Page 85 of The Executioners Three
Laina’s fists had fallen. She gaped down at Freddie. “Oh my god,” she mumbled as Divya helped her climb off Freddie. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you? Oh my god, I’m so sorry I did this. I don’t know what happened.”
Freddie didn’t know either—just that staying here seemed like a really bad idea. She hauled herself to her feet. “We need to go.Now.”
“I agree,” Divya said, already peeling off her coat and wrapping it over Laina’s shoulders. “She’s freezing, and…” She didn’t finish that statement—she didn’t have to. The pinched-lip stare she flung Freddie was more than enough.
“Go to the bikes,” Freddie ordered, twisting away. “I’ll be right behind.”
“Wait, what?” Divya barked at Freddie’s back. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right behind,” she insisted, and without another word of explanation, Freddie tugged Xena from her jacket. She seemed no worse for the wear, miraculously, so Freddie crossed to the third tombstone. She cranked Xena, aimed her, and after three snaps, Freddie knelt and started scooping up soil by the handful.
Somehow, despite the raging wind, the candle still burned. White wax had splattered across the stone, leaving marks that were identical to the marks on Damien’s headstone.
Scrape, scrape, dig, dig.Time slid past. The wind bit harder, and a growing stink pulsed against Freddie, worse than it had ever been in the archives. Cloying up her nose and filling her sinuses. Dirt was also gathering under her fingernails in soft, sandy grains that she could hardly feel because her fingers were so cold.
Scrape, scrape, dig, dig.
Freddie knew she was going full Agent Mulder here. Pushing things too far in the search for answers, exactly like her dad had supposedly done. But what choice did Freddie have? If she wanted the truth, she couldn’t run now.
It made her think of something Mulder had said in season four:You put such faith in your science, Scully, but from the things I’ve seen, science provides no place to start.
Right now, Freddie was inclined to agree. Sorry, Scully, but sciencewasn’t offering anywhere obvious for Freddie to start. Laina had come here, chanting in French, placed a candle on her ancestor’s tombstone. Then the sky had darkened, and Laina had fallen to the earth screaming.
Snow began to trickle down. Unseasonably early. Absolutely freezing. Freddie’s fingers were completely numb by the time she got as deep as she needed to be—deep enough to make out a first name.
Alexandre,the stone began.
And a few frantic digs after that, the rest of the words appeared. Faded and clogged with dirt, but unmistakable all the same:
ALEXANDRE, LE STEWARD
19OCTOBRE, 1687
LE POUVOIR RÉSIDE DANS LE SERVICE
“Aha,” Freddie whispered. Laina had come with a candle to the exact tomb of someone with a title that matched her last name. That sure couldn’t be a coincidence.
Unconcerned with her filthy fingers or Xena’s sensitive casing, Freddie snapped two more pictures of the tombstone’s face. Then she shoved to her feet and broke into a run. Away from the grave, away from the candle still burning.
Sure, she wanted to clear her name and find the missing water bottle, but the mad ravings of Original Fabre were feeling just a little too possible right now. Freddie knew they weren’t—because ofcoursethey weren’t. But her gut wasn’t quite connecting with her brain at the moment. It didn’t help that the rotten stink was so strong it cloyed against Freddie’s skin and slid down her throat with each breath.
She would let herself feel foolish about these irrational fears later—once she was out of these trees and somewhere warm. Also, preferably, somewhere with walls and locks and other people.
Twice, Freddie looked back, half expecting to see a Hangsman or a Headsman with ropes and axes like in her dream… But there was nothing. Only falling snow and a smell like dead things lost.
Freddie was drenched in sweat by the time she caught up to Laina and Divya. Her thigh muscles screamed, and the first drips of embarrassment were starting to trickle into her brain. This wasjusta forest; this wasjustacounty park; and there wereclearlyno serial killers or dangerous animals in sight.
But that little burst of Scully logic didn’t stop Freddie from turning to Laina and asking: “Are you okay to ride a bike?”
“Yeah,” the girl said, clearly still foggy—but also determined to push past it and save face.
“Good. You take the orange bike, and Div, hop on my handlebars. ’Cause we’re getting the hell out of Dodge.”
Freddie sat on the carpet beside Laina. Divya’s flowery comforter was wrapped tightly to Laina’s shoulders, an afghan draped over her cross-legged knees.
Despite the layers, Laina shivered. Her teeth chattered.
The girls had gone to Freddie’s house first so she could grab her stolen copy ofThe Curse of Allard Fortin(and some more Tylenol for her wrist). Then they’d powered onward to Divya’s place—empty of parents, and therefore nosy questions, until tonight. After tucking blankets around Laina, Divya had hurried off to make a hot tea. Which had left Freddie alone with President Steward.
