Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(27)

“In that case,” he said with a twist in his lips, “is that your hackney there?” He pointed, and I scanned ahead until I too saw the familiar gleam of black. It was disappearing around a bend ahead.

“Yes! That’s it!”

“Then I’ll keep my eyes on it,” he answered. “Now sit down.”

I tumbled back in my seat. My heart had begun to ache from overuse, and the morning heat was suffocating beneath my gown. Later—I could relax later.

The horse trotted my cab north with the river at our left and a forest at our right. The carriages, riders, and passers-by had thinned out, and now my cab and Daniel’s were the only two still on the dirt road. Fortunately, Daniel remained far ahead.

“We’ll have to be stoppin’ right soon,” the driver announced.

I leaned forward and tilted my head up to look at him. “What do you mean? Why?”

“Because,” he said with a meaningful jump of his eyebrows. “No one’s allowed past East Fairmount Park no more—that’s where Laurel Hill is.”

My eyes widened. Of course. Laurel Hill Cemetery. In the blur of the carriage chase, I’d paid no heed to what direction we traveled.

“S’past that landing there.” The driver gestured with his whip to a small dock to the left of the road that extended into the Schuylkill. Ferries carting cemetery and park visitors usually landed there, but today the dock was abandoned. Though the occasional vessel still moved up and down the river, now that I observed it closely, I could see that each one hugged the opposite bank. Clarence had said he could see the Dead from the river.

Daniel’s hackney slowed, and my driver tightened the reins on our horse.

“Here, Miss?” he asked.

“Y-yes, please.” My throat suddenly felt tight. You can do this, I told myself. Elijah would do no less for you.

I rose and offered the man my coins—seventy-five cents worth of change. I shoved it into his expectant hand. “Will this cover it?”

He smacked his lips. “Is that a dollar?”

I stepped unsteadily from the cab and then stared up at him, my jaw set. “No, it’s not a dollar, but it’s all I have, so take it.”

He protested, but I didn’t listen. He was cheating me, after all. Before he had time to stop me, I gathered my skirts in one hand and my parasol in the other and hustled after Daniel.

He was already plodding down the path toward Laurel Hill, and I picked up my pace to a brisk clip.

The dust of the path muffled my footsteps and rose up to cling at my petticoats. The woods at my right were part of East Fairmount Park, and though the road stayed flat, the ground on which the woods stood grew gradually steeper—so much so that in the distance, the road along the river was lined with rocky bluffs.

Daniel trekked before me on his long limbs, and my own short ones had trouble keeping up. Yet having him so far ahead meant he couldn’t see me stalking behind. Besides, the quick pace calmed my nerves.

As I passed the vacant dock, Daniel rounded a bend in the path, and the forests and hills blocked him from view. When I reached the trees, I slowed to a hesitant creep. I inched toward the road’s curve and peered around.

The iron bars of Laurel Hill and a gate, chained firmly shut, were directly before me. The fence took a sharp turn up, following the curve of the land.

But there was no sign of the lanky blond.

He must have left the path, moved onto the hill and into the trees beside me. I stepped forward, flicking my gaze around as I went. Where was he?

Branches from a wide-trunked sycamore floated above, shading this portion of the path. These woods were still part of East Fairmount Park, so had Daniel entered the park or had he gone into the cemetery?

I wiped my hands on my skirt, hoping my gloves would soak up the sweat on my palms, and I tried to moisten my dusty mouth. The cemetery loomed before me, and the emptiness around was silent—too silent. With each passing moment, my certainty grew: I had made a dangerous mistake by coming here.

Suddenly, something fell on the path before me, thudding to the road, and yellow dust puffed up around it.

A boot!

My heart exploded into my throat. I glanced wildly about and spun, clutching my parasol to my chest. All I could see were shadows and leaves and dust, yet I knew it must be Daniel—he was here, somewhere, watching me.

Then a figure dropped from the overhanging branches. His feet hit the ground with a heavy thump that sent fresh dust pluming up.

I cried out and reeled back, my eyes locked on the young man crouched before me.

Daniel straightened. “Well, if it isn’t her Royal Highness,” he drawled, lifting his right arm. Sunlight flashed on metal, and the beams blinded me. When I finally saw what he held, my knees turned watery.

It was a sickle, and sunlight flickered on its long, wicked blade.

CHAPTER TEN

I wanted to scream, to run, to do something, but I couldn’t move. I just stared, mouth agape and eyes bulging.

Daniel swung the sickle like a pendulum. It was the sort used for harvesting hay, and the blade was the length of my forearm. Back and forth he swung it.

“Do you have a death wish?” He cocked his head and pinched his lips thin. “Or do you visit such deadly places by accident?”

“Don’t hurt me.” I lifted my parasol with both hands and scooted back several feet. “I’ll scream.”