Page 36

We were headed back to Hellhound Plantation when a crow flew across our path.

“Stop,” I whispered.

Jake heard me and pulled over when he found a space. That close to the cemetery, it took some time. But he didn't give up, and he didn't question me. As soon as we were parked, I got out of the car and stared down the street at the little stone structures peering over the cemetery walls.

My legs carried me without my bidding, taking me to the dead.

So silly, really. There's nothing in a cemetery to fear.

Nothing dead, I mean. No ghost with any sense would haunt a graveyard.

How boring would that be? Even the crazy ones don't want to hang around a bunch of old bones and rotting meat.

No, cemeteries were for the living. And yet, I didn't feel alive.

I didn't feel dead either. Something in between. A nebulous form waiting to take shape.

Like one of those absentee ghosts, I glided past the cemetery gates.

There, perched atop the roof of some dead guy, was the crow.

Was it the same crow? No. Couldn't be. But it stared at me as if we had a relationship.

I stared back. The crow cocked its head and one beady black eye caught the sunlight.

“What the fuck is with that bird?” Cyrus asked.

Jake stepped between me and the crow.

The crow flew away, cawing.

I followed it.

“Salina?” Lex called after me.

I ignored them. Something told me that crow was no ordinary bird.

It was a messenger. Sent from who? I dunno.

Many gods had birds associated with them and often used them as portents or messengers.

Like Athena and her owls. Crows seemed like a Hades thing.

Had to be Hades. Crows were creepy and annoyed people.

What Greek god was creepier or more annoying than Hades?

Just to be clear; crows didn't bother me. I liked them. Thought they were cool. But most people considered them omens of evil or some shit like that. I blame it on horror movies. They always have crows cawing.

This particular crow, however, was making me rethink my stance on them.

It was definitely creepy. I followed the bird further and further into the city of the dead.

It truly was a city, just smaller than those for the living.

Little houses and little streets. Bodies don't need a lot of room.

They don't move around. Not unless you try to bury them underground.

Then, they come back up. But that's a local problem, not a general rule.

The bird came to rest at last on the hand of a beautiful woman. She was carved from stone, her stare locked on the sky as if she dreamed of being there, and her face was very familiar.

“Oh, fuck me.” My hand went to my throat.

“Salina?” Cyrus took my free hand while the other two drew in closer, one on either side of us.

I couldn't look away from that face. The artist must have worked from a painting—a very good painting. Because I didn't remember posing for this statue. I didn't even know I was buried in New Orleans.

“Who's Agnes Marteau?” Lex asked.

“She is,” Jake said.

His simple words, full of obvious conviction, finally did the trick and drew my attention away from the statue and to Jake.

He met my stare, made a soft sound that went with his shrug, and then went back to scanning the area.

“That's you?” Cyrus looked from me to the statue.

“Yes,” I whispered. Then I cleared my throat and tried again.

“Yes. It was me. Once.” I looked behind the statue at the crypt she stood before.

It was the Marteau family crypt, but I was the first entombed in it and the only statue standing guard at its entrance.

“Edouard. Oh, Eddie.” I went up the steps and laid my hand on the carving of my husband's name—Edouard Justinus Marteau.

His name was beside mine. And ours were the only names on the crypt doors.

Then I read the words above our names, “Death has parted us. Love will reunite us.” A chill ran down my spine.

If I hadn't known that Mr. Average was Silas, I'd think he was Eddie.

And I might even feel bad for shooing him away.

I guess not all my lovers had been bastards. Just the ones I had loved in return.

My musings were cut short by flowers.

“What the fuck?” I backed up, my stare locked on the fresh arrangement set on the stoop of the crypt.

The crow cawed once more, its job complete, and flew away.

I glanced at the dark stain of it against the pale sky, then back at the flowers. Wide eyes locked on the fluffy blooms, horror rolled through me. I'd seen them before.

“What is it?” Cyrus took my hand again.

Jake growled.

“Salina?” Lex asked.

“The flowers,” Jake said, surprising me again.

You never think of brawlers as being smart. But my quiet brawler was proving to be a brainiac. Brightest of the litter.

“What about them?” Cyrus asked.

“Look at the names, Cyrus.” Lex motioned at the crypt. “This isn't a family crypt. It's got two bodies in it. Just two. No children. No grandchildren. So, who the fuck is bringing flowers to two people who died over a hundred years ago?”

“You never had children?” Cyrus asked me.

I shook my head as I turned to search the cemetery.

Not that I could see much. We were down one of those miniature streets and other crypts rose around us to block the view of others.

But I thought I saw movement between the homes of the dead.

No. I was freaked out, that's all. I had to pull myself together. I had to—

Cyrus grabbed my upper arm and shook me. “Salina!”

“What?” I snarled.

“ Who brought you flowers?”

“I don't know! That's the fucking point, Cy!” I waved at the terrifying blooms. “I didn't even know I was buried here.

It's creepy enough that a body I used to live in is just a bunch of bones in a box.

Right there. But the only one who could have buried me is in a box beside me.

He's also the only one who would have mourned Agnes Marteau.”

“You didn't have any friends?” Lex asked.

“Sure.” I lifted my chin. “I had friends.

Sort of. But they're all dead too. And it's not as if their descendants are going to swing by my grave.

But that's not the worst of it. I recognize those flowers. That type of flower. I can see them in my head, and the sight of them scares the shit out of me.”

“Why?” Lex asked.

“Because they always show up right before I die.”

“We're going.” Jake grabbed my free hand. “Now.”

“Yup,” I said.

Jake and I hurried away from one of my final resting spots, working in tandem—his stare scanning to the left while I watched our right flank.

The other hounds took the rear, following without protest. We worked in silence, traversing the cemetery like a battlefield or an enemy stronghold.

Nothing jumped out at us. No one tried to kill me.

And there were no other crows to be seen.

At last, we made it past the gates. Then to the car.

We practically jumped in, and Jake drove us away.

We didn't speak until the cemetery was out of view.

“Someone knows about your past life,” Cyrus broke the silence.

“Yes, that has occurred to me,” I muttered. “The flowers feel like a taunt.”

“More like a threat.” Jake shifted gears and sped up.

Lex leaned between the front seats. “Tell us more about your life as Agnes.”

“It was my last life. The last name I owned.” I stared out the window, into the side mirror.

Was that crow following us? I could see a black smudge in the sky, but it was too high up for me to be sure.

Suddenly, the image of the Death card came to me.

The skeletal rider. The banner. The battlefield behind them.

The scene came to life in my mind. Rapt, I watched as a crow cawed and flew across the battlefield.

The pale rider turned to look at me. His eye sockets flared to life.

Had to be Hades. That was my new motto. Hades was Death, and he had sent me that crow. But why?

Shaking my head, I went on, “I was with Louis, and then he sent me here.”

“Motherfucker,” Jake muttered.

I lifted a brow at him.

He slid a look at me. “Cowardly and cruel.”

“Yeah, it was.” I frowned. “And Louis was neither of those things.”

Jake glanced at me again.

“After all that's been going on, I'm wondering if someone else put me on that ship.”

“Maybe the same person who put flowers on your grave,” Cyrus said. “What kind were they?”

“Hyacinth,” Jake and I said together.

I lifted a brow at him.

He shrugged.

“Are you sure?” Cyrus asked.

Jake nodded.

“Why does that matter?” I asked.

“It may not, but the most likely culprit is Silas, and he's Greek. The Greeks love to hide clues in their torments. Everything is a fucking riddle to solve or a maze to navigate.”

“Torments,” I huffed. “Great. What's this guy's problem with me?”

“I don't know, but it's odd that Silas was so focused on destroying us until you arrived.” Cyrus peered out the back window. “That crow is following us.”

“So, I wasn't imagining it.” I looked back too.

Cy turned back to me. “From now on, report any threat to us, Salina. Even if it seems silly.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Who uses crows?” Cyrus looked at the other two.

“I assumed it was from Hades,” I said.

“Hades doesn't send crows. Even if he was associated with them, sending a bird isn't his style. He's more direct.”

“Hecate,” Lex said. “And Athena. They're both associated with them.”

“I thought Athena was all about the owls?” I asked.

“Crows too. But you know who's most known for his power over crows.” It wasn't a question, more of a prompt.

“Fuck!” Cyrus growled. “Hades is right.”

“Hold on.” Lex waved his packmate down. “We could be seeing a relationship where there is none.”

“Hades already suspected Apollo,” Cyrus said. “Now, we've got a crow following us.”