Page 29 of Dauntless

“I can’t read it in the bloody dark.I just know what it says.”

I was struck by a sudden thought.“Is Henry Jessup buried here?”

Joe didn’t answer.

“He should be, right?If he died on the island?But he’s not, is he?”

“The church wasn’t built until the English came in the 1880’s,” Joe said.“Even the oldest graves here were dug somewhere else first and moved to the churchyard later.Henry Jessup’s wouldn’t be the only one from that first generation that’s missing because of that.And there are more than a few headstones that are too smashed up to read.It’s not proof he didn’t die on the island.”

“No,” I agreed, tracing the curve of the top of Emily Dinsmore’s headstone.“But it fits.”

Joe didn’t say anything.

“There’s a whole shorthand with headstones and graveyard statues, did you know?The Victorians were super into it, in that way that only the Victorians could be about death.A broken column meant a life cut short.Angels are to guide the dead person’s soul into heaven.Beehives are?—”

He snorted.“Beehives?”

“Beehives symbolise abundance in the Promised Land,” I said.“You know, the land of milk and honey.”

“Why do they have beehives and not cows then?”

“Cows would be cute,” I said.“They really missed the boat when it came to cows, didn’t they?Stupid Victorians.They used a lot of lambs, but that was mostly for babies and little kids.That’s not cute though, that’s sad.Oh.Now I’m sad.”

“You’re not sad.”He sat down beside me on Emily Dinsmore’s grave.“You’re just drunk.”

“That makes sense.”I exhaled heavily.“Can I be a bit sad for all the dead Victorian children though?”

He rubbed my back.“If you want.”

“This is nice here.”Out in the graveyard, it wasn’t as loud as inside.I could still hear the music and singing, but it was nice sitting in the dark and listening instead of being in the middle of it all.“Do you think Emily cares that we’re sitting on her grave?”

“I think Emily stopped caring about anything almost two hundred years ago.”He froze, and then his hand dropped from my back.

“What on earth are you doing out here, Red Joe?”

I held onto the ground as I turned my head to find Mavis looking down at us.She had a mug in one hand, and a piece of pie in the other one.

“There’spie?”I asked.“How did I miss the pie?”

It was too dark to tell how narrow her eyes were, but I imagined snake-slits.With demonic red lights behind them.

“Mavis,” Joe said.

“What did I say about digging around in dead men’s graves, Red Joe?”she asked.“I said nothing good will come of it, you mark my words.”

“You did,” he agreed.

“We’re not digging,” I pointed out.“We’re sitting.Also, this is alady’sgrave.”

Mavis took a bite of her pie.“I was talkinggenerally, Mr.Hawthorne.I can see you’re not actually digging.”

“It’s amazing how people here can make my surname sound like an insult,” I said.“Have you seenThe Matrix?Where Agent Smith says ‘MisterrrrrrAnderson.’That’s the vibe I’m getting.Even if George Hawthornewasa tyrant—which he probably wasn’t—that’s got nothing to do with me.”

“Don’t let John Coldwell hear you say that,” Mavis replied with the gleeful tone of a woman who wanted to watch the world burn.Or at least wanted to watch me get clobbered over the head again.“He might finish you off next time.”

“We don’t know that it was John,” Joe said, always the voice of reason.

“I’ll bet it was,” I said.

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