them.â
âHis father...â I thought back to the newspaper article. âHeâs on the city council?â
âYes, and he no longer wishes to hold office. That interferes significantly with my own campaign for city council.â He flicked his gaze to me for several moments, his mouth curved down. But in an instant his lips were back to their fetching smile. âNow, if you would kindly keep this to yourself.â
âI am sorry for the loss of your friend,â I offered. This secret was hardly as sinister as I had expectedâor hoped. Perhaps my own curiosity was really no better than Allisonâs appetite for gossip.
âHave you spoken with the Spirit-Hunters?â I offered. âPerhaps they can help.â
âNo.â He tipped his face away. âI would rather not deal with them. Theyâre low-lifeâdisreputable, Iâve heard.â
I frowned. Joseph Boyer seemed about as honest as men comeâa true gentleman if Iâd ever met one. âBut,â I said hesitantly, âif theyâre so disreputable, then why did the Exhibition board hire them?â
âBecause they volunteered? Because theyâre cheap? I canât say.â He lifted a shoulder. âEverything about the situation is worrisome, Miss Fitt.â He glanced at me, assessing. âWorst of all, I hear all the corpses in Laurel Hill have come to life.â
I shivered and hugged my arms to my stomach. Laurel Hill, Daniel had mentioned, was a graveyard on the steep, rugged hills beside the Schuylkill River. Because it was several miles north of Philadelphia, it had always been undisturbed and peaceful. Though, if all the corpses had risen... Well, that meant hundredsâperhaps even thousandsâof Dead.
And if the Dead came from Laurel Hill, then it seemed likely the necromancer was there as well. And if Elijah was trapped with the necromancer, then... then he could be in the cemetery.
And he might be a corpse too. My skin crawled, and I heaved the thought aside.
âTake me to Laurel Hill,â I said.
Clarence whipped his face toward me, his expression revolted. âWhy? What a horrible request.â
âPlease, Mr. Wilcox.â I scooted closer to him. âIt is not so great a detour to go thereâitâs on our way into the countryside. I just want to peer through the gates.â
âGive me one good reason to comply with such a morbid desire.â
What could I say? I didnât want him to know about Elijah. âMy... my father is in Laurel Hill Cemetery,â I muttered at last. âYou said all the bodies have risen, and I wonder if he is among them.â
My words were not entirely false. My father was buried in Laurel Hill, and I was curious if his corpse had risen.
âAh,â Clarence said. He clenched the reins in one hand and massaged his forehead with the other. âI have asked myself that same question. About my own father, who is also buried there.â He narrowed his eyes a fraction and studied me. âAll right, Miss Fitt. You win. But consider this your bribe to keep my secrets.â He shot me a half grin. âWe will only stay a moment.â Then he flicked the reins, and we picked up our speed.
Minutes later we rounded a shady bend in the road. The long, white-columned gatehouse that marked the entrance to Laurel Hill Cemetery moved into view. The gates were closed, and there was no one around. This was usually a place of wandering couples, visiting families, and rattling carriages, all there to view the forested cemetery grounds. Now it was silent and emptyâno, not empty. Empty of the living.
âWe stop here,â Clarence said. âI donât want the horses getting skittish.â
We jerked to a halt, and I lurched forward in my seat. Clarence hopped to the ground and offered me his hand. âI do not wish to stay long, Miss Fitt. We shouldnât be here, and...â He swiveled