Twiceborn (28 page)

“I know it sounds ridiculous …”

He shook his head. “Never said that. But that means there’s only one thing to do.”

“What?”

“Dig up the grave and see.”

“Dig up—!” I gaped at him. “Are you nuts? No one’s going to let me dig up the grave.” Even talking about it made me feel ill. It had been seven months. I did
not
want to see inside that coffin. “And what do we do then? DNA tests?”

“I’m not talking about going through official channels. You’d need a court order, and you wouldn’t get one. They’d send you to the funny farm instead. No. I’m talking you, me and a shovel. Tomorrow night, as soon as it gets dark.”

Just when I thought life couldn’t get any crazier. Behind him a life-sized Ronald McDonald sat on a bench seat, plastic grin plastered on his plastic face, waiting for some kid to come and have a photo taken with him. If he’d joined the conversation I couldn’t have been more shaken.

What do you reckon, Ronald?

Why, Kate, I think that’s a fine idea. Why don’t I get the Hamburglar to come and help break into the cemetery?

“Why not tonight?”

“Because I’m half dead on my feet. Even a werewolf’s body needs food and sleep to heal itself. I’ve had the food.” He yawned hugely. “And now I need the sleep.”

“But what can we … I mean, will we be able to tell if—?” If it was him. My beautiful boy. Gruesome images filled my head. I had no idea how fast bodies decomposed. How could I look at what was in that coffin? God, I couldn’t even bear to think about it.

What if it wasn’t Lachie’s body in there? What if it
was
?

“We’ll know,” he said firmly. “Trust me.”

Funnily enough, I did. A few days ago he’d been trying to kill me, and now I felt almost affectionate towards the hulking werewolf. Life was just full of surprises.

“Why would you help me with this? Don’t you want to chase Nada and get the stone back? Leandra sure does.”

“You got a plan for getting in to the Mosman house and getting it?”

“No.”

“Me neither. But this, I can do.”

Which didn’t explain why he would want to, so I stared at him, waiting for something more.

“You’re a prickly bugger, aren’t you? Isn’t it possible I want to help because it’s the right thing to do?”

I snorted. “A werewolf with a conscience?”

“Why not? We’re not complete animals, you know.” He threw his hands up. “All right, all right. If I’m going to help Leandra—and you—I need you focused. You’re not going to be any use to me till you know. So let’s go find a place to sleep and get on with it.”

He stalked off to the car and I plunged after him. He was right; the need to know consumed me. I couldn’t think of anything else. Even Leandra’s yearning for the channel stone had died away in the face of this.

In fact, I hadn’t felt her presence since she’d dealt with the cop on the freeway. She’d come out then because he was in her way, and I hadn’t been able to get rid of him. Maybe if I stayed in control of the situation now I could keep her suppressed. It was too much to hope she’d given up her assault on my body—but that was a problem for later.

First I had a body to exhume.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Garth hadn’t been kidding about his need for sleep. We found a cheap motel on the highway that was still open, one of those awful prefabricated jobs that look like the cleaners hose it out after you leave, and took a room for the remainder of the night. He’d dropped onto one of the beds and started snoring before I’d even shut the door behind us.

I considered pulling off his shoes but decided to leave him be. Relaxed in sleep, his face looked younger. A hell of a lot less grumpy, too. He still stank of smoke, though. We both did. I left him to whatever werewolves dream of and squeezed into the tiny bathroom to have a shower.

The spray of hot water washed away the grime, but it did nothing to relax me. My mind buzzed with impossibilities. How could Lachie be alive? I’d
seen
him, crushed and broken on the hospital bed. I’d stood at his graveside and watched his coffin sinking into the ground.

But what other little boy would Jason care so much about? I shut my eyes and turned my face up to the sharp sting of the hot water. He’d had plenty of affairs. Maybe he had other children. I had to be rational. Steam billowed about me as I considered this, my heart sinking. But other children who looked so much like Lachie? No. It was too much of a coincidence.

The shower curtain rattled aside as I stepped out on to the thin bath mat. Physically I was in good shape for someone who’d just been through a bushfire. My lungs felt clear and my skin showed no signs of burns or blisters. I swiped the steam from the mirror with my hand and checked my back. Nothing.

My reflection stared back at me. No clues there to the stranger riding behind my green eyes. Same old face.

But so much had changed in the last few days, I wasn’t the same person any more. My mind shied away from thinking too deeply about that. I could make myself puke from fear and horror if I went too far down that path. Better to focus on Lachie.

I slipped my smoky clothes back on for lack of anything better and went back out into the main room. What I wouldn’t give for a pair of clean pyjamas now—or even a toothbrush. But Garth had been adamant we couldn’t go anywhere our enemies might be able to track us. Between the two of us, there was quite a list of them. So my place was out, and here we were in another dingy motel room, much like last night’s, except this one had two beds instead of one.

And where were Ben and Luce spending the night? What had happened to them after we’d left? I still felt sick with guilt about that, however much Garth tried to assure me it had been necessary.

I sat on my bed and swiped his phone off the small chest of drawers between the beds. Garth lay on his back, one arm flung across his face. He didn’t stir as I dialled Luce’s number again.

“The number you are dialling is unavailable,” the recorded message began, and I stabbed a finger at the End button. We’d been trying to contact Luce all night, and every time we’d gotten the same frustrating message.

I switched off the lamp and lay down, sure the snores from the other bed would keep me awake, even if my worries didn’t. But they blended into the rattle and hum of the old air-conditioning unit on the wall, and before long I was out like a light.

***

It was nearly midday when I woke, and Garth still showed no sign of stirring. At three o’clock I shook him awake, unable to stand the waiting any longer.

“Congratulations, you’ve just won the Nobel Sleep Prize.”

He grunted and rolled out of bed, staggering past me to the bathroom. The shower started up and I groaned, impatience like a lump of iron in my chest.

Still, there was nothing to be done till it got dark. Except buy shovels, of course, which we did, and more McDonald’s. If I never saw another Big Mac it would be too soon, though Garth never seemed to tire of them.

After a day that felt at least a week long, he finally decided it was dark enough to get moving. We headed out along Epping Road towards the cemetery, all the windows down to try to get some air. Outside our air-conditioned room the heat was stifling. I doubted it would get below thirty all night.

“I’m going to try Luce again,” I said as we passed Macquarie Uni.

I was desperate to know if Ben was okay. He wasn’t aggressive by nature. He was the kind of guy who’d rather defuse a situation with a well-timed joke than even raise his voice to someone. A few days ago I would have said he didn’t have a violent bone in his body, but that was before I’d seen him shoot Garth. Obviously I didn’t know him as well as I’d thought. Last I’d seen, he’d been swinging an axe and Luce had been rushing to his aid.

Now Luce was my only way to contact him, since Nada’s thugs had taken both my phone and Ben’s.

Trying not to assume the worst, I listened to Luce’s phone ring. Maybe she was out of signal range. Quite likely, if they were still up in the mountains. Or maybe her battery was flat.

“The number you are dialling is unavailable,” the same old robot voice announced.

“No luck.”

Garth grunted and turned off Epping Road. The cemetery lay only a couple of blocks further on. The prospect of going there again—the first time since the funeral—gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“She’s probably already ditched the phone.”

“Why would she ditch the phone?” I watched the dark buildings slide by, bringing me closer to the moment I both longed for and dreaded. It was hard to focus on anything else.

“Alicia. Luce is bound to her now. She won’t want anyone outside her circles contacting Luce, so she’ll issue her with a new phone.” The cemetery loomed on our left and he turned down a dark side street and ran along beside its wall till he came to the entry. Heavy iron gates barred the way. He did a U-turn and parked the car on the opposite side of the street, facing back the way we’d come. “We all change our phones pretty often anyway, to cut down on tapping.”

That didn’t make much sense. I stared at the massive gates. They’d stood open for the hearse and all the mourners last time I’d been here. “But if Luce wants to talk to someone she can call them herself. She doesn’t have to wait till they call her.”

“Not if Alicia tells her not to. You don’t understand the power of a binding. Luce can’t do anything now that goes against Alicia’s interests. Literally, physically cannot.”

That was a lot of power to put into someone else’s hands. Could revenge on Valeria be worth such a sacrifice? How did Leandra inspire such ridiculous devotion?

There were no buildings on our side of the road, only bush. Garth turned off the engine and we sat in the dark, looking across at the high fences of the cemetery and the gates that barred our way. The weight of remembered grief pinned me in place. After waiting all afternoon to get here, suddenly I couldn’t bear to get out of the car.

The chapels and other buildings sat in a cluster up the hill from the entrance, and lights blazed at one end. With the windows wound down we could hear music and voices, as if there was a party going on.

“I think that’s the café,” I said at last, trying to fight clear of paralysing memories. The look on my mother’s face as the coffin slowly sank into the grave. Pink rose petals fluttering in on top of it. “Strange place for a party.”

“Maybe it’s a Goth twenty-first.” Garth frowned at the lit windows as if he could tell from here what was going on. Maybe he could. I had no idea how good werewolves’ sight was. My own had improved significantly since Leandra had hitched a ride, but I couldn’t make out more than shapes moving against the light.

“Should we wait till they go?” If it was a twenty-first there could be all sorts of fun and games going on among the gravestones, and I didn’t want to be caught wielding my shovel by a bunch of drunks. Plus I could put off getting out of the car and facing what was to come.

“Where’s the grave?”

“Over the back section there.” I pointed in the general direction, away from the buildings. Trees and hedges blocked the view.

“Shouldn’t be a problem. I bet the gate’s not locked. All those cars in the car park had to get in somehow.”

He went over to check and came back grinning. “No padlock. It’s just pulled closed. Let’s go.”

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the warm, humid air. Garth got the shovels and other gear while I hesitated with my hand on the door handle.
Come on, Kate. You can do this.

Garth looked back, probably wondering what the hell I was doing. Good question. I could hardly cower here all night while he loitered in the road with an armful of shovels. That didn’t look suspicious
at all
.

I propelled myself out of the car by sheer force of will and slammed the door behind me. The gate screeched as we pushed it open and I winced, but no one heard over the bass thump of music from the café. We cut across the grass, keeping well away from the party. No point tempting fate by waltzing up the drive with shovels over our shoulders.

The night was hot and sticky, the air heavy with moisture. At the back of the cemetery, away from the streetlights, I stumbled a couple of times before my eyes adjusted to the low light. I had a feeling that this time last week I wouldn’t have been able to see this well in the dark.

Finding Lachie’s grave proved challenging. I knew the general area, but I hadn’t been back since the day of the funeral, and things had changed. More headstones had been erected, and the layout of the gardens seemed to have altered slightly. Or maybe my memory was faulty. The day had passed in a blur of anguish. I crawled around peering at a lot of headstones before I found the right one.

“This is it.” I knelt on the grass, feeling flat and ready to burst into tears. Seeing it again, so solid and final, made my hopes seem ridiculous.
Lachlan Christopher Hepburn, beloved son of Jason and Kathryn.
Why was I here with my shovel and my crazy ideas? Could I still be in denial after all this time?

Garth seemed to sense my mood. “I’ll start. You keep watch.”

I nodded and moved away across the neat lawn, glad for the excuse. Memories of that day rushed back at me, none of them happy. At the funeral of an old person, there was often an element of celebration mixed into the sadness: of a life well lived, of achievements and legacies. But the loss of a child meant more than a precious life cut short; people mourned the lost opportunities, the graduations and marriages that would never occur, the children who would never be born. No one could ever know the life they might have lived, the adult they might have grown into. All lost, destroyed in an instant. The enormity of it had left me numb, buried so deep under grief I’d thought I could never climb out again. The only emotion that had burned as bright that day had been hatred, every time I looked at Jason standing on the other side of the grave.

A distant clink of glassware and a roar of laughter floated across the dark cemetery. It felt wrong to be celebrating in such a place, almost disrespectful.