Free Savannah Sacrifice by Danica Winters Page A

song. But we need someone else to fall with us. What about the man?
    Starling turned to Jasper. “She wants you to help us sing the song. You up for it?”
    He made his way into the little yard that surrounded the girl’s grave, but his eyes scanned the square like he was searching for something. “Sure,” he said, sounding apprehensive.
    “It’s okay, she won’t hurt you.” Starling turned back to the girl’s statue. “You won’t hurt my friend Jasper, will you?”
    Nuh uh, ma’am. But there are others here who are bad. They do bad things. They hurt people.
    Chills ran down Starling’s spine. “Who are these others, Gracie?”
    The bad ones.
    Starling’s hand turned cold as the ghost must have slipped her icy hand into hers.
    Let’s not talk about them; let’s just dance.
    Reaching over, Starling slipped her free hand into Jasper’s. He glanced down at his other hand. “My fingers are cold. Does that mean she’s touching me?”
    Starling nodded. “It’s a strange feeling, isn’t it?”
    Jasper’s face was pale as he nodded.
    “You okay with this?”
    “I’m fine,” he said, but the color didn’t return to his face.
    Ring around the rosies,
Gracie sang.
    Starling nudged Jasper as she picked up the song. “Pockets full of posies. Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down.” Starling fell to the ground, her head landing in Jasper’s lap.
    “Sorry.” She sat up and away from Jasper’s touch.
    “It’s okay,” he replied.
    The girl’s laughter filled the silence.
That was fun. Let’s do it again!
    “Gracie, I am looking for a collection of books. Can you help me?”
    The girl’s laughter stopped.
What books?
    “They’re called the
Libros Umbrarum
. Have you heard of them?”
    Yes.
    “Do you know where I can find them?”
    The girl didn’t answer.
    “I need them. The spirits have told me that they will help me gain control over the voices I hear. Please?”
    Starling tried to quell her nerves. Gracie was only a little girl—there was no guarantee that she could, or would, help. If she didn’t, they would be left at square one—no answers and the fear of attack. “Gracie, did you hear me?”
    They’re with the bad people. I don’t want to go there.
    “You don’t have to go anywhere. You can stay right here and keep singing while we go, but you need to tell me where the books are, sweetheart.”
    Jasper gave her a questioning look, but she waved him off. “Where are the books, honey?”
    The cold returned in Starling’s hand followed by a light squeeze.
    “Are you going to show me?”
    There was a tug on her arm and Starling moved in the direction the little girl urged, summoning her courage for the sake of the child. Jasper followed as they made their way down the path and toward an archangel. The angel looked down on the grass, its wings spread slightly open, as if any moment it would take flight to the heavens. Her hands were open, palms up, ready to receive. At the base of the angel, the grave marker read: Avi Mortem, December 12, 1896 .
    “Jasper, have you ever heard of this Avi?” Starling whispered.
    He shook his head.
    The tugging stopped as they came within a step of the angel.
    Put your hand in hers
. Gracie squeezed Starling’s fingers.
    Reaching up, Starling slipped her hand into the angel’s.
    “Now what?” Starling asked.
    You have to say the special words. You have to say: Avi Mortem, find comfort in the arms of the wicked and solace where no other dares. Mortem. Genus. Honor.
    Starling repeated the chant and as the last word rolled from her tongue, the angel’s stony fingers trembled. In what seemed like slow motion, the marble wings opened, exposing a long set of stairs leading below ground.
    She stepped to the top of the stairs and looked down. A cold breeze blew upward from the cavernous black abyss at her feet. She took a step down.
    “No.” Jasper stopped her. “You can’t do this. You have no idea what you are going to find down there.”
    “What choice