To Rocky’s surprise, Michael suddenly turned, pushing at the shroud and bones of a long dead ancestor. “There’s got to be something—some way that they’re escaping. And whoever it is, they’ll get to Brendan, Seamus—then Kelly, and then me!”
Rocky set his hands on the man’s shoulders. “They didn’t go that way—and you’re now covered in bone dust. That way is foundation wall—it has to be something else. Some other way. The other steps are here—the steps down to the crypt from the old chapel.”
“We would have seen them—the pub was full,” Michael said irritably.
“Then we have to take it slowly, carefully, and methodically,” Rocky said. He sighed.
There had to be something somewhere. A tunnel—and escape. But where?
“Start on this side,” he told Michael wearily. “Look low because whatever it is, it leads beneath the courtyard.”
The two of them began to look. It was tedious. They were both white with dust, sweating profusely despite the damp cold of the crypt.
Michael paused. “We need Aidan—he can help. He’s in as much trouble here as we are.”
And Devin? Where was Devin?
Rocky was surprised by the depth of the fear that gripped him. He pushed past Michael, finding the stairs to the pub directly above the crypt.
They were narrow, winding. The door above didn’t give. Locked.
But, no. He was certain it wasn’t going to be locked as it should have been.
He hefted his shoulder against the door and it opened.
He spilled out into the lights of the pub like a ghost risen from above.
His arrival was met by dozens of screams.
He ignored them, looking around the pub, then looking for Siobhan and Allen. He didn’t see Siobhan.
Allen was behind the bar, trying to calm people and still pour his perfect pints.
Rocky raced over to him. “Allen, where is Devin? Where did she go?”
“She raced after you,” he said.
“And Aidan—where’s my brother?” Michael asked.
Allen dead paused for a minute. “Are you crazy—they raced out after you! After that, I don’t know. Look at this place—does it appear that I could be watching people!”
They all froze after his words. A different cry suddenly filled the night.
It was lilting; it was high. It was mournful and truly beautiful.
The real banshee!
Rocky turned and gripped Michael by the shoulders. “Come on—come on, now! We’re finding where that escape is, and we’re finding it now!”
“But they didn’t come with us…how do we know…?” Michael stuttered.
“We don’t know where it lets out,” Rocky said. “We do know that it leads from the crypts. Let’s go—now! And we’ll find it—don’t you see, someone’s life depends upon it now!”
Aidan could stride quickly when he chose.
The courtyard was quiet; no one was about.
Aidan didn’t seem to notice—he was on a mission.
Which meant that Devin was on a mission, too.
She was quickly running to keep up with him, running into the night. They passed the storytelling area by the pit and headed down toward the road to the village. She realized—huffing and puffing somewhat despite the fact that she was in pretty good shape—that they were heading to the center of the village.
To St. Patrick’s of the Village.
And the graveyard that surrounded it.
She gave up trying to hide the fact that she was following him. He had absolutely no interest in looking back.
The wind rose; it seemed to be pushing her forward. The air was damp and cool. The moon rose high over them, as if guiding them along. It shimmered over the massive Celtic crosses and small headstones and footstones, mausoleums and vault.
Aidan hopped the little stone fence.
Devin did the same, hurrying after him.
He made straight for the Karney family tomb. When he reached it, he pulled open the gate.
Still not locked!
She followed, slowing her gait. Aidan disappeared into the vault. She waited a second, catching her breath, and then she crept to the entry. She could see him deep in the vault.
Once again, he’d thought to bring a flashlight.
She crept in, pausing by the tombs of Brianna and Declan Karney, watching the light. He was heading deep into the back—deep into the hillock that covered the family vault.
She began to follow, moving along carefully. She left behind any semblance of the modern world, entering the tunnel where the sides were lined with shelves of the dead, ghostly in their decaying shrouds. Some shrouds were gone; one skull was turned toward her. The jaw had fallen off. The skull seemed to scream out a warning.
She kept going.
Aidan paused ahead; she feared that he was going to turn.
Wincing, Devin threw herself onto one of the shelves—by the looks of the gown, she was next to the bones of a deceased lady of the manor. The dust covered her; the bones seemed to rattle in anger at the disturbance. She nearly sneezed.
She caught herself, barely daring to breathe.
Aidan went on.
She crawled out of her hiding space and went after him, coming closer and closer behind him.
He paused suddenly and spun around. She didn’t move quickly enough; she froze in the glare of his light.