I needed to find you before anything else.” Byron took her hand in his. “Whatever else happens, however infuriating I find your refusal to admit what’s between us, you are my first priority for the rest of my life. That’s what it means to be the Undertaker. You, my Graveminder, are my first, last, and most important priority. Before my life, before anyone else’s life, you .”

Rebekkah stared at him silently. “What?”

“My job , Rebekkah, is to put your life before mine.”

“I don’t want ...” She shook her head.

“Don’t let go of my hand in the tunnel again. You can die there.” He gave her a tight smile and then added, “I, however, can get shot repeatedly and live, apparently.”

She opened and closed her mouth, and tears filled her eyes.

And, as had happened so many times when she wept, his temper vanished. He sighed. “I love you, and I would rather be the one trying to keep you safe than let anyone else in this world ... or that one ... do it, but I need you to work with me. I don’t trust Charlie, and I don’t know what game he’s playing, but I do know that it didn’t even occur to me to hesitate when I had to shoot two men to reach you.”

“B, I didn’t—”

“No. I don’t want to hear all the reasons you can’t this or that. Just tell me that whether or not you can give us a chance, you will work with me on this Graveminder thing.” Byron stared at her. “I’m the only one that can open the gate, Bek, and I’ll let the whole town die before I let you go over there and get killed because you’re being stubborn.”

“I promise,” she whispered.

He hated the way she was staring at him, as if he was somehow a stranger to her, but he hated the thought of failing her even more. Rebekkah’s safety was the most important thing in both worlds. I won’t fail you. Byron thought about the bullets that had been fired toward Rebekkah, about the certainty he’d had earlier that she was in danger. I can’t be sure she is safe ever again. The dead walked, and her job was to find them. The man who controlled the land of the dead was not to be trusted. The only thing Byron knew for sure was that he would die rather than fail Rebekkah—and that if he did die, he was failing her.