Gravediggers Read Online Free Page A

door swings open, and in enter three women and a man. The first is skinny, a redhead with pale skin wearing a yellow coat that tapers in at her waist. The second is a round-faced woman with dark rings under her eyes and a mess of gray hair, wearing a flowing black gown. The third wears jeans and a Slayer T-shirt, with an army cap over her spiky brown hair and sharp hazel eyes. The man is a hotel employee in a bright red shirt, his smile as artificial as the ficus tree in the lobby.
    â€œHuh! Looks like your guests beat you here,” he says. “All right, ladies, you’ve got your phone equipment, your projector if you need it—anything else?”
    â€œWe were told there’d be coffee,” says the second woman in an operatic voice.
    â€œOooh, we don’t do complimentary coffee anymore,” coos the hotel clerk. “Though for five ninety-eight, I can have a pot brought over—”
    â€œThis is fine,” says the woman in the jeans. “You can leave now.”
    â€œAll right.” The hotel clerk looks at us and flashes a confused smile. “Are these your nieces and nephews, or students, or what, exactly?”
    â€œLeave, please,” says the redhead, and though her voice is soft and melodic, there is an undertone to it that is almost tangible, that crackles in the very air in front of us—magic being utilized. A flick of her hand, and the clerk’s eyes go glazed before he silently exits, closing the door behind him.
    â€œSisters,” Josefina says, bowing her head. “Good evening. May your gardens thrive with life. I am Josefina Pilatón, Warden’s apprentice of area one-oh-two.”
    â€œGood evening, sister,” says the redhead, her official tone like the chirping of a bird. “I am Anne Farrow, Warden of area forty-one. This is Sarah Cardille, Warden of area thirty-eight and Warden General of the Midwestern United States, and Blaze Creed, Warden of area fifty.”
    â€œSister,” mumble the other two Wardens.
    â€œI have brought friends of our cause,” says Josefina, motioning to us. “This is Ian Buck—”
    â€œWe are aware of who your guests are, and what they believe themselves to be,” says Sarah Cardille in her booming voice. “They would do well to remember that their presence here is a privilege, and they should not attempt to alter the proceedings of our business.”
    The words sting, but are not unexpected. Even Josefina and her grandmother Jeniveve were reticent to know us when we first met. Hard though it is, I swallow my pride and exhale slowly, keeping myself composed. Glancing over, I see PJ doing the same, his eyes closing in a brief moment of meditation. Ian, of course, is not so meditative.
    â€œExcuse me?” says Ian. “Lady, our friend’s hurt and you’re telling me—”
    â€œIan!” snaps Josefina as the Wardens sit down, their eyes focused fiercely on my friend. Without comprehending my actions, I reach out and grab Ian’s hand in my own, and his look of rage seems to slowly abate (a little easy, but why not—one).
    â€œIf we may begin,” says Sarah Cardille, clearing her throat and never offering us a seat around the overly lacquered table. “Two days ago, Ms. Pilatón contacted us concerning the possible kidnapping of a Warden, one O’Dea Foree. Ms. Creed, did you visit area forty-seven?”
    â€œYup, I rolled through today,” says Blaze Creed, leaning back in her chair. “Containment’s pretty solid, all sigils regularly kept, seals and beacons well placed. Looks like she did a big recent resealing. This O’Dea knew what she was doing. She only has one cursed walking around anyway, hiker with a broken leg, so it’s not like her being gone is going to cause a breach.”
    â€œBut she is missing,” I say. Every eye in the room darts to me. My question hangs in the air like a