The Visitor (Graveyard Queen, #4)(88)

“What about Micah? He won’t just roll over and play dead, you know.”

“Micah will never again see the light of day once Louvenia’s body is discovered. Why do you think I brought him back here? His troubled history makes him the perfect scapegoat. Now he can take the blame for Amelia’s demise, as well. Everything is falling into place, nephew. You just have to do your part.”

“All right. Give me a minute—”

“Not here! That cop could come back at any minute. Take her out to Rose’s house. There’s a crawl space underneath. She won’t be found until we’ve had time to set everything else in motion...”

As the conversation faded, I came back to my original question. Had Owen left me for dead or would he return soon to finish the job? I had no weapon with which to defend myself. I’d been stripped of my phone, and the pepper spray was still in my backpack. I felt weak and disoriented. My head throbbed miserably. My whole body ached from the beating and perhaps from being dragged through the woods and the maze. But I had to rally and get moving because my only hope was to be long gone if and when Owen returned.

Rolling to my stomach, I began easing my way over the hard ground. In such a confined space, I had no sense of direction and the discarded junk beneath the house obscured my view. All I could do was crawl toward the draft and hope that I could find the gate or another way through the barrier.

Gravel cut into my hands as I inched along. I paused to pick what I thought was a pebble from my palm, but the texture made me think of bone. I wouldn’t dwell on that. Not now. I had to keep moving. I had to keep breathing. In...out. In...out.

An obstruction lay directly in front of me. I thought it was nothing more than a heap of old rags and I put out a tentative hand to shove them aside. Then I recoiled in horror. The barrier was a body.

My first thought was of Louvenia. Nelda and Owen had planned to do away with her and pin the blame on Micah. They must have gone through with their scheme, probably after dumping me here.

I eased back up to the body, running my hand along the motionless arm until I found her wrist. I couldn’t feel a pulse, but in that moment of contact, the tingle of cloves on my tongue overwhelmed me.

I drew back in shock. The dead woman was not Louvenia after all, but Nelda. How she had ended up under the house I had no idea, but I could only surmise that Owen had betrayed her. Maybe he’d decided with both Nelda and Louvenia out of the way, the Kroll fortune would fall to him sooner.

Her skin was cooling but not cold. She couldn’t have been dead long. She may even have drawn her last breath while I lay unconscious only a few feet away.

As I lay there beside the body, a dreaded certainty washed over me. I wasn’t alone. I could feel and smell a presence, though I couldn’t see it. The entity was not unlike the one I’d encountered in Asher Falls. It was no longer a ghost, if it ever had been. It was colder and darker than any ghost. Negative energy that had evolved into pure evil. And it was there with me under Rose’s house. At the moment of death, it had left Nelda’s body and was now crouching in the gloom observing me.

The tingle of cloves faded as a hint of witch hazel wafted from the shadows. I could sense it moving closer, slithering unfettered through the piles of debris as it sniffed and circled, a netherworld predator on the hunt for a conduit. I still couldn’t see it or hear it, but the underlying stench of its being overwhelmed me.

My hand flew to my chest, seeking Rose’s key. It was gone, of course. Nelda had ordered Owen to take it from me. But he wouldn’t have understood the significance unless she’d told him. Was it possible he’d left the key on her person? Could it still be in one of her pockets or around her neck?

Hope surged as I steeled my resolve, inching toward the body only to be propelled backward by an unnatural gust. I grabbed on to the nearest thing I could find, a wooden support beam, as that strange vortex swirled around me. Then the wind died away as suddenly as it had risen. I huddled in the dark, the air so stale and fetid I couldn’t breathe without retching. The entity was right there, squatting beside me, touching my hair, running a finger down my arm as it tried to find a way inside me.

From outside the enclosure, I heard the abrasive rattle of a cicada. Almost at once, the entity retreated back into the shadows and I could sense its wariness. For whatever reason, it had a healthy respect for Mott’s power.

I took advantage of the reprieve and eased back up to the body, running my hands over the stiffening torso, searching one pocket of Nelda’s smock and then the other. I wanted to scream in frustration. Where is it? Where is it? But then as I jostled the body, I heard the faint tinkle of metal.

Mott’s diversion had been momentary. Already I could feel the entity creeping back in as the smell grew stronger. It was coming for me. Getting nearer with each passing moment...

One hand pressed to my nose and mouth, I thrust the other hand back into Nelda’s pocket, searching, searching until my fingers finally grasped the skeleton key.

I turned, clutching the key to my breast, but the talisman seemed to have no effect. Prowling and predatory, the malcontent kept coming. Closer and closer. Stroking its icy tentacles down my face, sliding feelers into my memories, seeking darkness or a weakness that would allow it to enter my soul.

I wanted nothing so much as to roll over and vomit up the filth of its presence, but something inside me held fast. I gathered my strength and every ounce of my courage. I would not let that thing in. I would not.