Dead of Night (Hunters of the Dark #4)

by Dave Ferraro

Chapter Thirty-One

  The Fern Dell cemetery wasn’t the way Krystal had left it a year ago. Weeds choked the unkempt grass and one of the gates hung crookedly. Without the touch of human hands to chase away nature, it seemed more lonely, more haunted somehow. Mr. Thackery was apparently no longer employed to keep the grounds clean and tidy.

  Krystal slowly made her way through the graveyard, a thin smile on her face as she noted mausoleums she had explored with Cassandra, and the place where she had laid out a picnic for them, even though Cassandra couldn’t share in the feast and ended up watching Krystal eat the meal meant for two. Krystal laughed at the memory, quickly wiping away a tear as she turned to stare at the doorway to a crypt where they would often sit, telling each other stories and secrets, keeping out of the sun or the rain, depending on the day. She had been very happy spending time with her ghost friend, happier than she’d ever been around living, breathing people. They had been best friends, after all.

  Krystal walked slowly past the angel that was missing her wings and climbed a small hill. Then she sat on the ground, not minding that her dress was getting dirty, and leaned against the wall of a vault. She closed her eyes and let the sun charge her skin. Cassandra always insisted that she could feel the sun shine on her, even without substance, and Krystal had believed her. She often found the ghost sunbathing, and she wondered if it had made Cassandra feel safe, that little reassurance that the same rules applied to her that did to the living. Even if it was in her own head.

  Cassandra Davis. Loving daughter. 1899-1911. Krystal read the faded inscription over and over, then traced her finger over the grooves. Even though she’d already been dead by the time she had met her, Cassandra had made a big impact on Krystal’s life. More than anyone. And she would never forget the days they’d shared, the friendship that had grown between them. It would always be close to her heart, and it was that bond that gave her her strength. It was that connection to others, even the dead, that made Krystal shun the dark. There was good in the world. Sunlight and laughter. And she would see that it remained that way.

  Krystal leaned over and kissed the plaque, then sat back and stared at it for another minute before she stood up and brushed herself off. “I’m sorry,” she said aloud, even though she knew that Cassandra wasn’t there, even in spirit. “And I will always cherish the time we spent together.”

  And then she walked out of the graveyard and Fern Dell, content to move on.