Page 45 of Witches of Dubious Origin
We had only gone a few hundred yards when I stumbled and Jasper grabbed my hand and pulled me off the path and into a copse of trees. He pressed his finger to his lips, indicating quiet, which was no small feat, as my lungs were sucking in oxygen like a starved man devoured food.
I bent over, hugging the grimoire to my chest, and tried to slow my heart rate and control my breathing. I felt lightheaded and a little fuzzy, but just then our unexpected Viking ran through the cemetery gate and I realized that Jasper had saved us from being caught.
Jasper grabbed my arm and pulled me down behind several tall headstones. He gestured for me to lie flat and I didn’t hesitate. The Viking halted. He lifted his face to the air as if he could smell our scent. I flattened myself even closer to the damp, leaf-strewn earth.
Our pursuer tossed his head, moving aside the fringe that covered his eyes. Then he crept along the side of the road, scanning the headstones as if he knew we were hiding among them. My heart was beating so loudly I was certain he could hear it, and when he stopped and tipped his head as if listening, I was sure of it. I braced myself for him to come at us, but instead he crept by as slowly as Sir Napsalot crossing a road.
I didn’t dare move for fear of making a sound that might draw his attention. Now that he was farther into the graveyard than we were, how were we supposed to lure him anywhere? Jasper must have read my expression in the faint moonlight. He leaned close, placing his mouth against my ear, and whispered so quietly it was almost as if he were breathing the words instead of speaking them.
“We’re going to split up. I will run him around the cemetery, giving you a chance to make certain the door to the tomb is open.”
“How are we going to get him inside?” I whispered, trying to be as quiet as him, but panic made my voice seem thunderous in my own head.
“No idea,” he admitted. “We’re making it up as we go along.”
This did not instill confidence. My stomach dropped. We were going to die. Our heads would likely be ripped right off our necks and tossed aside with our bodies to be found tomorrow. Everyone would think it was a murder-suicide and wonder why two people who barely knew each other decided to end their lives so gruesomely.
“Zoe.” Jasper grabbed my hand with his and gave my fingers a quick squeeze, bringing me out of my panic spiral. “Slip through the headstones, going as quietly as you can, straight to the hill. I’ll meet you there.”
I watched as he pushed himself off the ground and jogged back to the road. Once there, he shouted, “Oy, you bloody half-wit, we’re over here!” Then he took off running in the opposite direction.
Sure enough, the undead Viking turned, and with a roar that echoed throughout the entire cemetery, he ran after Jasper, much faster than he’d done before. I tried to tell myself Jasper could stay ahead of him, but even I didn’t believe me.
Something scurried in the underbrush as if it, too, wanted to get away, and I started, breaking out of my terror-induced stupor. I pushed up from the cold, hard ground and made my way through the headstones. It was too dark to see as I hurriedalong the uneven ground, clutching the grimoire close as I made my way to the top of the hill.
The Lively family tomb was the largest, as Agatha’s ancestors had been one of the founding families in Wessex. Eleven generations of Livelys had lived, loved, and died in our small town. The tomb itself was beautifully made, crafted of granite from the local quarry. It had been commissioned by Agatha’s great-great-great-grandfather. He’d even gone so far as to have all of the previous deceased Livelys dug up and placed in their own dedicated spots in the mausoleum.
The name LIVELY was engraved above the entrance, which suddenly struck me as funny, since the stone edifice housed a family of deceased people. Perhaps a better name for them would be the Unlivelys. Yup, I was teetering on the brink of hysteria.
Agatha had once shown me where the key to the ornate wrought iron doors was kept. I approached the full-size statue of the late Gerard Lively, in his topcoat and tails and seated on his pedestal at the side of the entrance as if to assess all who dared enter, and gently lifted the lid off the marble box he held in one hand. The hefty skeleton key was inside and I snatched it, replacing the lid.
The sound of approaching footsteps made my hand sweat and fingers shake. I quickly opened the door to the crypt and pocketed the key. I stepped inside, glancing at the large marble sarcophagus holding the corpse of the very first Lively.
“Sorry to interrupt and I apologize for what’s to come, but I’m in a bit of a jam and Agatha is my friend, so…again, very sorry.”
I took in the small, cramped space and wondered how wewere going to trap the Viking in here. He was after the book and he knew I had it. The only way to get him in here was to hide the book outside the tomb and then duck back inside and use myself—pretending to have the book—as bait.
I stepped outside the stone building. I could hear Jasper yelling at the big Viking lummox and I assumed it was his way of warning me that he was headed this way. I scanned the area, looking for a place to hide my book. For a blink, I wondered if it would really be so bad to let the Viking have the grimoire so that I could go back to my peaceful life as a small-town librarian, but then I thought of my mom and Mamie and the questions I had about their deaths and knew I couldn’t do it.
I glanced at Gerard and the marble box in his hand. Without overthinking it, I placed the grimoire on top of the marble box, hiding it in plain sight.
“Keep that safe for me, G,” I said. Then I darted away from the tomb, standing a few yards in front of it, and yelled, “Jasper, over here.”
I had no idea how I was going to clue him in about my plan, but I’d have to trust that he’d catch on when he got here. I tensed, waiting, and then I heard them.
The sound of panting and the scrabble of feet on the dirt road grew louder and louder. I hopped from foot to foot. This had to work. It simply had to. My head filled with doubt, but then they arrived and I knew I had no choice but to go for it.
I raised my hand in the air and waved. “Great night for a run, isn’t it?”
“I’ve had better!” Jasper was full-on sprinting. He reached out a hand and made to grab me but I ducked it.
“Mind the door!” I yelled.
His eyes went wide as I checked to see that the Viking saw me and then I dashed into the tomb.
“Zoe!” Jasper yelled at the same time the Viking bellowed.
I swear I felt the entire tomb shudder as the Viking rammed his big body through the doors after me. He was cursing in Old Norse and I couldn’t understand a word, but I didn’t need to in order to grasp his fury. I hid behind the first Lively in his raised marble bed, hoping that the Viking believed me to be a witch who had just disappeared.
