Free Bloodline (Whyborne & Griffin Book 5) by Jordan L. Hawk Page B

rattled loose, and the door opened with
the same agonized shriek of hinges I recalled from my grandmother’s funeral.
    A whiff of damp came from within the crypt: old wood and
even older stone, all returning to the dust from which it had come. Father led
the way inside, and we followed.
    The space within was cramped. Two large tombs took up most
of the floor space, but the walls were lined with shelves. Many already
contained moldering coffins, but there were several empty places yet awaiting
new generations of Whybornes.
    Would I join them some day? The way my life had gone the
last two years, it seemed more likely I’d end up in the gullet of some
monstrous horror, or else buried in a shallow grave. Whatever happened, I
certainly didn’t want to spend eternity here.
    Had Griffin made arrangements? Perhaps I ought to make a
will specifying I be buried with him, just in case. Father wouldn’t protest; no
doubt he’d be glad to put as much distance as possible between his corpse and
mine.
    “Here.” It was the first word Father had spoken since we’d
left the motor car. He indicated one of the empty shelves, and Griffin and I
dutifully shifted our burden to it
    Goodbye, Guinevere.
    Griffin bowed his head, his lips moving in silent prayer.
Father looked faintly surprised, but then bowed his head as well. I stared
straight ahead, reading the small plaques beneath the shelves identifying those
interred above. One in particular caught my attention. Infant daughter,
October 31, 1870.
    My twin sister. Our birth, two weeks before expected, had
ruined Mother’s health. My twin died shortly thereafter, and I’d been expected
to join her for some time. What would my life have been like had everything
gone differently, and we’d been born hale and hearty, in the proper time? Or
would nothing have changed at all?
    Mostly likely the latter. It would not have altered my
nature, after all.
    Griffin’s prayer ended, and he lifted his head. Father
cleared his throat and indicated the door. “We should go.”
    We stepped back outside. A bird roosting at the edge of the
Draakenwood flushed, its wings fluttering frantically in the dark. Had we
disturbed it, or had I been right all along, and we weren’t alone? I stared
fixedly into the night, but nothing appeared beyond the circle of lantern light
save for indistinct shadows.
    The door thudded closed behind me. I took a few steps
forward while Father fiddled with the chain and lock. The weathered headstones
looked like crouching figures. The wind gusted in my face, bringing with it the
earthy smell of the wood, along with something else. A scent of salt and the
sea, clean and crisp.
    And utterly wrong. The wind blew from the landward side, not
the ocean.
    I snatched up the lantern. Ignoring Father’s indignant
shout, I lifted it high, casting a wider pool of light.
    Something broke cover, darting from behind one of the
nearest headstones. I glimpsed sleek skin the color of pearl, mottled with dark
gray. Gold and jewels flashed, a confusing dazzle, like a cloud of minnows.
    It fled down the hill. With a shout, I gave chase.
    ~ * ~
    The creature seemed humanoid, but ran with a curious, loping
gait. It darted around the headstones, heading for the east side of the
cemetery. I couldn’t make out anything but the pale patches of its skin, so I
focused intently on them, determined not to lose it.
    And tripped over a footstone.
    My hands scraped over leaves and soft earth, and I felt the
knee of my trousers rip. The lantern flickered madly but, fortunately, didn’t
go out. Griffin and Father called behind me. I ignored them, rolling to my feet
and running in the direction I’d last seen the creature. Where the devil had it
gone?
    Another flash of white and gold, this time against the
stones of the low wall demarcating the cemetery’s edge. “Stop!” I shouted.
    It didn’t, of course. I had the confused impression of an
almost-human silhouette as it balanced for an instant atop the