Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(28)

“You scream, and we both die.” He spat onto the road. “I ain’t gonna hurt you, Princess, so stop the hysterics.”

“Hysterics,” I screeched, waving my parasol at him. “You’re holding a blade and threatening—”

Daniel darted forward and snatched at my parasol. Before I could suck in air for a panicked shriek, he slung me around and clamped a firm hand over my mouth.

“Not a word,” he breathed in my ear. “If any of the Hungry are in there, they’ll come in seconds, and you’ll get to see what this sickle is really for.”

I struggled to breathe. My heart sprinted in my chest; the sound echoed in my head. His hands smelled like metal, like the cool tang of machines.

“I’m gonna drop my hand,” he continued, “and you’d better keep quiet. Go running back to your mama or jump in the river—I don’t care, so long as you don’t scream.”

My eyes moved from the tanned wrist pressed near my face to the glinting blade held at my chest. I gave a frantic nod of my head, and he withdrew his hand from my mouth.

I sucked in summer air. The scent of metal clung to my cheeks. “You ought to wear gloves,” I hissed, hoping to mask my fear with insults.

“And you ought to be more careful.” He still stood behind me. His breath tickled at my neck, and goose flesh bristled down the side of my body. He moved away then, and my skirts rustled back to their full width.

I twirled around, harsh whispers on my lips, but he had already marched off. He reached the enormous sycamore and circled behind its ancient trunk.

I lifted my skirts and scurried after him.

“Why’re you still here?” he asked.

I ignored him. “The Hungry,” I said in a low voice. “You mean the Dead—the quick, rabid ones.”

“Yep.” He tugged his flat cap from his pocket and slid it atop his head. “When a corpse isn’t under a necromancer’s control, it’s desperate to feed. Like the ones that wake up on their own—the Dead that casket-bells warn us against.”

So it was like the scary tales about rabid Dead that escape their coffins. The jingling bells that warn of Death were created for those occasional corpses who, somehow or other, were sparked with life though their bodies were dead. Sparked with life and this desperate hunger.

“But,” Daniel added, “rather than a corpse or two a year, we’ve got a whole cemetery’s worth.”

My fingers tightened around my skirts. “So... is the whole graveyard Hungry?”

“Not yet, but if the necromancer has lost control of one, it stands to reason he’ll lose control of more.” He bent down and slung the familiar satchel off the ground—no boot peeked from it now.

I suppose he’d used the boot to cover his sickle. And up close, I could see the sack was jagged and angular. There was clearly no body within.

“How do you know about the Hungry?” he asked.

“I-I saw them.” I shuffled closer and pointed to the iron bars. “Through the fence.”

He sighed. “Can’t say I’m surprised you were here. You have the curiosity of a cat and the common sense of a goldfish.” He stared at me for a moment, the muscles in his jaw pulsing. Then he turned and strode toward the cemetery gate. I followed.

When he was several paces from the iron bars, he set down the bag and knelt beside it. With concentration, he removed the bag’s contents and laid them out in an orderly manner on the ground. An enormous spool of copper wire, a wrench, some wooden stakes, glass jars, and a series of black stones—perhaps magnets. As he continued to remove various mechanical apparatuses, I sidled closer and closer.

“What’s it all for?”

“Dead alarm.” He didn’t pause his careful unpacking. “A telegraph cable to connect to our lab.”

“Why?”

“One of the Hungry got out last night. They’re just so damn fast—too fast. It killed a man and two horses before we got to it.” He gestured to his tools. “If what I’m trying actually works, then when something Dead—a spirit or a corpse—passes through the gate, its spiritual energy will complete a circuit. That’ll set off our telegraph, and we’ll know somethin’ bad is on the loose.”

“Oh.” It was all very logical—clever, even.

Daniel twisted his cap to the side and then turned his attention to his sleeves. With meticulous care, he rolled them to his elbows. I turned away and scanned the iron bars of the fence. They were too close together to allow a person in or, rather, to allow a corpse out.

I looked back to Daniel and found him eying me, his expression dark. “You were following me, weren’t you?” He yanked the final fold of his sleeve into place.

Embarrassment flamed through me. “Yes.” I stared at the dusty path. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Sheridan.”

He grunted.

“I thought...” I paused and peeked up at him. “Well, I thought perhaps—”

“I know damn well what you thought.” He dropped to the earth and yanked at the spool of copper wire. “You’re all the same in this blasted city—you want our help but don’t trust us. You think we ought to save you just because. Well, as far as I’m concerned, the Dead can have the whole lot of you.”