Page 1 of Devil’s Snare

Chapter 1 Gwen

“You’re going where?” Ethan screeched in my ear, which was quite a feat because his deep voice rarely went high except for when I was doing something he disapproved of.

“Back to the cemetery,” I replied calmly.

“To her grave, you mean.”

Wasn’t that obvious? “Yes.”

“It’s nearly midnight, G.”

“I can tell time, little brother,” I teased, trying to keep the moment light and ease his concern. But it was more than that. Ethan was a rule follower. Me? Not so much. “Learned before you did.” The attempt at humor didn’t ease the ache in my chest or the sorrow that had settled over me since early this morning when we buried our sister.

“Gwen,” he choked in response. “She’s gone. There’s no way to change that.”

“Maybe not,” I conceded, “but I still have things to say.”

Too many visitors at the gravesite prevented me from freely speaking everything caged inside my heart. Too raw and exposed, I kept it bottled up. Memories. Regrets. The apology I’d never get the chance to give her face to face. Now, with nothing but the moon as a witness, I could finally attempt to find peace and accept my sister’s death.

I wasn’t sure Ethan ever would.

“I’m coming with you,” he announced as I heard his keys jingle in his hand.

“It’s not necessary. I’m already here,” I admitted as I parked my truck outside of Deathrock Cemetery. The eerie iron gates seemed even more foreboding now than they had been earlier when I stood in the rain and watched my sister’s casket being lowered into the ground. “Your bike will slide all over the road.”

“Funny, G.” He sighed. “I’m still coming. I don’t like the idea of you out there alone. It’s late.” He paused a few seconds before adding, “And I don’t like that cemetery. Something about the place is off.”

“Maybe it’s all the dead people?” I asked, brushing off his brotherly concern. “I’ll be fine.”

“Gwen.”

“I need this. Please.” My voice broke on the last word, and I silently cursed in my head, knowing that he could hear the vulnerability I was trying so hard to hide. Not that my brother wasn’t awesome because he was the best, but I didn’t want any witnesses when I broke down and let the tears fall freely. No one would be hanging around a foggy, creepy cemetery at midnight on the hill where my sister was buried. I would be free to allow that sorrow building in my chest to finally release.

“You call me as soon as you’re back in your truck. I don’t care what time it is,” he ordered.

“Okay.”

“I mean it, G.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Hey,” he replied with a little too much grit in his tone, like the effort of speaking had become too much.

“Yes, Ethan?”

“I love you.”

Three simple words that held more meaning than I could ever hope to convey back, especially now. The enormity of the words after Becka’s death felt almost tangible. Something I could reach out and touch with my fingers as they hung in the air.

“I love you too.”

My chest felt too tight as I ended the call and snatched my keys. I didn’t bring a purse, just stuffed my license and debit card in the front pocket of my jeans before I left the house. It was cool for late May, and I opted to pull on a sweatshirt before leaving my apartment.

As I left the old Ford pickup my father had given me when I graduated college, I shoved my keys into the kangaroo pocket. I’d worn boots since the ground was still wet, revealing patches of mud peeking through the blades of grass. Low-level pathway lights lit up the space, powered by LED bollard lights that likely relied on solar power. Architectural uplighting with subtle, ground-based floodlights pointed up at historical monuments, mausoleums, and the entrance gates. Those lights kept me from tripping over the uneven terrain and provided enough illumination to prevent falls or injury. Sometimes, I could be a klutz.

Fog hovered above the ground, thickly attaching to the surface as I walked toward the hill that led to my sister’s grave and then began to climb it, steering my way to the gravel pathway that headed north. It felt surreal to walk along it, catching the occasional flicker of a vigil light inside bronze or steel lanterns lit by LED candles.

Everywhere I looked, I confronted death. Or the remnants of it.