Page 41 of Diesel

“No,” Diesel replied. “What the fuck?” He approached the wall, his feet kicking dirt and rock. I didn’t know much about catacombs, but I did know they were supposed to be sealed in the United States. “Every seal is broken and every casket torn open.”

“Who would have done this, Diesel?”

Trixie poked around the caskets. She pulled out a skeletal arm and examined the hand. She went to another and did the same thing. Diesel and I watched with curiosity as she checked every casket. “All the jewelry is gone. Unless the Ushers were never buried wearing jewelry, you’ve got a grave robber in your midst.”

“Cloie,” I said. “It doesn’t explain the voices.”

Diesel stood at Roderick’s casket—the skeletal remains grotesque. If any of them crawled out, my ass was up the stairs and gone. “Actually, I believe it does. Every one of these fucking things are open. Whatever you believe in is fine. But the Ushers were different. They could speak from the grave. Ghosts? Fuck if I know. But I believe when these seals were broken, they started to speak to me as the last known surviving Usher.”

“They weren’t telling you to kill those men,” I said. “They were telling you to kill her because of what she was doing.”

“What the actual fuck?” Trixie said. “And you believe that?”

“I do,” I said.

“So do I.” Diesel began rummaging around the room. He flashed his light on a large pile of bricks. “Trixie, I need you to go back upstairs and get the others. Tell them I need help in the basement.”

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Do what I told you.” Diesel opened a box of candles and handed half to me. “Light those. I want this fucking room illuminated.”

Trixie, huffing and puffing like a scolded child, went upstairs.

“You going to tell me what you’re doing?”

Diesel started stacking bricks below the broken seals. “They wanted me to stop her. I am. I need to seal these fucking things so the dead can go back to being dead.” He pointed at the bricks in the corner. “Twenty bricks for each seal should do it. There are bags of concrete over there in the corner.”

We were halfway finished when Beast and the others joined us: everyone but Trixie. Diesel explained what was happening, and every seal was enclosed with bricks in a few minutes. Cinder brought a bucket of water to the basement, and Diesel mixed the concrete. We spent the next hour sealing off the catacombs.

“You really think this will work, brother?” Beast asked Diesel.

“I do.” Diesel started up the steps. “Now, I need to find Cloie.”

Upstairs, we found Cloie in the foyer, hands tied, sitting in Uncle’s favorite chair. Trixie sat on the box sofa, reading her phone.

“She was on her way out the door,” Trixie said. She showed us the phone. “Unfortunately, she figured out what you were doing and called in backup. The guy she’s been working with is on his way with some friends.”

“Good,” Diesel said. “The voices aren’t telling me shit. They don’t have to.” He shrugged at Beast, and Beast nodded. “Who knocked you up?” Diesel asked Cloie. She didn’t answer.

I moved in front of Diesel. “He won’t hit you, but I will. Answer the question.”

“My boyfriend,” Cloie said.

“You were going to fuck over the Usher family, weren’t you?” I asked.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” I raised my hand to hit the woman, but Diesel stopped me.

“Did you take the jewelry from the caskets in the basement?” Diesel asked.

“No. Of course not. That’s gross.”

“She’s lying,” Wendy said.

“Untie her and let her go,” Diesel said.

“What the fuck?” Brainiac said. “This bitch was gonna take everything coming to you.”

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