Page 78 of The Rebel and the Rose
She stood and made her way towards their table. The others followed.
Reluctantly setting their whiskey glasses down, the Daggers looked up in bewilderment.
Seraphine said, ‘Did you see the graveyard on our way in?’
Ransom nodded. ‘It was somewhat hard to miss.’
‘Theo’s been speaking to the innkeeper. It seems Ornaux has its own graverobber.’ She turned on Nadia, her stare turning hard, as if to say,And it’s not me.
Nadia arched a brow. ‘Is that why you’ve come stomping over here? To plead your innocence?’
‘Ornaux is one of several graveyards in the area that have been recently disturbed,’ Versini supplied before Seraphine could fling the retort that was no doubt dancing on the tip of her tongue. ‘Someone has been taking corpses from their graves and moving them about in the night.’
Grimacing, Nadia reached for her whiskey, gulping it down.
‘To what end?’ said Ransom, struggling to keep his own revulsion in check.
Versini shrugged. ‘Innkeeper says it’s a mystery.’
‘More like a horror,’ muttered Val. ‘It sounds like the bodies get up to take a walk, then collapse again somewhere nearby.’
‘Could be local rebels,’ mused Caruso. ‘We’ve seen the same thing happen in Fantome.’
Albeit a more personal graverobbing. It was certainly an effective way to sow terror.
The Flames exchanged a loaded glance.
‘We shouldn’t stay here any longer than we have to,’ said Versini, looking between them. ‘We intend to leave at first light.’
‘Fine by me,’ said Ransom.
The others gave no argument.
Ornaux gave them all the creeps.
Something in common, at last.
Perhaps it was that which made Ransom push back his chair, making room at the table. ‘It’s been a long day. Do you want to join us for a drink?’
The Shadowsmith canted his head. ‘That depends. Are you buying?’
‘If you promise not to annoy me.’
Smirking, Versini pulled up a chair, making a point of seating himself between Ransom and Seraphine. So much for their deal. Caruso went to get more glasses from the bar, filling them with whiskey. Soon, their more serious talk of uprisings and renegade saints turned to lighter stories from House Armand and Hugo’s Passage, the former Cloaks and current Daggers swapping tales, almost as if they were old friends and not age-old nemeses. Then followed the card games and wagers that called for more drinking until most of them were too bleary-eyed to remember their enmity at all, and far too tired to care.
The other diners cleared out, the coachmen trudging upstairs to their rooms until it was just the Flames and the Daggers, and Bram, the remaining soldier, necking spirits at the bar while he watched them. Given there was no love lost between Bram and the others, he had the good sense to keep to himself. Halfway through a rousing game of saint or sinner when everyone but Nadia and Val had surrendered all their coin to the pot, Seraphine stood up, announcing she was too exhausted to lose any more games.
She slipped around the table, squeezing Ransom’s hand asshe passed. And there it was again – that insistent tug in his chest that made him want to trail after her. It wasn’t until she’d disappeared upstairs that he noticed the small wedge of paper in his palm.
He was on his feet before he even opened it.
‘Tapping out already?’ Caruso clucked his tongue. ‘We were just about to go double or quits. Versini’s a damn shark. And that kitten has claws.’
‘Say that shit again and I’ll take your eye out with one,’ snapped Val, slamming another copper down.
‘Dealer’s spread,’ said Nadia, shuffling the playing cards. ‘No peeking this time, Caruso.’
‘Try not to kill each other,’ said Ransom, stepping away from the table. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
