Page 20 of Wednesday

"Then show me," I challenged.

Morrow's lipless mouth curved in that unsettling smile. Without warning, he rolled to the side and pulled me in against his chest, his arms encircling me. I tensed for a moment before relaxing into it, my head resting against his silent chest.

"I have known many humans across the centuries," Morrow said, his words vibrating against my cheek. "Watched them live and die, consumed their memories and essence. But never..." He paused, seeming to struggle. "Never have I been offered what you've given freely."

I pulled back slightly to look up at him. "What does it mean? This connection between us?"

Morrow's expression remained unreadable, but his grip on me tightened fractionally. "It means you carry part of me, as I carry part of you."

"And what happens to me?" I asked softly.

"That depends on the path you choose," Morrow said. "Some who have shared blood with my kind have lived long lives, forever changed but still human. Others..." He trailed off.

"Others?" I prompted.

"Others have sought a deeper communion. Have chosen to dwell in darkness."

I shivered at the idea of these unnamed people choosing to become ghouls. Flesh-eating monsters. Would I ever be that far gone? I liked to think not. Morrow’s long palm stroked my bare thigh as if he sensed my unease.

"Where do you go?" I blurted. "When the sun rises?"

Morrow's head tilted at that unnatural angle, studying me as if weighing a decision. After a long moment, he spoke. "Would you like to see?"

My heart skipped a beat. "Yes."

Chapter Nine

Darkness swallowed me, so complete it felt like a physical presence against my skin. I could not see my hand in front of my face, could not make out the walls of the passage we descended through. Only Morrow's cold fingers wrapped around mine provided any orientation in the void.

We moved downward for what felt like an eternity, the air growing cooler and damper with each step. The chill seeped through my jeans, making me grateful I had taken the time to dress properly before following him into these depths. The silence pressed against my eardrums, broken only by the soft scrape of my shoes against stone, and the rustling of my jacket. Morrow moved without sound, his strange grace undisturbed by the pitch blackness.

"How much further?" I finally whispered, my voice sounding unnaturally loud in the confined space.

"Not far," Morrow said, his voice coming from just ahead of me. "Few living eyes have seen what I'm about to show you."

The passage widened suddenly, the close walls falling away. Though I still could not see, I sensed a vast space opening around us. The air moved differently here, circulating in subtle currents. I tried to pinpoint what I was smelling.

"Wait," Morrow said, releasing my hand.

I stood perfectly still. I did not hear anything, but a moment later, a soft glow bloomed in the darkness. Morrow knelt beside a lantern, its flickering light slowly revealing the chamber around me. My breath caught.

We stood in a cavern larger than the cottage, its ceiling lost in shadows. Every inch of wall space was carved into shelves, all of them full. Centuries of collected artifacts. Far more than what would have been buried at funerals. Pottery that looked Native American, Victorian jewelry boxes, Civil War pistols, shelf after shelf of books. So many things I could not begin to catalog them all. And each item appeared meticulously arranged just so.

"How long have you been collecting?" I asked, moving toward a shelf holding a wide assortment of jewelry. Diamonds, gold, silver, turquoise. Some tarnished and some glittering as brightly as the day it was made.

"Since before there was a cemetery," Morrow replied, watching me from beside the lantern. "Since before there was a town."

In the dim light, his skeletal body seemed softer. The sharp edges less defined.

"This way," he said, lifting the lantern and moving deeper into the cavern.

I followed him through an arched passage into another chamber, smaller than the first. It was similar to the bedroom I found before but more lived-in. A large nest of blankets and clothing covered a large, flat stone. The base was about half the size and carved with symbols I could not read. A large stack of leather-bound books sat on the floor on the left side.

"This is your home," I realized.

Morrow set the lantern down, its light casting his elongated shadow across the wall. "Yes."

“What about the other place?”

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