Free Something Strange and Deadly by Susan Dennard Page B

them.”
    â€œHis father...” I thought back to the newspaper article. “He’s on the city council?”
    â€œYes, and he no longer wishes to hold office. That interferes significantly with my own campaign for city council.” 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. “Now, if you would kindly keep this to yourself.”
    â€œI am sorry for the loss of your friend,” I offered. This secret was hardly as sinister as I had expected—or hoped. Perhaps my own curiosity was really no better than Allison’s appetite for gossip.
    â€œHave you spoken with the Spirit-Hunters?” I offered. “Perhaps they can help.”
    â€œNo.” He tipped his face away. “I would rather not deal with them. They’re low-life—disreputable, I’ve heard.”
    I frowned. Joseph Boyer seemed about as honest as men come—a true gentleman if I’d ever met one. “But,” I said hesitantly, “if they’re so disreputable, then why did the Exhibition board hire them?”
    â€œBecause they volunteered? Because they’re cheap? I can’t say.” He lifted a shoulder. “Everything about the situation is worrisome, Miss Fitt.” He glanced at me, assessing. “Worst of all, I hear all the corpses in Laurel Hill have come to life.”
    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 hundreds—perhaps even thousands—of 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.
    â€œTake me to Laurel Hill,” I said.
    Clarence whipped his face toward me, his expression revolted. “Why? What a horrible request.”
    â€œPlease, Mr. Wilcox.” I scooted closer to him. “It is not so great a detour to go there—it’s on our way into the countryside. I just want to peer through the gates.”
    â€œGive me one good reason to comply with such a morbid desire.”
    What could I say? I didn’t want him to know about Elijah. “My... my father is in Laurel Hill Cemetery,” I muttered at last. “You said all the bodies have risen, and I wonder if he is among them.”
    My words were not entirely false. My father was buried in Laurel Hill, and I was curious if his corpse had risen.
    â€œAh,” Clarence said. He clenched the reins in one hand and massaged his forehead with the other. “I have asked myself that same question. About my own father, who is also buried there.” He narrowed his eyes a fraction and studied me. “All right, Miss Fitt. You win. But consider this your bribe to keep my secrets.” He shot me a half grin. “We will only stay a moment.” 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 empty—no, not empty. Empty of the living.
    â€œWe stop here,” Clarence said. “I don’t want the horses getting skittish.”
    We jerked to a halt, and I lurched forward in my seat. Clarence hopped to the ground and offered me his hand. “I do not wish to stay long, Miss Fitt. We shouldn’t be here, and...” He swiveled