The Psychic Legacy

Chapter 27: Grave

Polly drove this time. For this trip, she needed no direction, so there was no need for Lillian to lead the way. Besides, Lillian and I needed rest. We were beginning to feel the strain of our connection again. All that talking and switching back-and-forth was starting to wear me—us out. I already felt the buzz at the back of my head, nestled right over the start of my neck.

Fortunately, I was also beginning to feel real hope for the first time since I had left The Gathered HQ. Where it had irritated me at first, now I was starting to find comfort in the idea of fate. Maybe fate was on our side.

Maybe this plan could work.

Octavia had assured us that it would. Using Matilda as our vessel had been a stupid idea from the beginning, but it had seemed like our best—only option.

Thankfully Octavia had another way.

When I first saw the bones in the tea leaves, I could barely believe my eyes. But Octavia was sure of what we saw. This was the solution, she had said. The only solution that would succeed.

What else could I do other than believe her?

Polly turned off the main road and onto a smaller side street lined with trees and houses. We had left the tightly packed homes of the inner city behind a while ago. Out here, in the suburbs, the lawns and houses were bigger, sprawling out as much as they liked.

Another turn onto another side street. Unlike the other streets, one side was a thick wall of trees. I thought it might be some kind of park before the trees began to space out, allowing me to see through.

A massive iron fence, black and barbed, broke free from the trees, running parallel to the street. Beyond the fence was a large expanse of sprawling greenery, rows and rows of headstones of every shape and size.

A graveyard.

Close to the fence was a crowd of people, dressed all in black. In the distance, a cluster of low buildings.

Polly kept driving, following the fence until she reached the gate. It was huge, taking its cold iron frame and decorating it with curling shapes and designs, and wide open, welcoming all visitors. I expected her to pull over into one of the few parking spots just beside the gate, but she drove right through and onto the narrow road that wove through the grounds.

"Don't you have to park?" I asked, turning to look back at the parking spots. Though most of the places were filled by cars, there were a few free spots left.

"There's special parking for us," Polly explained, keeping her eye on the small winding road.

"For us?" I echoed.

You'll see, Lillian assured me.

I sat back in the seat. Despite the narrow roads, and many turns, Polly was confident in her journey, like she had done this many times before.

She probably has, I realized.

Lillian stirred inside me but said nothing.

Finally, Polly found a place to park. Deep within the grounds, near the back, several stone buildings loomed large over the road. Polly pulled into one of the parking spots tucked neatly tucked away beside one of the buildings.

"Alright," Polly said, snapping off her seatbelt. "We're here."

"Here?"

"The Greenbury Crypt," Polly explained, nodding towards one of the grand stone buildings.

I had seen crypts and mausoleums before. My hometown had small neat little structures made of simple brick, and even then, they were for only the oldest and wealthiest families in the area. They were like sheds compared to these massive buildings of silver marble and polished white stone. Some looked like Roman temples; others had epic domed ceilings made of stained glass. The Greenbury's mausoleum—the crypt of Polly and Lillian's family—was not as dramatic. It was a simple structure, with clean straight-lines and a single stained glass window positioned over the archway. Its elegance came from the material it was made from, a dark polished stone that was almost black. Above the entrance was a single line of text, recessed into the stone and highlighted with what looked like gold inlay: GREENBURY.