The Ravenous Dead (Gravekeeper, #2)

by Darcy Coates

Zoe slumped on the forest floor, her face going slack from relief as she took the weight off her feet. “I’m never going to walk ever again.” Keira was used to travelling long distances, but even her legs were sore. “It’s the forest. The ground is never truly flat so you’re using more muscles to keep your balance than you would on a footpath.” “Ugh.” Zoe tilted her head back, eyes closed as she faced the canopy. “Rainforests only have a thin layer of fertile topsoil. Much like I only have a thin layer of good humour covering my deep, deep loathing for this place.”

The university made it clear that it endorses healthy lifestyle choices.” He blinked at them both, lips pulled into a thin line, before shuffling towards the cooker. “Unofficially, though? Yeah. Twenty minutes on a good night.” “The sheep are more malleable when they’re exhausted,” Zoe said, nodding. “Just so you know, our dearest friend availed herself of a midnight hike through the murder forest.”

Dr Kelsey was speaking again, but Keira tuned him out. She only had eyes for the Victorian woman, who leaned on her cane. She reached one gloved hand towards the graves and then raised it—a wordless beckon. At the motion, a sea of forms appeared. Keira took in a sharp breath, her heart overflowing. The graveyard was alive. Spirits looked towards her from every corner. Some burned as bright as lamps in the night; others were no more than wisps. Every one of them smiled. Keira skipped her gaze across the crowd as she counted familiar faces. Tony Lobell, still fully nude. Marianne Cobb, the worker woman. The children. She’d lost too many spirits. But so many more had survived.

Spectral forms shimmered as they raised hands, hundreds of them, towards the stars above. The mist thickened dramatically, drowning Keira in it, spilling outwards from the graveyard until even the fire’s heat couldn’t compete.

Thunder crackled above them. Keira looked up in time to see the last stars vanish behind walls of gathering clouds. She drew a sharp breath as she realised what the spirits were doing. They drew energy from their environments. It was a slow process; the weaker spirits, like the hollow-faced man, would need days or weeks to gather enough to appear, even briefly. But now they were giving back, releasing the energy they’d stored while in hiding. Sending it into the air to condense into rain clouds. Keira let her eyes fall closed as the first heavy drop hit her flushed skin. More came quickly. It only took seconds for the clear night to transform into a torrential downpour, as heavy and unyielding as the night Keira had first arrived in Blighty.

She could hear Dr Kelsey’s breathing: quick, panicked, uncertain. He turned, one hand still holding the pistol’s butt, searching the graveyard behind them but failing to see anything. He swung back towards Keira, his pale-blue eyes wild. “What are you doing?”

“Can I ask a favour?” “Of course. Anything.” “Can I borrow your tent?” His smile turned incredulous. “Oh, please don’t—” Keira laughed as she looked across the undulating grave markers. Angels clasped hands under their chins as rainwater flowed over their eyes. The ground rose and sank as the coffins beneath decayed and the earth settled. The stones burst from the earth like teeth, broken in some places, tilting at others. Through the fog, faint spectral shapes glittered as they moved between the markers. “Yeah,” Keira said, this time with more certainty. “I think I’d really like to stay here. It’s home.”