The Haunted - Jessica Verday [104]
It was almost dawn now, and we walked silently back toward the main gate. Once we hit the path that would lead us there, Caspian stopped. “I want to show you something.”
“Can it wait?” I was frazzled, full of raw edges and nervous energy. I really just wanted to get home and crash.
“It won’t take long,” he promised. “But you need to see this.” He turned to lead me to the side of the cemetery that I hardly ever went to. When we came to a stop, we were standing in front of two extremely old, faded red headstones. They were the type to have elaborate winged skulls and angels dressed as the Grim Reaper on them.
Or they would have, if they were still intact.
Now they were completely shattered. The fronts of them nothing more than cracked, bleeding stone. Carved names and dates were lost forever to time. I gasped as the sun rose, revealing the full extent of the damage. It was a horrible sight.
“I don’t want there to be anything between us,” Caspian said. “Do you remember when I told you about how I was angry and destructive?”
I nodded.
“I did this,” he said quietly. “On my first day here, I was so frustrated, so mad that no one could hear me, I picked up a rock and threw it at them again and again. Smashing them to pieces so they’d be broken and unrecognizable… like me.” I gazed at him in disbelief. It didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem like him at all. “I heard about some tombstones being vandalized, but they said some kids did it.” Caspian shook his head sadly. “Not kids. Me. And I come here every once in a while to remind myself of it.”
He held my gaze, and his eyes were highlighted by the sun. They were so vivid.
“This is what I always have to remember, Abbey.” He flexed his hands and looked at them. “I might be invisible, but I can still touch things… hurt people.” He looked away and mumbled, “Hurt you.”
A sick feeling started roiling in my stomach, and I knew where he was going with this.
Crossing my arms, I shook my head. “Oh, no. You are not doing this again, Caspian.” He looked at me with pained eyes, and I stalked closer, jabbing the air in front of him with one finger. “You broke my heart once before, during Christmas, with that I-just-want-to-be-friends note. You are not doing that again.”
“It’s better this way—”
“I’m not listening to you, and I’m going home now,” I said.
He suddenly bent down to pick up a dead leaf from the ground and held it out to me.
Slowly closing his hand, he crushed the leaf. It crunched between his fingers, and when he opened his fist, only a pile of dust remained. “This is me. Dust. Ashes. I’m dead, and you have to face that.”
Frustration and fury bubbled up in me, and I had to fight to keep a cool tone. “You know what? I will face that. Where are you buried?”
He blinked once. “What?”
“Where are you buried? I’m going to face it. I’m going to visit your grave.”
“Why?” he whispered.
I leaned in, close enough for a kiss, and whispered back, “Because I love you, Caspian. I love you. I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you.” I held up my left hand. The red scratch that Vincent had given me was still clearly visible. I should have realized there was something more—he was something more—when he gave it to me. “And because I don’t want any secrets between us either, I have to tell you something. I lied to you about this. About how I got it. Vincent scratched me when he stopped by my uncle’s shop.” Caspian’s face turned dark with fury, and for a second I thought he was mad at me for lying to him. “I am going to return the favor,” he said, between gritted teeth. “Times ten.” He put out one finger and traced it down my palm, going right through it.
I felt the tingle all the way down to my toes.
“West Virginia,” Caspian said softly. “Where we used to live. I’m buried in Martinsburg, West Virginia.”
I crashed as soon as I got home, and when I woke up, thoughts of Revenants swirled through my head, darting like angry bees. But as I pushed my hair out of my face, I pushed