The Visitor (Graveyard Queen, #4)

He gave me a look. “How does that work?”


“Spirits can’t step over or navigate crooked pathways. A superstitious community would have been especially cautious with suicides. The ghosts of those who take their own lives are considered notorious wanderers. That probably explains the high walls that surround the cemetery. In the old days, they would have buried the bodies facedown to disorient them.”

“The things you know.”

I merely smiled as we continued down the path. When we reached the car, he turned to me again.

“I need to ask you something.”

I tensed, because it had been my experience that conversations beginning in such a manner rarely ended well. “Go on.”

“These nightmares you’re having. Do they have anything to do with what happened last fall?”

A lot of things had happened last fall. I’d been targeted by an evil presence in the little town where I’d been born, and upon my return to Charleston, a powerful witch doctor had stalked me through my dreams. But neither of those predators was responsible for my current distress.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I know something’s bothering you. Even before the break-in, you were having trouble sleeping. I thought it was because of this cemetery, because of what happened here, but now I’m not so sure. Amelia...” He paused. “If you felt threatened in any way, you’d come to me, wouldn’t you?”

And tell you what? That a sightless ghost followed me back from the other side and now something is nesting in my cellar, crawling through my walls, leaving insect husks on my nightstand?

“Sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason to dreams and nightmares,” I evaded. “You really don’t need to worry about me.”

“I wish that were true.” He lifted a hand to my bruised cheek, emotions warring on his face, feelings that made me too breathless to contemplate. After all this time, I still wasn’t used to the electric hum that raced through my veins at his slightest touch, the quiver in my stomach when he said my name. I’d never in my life experienced anyone like Devlin. I was certain that I never would again.

“It’s not just the nightmares,” he said. “It’s a look in your eyes. The way you stare out the window. It’s as if you’re waiting for something. Watching for someone. And yet you won’t talk to me.”

His hand slipped to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. I went without protest because the intensity of his dark gaze enthralled me. I couldn’t have drawn away at that moment if I’d wanted to, which, of course, I did not. I stood there frozen, mesmerized by the tiny flames dancing in his midnight eyes.

“Why is it that even with you in my arms, I can feel you slipping away from me?” he murmured.

“I sometimes feel the same about you. You’re here but you’re not here. There’s a distance. A part of you that won’t let me in.”

“I am here,” he insisted, his gaze so intense I had to look away. “When I’m with you, there’s nothing and no one else.”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

He took my chin and made me look up at him. “There are many things to wonder about in this world, but that’s not one of them.”

Dipping his head, he brushed his lips against mine, and I melted into him, letting his energy wrap me in a safe cocoon. He was warm, solid, human.

But even as I settled more deeply into his embrace, I had the strongest urge to glance over my shoulder. Something was out there even now. I could feel an unnatural presence lurking at the edge of the woods, slinking through the gloom where all the dark things thrived.





Sixteen

After leaving the cemetery, we dropped by police headquarters so that I could sign my statement, and then Devlin drove me home. After a quick search of the house to make sure everything was in order, he headed out, but whether to spend time with his grandfather or on some other errand, I had no idea.

Alone, I took another slow walk through all the rooms. Devlin had had someone in to clean up the broken glass and furniture, a service he trusted, but I remained uneasy. The echo of my footsteps seemed to punctuate the utter quiet of my sanctuary as I made my way down the hallway.

Amanda Stevens's books