Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Iwas stuffed after dinner so Galen suggested a walk. He tried to hold my hand, but it was humid and the sweat was too much. We walked, my shoulder bumping into his arm, and he didn’t force me to talk.
Sometimes he would push an issue until I wanted to explode. Times like this, though, when he knew I was really troubled, he let me go at my own pace.
We drank enough that he didn’t want to drive back to the lighthouse. Instead, he collected Declan’s file from his truck. I thought we would walk to the lighthouse but he led me in the opposite direction.
“Where are we going?” I asked, confused.
“To see your mother.” His eyes were soft. “You haven’t been to visit her in a long time. I thought, tonight, you would want to see her.”
A lump formed in my throat. That was a thoughtful offer. I couldn’t speak for fear I would start crying.
He didn’t say anything for the walk to the cemetery, letting me collect myself. By the time we reached our destination, I felt composed.
“It’s a nice night,” I said as we walked along the wall that surrounded the cemetery. “It’s a little hot.” I paused a beat. “You don’t have to sit here with me if you don’t want to.”
He didn’t mention that there was a dhampir trying to get his hands on me. He didn’t point out that my grandfather was missing and he wanted to keep the same thing from happening to me. His response was simple. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
We sat on the bench near the viewing window and watched the zombies — my mother among them — shamble around the enclosed cemetery.
When I’d first moved to Moonstone Bay I’d been horrified by the cemetery situation.
That had quickly morphed into curiosity.
For a time, I sat outside the cemetery nightly just to catch a glimpse of her.
Galen would come with me some nights. He eventually pointed out that spending my time focusing on the past wasn’t conducive to moving forward. I started tapering back my visits. I went from watching her nightly to once a week, then once every few weeks. I hadn’t been back in months.
Galen started flipping through the file as I watched my mother. She kept going back to the door of the storage shed, as if there was something inside calling to her. There was no activity in her mind. She was a shell and nothing more.
“Do you think she was excited when she found out she was pregnant?” I asked out of nowhere.
Galen jerked up his chin, surprise on his face. “Um … definitely.”
“I never asked my dad if I was planned or if I was a surprise. Maybe I should.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “It might help me think about her differently.” I couldn’t meet his intense gaze.
“Hadley, you can’t blame yourself for what happened to your mother.” He sounded exasperated.
“If there had been no me she might still be alive.”
“Something tells me your mother would trade herself for you over and over again.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because you’re amazing.”
“My dad says I was a fussy baby.”
“Geez, Hadley.” Galen exhaled heavily. “Babies are fussy. If I took everything my mother said about me when I was a baby to heart I’d be curled up in the fetal position.
She still blames me for the time I bit her when I was trying to take a bite of an apple and she got in my way.
I was two. She’s convinced I was paying her back for not breastfeeding me. ”
I pressed my lips together, my eyebrows migrating up my forehead. It wasn’t a funny story, but laughter bubbled up all the same.
“It’s okay,” he encouraged. “Booker still teases me over that story. His mother didn’t breastfeed him either.”
“Did you guys bond over that?”
He lifted one shoulder. “Our mothers might hate one another — hardcore — but they’re weirdly similar.”
“That’s probably why you guys are besties.”
“He is not my best friend.”
“Yes, he is.”
“You’re my best friend.”
“I’m going to be your wife. You need a best friend to vent to when I do weird stuff. That’s Booker. He vents to you about Lilac.”
“He claims Lilac is perfect.”
“He’ll get over that. We were schmaltzy at the start too.”
“Who are you kidding?” His grin widened. “We’re still schmaltzy. I plan to be schmaltzy forever.”
“I’ll get you a T-shirt made up saying just that.”
“I’ll wear it.” He went back to his file. “Do you want to talk this out while you’re watching, or should this be a silent event?”
“We both know I can only handle silence for so long before I start babbling.”
“Okay.” He ran his hand up and down my sweaty back twice before focusing. “Declan came to the island five years before he disappeared.”
“I think he was here before that,” I argued.
“I guarantee he was, but he went by a different name. This file doesn’t have that name. Maybe the DDA file does. Have you gone through all of it?”
“Most of it.” I focused on my mother, who was back at the storage building door. She was fixated on it tonight. She usually wandered aimlessly like the rest of them. “I got distracted researching dhampirs.”
“We can go through the rest of it when we get home.”
“How did he get that house?” I asked. “You told me property ownership is nearly impossible if you’re an outsider.
The only reason I could inherit the lighthouse in the first place was because May was a lifer and I was her blood granddaughter.
” Something occurred to me. “If my parents had adopted me, would I have been able to inherit?”
“Probably not,” Galen replied. “Someone would have challenged your claim to the property.”
“Because they wanted the lighthouse.”
“Everyone on the island wanted the lighthouse.” He let loose a low chuckle. “That’s a prime piece of real estate.”
“It’s not as if anyone can knock it down to build a hotel.”
“Back when the DDA was in charge, if someone greased the right palms, it could have been knocked down for a hotel. It’s not as if a lighthouse is necessary in this day and age.”
“But it was back when pirates ran the island.”
Galen bobbed his head. “The island was a wild place to live two-hundred years ago.”
“Do you ever wish you’d lived here then? You strike me as the sort of kid who would want to be a pirate.”
“I did play pirates,” he conceded.
“You and Booker?”
“And Aurora and Lilac. What’s weird is Lilac was always the bar wench back then. Aurora refused to be anything other than a lady pirate. That’s how she termed it.”
“What would her other option have been?”
“A prostitute. The island was flush with them back in the day.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t blame her for wanting to be a pirate.”
He laughed. “As much fun as that was, I’m glad I was born when I was.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re here.” It was a simple declaration and I went warm all over.
“You’re kind of sweet when you want to be.”
He kissed the top of my head. “You are too.”
I wasn’t feeling particularly sweet so I went back to watching my zombie mother. “Mombie,” I muttered.
“Hmm?” Galen didn’t look up from the file.
“My mom is a zombie. She’s a mombie.”
He paused what he was doing. “See, this is why I could never fall for anybody but you. Weird things come out of your mouth all the time and somehow you remain adorable.”
“Yeah, I’m awesome.”
He laughed again before turning serious. “If we had a name to work with, we might be able to pull up a second file. Perhaps no one ever put it together that Declan was the same guy as a previous resident.”
“Jareth would have volunteered that information if he had it.”
“Maybe.” Galen didn’t look convinced. “I’ll ask him anyway.” He flipped a page. “Basically everyone on the island found him odd. The women tried to bring him casseroles to entice him when he took up residence in the house.”
“Can you look at property records to see who owned the house before him?”
“That’s a good idea.” Galen pulled up a browser window on his phone and logged in to his internal police system. “Let’s see.” He hummed to himself as he searched. “Interesting,” he said a little bit later.
“What?”
“There’s no former owner listed.”
“How is that possible on an island where bureaucracy isn’t a dirty word?”
“It’s just another piece of the puzzle. It suggests someone knew he was here before and covered up for him.”
“Who could have done that?”
“I’m not sure.” He was intent on his phone. “We may have to ask my mother.”
“That will be fun.” I patted his knee and went back to staring through the viewing window.
“We need to work on your definition of ‘fun,’” he complained darkly.
Rather than respond, I cocked my head. My mother was still at the storage building door. “What’s in there?” I asked.
He had to look up to gauge what had garnered my attention. “Nothing of interest,” he replied. “Shovels, landscaping supplies. I think there’s still a mower in there.”
“Then why does she keep trying to get in there?”
“How do you know that’s what she’s doing?”
I didn’t have to answer the question. At that moment, my mombie futzed with the door handle. She wasn’t cognizant. She couldn’t problem solve. Yet she was trying to open the door.
“Huh.” Galen moved the file to the bench and stood, his gaze fully focused on my mother. “That’s weird.”
“I believe that’s why I brought it up,” I confirmed.
Galen moved closer to the window. “Maybe there is something in there.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “Zombies only care about one thing — eating people — so maybe someone is in there.”
That was a chilling thought. “How would someone get in?”
“We still have groundskeepers. They only work during the day. They’re not supposed to stay past three o’clock in the afternoon. That’s the rule.”
“It’s nine o’clock.”
“Maybe he got left behind and had to lock himself in.”
It was a terrible thought. I couldn’t imagine anything worse. “How do we find out?”
Galen said, “We don’t. If someone’s in there, they’ll stay until morning. It will be fine.”
My mother went for the door again. Before I could point that out, there was a muffled noise from inside the cemetery. It almost sounded like a complaining kitten.
“What the hell was that?” I demanded.
Galen pressed himself against the window and closed his eyes, listening intently.
I was going to say something, but Galen blindly reached up and slapped his hand over my mouth.
I heard the noise again. It was faint … and almost piteous.
It had to be an animal. How did it get in there?
A horrible thought occurred to me: Had someone decided they didn’t want their dog any longer and locked it in the cemetery to get rid of it?
I would track them down and kill them. Animal abusers are the worst.
When Galen opened his eyes, he looked shellshocked. “Someone’s in there. Someone is calling for help. They’re weak, like maybe they’re sick or injured.”
“Or bitten by a zombie?”
Galen looked momentarily perplexed but ultimately nodded. “It’s a man.” His gaze searched mine. “Hadley, I think it might be Wesley. I can’t be certain, but I think I recognize his voice.”
I looked back to the building. “Well, we can’t leave him there.” Had he been in the building the entire time? Had he been injured and locked away against his will?
Galen seemed torn. “The smart thing to do would be to wait until tomorrow morning when they’re back in their graves.”
“Then I guess I’m not smart.” I started in the direction of the cemetery gate. It was locked eight different ways, but I could get past with my magic.
“Wait!” Galen gave chase. He grabbed me around the wrist before I could blow open the gate. His tone was grave. “If we’re going to do this—”
“We’re doing this.” If he thought I was walking away now, he was crazy.
“Fine.” Galen held up his hands in supplication. “We’re doing it, but smartly.”
“What’s the plan?” I asked in a clipped tone. Every second we waited, the more Wesley suffered. I couldn’t stand it.
“You’re going to open the gate and then use your magic to clear a path to the storage building. You are not going inside.”
“Come up with a different plan.”
“No,” he growled. “I love you, but you’re not athletic. You are good with magic. You’ll keep the zombies away from me. I’ll get Wesley out and carry him back here. You’ll drop your magic and let us out.”
We didn’t have time to argue so I nodded. “Be careful,” I ordered.
I used my magic to unlock the gate. Galen, perched at the threshold, glanced over his shoulder at me. “Ready?”
“I’m ready.” I sucked in a breath, called to my magic, and was primed when he threw open the gate.
I tossed out a wave of magic and scattered the zombies backward, creating a clear path.
I sent a silent “I’m sorry” to my mother. She’d been blown back with the rest of them. My attention was on Galen as he raced to the building.
I was getting better at controlling my magic, but I was hardly an expert. Still, I maintained the path, throwing the zombies back twice more when Galen disappeared inside the building and then reappeared with Wesley over his shoulder.
I couldn’t see my grandfather’s face, but I saw his hand moving.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother was again on her feet. She was heading toward Galen and Wesley, as though singularly focused on her father.
I focused on keeping the pathway clear for Galen. He ran fast, his footing sure. I forced my mother back one more time before he burst through the gate to safety.
He dropped Wesley on the ground with little ceremony, ignoring my grandfather’s complaints, and pushed the gate closed. I locked it with my magic, and a split-second later a wave of zombies slammed into the gate from the other side.
Out of breath, Galen leaned over and rested his hands on his knees. “Well, that was fun,” he said.
“Fun,” Wesley sputtered. He was pale and looked frailer than I’d ever seen him, but he was alive … and angry. “How was that fun?”
I dropped to my knees and stared into his eyes. “I’ve never been so happy to hear somebody complaining in my entire life.” I threw my arms around him.
Resigned, maybe even a little confused, he patted my back. “I’m happy to see you too.”