“Stealing bodies for medical research.” Sabine looked behind them, but in the darkness, she could not see anything but shadows. “They reported inTheTimesjust last week about two men who were arrested doing this very thing.”
Max stopped walking and turned to face her. He chuckled. “Yes, but in London where there are fresh bodies to steal. No one has been buried in this cemetery in nearly seventy years.” He tapped the shovel on the tombstone below them, and the sound echoed across the hill. “There is nothing valuable for medical research here, except perhaps the two of us. Besides, I’m fairly certain we’re the only two people mad enough to climb up that hill in the dark.”
She glanced around them to again ensure that they were alone, then nodded.
“Take a deep breath, Sabine. We’ll make it through the evening unscathed. I promise.”
As they moved through the grounds, the earth shifted beneath them. She was careful to match her steps with Max’s so she would not fall. She scanned the names on the grave markers, hoping that one would sound familiar or trigger something, but nothing came to mind.
“Why are we not looking inside the church?” she asked.
“Ah, churches are precarious hiding places.” His deep voice rumbled through the still night. “Political power shifts. Factions within the church rise and fall. If you have a nosy parishioner offer to dust the rectory, anything could happen. No, churches are useful for hiding treasures short-term. But if you wanted to protect something, keep it safe for a very long time, what would you do with it?” he asked.
She thought for a moment before answering. “Probably bury it,” she said.
“Precisely.” He nodded.
She scanned the tombstones as they walked, searching for anything that resembled a dove on a carving or a relief, perhaps even something in the Atlantean language that would translate to “dove.” She recognized some of the surnames, but nothing that indicated it would lead to the dove.
Max walked slightly ahead of her, but close enough that they could share the lantern’s light. He brushed grass away with his boot so she could better see the tombstones. They had moved through the entire cemetery when they finally got to a grave resting against the back fence. The waves were louder here, but Sabine still couldn’t see the cliff’s edge.
Something rustled in the shrubs behind them. They both stopped walking, and Max reached around to pull Sabine close. This near to him, she could feel the steady thump of his heart beating beneath the warmth of his chest. He held the lantern out in front of them and turned the knob to widen the swath of light.
“Hello,” he called. With his other hand, he handed her the shovel, then retrieved his pistol.
The rustling increased. He aimed his gun, just as a large doe walked out from behind the bush. She looked directly at them, chewing. Her eyes glowed in the lantern’s light.
Sabine sighed as relief washed over her like warm water.
“Damn deer,” Max muttered as he put the gun back in his waistband.
Together they turned back to the grave, and Max held the lantern up so that Sabine could read the name. “I think this is the last one,” he said.
But there was nothing remarkable about this grave either. She glanced back at the church.
Together they walked toward the chapel. “We could go in there tonight,” Max said, indicating the church. “But without being able to see clearly, and the risk of rotting boards…”
“It seems unsafe,” she finished his thought. Still, there was a deadline to consider, but that wouldn’t matter much if she fell and broke her neck trying to maneuver through a dilapidated church. “Perhaps we should come back in the daylight. It’s only a few hours away.” Then as if the mere thought of falling caused it, she tripped, her ankle turning beneath her.
Max caught her arm and prevented her from hitting the ground. “You all right?”
“I’ll be fine.” She placed her hand on the cold ground to give herself leverage, and she felt something hard beneath her fingertips. “Wait a minute,” she said.
Max moved closer, bending next to where she knelt. The lantern’s soft glow illuminated an old grave marker, lying flat on the ground, mostly buried by overgrown weeds and grass.
“‘William Travers,’” Sabine read aloud. She shook her head. “That doesn’t sound familiar either.”
“Move the grass aside,” he said. “There’s more written on the stone.”
She did as he bade, pulling up grass and weeds.
Once he’d moved the light closer, the glow illuminated the entirety of the stone.
“There. See? That’s a bird,” Max said, pointing to a rough image carved beneath the dates. “Perhaps even a dove.”
Excitement coursed through her. “Yes, it is.”
Max handed her the lantern, then reached for the shovel.